#very excited to get into the girls' back story

[kaiser1ns]

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

PLAYLIST ⏭ NEXT TRACK

NOW PLAYING "FRIENDS" BY BTS

╹synopsis :: hope still exists even if it makes you forget for your problems just for a while.

╹content :: MAP OF THE SOUL PT. 1, 0.6k words, fluff + angst, BASED ON KAISER BACKSTORY

╹notes :: i love him sm it hurts, wrote this after i saw his backstory spoilers :( making this a series , don't worry i will pay for your therapy.

╹taglist :: @chaosinanutshell

There he was again at the children's playground alone sitting on the ground, playing with the ball as he threw it at the graffiti wall making it bounce back. It was the same old story to be outside, away from his father and the smell of alcohol, even for a few hours — he just wanted the freedom and peace that every child deserved.

It was very hard, to be constantly accused and beaten for the smallest thing, because his mother that he resembles so much is no longer with his father, but instead now is a famous actress who lives in luxury and glory, and his father has become an alcoholic, an abuser — a monster.

Sighing, the boy threw the ball harder, and it went behind him, his gaze still blank, despair overpowering hope in every part of his facial features: eyes, smile, voice. He is just a kid, just a mere kid who wanted nothing but to have a normal life and family, to have a loving and caring father and to have a mother who is present in his... But sometimes dreams don't come true and we have to get used to the fact that we won't have everything we want. Lost in thought, lost in his own world without a care, he didn't feel someone tapping him on the shoulder until it started annoying him.

It was pure reflex to turn around and cross his hands infront of his face. Reflex that did nothing but to save him from the upcoming question, "Hey, is that ball yours?"

Huh? The young boy turned his head up, his heart skipping a beat as he saw a girl around his age holding the soccer ball in her hands. A genuine smile adorned her childish face, and just as he was tense, he relaxed a bit, though his guard remained up. "Yeah, it's mine," he replied, his voice cautious yet not unfriendly.

"Can I play with you?" the girl asked eagerly, her c/e eyes sparkling with excitement. He hesitated for a moment, unused to such normal interaction . "Um, sure, I guess," he replied, still keeping his distance.

The girl bounded over and sat down beside him, bouncing the ball in her hands. "I'm Y/N, by the way. What's your name?"

"Michael," he answered quietly, glancing at her briefly before returning his gaze to the ground. Y/N didn't seem to mind his reserved demeanor. "Cool! Do you go to school, Michael?"

Michael tensed slightly at the question, his grip on the ball tightening involuntarily. "No, I don't," he murmured, feeling a pang of sadness at the reminder of his isolation, "So do you like football?"

"Yeah, I do... Kind of," she hummed at his answer, the ball Michael bounced lightly on the ground made a noise in the quiet area they were sitting in "Do you want to see who can make more kicks? The loser has to do everything the winner wants!"

Standing up as she gave him a hand so he could get up too. It was very strange to him that such a thing was happening, suddenly everything was just so calm and fun. It was fun having to play with someone, it was fun having someone to talk to, it was fun finally experiencing his childhood.

Michael hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. He wasn't used to playing with others, let alone making bets. But there was something about this mysterious girl and her energy that made him loosen up. "Okay, deal," he finally agreed, a smile appeared on Y/N's face.

As they played, Michael found himself becoming more relaxed, the weight of his worries lifted from his shoulders. Their match was 'intense', each of them showing off their best moves and tricks. But in the end, it was Michael who emerged victorious, narrowly beating Y/N by a single point.

She gasped in awe, her eyes wide with admiration as she looked at Michael. "You are so good at this! One day you will be a worldwide super star like Noel Noa or Ronaldo!" she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. Michael shrugge trying to play off his accomplishment. "Eh, it wasn't that hard," he mumbled, but deep down, he couldn't help but feel a sense of validation at Y/N's praise.

As they sat together on the swings, catching their breath after the game, Michael found himself studying Y/N's face. There was something about her innocence, her pure-heartedness, that made him feel...calm. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could just be himself, without any pretense or fear.

Before long, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the playground. She checked her mobile phone and sighed. "I've gotta go home. But here," she said, rummaging in her bag and pulling out a small bag of candy, "your promised reward." He blinked in surprise as she handed him the candy, a warmth spreading through his chest and rosy blush appearing on his cheeks. Right, the reward he forgot about it, but either way he couldn't ask her to bail him out of troubles. "Thanks," he managed to say, watching as she waved goodbye and went on her way.

Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in this world was like his father and the drunken men around him — maybe there was hope after all and maybe angels did exists having themselves hidden among the many devils, coming to us when we least expect it.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

#✧* 🤍 blue lock #michael kaiser x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #x reader #blue lock x you #kaiser x reader #blue lock kaiser #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock manga #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n

[enwoso]

SUNSHINE — alessia russo

*same universe as grumpy. i’ve had a lot of requests asking for more of grumpy so here’s another little one!”

navigation

alessia’s day started in a way she was not expecting or wanting and a lot earlier than she would have liked.

"mummy, mummy, wake up!" you shouted jumping on top of the blonde, as alessia lay still asleep. groaning at the sudden weight falling on top of her, rubbing her eyes before opening them to see you sat beaming with a big smile on your face.

"what are you doing up so early, lovie?" she asked, the room still being dark was a clear indication it was early as she rolled over to check the time on her phone. 6:44am was the time it displayed. "it's game day!" you cheered.

since arriving at camp, you had been really excited for the game against sweden. alessia was unsure of why you were but nevertheless she didn't want to dampen your enthusiasm, so she let you be excited. she much rather deal with you being overly excited then sit grumpy all day like a moody teenager.

"lovie, it's still early. why don't you go back to sleep for a few then we can go get breakfast when everyone else wakes up." alessia suggested not really asking more hoping that you would as the last thing she wanted was to be up all day.

your smile dipped a little, "why? me not tired anymore" you spoke quietly playing with the label on your blankie.

"c'mere" your mummy cooed, pulling you into her embrace and under her covers as you snuggled into her as she began to draw tiny little circles on your back. knowing that it wouldn't be long until hopefully you were back asleep.

after wiggling around a few times, you finally settled as alessia relaxed back into the sheets of her bed hearing your breathing begin to get heavier as you fell back asleep. alessia sighing as she knew this was going to be a long day.

after a long morning of you being overly excited and a small tantrum because you had decided to get yourself ready, an england shirt and shorts with your crocs, now alessia wouldn't of minded that outfit if you were on holiday or it was actually hot but it was the middle of end of march and still very cold in england.

however you had demanded that you were a 'big girl who can dress themselves' alessia finally had won the small battle of getting you to change the shorts by telling you that you could change into them later knowing you would most likely forget and alessia would save herself from you catching a cold. it was the small win, but a win nevertheless!

you were now about half the way to wembley on the bus and you had spent most the time watching your ipad much to your mums surprise as she thought you would get bored of watching it after a while.

you'd had a few little fusses and your mum had solved this by letting you out of your seat and giving you a few seconds to wander the isle of the bus which is exactly what you were doing now by chatting beth and mary's ears off about the film you were watching.

"and she becomes a ballerina" you told to two as they both nodded along as you told the story of the film, "mummy says i can start dance lessons!" you smile getting sidetracked as the two gasp as you look at the two with a frown.

"what?" you ask innocently your head cocking to the side slighting in confusion as the two look at each other shaking their heads.

"i'll pretend i didn't hear that!" mary whispers but still loud enough that both you and beth hear her as beth hums in agreement as your eye brows furrow further.

"that i'm starting dance lessons?" you ask a small smile appearing on your face at the thought of joining them it being something you had been asking your mummy about for a few days now.

"i thought you were joining the local football team" beth asks as you shake your head, "no, dancing!" you argued back.

the two older women turn to your mummy, "less! is she actually joining dancing?" mary asks as alessia looks around to see where the sound of her name was coming from before her gaze landed on mary and beth’s head peering over the seats on the bus.

alessia nodded, "after this camp yeah, don't worry it won't last long. it was gymnastics last month" your mummy told the two, saying the last part a little quieter.

it was true, you had begged alessia to let you do gymnastics for three weeks straight and when she finally took you to a session you told her after when she asked you if you enjoyed it that you didn't want to go back because turning upside down made you tummy feel weird.

"well let's just hope she hasn't inherited your two left feet then!" mary joked, looking to you who had returned to your seat next to alessia, as the blonde rolled her eyes at the goal keepers comment knowing she couldn’t exactly argue with the statement.

as the bus pulled into wembley, your excitement levels hit another level, your mummy carrying you into the stadium a huge grin on your face you it was getting more and more closer to the start.

“mummy look there’s stina!” you pointed to the swede as she waved to you before heading to the changing room with her team. “yeah lovie she’s playing with sweden today, cause that’s where she was born!” your mummy explained as you nodded slightly.

“so like i was born in england and im english that makes stina swedenish?” you asked as mummy looks as you with a small smile, “close lovie, stina is swedish” she corrected you as you nodded before feeling someone tap you on the shoulder seeing millie and ella behind you.

“hey!” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest - well trying to. “hey!” millie mocked you with a grin on her face as your frown deepened.

“oh don’t be all grumpy again, you’ve been little miss sunshine all day” ella commented as she poked at your side as the four of you got closer to the changing room.

“anyways who’s names on the back of ‘ere then?” ella asked pinching your england too you were wearing as alessia placed you down having reached the changing room, moving your coat to your shoulders to show ella, who sat on the bench letting your mummy begin to get ready for the match.

“my name!” you beamed as your back had ‘russo’ displayed on your back but instead of the number 23 you had four, for your age.

“i thought your name was y/n, not russo!” ella joked knowing what you meant but wanted to create a little joke to keep you entertained for a few moments to allow alessia to at least begin to get ready for the warm up.

“it is! russo my last name, like mummy silly!” you corrected ella, shaking your head as the brunette smiled.

“of course, silly me!” ella laughed as you did with her.

alessia had managed to get ready for the warm up as you sat playing with a small ball you had found back at the hotel and being with you, ella had given you a mission to try and see how many people you could nutmeg in the changing room, promising you a prize if you got a few people.

“gotcha!” you beamed, giggling a little as you rolled the ball through grace’s legs. hearing her gasp seeing the ball go through her legs making you giggle more.

“you little troublemaker!” she whispered with a smile, picking up your ball handing it back to you. “you’ve declared war now tiny!” she narrowed her eyes as you took your ball back looking for your next victim.

managing to get a few more people, including lotte, georgia and chloe before you heard mummy shouting your name.

“y/n!” mummy called you over as you ran back to her, as she sat you down on the bench in front of her. beginning the usual routine of telling you that you had to be on your best behaviour sitting on the bench, and to tell whoever you were sat with if you needed anything. you always sitting still, nodding you head along to each thing your mummy said.

"and remember you must stay with leah, okay?" your mummy reminded you, as kneeled down to your small height as she tugged your coat back onto your shoulder before finding the bottom of it and zipping it back up, to ensure that you didn't get cold while sitting in the dugout.

"yes mummy" you beamed, looking around the changing room as the rest of the girls were beginning to get ready to walk out. "are you gonna score today?" you asked, as alessia laughed a little.

"i will for you" the blonde smiled, as you cheered a little before embracing your small frame in a hug as she kissed your cheek. "good luck mummy!" you smiled, the blonde smiling too as you both pulled away from the hug.

"off you go, look, leah's waiting for you!" alessia pointed over to where leah was, standing in the doorway of the changing room. "bye!" you sung out, blowing kisses to your mum until you got to leah who scooped you up and walked you to the dug out.

you watched as your mummy walked out with the rest of the girls cheering your mummy's name as she waved at you at the end of the anthem singing, blowing you a quick kiss before she ran to her starting place on the pitch. you stood tall on the dugout seat. leah holding onto you to make sure you didn't fall.

the sound of the whistle went and leah helped you to sit back down in your seat wrapping a blanket around your legs to stop the cold london air getting to you as you helped to cheer them on.

you were no stranger to sitting with leah on the bench or in the stand when your mummy played for arsenal, the defender often watching you while your mummy played as when was not allowed to play because of a big ouchie on her knee.

you had helped leah making her knee better by putting a peppa plaster on it one day, the blonde admitting it had made it feel a lot better leaving you feeling very accomplished.

but one thing leah did like to do while the girls were playing was talk, she often helped you understand what was going on. but sometimes the blonde would begin to ramble and start with some really technical words and you think she would sometimes forget your only four and didn’t have a clue what she meant.

she often said that some of the front line, like the likes of hempo were a fox in the box but you didn’t know what she meant by that because there isn’t a fox even there nor a box which would leave you confused but you didn’t want to upset your auntie leah by not knowing what she meant as mummy had told you it not kind to upset people so you let her ramble on.

you knew that if the team your mummy was on was scoring then that was good thing and that was good enough for you.

“pass it g, that’s it! keep pushing forwards!” leah was mumbling to herself as the girls pushed towards the sweden goal, it landing in alessia’s feet as she smashed it into the back of the net not without falling on the ground.

you watched intensively your fingers in your mouth, along with leah as you were sat on her lap as she shot up with you in your arms, the two of you cheering for your mummy.

the rest of the game went a little boring for you, no team scored anymore after sweden equalised and your mummy came to sit on the bench with you during the second half of the game and before you knew it you were finally aloud on the pitch.

as mummy and her teammates walked around waving to the stranger in the stands, you running along side with your little ball again trying to see if you could nutmeg anymore people before trying to beat mary and get the ball into the back of the net.

“watch me gee, mummy” you yell, as they stop their walking around the pitch to watch you. you line up the ball and step back and run and kick it as mary moves the opposite way to the ball is going as you cheer and run to where your mum and gee were standing copying the same jump and first bump in the air that your mummy always does when she scores.

“did you see that mummy? gee?” you ask as you run up to them, your mum picking you up in the arm to two beaming with smiles and excitement just as you were.

“that was amazing tiny!” georgia cheers, holding her hand up for you to high five as you did slapping georgia’s hand.

“your getting so good at scoring lovie” your mummy complimented, kissing your forehead as you saw mary jogging over to the three of you. “that was a perfect goal tiny!” mary said ruffling your hair as you gave her a stern look resting your head on your mummy’s shoulder.

“see that was so much cooler than doing a dance lesson!” mary smiled as alessia looked over shaking her head at the goalkeeper a small laugh coming from georgia.

“mary! i’m trying to encourage her to try new things!” alessia scolded as mary shrugged her shoulders as the four of you walked back to their others.

the three began to talk but all you could heard was boring adult talk as your eyes were beginning to feel tired probably from all the running around you had done. having your blankie snuggled up to you, before alessia got to the tunnel you were asleep.

the blonde picking up your little backpack in her hand, as she walked down the tunnel with beth. “is that her down for the count?” beth asked as alessia nodded moving the hairs from your face to behind your ear.

“yep, it’s hard work being four and being and sensational footballer and dancer at the same time!” alessia joked shoving beth a little who rolled her eyes at the comment mumbling something about how you would learn to love football just like your mum.

“oh how i dread to imagine!”

#woso #woso blurbs #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #awfc #arsenal wfc #awfc imagine #awfc x reader #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #lionesses #england wnt #england women #england #ella toone #mary earps #leah williamson #beth mead #grace clinton

[agent-cupcake]

Ulterior Motives

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f! student Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 24.4k

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

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

“Is this seat taken?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.” 

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

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

“Oh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that why you warn people?” 

You shrugged.

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

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

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

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. “It does sound pretty ridiculous.”

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

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

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

“How so?” 

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have the address?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever been wrong?” 

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

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

You smiled. “Yes.”

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

“What?” 

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

“You’re joking.” 

“Not at all.” 

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

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

“I’m going to study business.” 

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

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

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

“What kind of job?” 

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

“You’re not exactly selling this.” 

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

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

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

“Scary?” Gojo repeated. 

“You are, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

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

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

“Aura?” 

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

Before you could respond, his phone rang. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Most likely. 

Absolutely. 

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

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

“It is.”   

“-then I’ll consider it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then don’t ask him out.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did something happen?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s Oyama?” 

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

“You’re leaving?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Four?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what did you learn?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to ask?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled, but didn’t laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t let it get to me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me what?” you asked, frowning. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were not prepared. 

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

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

Just like that, it was over. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back and forth and back and forth and-

“Hello?” Haruka snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well then, shall we?” you asked. 

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

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

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

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

“Athletic wear that isn’t hideous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t be serious. 

“Us?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

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

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

“No, it can’t. Come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to impress everyone,” you said.   

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

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

“Really? He was very protective of you.”

You shrugged, not really interested in that particular topic. 

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.” 

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

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

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

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

“What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Come on, do it,” he insisted. 

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

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

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

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

“So… there’s no job?” you asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that it?” you asked. “Really?” 

“What else?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s my teacher,” you repeated.

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

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

“No, he’s not single?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I do that?” 

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

“You can’t date my teacher.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? What is it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t be your teacher forever.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

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

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

“Aren’t you?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you couldn’t.

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

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

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

“No, I was going to go out.”

“It’s for a boy, then. I see.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?” Oyama asked.

“It’s not your business.” 

“Is it an emergency?” 

“No. I’m-”

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

And then it was:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t call it fun, it’s work.” 

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

An awkward silence followed your comment.

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

“I’m not mad.”

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

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“So why are you pouting then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

“Um. Yeah, I think we could do that.” 

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

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

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

“What?” you asked, blinking fast.

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

Kaoru frowned down at her.

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

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

“No, it’s not.”

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

“That’s not it,” you insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“No,” he said. “Will you get it? I’ll be out in a second.”

Perhaps hearing voices inside, the person at the door only got louder. You sighed, annoyed by their insistence. 

You returned to the living room to open the door, squinting at how bright the morning was in comparison to the dark apartment.

“Good morning!” Gojo enthused. 

You blinked hard three or four times, willing reality to bend to make what you were seeing stop being true.

“Woah, you look like shit. Did you have a fun night?”  

“What?” you asked, baffled beyond comprehension.

“Who is it?” Ikki asked, coming out of the bathroom with billows of steam and only a towel around his waist, drying his hair absently. 

“I’ve come to retrieve my wayward student,” Gojo said. 

You stared at him, hungover and confused and wanting nothing more than to lay back down on that horribly uncomfortable couch and never get up. 

“Are you ready to go?” Gojo asked you when he got no answer. 

You let out an unsteady breath, closing your eyes for a second to try and gain some clarity or zen. Nope. That was a lost cause. 

“Give me a second, I have to use the bathroom,” you said, turning away from him towards the bedroom to get your bag. 

Haruka was still passed out, a fact you were very grateful for. You weren’t completely clear on the details of last night, but the broad strokes were all there. You slung your bag over your shoulder and went into the steamy bathroom. Clearing the mirror in squeaky finger-streaks proved Gojo right. You looked like shit.

After dry heaving a little as you brushed your teeth, you put on clean clothes and sorted out the mess that was your hair. It wasn’t perfect, but you didn’t look as awful as you felt. When you returned to the main room, Ikki was dressed. The room was heavy with awkward tension, although Gojo didn’t look at all uncomfortable. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what words were exchanged. 

“Ready to go?” Gojo asked. You sighed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” you told Ikki, smiling apologetically. 

And Ikki, in his endless wisdom, did the last thing you expected and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you in for a kiss. He stared at Gojo the whole time, aggression swirling around him thicker than any desire or affection. Using you to prove a point. That was unlike him. Gojo might’ve just had a way of pulling out the worst in people. 

“Call me later,” he said when he released you, winking.

“Bye,” you said, forcing a smile. 

“It was nice to see you again,” Gojo said, smiling and waving in a too-cheerful way. You walked out into the sunlight, wincing at how bright it was, going for the stairs without waiting for him to follow. 

“Did you have fun last night?” Gojo asked as you took the stairs down to ground level. 

“Yeah,” you said, too tired and irritable to play along. 

“You know, as your teacher, it’s my responsibility to look after your wellbeing,” Gojo said, hopping the last few steps to stay next to you. “Underage drinking can have very dire consequences. Especially when you’re spending the night at a man’s home. I would hate to think that you’d be taken advantage of.” 

“Why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him. “How did you know where to find me?” 

“I got back last night. I was worried when you weren’t on campus,” you could feel his gaze as he looked you up and down. “I’m glad to see you’re just fine.”

“Right,” you said. That didn’t answer your question, but you doubted you would get anything better. “Can we stop to get breakfast?” 

“Can you wait until we get to the station? We have to hurry to catch the train.” 

“Hurry for what?” 

“Didn’t you read my messages? You have a job,” he told you. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“You begged me for a chance to prove yourself, well here it is. If you do well on this mission, I’ll consider you for a promotion of sorts. Isn’t that exciting?” 

Through a series of increasingly unfortunate circumstances, the thread you were following led to a realization that the curse was based on the time of day. That is, exactly before sunrise. By the time you figured that out, you had about nine hours to kill.  

Gojo said he’d rent a room for you to rest, but it had to be close enough that you could be at the lot exactly on time. On short notice and in such a small area to select from, the choices of accommodations were slim. 

One room, one bed. If the embarrassment didn’t kill you, the cliche would. 

Gojo showering gave you some time alone to prepare yourself, at least. It wasn’t like you were afraid he would do anything, but you couldn’t say you were exactly comfortable with the arrangement. The whole day, you had been standoffish, but now you were just tired and nervous. Of course you wanted to prove yourself to him, but you also got angry every time you thought about him springing this on you when he knew you weren’t operating at your best. It felt calculated, but you knew that he would easily deny that if you accused him of anything.

The worst of everything was how meticulously he avoided any conversation about your behavior, or Ikki, or his own motivations for doing this. The more stormy your mood got, the bigger he smiled, and the more he acted the role of the caring teacher.  

Just like always, you felt like you were a little crazy. Drowning in delusions of self importance. 

You sat crossed legged on the foot of the bed and put on a ghost hunting show. If only being a sorcerer was like on TV. Dramatics, theatrics, silly devices, and easy answers. That had been your original hope when you started playing with Divination. You wanted something exciting, the cheap thrills weren't doing it anymore.

Well, you got what you wanted. You certainly weren't bored.

“What are we watching?” Gojo asked as he came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam, drying his wet hair. You cleared your throat and averted your eyes from his partial nudity.

“Ghost Adventures,” you said, staring straight ahead at the screen.

“What’s that?” he asked as he got onto the bed, laying on top of the comforter. The robe mostly covered his bare torso.

“A ghost hunting show,” you answered. “It’s American.”

“Is it any good?” 

You snorted out a short laugh. “No. We don’t have to keep it on.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

You stared at the TV for a minute before checking your phone again. Haruka hadn’t texted you all day. At first, you were resolute that you would only accept an apology, but the longer you thought about it, the more you reasoned yourself to accept anything. 

“Isn’t it uncomfortable to sit like that?” Gojo asked, startling you. You turned off your phone screen, setting it on the bedside table. 

“I’m fine.” 

“I heard that if you sit with your back hunched like that you’ll get stuck that way.”

You rolled your eyes, although you did swing your legs around to lay against the headboard. As much as you wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, you were still tired from the previous night. Since he made no move to do it, you got under the stiff sheets, trying to fluff the lumpy pillow into comfortable submission. 

“Are you dissatisfied?” Gojo asked suddenly.  

“What?”

“Are you dissatisfied with your life as a sorcerer? When you first started at Jujutsu Tech I thought you were over your rebellious delinquent phase, but now you’re falling back into the same habits. I can only assume it’s because you’re dissatisfied.” 

“It was one night,” you argued. Chewing on the words and your lip for a second, you cast a sideways glare towards him. “If there weren’t such strict restrictions about when and how I can leave campus, I wouldn't have had to lie.”

“You’re still technically a student, of course there are restrictions. Do you think that’s unfair?” 

“Oyama doesn’t have the same restrictions.” 

“Oyama is nearly a Grade Two sorcerer, and he’s never had any behavioral issues.”

“Right,” you said, your voice flat. At least that was a different answer than you had gotten previously, some acknowledgement that you were getting unfair treatment. 

“If you’re this unhappy, why haven’t you said anything?” Gojo asked. 

You wondered how much he already knew or assumed. He wasn’t stupid, he was painfully perceptive. Unless it was all in your head, and he truly did not understand why you were reacting like this because he had no reason to think you would second guess his behavior and motivations.

“You already have a lot to worry about,” you told him. 

“I always have time for my cute little student. It’s my responsibility to see that you’re satisfied. I have noticed that you seem a little more tense. Is the stress starting to get to you? It’s important to talk about these things, you know. Otherwise they can spiral into a much larger problem. We have to rely on each other as sorcerers.”

“I’m fine.”

Gojo hummed. You pretended to be very interested in a case about some old haunted asylum where they tortured patients or whatever.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Gojo said when the show cut to commercial. “Your abilities can be considered dangerous to yourself and those around you.”  

“What do you mean?” 

“Sorcerers and curse users go to great lengths to keep their techniques secret. The mere idea of your Divination puts them at risk. While it’s not fully refined yet, there is a non-zero chance that you will be able to read techniques in their entirety. I’m sure there are already conversations being had about taking you out. Nobody’s stupid enough to try anything when you’re under my protection, but if they saw a chance, they would jump at it.” 

“So I can’t leave,” you said, staring hard at the TV as a commercial for foot cream played out.

“You can!” Gojo said quickly, his voice energetically trying to placate you. “Neither myself or any other sorcerer will hold you against your will. You’re an adult, you can do what you please. I’m only telling you of the risks you face now.”

“How would they know about my technique?” you asked.

Gojo shrugged glibly, his expression just as unreadable without sunglasses or that bandage. “These things have a way of getting around.” 

In the very deepest part of your brain, you wondered if he didn’t have a hand in that. If he wouldn’t be willing to put you at risk if it meant you needed his protection. That was ridiculous. Truly. No matter what else Gojo had done, he hadn’t done anything you could call evil. The jujutsu world was just dangerous, and you already knew that. 

“I understand,” you said, trying to sound unaffected.

Neither of you spoke for a while, although you didn’t think he was watching the TV any more than you were. It was a ridiculous story and they were so deadly serious about their silly spirit boxes. 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Gojo asked. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I should. Do you want to turn it off?” 

“I don’t mind. You usually sleep with the TV or something on anyway, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but…” You frowned, your assurance trailing off. How did he know that? 

“I’ve always wondered why,” Gojo said. “Are you afraid of the dark? That seems inconvenient for a sorcerer.”

“I have bad dreams,” you said.

“Will I have to worry about you waking up kicking and screaming?” 

“Bad, not scary,” you corrected him, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible. “Isn’t it wonderful that no matter how hard you repress things when you’re awake, your brain can just shove it in your face when you’re defenseless?” 

“I understand that,” he told you with a wry smile.  

“So even the strongest has to deal with that?” you asked, stifling a yawn into your palm. “I guess there really is no hope for the rest of us.” 

“I’ve read that nightmares offer insights into our psyches,” Gojo said as you stared at the ceiling. “Things that we fear the most… and things we want the most.”

“I dream about my dad coming back,” you said softly, without thinking. You scrubbed your palms into your eyes, laughing humorlessly. “It’s pathetic. Sometimes I wish I’d dream about curses or whatever. The happy dreams are so much worse.”

“I truly believe that love is the worst curse of them all,” Gojo said softly.  

“You’re probably right.” After a moment, you added, ”I’m sorry. For whoever you dream about, I’m sorry.”

“Who said I dream of anything?’

You huffed. “Fine. I take back my sorry.” 

“You can’t, I’ve already accepted it. It warms my heart to think of my cute little student worrying about her sensei. What would you do to help me, I wonder?”

Your face scrunched up in disgust. “Nothing. Forget it.” 

“I’d be more than happy to return the favor, you know. If you’re lonely,” Gojo said, turning onto his side with his head propped up on his arm, “I can help you.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Liar,” Gojo said. “I’ve noticed how sad you are, how you refuse to reach out to anybody for support. I know what that's like."

“I don’t need anyone's support,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “I can either get over this, or I can’t. That’s on me.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gojo said, even softer. “Even the strongest need help sometimes, and you’re hardly the strongest. I’m worried about you.” 

You sighed, even more annoyed. “Don’t be.”

Gojo groaned dramatically. “You make it so difficult to be a good teacher and mentor. I want to help you, but then you act like this. It’s like you’re trying to rile me up.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, a cold flush running through your stomach.

“I’m telling you that you should be more careful,” Gojo said. “I’m not entirely sure you realize that you could very well face consequences for your behavior.”

“Is that a threat or something?” you asked. 

“No, of course not,” he told you with a smile. “Now go to sleep, you’ll need it if you’re going to perform well tomorrow. Remember what’s at stake.” 

The next afternoon, after getting your wounds treated and taking a long nap to make up for two nights of barely any sleep, you stood in the classroom facing Gojo. You had been expecting bad news, but not quite to the gleefully dismissive extent that he saw fit to deliver it. 

“Suffice it to say, you did not meet my expectations. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while yet,” Gojo said, smiling like it was great news despite the attempted apologetic tone.

You grit your teeth. “Is this what you meant about consequences for my misbehavior?” 

“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, tilting his head curiously.

“I don’t know what you want, if you expect something from me or if you’re mad I’m dating or whatever, but I did a good job,” you said. “You know I did, so-” 

“You didn’t,” Gojo said, cutting you off. “I carefully evaluated every part of your performance, and I don’t think you’re ready to take on more complicated jobs. This isn’t a game. There are lives at stake. Your life, the lives of your fellow sorcerers, and the lives of the civilians we’re trying to protect. If you want to accuse me of trading favors or having an unfavorable bias, you’re more than welcome to take your case to the higher ups. I’m sure they would be delighted to hear of any perceived misconduct. Otherwise, I recommend you focus on your training.” 

You nodded stiffly, biting your tongue. “Yes, sir.”

“I know you’re upset, but it’s important that you don’t rush something you’re not ready for. You could get hurt.”  

“I understand. If you’ll excuse me then.” You turned to leave his office, your shoulders high and tense. 

“Oh, right! I was told this morning that you asked for a transfer,” Gojo said, snapping loud enough to make you wince. “It was denied.” 

You looked over your shoulder, a cold bit of dread sinking into your gut. 

“Kyoto doesn’t need any more sorcerers at the moment, especially when you're still such a low level sorcerer,” he told you, returning to that innocent tone. “Why was it that you wanted to transfer anyway?” 

“No reason,” you said, hiding your expression and leaving quickly.

The disappointment was bad, but what you hated more than anything with the humiliation. If Gojo were honest, then you could understand your failure, but not in the way he presented it to you. He was going out of his way to embarrass you. Hot bouts of sticky red fury filled your stomach and your head whenever you thought about it, a feeling so mean and aggressive that it hurt.

You couldn’t call your mom, you wouldn’t know what to tell her. Haruka still hadn’t texted you. Ikki had asked if you were alright, but there wasn’t anything you could think of to say to him. You knew what he wanted, what he expected from you by offering what he saw as help, but you couldn’t do that. Even if it pissed Gojo off, it wasn’t satisfying. He would view that sort of behavior as petty. It was petty.

If you were going to do something, it had to be big. Something that you weren’t supposed to do, something that would make a point, something that would soothe your embarrassment. When you felt yourself drawn to the map on your wall, pencil in hand, it was like a golden opportunity had fallen into your lap, gifted directly to you by fate.

“Oyama! We have a job,” you told him, acting like you were unhappy with the arrangement. 

“What are you talking about?” Oyama asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s a spot on my map.” You could see his hesitation so you feigned annoyance. “If you want to go alone, that’s fine, but Gojo told me I had to as a part of my evaluation.”

He believed it, not even checking to make sure you were telling the truth. 

As soon as you were conscious, a ragged gasp ripped up the inside of your dry throat, panic shooting through your veins like ice water. You groped your chest and stomach, searching for wounds that weren’t there. A little yelp of fear left your mouth and you wrenched your body upright. The sheet fell from your chest, making you realize that you were not dressed, and you were not alone. 

Ieiri shot you a concerned look, blowing a final puff of smoke out of the window into the dark night before butting the cigarette. “Careful,” she warned, “your wounds are healed, but you’re going to be weak.” 

Tugging the sheet up to cover your chest, you realized you were in the clinic, and then your memories crashed through the gauze of groggy ignorance. The curse, the fight, the terror, and then the stupidest plan you had ever concocted. Although you weren’t wounded anymore, you coughed weakly, your body reacting to the mere memory of suffocating on your own blood.

“How do you feel?” she asked. 

You groaned, falling flat onto your back. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.” 

“How much do you remember?” Ieriri asked, closing the window.  

“Everything.” Unfortunately. Your face scrunched up as you tried to put the horrific memories of your mutilated body out of your mind. “Is Oyama okay?” 

“He has a few bruises, nothing major.”

You nodded, relieved for that. If he got hurt after you forced him to take you along, you’d never live it down. After a second, you threw an arm over your face, something like a raspy laugh crackling its way out of your sore chest. “I think I did something extraordinarily stupid.” 

“Like using yourself as bait so your fellow sorcerer could exorcize a curse?” Ieiri asked dryly.  

You opened one eye to look at her. “Did it work?” 

“It did, although you very nearly died for it. The broken ribs were the worst. You’re lucky they didn’t puncture anything vital.” 

Hiking up the sheet over your healed chest, you sat up again. Your head spun, but the only pain you felt was phantom, like your brain was unable to reconcile the severe physical trauma with your perfectly healed body. 

“It was the strangest thing,” you said. “The curse was smart enough to know to attack the stronger sorcerer, but I… I forced it to focus on me.” You winced, a shiver of soul-deep revulsion slithering down your throat all the way to the pit of your stomach as you remembered what happened after that. Remembering pain after the fact was difficult enough, let alone thinking of the right words to describe the experience. 

“You need water,” Ieiri said, pressing a bottle of water into your hand. You eagerly accepted it, uncapping the bottle and chugging the whole thing. She was calm as ever, if tired. 

Capping the bottle, you cleared your throat again. “I don’t suppose I can borrow some clothes?” 

She patted a pile of folded clothes on the bedside table with a tired smile. “They won’t fit, but it’s better than streaking across campus.” 

“Thank you,” you said, wrapping yourself in the sheet to fully sit up. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Ieiri said, turning to leave the room. She paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at you. “Oh, before I forget, Satoru wants to see you as soon as possible. I doubt he expected you to wake up so quickly, I’m sure it can wait until morning.” 

You frowned, your stomach twisting up at the thought. “Where do you think he’ll be?” 

“He’s probably in his apartment. I doubt he’s asleep, if you wanted to talk to him now.” She snorted, shaking her head. “That man sleeps less than I do.”

“Got it,” you said. “Thanks.” 

She hesitated in the doorway, thinking about what she was going to say. “Satoru was very upset when he heard what happened. I know he worries about his students, but this is different.”

“How so?” you asked, tensing up at the faint insinuation.  

Ieiri sighed. “I’m not trying to involve myself, you’re free to do what you want. But, speaking as someone who has known Satoru for a while, be careful. I care for him, but his nature doesn’t always lend itself to respectable behavior.” 

“Okay,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes at her. You didn’t get the sense of any malice or disgust, but the words were obviously pointed. 

“That’s all,” Ieiri said with a light shrug, leaving the room and closing the door. You squeezed your eyes shut, wondering what to think about that. You didn’t know if you wanted to believe her or not. It was the first time anybody confirmed some of the strange things you felt about the man, but you didn’t know if that made it any better. 

Besides, you hadn’t so purposefully baited a reaction just to shy away now. 

At twelve-twenty-five, you left the clinic. Considering you almost died earlier that day, you didn't feel too terrible. Every muscle in your body was sore and shaky, like you had been training too hard, but you had just slept for nine hours. Even if you laid down, you wouldn’t sleep. If Gojo wanted to talk, you would talk. The reasoning behind it was, on the surface, because you wanted to get it over with. 

There might have been more to your compulsion, but you were too irritable to interrogate your motivation.  

Before going over, you stopped by your room to exchange Ieiri’s borrowed clothes for a clean shirt, oversized hoodie, fresh panties, and a pair of shorts. While you were there, you took the time to wipe the mascara rings out from under your eyes, swipe on some lip balm, and pull your hair back to mitigate the mess. What you really needed was a full coat of foundation and some dry shampoo, but the idea that you were so desperate to impress him pissed you off even more.

On your way to the faculty apartments on the edge of campus, you thought about the best way to handle this. Gojo would know why you lied and disobeyed him, he wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t any way you could think of to reframe the narrative either. You did it because you wanted to, and because you were angry about his ruling, and because you thought you could get away with it, and because you felt the need to act out against his authority. 

You still weren’t sure what you were going to say when you stopped in front of his door, knocking before you lost your nerve. Footsteps sounded almost immediately from the other side, and then the door slid open. Gojo stood on the other side. He was dressed down for the night, wearing a casual t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was messy and eyes uncovered, sparkling in the faint light from the lamps along the path. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.” 

“Yep, I’m all fixed up,” you said, throwing your arms out as if to present yourself. “Ieiri said you wanted to see me.”

“I can wait until you’re better rested,” Gojo said, putting on a dramatic frown.

You sighed, feeling awkward of all things. The whole time, you had been geared up for some sort of confrontation, but he was so calm, behaving just like he always did. Maybe Ieiri had misunderstood his mood. 

“I don’t think I could sleep with this hanging over my head,” you told him. “Unless this is a bad time.” 

“No, it’s fine. Come in,” Gojo said, opening the door wider to usher you through. 

Despite the traditional exterior, his apartment was decorated in a plain yet clearly expensive style, a marble coffee table and velvet upholstery and understated lighting. What struck you the most was how good it smelled inside. The TV was on, but muted, splashing color and light into the dim room. 

“Do you want tea?” Gojo offered, shutting the door. “Water? Strawberry milk?” 

“I’m okay, thanks,” you said. “I’d rather get this over with.”  

“Get what over with?” Gojo asked as he walked around you. He wasn’t wearing shoes, so you toed yours off, setting them next to his.

“You’re going to yell at me, aren’t you?” you said, maintaining a casual demeanor despite your anxiety.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, dropping onto the couch. Those were unmistakably Fendi Pequin stripes on the armrests, the thing must have cost a small fortune and yet he was lounging on it. “Do you want me to?” 

“Not especially.”  

“How about you sit down,” Gojo offered, patting the spot on the couch beside him. You shuffled from foot to foot, rethinking your decision to come to his place so late at night. It was so far down from all of the other buildings. Even if you screamed, nobody would hear you. But that was stupid. He could have done anything he wanted to do to you in the hotel, and he didn’t. You were making things up to justify your discomfort.

You sat down stiffly, more than aware that you were sitting on a piece of furniture that cost as much as your mom’s car. 

Gojo shut off the TV, leaving the two of you in the intimate near dark. It had been muted, but somehow the room felt even more quiet. His attitude was horribly off-putting. Ieiri said he seemed upset, but you weren’t getting that at all. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than the last time you saw him. 

The silence dragged on and on, you had no idea what to do or say. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, not when they were uncovered and you were alone. 

Finally, he sighed theatrically. “This is my own fault,” Gojo said. “I’ve always known you had behavioral problems. I thought—I hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. You could have died.”

“But I didn’t,” you pointed out, keeping your voice steady. “Nobody died, the curse got exorcized, and everything’s fine.” 

“Is that your defense for disregarding my authority, lying, and putting yourself and Oyama at risk?” 

“It’s not a defense,” you said. “It’s a statement of fact.” 

Gojo laughed, a sound that made you flinch away. It wasn’t forced, he sounded genuinely amused. “You are such a pain in the ass,” he said, smiling as if he was endeared by it. “I can’t tell if you’re unafraid of the consequences or if you really don’t believe you’ll face any.” 

“I did face consequences,” you argued. “Didn’t Ieiri tell you how badly I was injured?”  

“That’s not enough, is it? If you have the chance, you'll definitely do something like this again. The danger is a part of the thrill for a girl like you.” He hummed thoughtfully. “No, I need to take care of the underlying issue.”

“The underlying issue?” you repeated.

“You have no respect for authority—mine or otherwise.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sensei. I have the deepest respect for you,” you said, looking up at him with innocently wide eyes. It didn’t get the rise you wanted, his expression didn’t change. The unrelenting calm and friendly demeanor he maintained was beginning to creep you out.   

“Normally, I don’t mind. I understand; I can’t stand people ordering me around. With you, though, it really irritates me. Maybe I should try a little more discipline.”

“What are you going to do, spank me?” you asked, raising a brow. You could hear how desperate your sarcasm sounded, an attempt to regain control over the situation.

Gojo’s head titled as he considered your taunt. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.” 

You rolled your eyes, your hands curling into fists to hide your increasing anxiety. If you could read his feelings, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but you couldn’t tell how serious he was. “You’re funny.” 

“Oh? But that wasn’t a joke. I think that might help fix your attitude.” 

“So breaking my ribs wasn’t good enough, but that is?” you asked, disguising your fear and dread with more desperate scorn. “Come on, don’t be gross.”

“It was your suggestion.” 

“I was joking! I didn’t actually… I mean, you can’t just…” You shook your head rather than try to finish that statement, kicking yourself for getting so flustered. 

“You were never punished as a child,” Gojo said. “You said your dad left? I bet that, after that, your mom grew distant. She yelled at you, but you never faced any serious consequences for your misbehavior. You only got better at hiding your indiscretions. Is that it?” 

“That’s not your business,” you said, every muscle in your body drawing up tight in response to that accusation. 

“Children who aren’t taught boundaries and respect grow up to be rotten adults,” Gojo said. “Spoiled, rude, self-important adults.” With every word he moved closer.

“You would know, right?” you said, clinging onto the strength of attempted wit.

Gojo smiled. “Oh yes, I know very well. I’m rotten too. Shoko told you, didn’t she? That’s why you look so scared right now.”

“I’m not scared,” you said, clenching your jaw.

“There's been something I've been meaning to tell you for a while,” Gojo said. He put a finger beneath your chin to lift it, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not as complicated of a woman as you think you are. I know you think you’re better, but in reality you’re playing the same games, just with different rules. All of the posturing to get my attention, the misbehaving, the petty tricks to make me jealous–you're so obvious.” He let out a relieved breath, smiling. “Whew, I’m glad I finally got that out.”

“What are you even saying?” You asked, pulling away from him, shaking your head fast. “This is a joke, right?”

“I almost pity you. It isn’t entirely your fault. You’re young, ignorant, and weak, you couldn’t possibly have known where this would go. It’s not in your nature to leave well enough alone.”

“Stop it,” you said, your voice harsh. 

“I’m the same,” Gojo continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “It’s not in my nature to spare the weak or ignorant just because I feel bad for them. I’m not nearly that nice.” 

“I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “You showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night begging me to punish you. I am a man. Even I have my limits. You've been testing them from the beginning.”

“You have to stop,” you said, your demand taking on the edge of a whine. “This is insane.”

“I’ll give you one last chance, okay? Prove me wrong. Leave,” Gojo said, backing off and gesturing to the door. “This is it, this is the last time you’ll get away without facing any consequences.” 

“Gojo, why are you-” 

“Three.”

“Nnn-no, wait, I-”

“Two.”

You stood up, swaying on your feet, but you didn’t run. You took one step back from him, afraid, but you didn’t run.

“One,” Gojo said, grunting the word as he got to his feet and picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“No!” you shouted, struggling to escape his grasp as he carried you further into the apartment. “Stop it, put me-put me down! Stop, I want to go! I’ll leave! Put me down!”

“I warned you what would happen, it’s not my fault you never listen,” Gojo said, dumping you onto his bed. You bounced once, scrambling to get up and away. “No, don’t move,” he ordered, his voice low and authoritative, freezing you in place. His eyes sparkled inhumanly in the dim light. 

“I want to go,” you said, softly, your heart racing, pounding harder because you couldn’t move. “I’m leaving, I’m going and-” 

“No, you’re not,” he said, rolling his eyes as he opened a drawer on the nightstand, looking inside with a thoughtful expression. “By all means, keep up the act. The whole brat thing is pretty hot. There’s no point in punishing a girl who’s well-behaved.”

“What are you going to do?” you asked.

“I’m going to spank you for being such a naughty student,” Gojo said. “I don’t want to be too cruel, I know you’re sensitive. That’s fine. I can be nice too.” He looked up at you. “Do you think you can stay still on your own, or…?” He smirked. “Of course you can't.”

“You’re scaring me,” you said, hoping the words would break his act. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Gojo told you, rolling his eyes like you were being unreasonable. “I won’t hurt you that much.” 

You were going to be sick. “You can’t-”

“Of course I can,” Gojo said, pulling what you recognized as a vibrating wand and a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. “What you mean to say is that I shouldn't. You’re right about that. I'm well aware that this is a bad idea, and I might regret it, but it's too late to let that stop me. You know the feeling, don't you?” 

“No, no. You,” you shook your head, unable to form the words in your shock and disbelief at this situation, “you can’t.” 

“You already said that,” Gojo said, putting the toys on the bed to kneel on the very edge. You flinched away, but you didn’t dare run. He would definitely catch you, you could feel the thrill in his cursed energy. It was all a game. 

“I know,” you said, trying to think of the words to reason with him and coming up short, “but… You can’t.”

“The way you’re looking at me is too good,” he said with a boyish grin. “You genuinely can’t believe that somebody finally called your bluff.”

You shook your head. 

“I think this will be good for you,” he said. “You need to learn this lesson. It’s better to learn it here, in a controlled environment.” 

Gojo grabbed your legs before you could scramble away. You yelped, slapping his hands when he grabbed your hips. That did nothing to deter him from flipping you onto your belly and wrestling your hoodie and shirt off before collecting your arms and pulling them behind your back. Even though you were fighting him so hard that it hurt, he was barely trying, as if the process of overpowering you was as inconsequential as putting the leash on a small dog. You cried out as he secured your wrists in the handcuffs, giving them a solid tug to test their hold. They were lined with soft material, but they obviously weren’t the fuzzy bachelorette party kind that could be easily escaped. There was no way you could get out of them on your own. You tried to use your cursed energy to break free, but it did nothing. Had he reinforced them somehow? Was that possible? 

“Gojo, stop,” you demanded. “You can’t do this, you can’t!”

“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling your panties and shorts off in one go, getting them over your legs no matter how hard you tried to kick him off. “Being at the mercy of another person. Next time you think about misbehaving, think about this feeling.”

“Stop it!” you yelled, truly thrashing now. He grunted, sitting with his legs aside your torso, threatening to crush you. “Stop, get off. You’re hurting me!” 

“It’s okay if you fight,” Gojo said. “But you know it doesn’t matter, don’t you? You’re so weak.”

“Stop it! Just—ngh-” He shoved your panties into your mouth before you could finish that thought, muffling the words. You just yelled in disgust, in despair, in anger. And it didn’t matter.

Gojo leaned over you, brushing your hair away from your ear to speak directly into it.

“I’m sure you’re having a difficult time thinking clearly, but it’s important you remember what I’m about to tell you,” he said. “The next time I allow you to speak, I expect you to address me properly. I really don’t think that’s too unfair. I am your teacher, I deserve some respect, don't you agree?”

You shouted through the gag, shaking your head back and forth. 

Gojo hummed, dropping his shirt on the bed next to you. He lifted his weight from your back and turned around to sit on the edge of the bed. You used the opportunity to roll onto your side, trying to get away from him, but Gojo had no problem collecting you, letting you flop on the bed across his lap while you writhed helplessly. The first touch of his hand against the back of your bare thighs made you jump, tears of humiliation already pressing against the corners of your eyes.

“How many, do you think?” he asked.

No.

There was no way. You shouted in panic, kicking your legs. There was still a part of you that simply rejected this all, that couldn’t believe this would happen. Things like this didn’t happen to you. Not you.  

Gojo’s palm landed loudly against your ass, the smack striking your skin with a burst of stinging pain and the sickening flush of humiliation.  

“I knew you were going to be a problem from the first time we met,” he told you, rubbing his palm over the sore spot. “You think you’re better than everyone else. I can’t stand undeserved self-importance.”

He spanked you five times in quick succession, spreading them out across your ass and upper thighs. You struggled and yelled and kicked, but his other hand easily kept you in place. 

“You’re not fighting very hard. I really thought it would be harder. Are you sure you weren’t secretly hoping I’d do this? You can admit it, I won’t tell anyone.”

You shouted, pooling up all over your cursed energy to fight him off. Gojo rewarded you by spanking you more, focusing on your upper thighs, slapping the same spots over and over until your shouting became sobbing and the skin buzzed, burning red hot. 

“I know, that wasn’t very nice,” he said, rubbing the sore flesh, coaxing it out of becoming too numb to his touch. “You’re not very nice either, are you? Wearing all those cute little outfits to tempt me, flaunting that guy to make me jealous.” You yelled in fear when he raised his hand, but he only playfully tapped your ass, digging his long fingers in to knead it, just playing with you. “And then using your friend to taunt me… I think you deserve to be punished for that, don’t you?” 

You shook your head frantically, squirming and writhing and kicking to escape. But he spanked you again, and again, and all you could do was endure the pain. Gojo mixed in the playful swats with genuine strikes, keeping you crying, always on the edge, unsure if he was going to hurt you or not, not when he was going to stop or where this would go. 

You weren’t counting, and you weren’t sure if he was either, but eventually he let up.

“Mmm, that looks like it hurts,” he said, tracing the tender flesh with his fingertips. You cried, glad he couldn’t see your face. “Poor little thing. Okay, let’s-” Gojo flipped you around, pulling you up onto his lap. 

Putting any amount of pressure on your stinging ass made you yelp, your back arching. He didn’t care. He grabbed the vibrator and flicked it on, pushing the head past your pussy’s outer lips to buzz against your entrance before dragging up, drawing slick circles around your clit. You thrashed against him, but your kicking legs couldn’t do anything and there was nowhere to go. Gojo moved with your struggling in an indulgent way, like he was wrangling a disobedient animal, letting you tire yourself out as he tilted the wand this way and that to really grind it against your clit.

“It’s a little intense, I know,” he said. “If you just relax and let yourself enjoy it, you’ll feel so much better.”

You pressed your face against his shoulder, telling him to stop. The words were all mush, muffled by your own panties. Every part of your body was alive and awake and agonizingly sensitive, covered in a thin film of sweat and goose-flesh and anticipation. When he casually toyed with one of your nipples, you felt it like a jolt of electric heat straight down between your legs. The vibrator’s steady hum bypassed any reasonable objection your body would have to pleasure, a reaction as invasive and involuntary as pain. 

When you realized you were going to come—going to come like this—you shouted, straining your shoulders in an attempt to escape the cuffs. Gojo laughed, holding you tight as you spasmed and jerked around in his lap. Your hips bucked and the vibrator pressed against your clit just right and you almost blacked out.

“Aha, that’s it, isn’t it?” Gojo asked happily, grinding the vibrator there. 

Toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch—it hurt. You tried to tell him that, you tried to fight your way out of his grasp, you tried to do anything you could to escape but it didn’t matter as your body shuddered with the orgasmic flash of pleasure, a feeling so intense it felt like nausea. 

You came with a helpless cry, hiding your face against his shoulder as you jerked with each wave of stifling, intoxicating, sickening heat.

Gojo didn’t stop. You reared back to meet his eye and he just grinned, looking down between your legs to make sure he was keeping the vibrator in exactly the right place to make you spasm and kick and choke, panicked and overwhelmed. 

You didn’t know if you were coming again or if it was just one long string of overstimulation tricking your mind into pleasure, but you felt it draw out like soda fizz all the way to your fingertips and toes.

“Okay, what have you learned so far?” Gojo asked, shutting the vibrator off and setting it aside. You mumbled something into the gag, tossing your head back and forth. “Oh, right.” He laughed, pulling your panties out of your mouth. “What have you learned?”  

“Stop!” you told him in a wrecked voice, glaring at him with watery eyes. “It doesn’t matter how many times you spank me, or-or… I’m not playing along with your-your sick games, I’m not…” You closed your eyes, struggling to get out of his lap, sobbing and panting and angry and humiliated and- 

“Wrong.” Gojo shoved your panties back into your mouth. “You know what? I’m glad you’re a difficult student. Really,” he said. “It’ll be so much more rewarding when you finally learn your lesson.”

You ignored him, squeezing your eyes shut and turning your face away. 

“It doesn’t matter what I do to you,” he mused. “That’s what you said, right?” 

Without warning, Gojo’s hand landed directly between your legs with a sharp smack. You screamed, really screamed, squeezing your thighs together until the muscles trembled. 

“Oi, open your legs,” Gojo told you, his voice low and serious, more than you had ever heard.

You kept your eyes shut, shaking your head fast. 

“You’re saying you won’t?” he asked, his fingers tracing along the seam between your legs. 

You shook your head again, trying to squirm out of his lap. 

“Oh my, what a brave girl,” Gojo cooed mockingly, grabbing one of your legs to pry them apart, catching it with his own leg and pinning it against the bed. He spanked your pussy two, three, four more times, each one making your body jolt violently, another cry gurgling out of your throat. 

When his hand landed with a sickening smack for the fifth time, it stayed there, his fingers curling to find your entrance. You bucked against him, shouting for him to stop. Asking him to stop. The words were muffled, there was nothing you could do other than cry and toss your head to the side as he pushed his fingers into you, you couldn’t even close your legs.

“What’s this?” Gojo asked, pulling his fingers out of you. They glistened with evidence of your arousal, of your shame. “It really makes me question which one of us is sick.”

“You!” you shouted, trying to make yourself heard over the gag. 

“Me?” Gojo asked, his eyes wide with innocence. “You’re the one who’s getting wet for your teacher. That’s pretty twisted.” 

He pushed his fingers back into your pussy, driving them deep and curling them on the way out. For the first time, his breathing was getting unsteady. He kept rolling his hips up to grind against your ass, letting you feel his erection. 

“Aaah, you’re really wet. And tight.” He thrust his fingers back into you with a wet squish, scissoring and curling them to make you spasm and shake. “Hey, hey, I’m gonna give you an out right now, okay?” Gojo said, his voice quick with excitement. “If you ask me nicely, we can suspend your punishment and get on to the fun stuff instead.”

He pulled his fingers out to take your panties out of your mouth, dropping them onto the bed. 

“Come on,” Gojo said. “Ask me. I know you want it.” 

You set your jaw, glaring at him through teary eyes. It was weak, pathetic, and petty, but silence was the only thing you could think to do that wasn’t giving him what he wanted. 

He frowned, put out with your response. 

“Jeez, you’re such an insufferable brat!” Gojo complained, flipping you onto your stomach. The sudden slap of skin meeting skin followed by the pain when he spanked you again made you scream, your legs pathetically kicking, your shoulders straining to free your hands.

“Stop!” you yelled, your voice shrill.

“Oh? But I thought you were being brave?” He said mockingly, spanking you again, and again. 

You sobbed, pressing your face into the bed to muffle yourself as his hand came down again. Even though you fought him, there was nothing you could do to make him stop. True helplessness. It hurt, and there was no escape from it. Not when he took the time to brush his fingers across the tortured skin in between bursts, soothing you with a gentle touch. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being such a baby about this,” Gojo said. He grabbed one of your stinging ass cheeks, pulling it to get a good look at your pussy. You knew you were wet. It wasn’t your fault, but you felt the same shame. “It can’t hurt that bad. If I used a cane or a belt or something I’d get it, but I think you’re just making a big deal to try and make me feel bad. It’s not working. You deserve this and, between you and me, it’s kind of sexy to see you so pathetic.”

Without warning, Gojo tossed you onto the bed face up, your arms pinned uncomfortably beneath your back. Your back arched and you dug your heels into the mattress, pushing yourself up the bed until you were curled against the headboard, your legs up to try and hide as much of your body as possible. 

“By the way, are you a virgin?” Gojo asked, shoving his pants and underwear off in one go before looking for something on the floor. He found it quickly, returning to the bed. He didn’t care about his nudity. Why should he? He was beautiful and he knew it. Of course Satoru Gojo wouldn’t stop at being the strongest, or the most handsome, or whatever, of course he would have the perfect cock too. “I don’t care either way, I’m just curious.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, averting your eyes from his body to meet his as you pushed yourself into the headboard. They glittered in the dim light, wide and excited.  

“No, you’re not a virgin?” Gojo asked. You realized what he had grabbed from the floor when he caught your ankle, forcing your foot through a loop he’d made with his belt. 

“No! No, no, stop!” You shouted, trying to keep him from getting your other foot. He frowned when you kicked at him, desperate to keep him away. The resistance of his cursed energy kept you from actually kicking him, and you were rewarded with a hard, mean slap against your inner thigh. You squealed, giving him the chance to get your other foot in the belt cuffs before securing them.

“I was gonna be nice about this, but I guess not,” he said. You whined, sobbing. “You probably like it rough anyway, right? Girls like you always do.” 

He pushed your knees up to make space between your legs, letting your bound ankles fall onto his back. You watched him stroking his cock. This was going to happen. He truly intended to fuck you. It didn’t set in until right in that moment how utterly powerless you were to this violation. His fingers had been one thing, but his cock was big enough to hurt if he wasn’t gentle.

“Don’t do this,” you whispered, your voice weak and pathetic. “Satoru, I’m begging you not to. I’m sorry, okay? That’s what you want me to say, right? I’m sorry, so don’t-”

“It’s too late for that,” Gojo said, separating your pussy’s outer lips, his tongue peeking out as he lined up his cock. You made a helpless sound of upset, trying to buck him off, but there was nowhere for you to go. “If you were really sorry, you should have apologized when I gave you the chance.” He pushed his hips forward, just a little, testing the resistance. 

“Sensei!” you said, your panicked thoughts finding something to cling onto to make him stop. “Sensei, please stop. Please.” 

Gojo smiled, his lips parting when he forced the head of his cock past the initial resistance of your pussy with a jarring pop. He groaned, both of his hands holding onto your waist while he shallowly rocked his hips. 

Your mouth fell open, a sensation like shock striking against the viscerally real weight of his dick inside of you. That fell away to panic when he began to move, pushing a little deeper with a pinching ache. 

“Ah—fff-take it out!” you squealed.

“Ah, and you were being so good for me,” he said, jolting your body with a hard, mean thrust. You whimpered, and writhed, and your pussy clamped down around him to try and force him out, but it didn’t matter. He was bigger and stronger and you were drenched from the vibrator. “Look at me.” 

As soon as you met his eye, he pushed a little deeper, clearly reveling in the way it made your expression twist in pain and betrayal, more tears forming in your eyes and streaking down your temples. He licked his lips, rolling his hips shallowly to let you adjust to the size and weight of his cock. Like he was being nice. 

“How can I feel bad when you look at me like that?” he asked, his voice lower and breathy. He pushed deeper again, your body jolting and a helpless sound punched out of your chest. 

“It hurts,” you ground out through your teeth, more tears falling into your hair. The desire to be brave faded in direct relation to how much of his cock was inside of you. Being spanked was one thing, but the internal pain of violation wasn’t something you could handle. It was too intimate, too profound, too cruel.  

“Yeah, you’re way too tight. That guy clearly hasn’t been fucking you properly. Do you want your sensei to make it better? I’ll help you, all you have to do is ask.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, weighing your options. Option. “Please, sensei,” you said, hating yourself a little more.

“Look at me when you’re begging,” Gojo said. 

You winced, but the sudden snap of his hips made you relent. You met his dangerous, beautiful eyes. “Please, Gojo-sensei. It hurts, please make it better.” 

“Aw, you’re such a good girl,” he cooed, grabbing your cheeks. “Of course I’ll help you.” His hand lowered to pin you down by the neck while he fumbled in the sheets beside you with the other. You heard the vibrator turn on a second before it was against your clit. There wasn’t anywhere for your body to go when you seized up, your back snapping into a nearly painful arch. 

“No!” you yelped, but it was hard to get anything out from the obstruction of his hand on your neck. 

It didn’t matter that his cock was big enough to hurt as he continued to push it into you. It didn’t matter that your shoulders burned or that your hands were numb. 

“Go ahead and come,” Gojo told you sweetly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? It’ll make this easier.”

You grit your teeth, breathing out hard through your nose, trembling as that little bubble burst, your pussy spasming around his cock as he began to set a steady pace. When his hips met your ass, slapping against the raw skin, you cried and yelled, but it all got lost in the confused haze of pleasure and pain and confusion and disgust and so much, too much.  

Gojo was laughing. Fucking you too fast and too hard, focusing the vibrator right against your clit to keep you moving with him, your body writhing beneath his like you wanted it, soaking his cock until the room was filled with the profane sound of skin slapping and wet squelching.

“Mmm, it feels good, right?” Gojo asked. “I know you think I’m mean, but I really only want to take care of you.”

You came again, babbling the words ‘no’ and ‘can’t’ and ‘stop’ as if they had any meaning anymore, as if you weren’t well on your way to coming again despite how torturous the excess of stimulation had become. 

“Sometimes, that means I have to be a little hard on you.” He fucked you hard enough to knock your head into the headboard, the entire thing pounding against the wall with each solid thrust. It hurt, it felt like he was splitting you apart, slamming against your cervix without even an attempt at kindness. But, at the same time, he turned the vibrator up a setting, rubbing little circles onto your clit. 

Gojo put a hand on your mouth to stifle your scream, it was that loud and shrill, borderline feral with the terrifying intensity of your orgasm. You didn’t want to come anymore. You really didn’t, you felt like you were going to die if you did. And he laughed, giving up on the hard pace to fuck you fast, his breathing becoming increasingly unsteady and his laugh shivering out into moans.

Sobbing into his hand, you came again, unable to understand anything beyond the cock pounding into you and the vibrator torturing your clit. 

Gojo dropped the vibrator suddenly, pulling out of you with a helpless sound. For a second, you heard the lewd schlick schlick schlick of his hand desperately fisting his cock and then you felt hot spurts of cum on your chest and your stomach. He finally took his hand off of your mouth, turning the vibrator off. All you could hear was your breathing and his breathing and the frantic pounding of blood in your ears. 

“Whew, okay,” Gojo said, lifting your legs to get out from under them. “Where were we with the lesson? I think… I was spanking you and you were being a brat about it. Have you had a change of heart?” 

You sobbed brokenly, squeezing your eyes shut. Trying to adjust to the shift of tone while you were still reeling from getting fucked, your torso covered in sweat and cum, felt like one of the most cruel things he had done so far. 

“Please, sensei, please no more,” you begged, your voice breathy and cracking at the end. “Gojo-sensei please, I-I do, I respect you. I’ll—anything, please just…” 

“Ahh, there’s a good girl. Finally,” Gojo said gently. “Okay, three more, and then I’ll forgive you.”

“No!” you cried hoarsely. “Please, no more.” You strained against the cuffs, thrashing as much as you were able. “Please, I’ll do… Please.”

“I need to make sure the lesson sticks,” Gojo said sweetly. “You’ve been so unreceptive. Three more, and then I’ll let you come again.”

“No!” you squealed, even more upset by that. The idea of feeling the vibrator again physically hurt, it was almost worse than the idea of him spanking you again. 

“I want you to count them, okay?” Gojo asked pitilessly.  

You sobbed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t do anything when he rolled you onto your belly. 

“Don’t be so dramatic about it,” he scolded, getting behind you and pulling your hips up so you were on your knees, your back arching. He spanked you and you yelped, burying your face in the pillows. Gojo waited before sighing. “Count them, otherwise I’ll lose track. You wouldn’t want that, would you? We’d be here all night.” 

You sniffled, peeling your face out of the pillows to turn your head.  “One,” you whispered.

His hand landed again, right over the first. You cried out a word that mostly sounded like, “Two!” 

And again, one of the hardest so far. “Thre-EE-”

“There, wasn’t that easy?” Gojo cooed, flipping you around and grabbing your ankles by the belt cuffs, pushing your knees up to your chest. When you heard the vibrator turn on, you tried to get away, squealing out your objections, sobbing and desperate and flinching away from the mere idea of more. It was like being presented with a bottle of liquor after a bout of alcohol poisoning. 

“No, please no more, I can’t, please.”

“I told you, one more,” Gojo said. “You can do one more, can’t you? I think you can.” 

You wailed when he pushed the vibrator against your swollen, oversensitive pussy, grinding it in little circles right over your clit while you spasmed and shook and tried desperately to escape the inevitable.

Coming when you were so overstimulated wasn’t pleasant, it was just more and more and too much, all of it piled onto your overloaded nervous system and making you shake as the pitiless heat flared up to bursting, pulling your body taut, and then it snapped, leaving you even more helplessly, hopelessly overstimulated than before. 

Gojo didn’t pull it away, continuing to grind the vibrator against your clit, cruelly drawing out your feverish torment. 

You wailed, your head tossing back into the pillows, your hips wildly trying to twist out of his reach. “Yo—ou said-”

“One more,” Gojo finished for you. “Come on, don’t be such a baby about it.” 

Your nostrils flared and you sobbed pathetically and your pussy felt like it was burning just as desperately as your sore ass, but Gojo was going to wring one more orgasm out of you. It wasn’t hard, even if it hurt. Even if you cried and shook and felt the world darken around the edges when you felt the surge of pleasure fizzle out through you before it left you pained and panting and miserable. 

But he finally shut the toy off, letting it fall to the side.  

“What do we say?” Gojo asked, dropping your legs and falling onto his side next to you, propping his head up with one hand. 

You groaned, your chest hitching with every breath. “I don’t…” 

“Thank you, sensei,” he prompted sweetly, “for teaching me manners.” 

“Thank you, sensei,” you repeated dumbly, keeping your eyes closed rather than acknowledge his heavy stare. “Thank you for teaching me manners.” 

He laughed. “Wow, that’s really embarrassing. Earlier you were bragging about how it didn’t matter what I did to you, weren’t you? I was almost impressed with your resolve, it’s a shame to see it cave in so easily. What happened?”

You sobbed, shaking your head. “Shut up, you’re… It wasn’t my fault, it was you who… who…”

Gojo hissed, pulling a breath in through his teeth. It was a bad sound. A dangerous sound. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you said, your eyes snapping open with fear. “I’m sorry, I’m…”

He frowned. “Maybe you haven’t learned your lesson after all,” he heaved out a big breath, sitting up. “That’s fine, I’m ready to go again. Anything for my favorite student, hm?” 

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #not sfw #tw. noncon #my writing #EVERYONE KNOWS IT

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 3

Third chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto series. Nikto has some emotions and has no idea what they mean or how to deal with them. Original Cowboy concept based on the AU by @ghouljams

A/N: Finally got enough time to work on this chapter after weeks and weeks of hectic stress with work and university. Thank you to all of those still following along with the story, I'll hopefully have the next part out soon. Fun fact: The story of a horse getting hurt running into a fence because they were so excited to see someone is from one of the silly yearlings at uni lol.

Warnings: Minor medical proceedures, Nikto getting a little jealous.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

First | Previous | Next

Nikto can’t help wondering if there’s anything that can ruin your seemingly perpetual good mood. Even with your body dripping with sweat and elbow deep inside of a cow, you’re still somehow grinning brightly at the farmer standing beside you. Doing a part of your job that some would consider... unpleasant at best, you’re able to act as if it’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done.  

One of the other farm hands, a man about your age, if a year or two older, is acting a little too interested in what you’re doing, however, and Nikto’s jaw is aching with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. They make a soft groaning sound as they suffer under the pressure he’s subjecting them to, but unfortunately, it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping at “Darren” when the man crowds close to you with what he must think is a suave grin.  

“Alright, I can feel the cervix now,” you hum, and he can see the way your arm twists slightly within the animal, “it’s pretty easy to manoeuvre it around.” You frown to yourself, seemingly oblivious to the way that annoying brat leans a little closer, “the reproductive tract isn’t very heavy.” 

“And what’s that mean, darlin’?” Darren asks, and Nikto can’t decide what he hates more, the tone the other man is using to address you, or the way he thinks it’s okay to place a hand on your shoulder. The gelding underneath Nikto snorts, shifting uncertainly as he likely senses the tension brewing.  

“Oh,” you blink at Darren, as if only just noticing him for the first time, “normally you wouldn’t be able to move the cervix around so easily if she was carrying a calf, I’d be able to feel at least a little weight to it.” You reach a little further into the cow, taking a few moments longer before adding, “I can also feel the horns of her uterus, and there’s no fluid I can feel inside them.”  

Darren is nodding, but his gaze is far from focused on the animal or what you’re actually saying to him.  

You pull you hand slowly from the cow, removing the palpation glove and dropping it into the bin beside the cattle crush. “Looks like this girl’s open, I’m afraid,” you say, grabbing the can of cattle paint and spraying a bright green streak across the animal’s tail, “and that’s the last of the girls done.”  

Pulling the release lever, the heifer is let out of the crush and into the holding pen with the rest of the females you’ve checked for pregnancies. While most of them have little blue marks to indicate a successful insemination, a few of the younger ones weren’t lucky enough to take this time around.  

Darren looks as though he’s about to say something further (more than likely something stupid and obnoxious), but before he can do anything more than puff up his chest, Mr. Roberts is snapping at him.  

“Darren! Get your ass into the paddock, boy!” The old man has a scowl on his face that would have recruits shaking in their boots and a voice with a harsh snarl to it from years of smoking. “The hell do I bother paying you for?” he grumbles, watching as the younger man near enough trips over himself in his haste to get back to work.  

Nikto can’t help admiring the man for his no nonsense approach to his work. He’s friendly enough toward those who work for him, and when Nikto was looking for employment, took him on board with no questions asked. The elderly cowboy has made it clear that he could care less about where someone comes from, only that they can do an honest day’s hard work.  

“Well, thank you for giving us a hand with the ladies,” the old man’s tone softens drastically, and he offers you a firm handshake, “I know those big business farms have all that fancy new technology and blood tests to make checking for calves easier, but I much prefer the old method.”  

Although he would never admit it aloud, it’s rather… sweet, the way you beam at Mr. Roberts and nod along to his words. “Of course! A blood test would be useful for determining how long the baby’s been gestating for, but there’s nothing wrong with the palpation method to find out if they’re carrying anything.” 

Roberts seems pleased by your response, offering you an elusive smile, before giving you one final nod, “I’ll see you around town in a few days, and I’ll drop your payment off at the clinic.”  

There are a few final pleasantries exchanged, all of which Nikto ignores. He was supposed to be getting the horse tacked down and set out for the day. Getting distracted by you while doing your job was just an unfortunate happenstance. He urges the gelding onward with a gentle tap to the animal’s side, leaving you to the business of packing up all of your tools in peace.  

He dismounts once reaching the stable, giving the horse a firm pat on the shoulder before leading him into one of the nearest stalls. He can’t know for certain if anyone else will need Murphy before the end of the day, seeing as the horse belongs to Roberts, but the least he can do is ensure he’s comfortable until he’s turned out for the end of the day.  

While “Murphy” isn’t exactly a name that Nikto would have chosen for a horse, given it’s a little too human for his own tastes, apparently, the gelding was named after Murphy’s Law, seeing as the poor animal seems to constantly be getting into trouble. Anything that could possibly go wrong for him can and will. He’s only just recovered from a nasty gash he’d received to the front of his chest after getting a little too excited to see Nikto coming to greet him and crashing directly into a barbed wire fence.  

Nikto starts untacking Murphy, starting with the bridle and moving his way backwards. He gives the gelding a quick brushing down and picks out his hooves to ensure there’s no stones or injuries that’ve gone unnoticed. He leaves Murphy to his dinner while he works on cleaning off the bit of the bridle and applying oil where the leather has begun to dry out. It’s a difficult job with only one properly functioning arm, but he’s not about to ask for any assistance with such a mundane chore.  

When he gets back, however, he’s startled to find you standing there, stroking Murphy’s mane while the horse happily munches on a mouthful of hay. You’re cooing at the animal happily, giggling when Murphy starts trying to nibble at your shirt once running out of food.  

You turn and offer him a smile, face still a little warm from the sun outside and with several strands of your hair poking out in odd directions. He finds that the look suits you, oddly enough.  

It’s only when you call his name that he realises that you’ve been trying to speak to him and he’s just been there staring at your face like a complete idiot. He shifts his grip on the halter he’s holding and clears his throat. “What do you need?” He settles on eventually, deciding that’s the least offensive way of telling you he hasn’t heard a word spoken to him.  

Thankfully, you don’t seem to be too upset by it. “I was just asking how poor Murphy is doing, I know he had a nasty scratch recently,” you’re looking at Nikto, but your words are said in the same, high-pitched coo you tend to use whenever you’re talking to Sputnik, accompanied by a rather overdramatic frown.  

He rolls his eyes at you, but finds he isn’t entirely annoyed by the antics. “Fine. His wound has healed well,” he says while reaching over to try and guide Murphy’s head a little closer. He may not be a trained veterinarian, but Nikto has seen plenty enough injuries in his life to be able to tell when one isn’t healing well. Murphy, of course, decides not to cooperate, instead trying to press the side of his fluffy face up against you.  

Getting the halter over the horse’s head with one hand is rather awkward, especially with the way the animal insists on moving about. You reach out, and he’s about to snap at you for trying to do it for him. He’s had enough of people trying to treat him like an infant recently, as though he’s not a dangerous killer.  It was suffocating enough when it was hospital staff and physiotherapists, but even a civilian thinking he’s too incapable to perform such a simple task? 

But then, you simply grab the buckle in one hand and hold it in position for him to secure himself.  

It would be far faster and more efficient for you to take the halter and do it yourself, yet you stand patiently without comment, and wait as he pulls the strap over the horse’s head and fastens the catch in place. He’s not sure why the thought of you specifically treating him like a weak child had him prepared to lash out quite so aggressively, especially when he’s brushed off similar actions by other people with only a few choice words and a particularly icy glare.  

You return to eagerly cooing at the horse before he can force himself to offer any kind of thanks, and he quickly pushes down the uncomfortable tangle of emotions trying to crawl their way up from his stomach.  

“Are you finished for the day?” You ask after a few moments of silence. He gives you a nod and you’re quick to ask, “how’s your girl been holding up?”  

“Our girl?” he asks slowly, forehead scrunching up. Do you think he has a partner or some kind? Why would you think there’s a girl in his life? Has he done something to make you think he��s married or dating someone?  

“Sputnik,” you clarify, and his face must do something odd because you snort at his reaction. “Why, do you have another girl?” 

Nikto can’t help automatically scoffing at the question, shaking his head at the very thought, “нет, we have no one.” He sees your eyebrows raise slightly, as if surprised by that, but you quickly school your expression back into its normal, carefree smile.  

Your expression quickly turns into something playful, however, as you add, “really? A big, handsome man like you?” He’s not sure how genuine your teasing tone is, “surely you’ve got the ladies lining up.” You have this way of joking around with him and asking questions in a way that doesn’t make him want to immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.  

“You are just crazy,” he counters, going to cross his arms over his chest, only to realise he can’t and instead settling for just letting them rest in place. He sees your eyes travel down the length of his damaged arm, stopping at where it abruptly ends. You don't comment on it, however, and he’s annoyed by how glad he is that you don’t. You likely didn’t even notice his injury until now, given he’s been wearing his prosthetic covered by long-sleeved clothes and gloves every other time you’ve met.  

“Wow, so rude,” you grin, trying to playfully shove his shoulder, only to pout when he’s entirely unmoved by the action. He’s been called rude many times in his life, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself pleased to hear it from someone.  

The sound of the stable door opening has you pulling your attention away from him and toward Roberts, who has just entered. You give Murphy a quick pet to the side of the neck, and Nikto a final grin, offering up a brief, “I’ll see you around.” 

Roberts waves as you leave the stables, waiting for the large door to close before he turns to look at Nikto, one of his bushy eyebrows raised. “So, when’re you gonna marry that lovely girl?” The old man asks, leaning against the stall door with an upward twitch of his lips.  

Nikto near enough chokes on thin air, whirling around on the cowboy with a startled, “что?”  

The old man just sighs heavily, shaking his head, “just make sure you do it soon, yeah? We need another vet living out here on a permanent basis,” he ploughs on, “she already knows the area and she’s a lovely young lady.”  

As quickly as he arrived, Roberts wanders off again, heading back to work and leaving Nikto standing in the middle of the horse stall. He takes a long moment, just staring at where the old man had been a few moments ago while his brain slowly processes everything. Surely he wasn’t being serious, right?

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

"что?” - "What?"

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #nikto x reader #call of duty nikto #cowboy au #fanfic

[natsuslover]

ur account is so cutee !!

do you have any erasermic headcanons? (*^^*)♡

aww tysm! 🫶

and ofc i have erasermic headcanons they’re so chaotic i love them so much. i didn’t know if u wanted platonic or romantic so i just wrote platonic bc i have more hcs for that 😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ platonic erasermic headcanons ੈ✩‧₊˚

notes— i’m rewatching mha rn so i’m actually really excited to write all these mha headcanons

ft. shota aizawa, present mic (idk his real name)

warnings: very light spoiler in one of them i think

present mic gossips about the students ALL. THE. TIME. (mostly complaining or like random tidbits of tea but it’s harmless) to aizawa but he doesn’t really pay attention lmao.

except from time to time when mic says something that’s so clearly not the truth and aizawa just has to correct him.

when mic asks aizawa how he knows so much about the students aizawa’s like “they just tell me” which gets mic somewhat ticked off because the students never go to him for anything lol.

when aizawa’s teaching class present mic just randomly pops in from time to time to “shake things up”

he blatantly interrupts the lecture and goes up to the podium and gets all sentimental while dramatically retelling the students stories of his and aizawa’s high school days.

meanwhile aizawa just whips out his sleeping bag and uses the time to take a much needed nap.

really i think present mic does that on purpose because he KNOWS aizawa doesn’t sleep enough so it’s his own way of caring.

both of them just sit and reminisce about their high school days every once in a while because they want to remember the good things about shirakumo :(

aizawa’s not the most sentimental person (at least he doesn’t show that side very much) so present mic is one of the only people who gets to see aizawa when he’s really emotional.

they’re literally the grumpy x sunshine, golden retriever x black cat, opposites attract trope.

aizawa always pretends to be annoyed or exhausted by mic’s presence but everyone knows that’s not true.

despite acting like he doesn’t care he’s actually really appreciative of present mics friendship.

aizawa often goes through tough times with all his students (especially izuku, shoto, and katsuki) getting dragged into situations because he cares and worries about them, and present mic is there cheer him up and reassure him that everything will be fine.

present mic has a really optimistic outlook on life which usually uplifts aizawa’s pessimistic attitude.

whenever it comes to lesson plans both of them help each other out to the best of their abilities because neither of them enjoy planning stuff out.

honestly, i feel like even though they were friends in high school, their bond truly got stronger when they started teaching and because of their students.

random but one time in high school present mic dyed aizawa’s hair blond while he was sleeping at a slumber party.

the next morning aizawa woke up to mic’s relentless giggling, looked in the mirror, and was too tired to even care his hair was yellow lmao. he just looked at mic like “seriously dude?” and continued to wash his face.

but when present mic looked in the mirror he noticed that aizawa lowkey looked better than him in his signature hair color and immediately ran to the store to find black hair dye to dye it back.

after all, there’s no way he’d live it down if aizawa started pulling more girls than him…

unbeknownst to everyone else, aizawa and mic have super smash bros competitions every weekend (mic’s idea obviously)

aizawa wins

every time lmao

mic gets super pissed off about it because aizawa’s not even trying like 95% of the time and he’s STILL unbeatable.

present mic hates olives and aizawa doesn’t mind them, so whenever they get food with olives in it, mic spends time picking out EVERY olive and puts them in aizawa’s food.

they both like spicy food but while present mic is huffing and puffing and hakahajcahak-ing through his food, aizawa doesn’t even have a single drop of sweat on his face.

whenever they want to skip a teacher meeting, they use each other as excuses.

like “oh shit mic just uh… fell off a mountain i have to go help him brb” or “damn looks like eraser broke his foot gotta go check!”

they’re both dedicated teachers but sometimes those meetings can get sooo tedious.

aizawa often has to help present much grocery shop even at his grown age because man does NOT know how to shop like an adult lmao.

aizawa’s telling mic how he needs more onions because he ran out but in a split second the entire cart is filled with an entire year’s worth of snacks and junk food.

one glare from aizawa and poor present mic is putting back every single food item that he got lol.

mic is without a doubt the yapper of the duo.

like bro doesn’t know when to shut up and aizawa just goes along with it because that means he doesn’t have to talk as much.

actually aizawa’s like zoned out the whole time but present mic doesn’t really care he just likes that he can talk without interruption.

both of them are such opposites it just works out somehow and i really love that for them.

ok so this is really rushed and def not my best work but my brain is so fried rn i can’t think of anything so i hope this works 😭 i’ll definitely do more erasermic hcs later on when i can actually think tho.

#mha headcanons #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #shota aizawa #eraserhead #present mic #erasermic #aizawa headcanons #anime #mha anime

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - age gap,, sexual references

y/nn = your nickname for anyone confused🩷

Chapter 5

For the next two days I locked myself in my room, unable to eat, unable to sleep. Finally my mother said, “This isn’t going to help. Moping around here isn’t going to bring him back. He’s gone. He’ll be getting into his new life, and so should you.”

I forced myself to go to school and found myself swamped by photographers and reporters who were calling me “the girl he left behind” and barraging me with questions.

“How old are you, Miss y/ln?”

“I’m, uh—”

“Your records show you’re only in the ninth grade.”

“Well, ah, yes, that—”

“How long have you known Mr. Sturniolo?”

“About  . . . just a few months.”

“What is your relationship with him?”

“We’re  . . . just friends.”

“Has he called you since he returned?”

“No, but—”

“Did you know he’s seeing Madison Beer?”

“What?”

“Madison Beer.”

Suddenly feeling sick, I excused myself and left.

Each day there were calls from the United States, with offers of first-class round-trip tickets for me to appear on TV. I declined these as well as offers from top European magazines requesting interviews and photo sessions. Letters poured in from lonesome GIs all over the world. I had attracted their attention, perhaps as a soldier’s sweetheart. I also received letters from Matt’s fans, some friendly and some disheartened that maybe they had lost him.

Days passed into weeks and I became more and more resigned to the fact that Matt was now dating Madison Beer and had completely forgotten me. Twenty-one days after he left, the phone rang at three o’clock in the morning. I jumped out of bed, ran to answer it, and heard his wonderful voice.

“Hi, Baby. How’s my Little Girl?”

“Oh, Matt, I’m fine,” I said. “Only I miss you so. I thought you had forgotten me. Everyone was saying you would.”

“I told you I’d call, y/nn,” he assured me.

“I know, Matt, but there were photographers here and reporters and they kept asking me questions, and—oh, Matt, is it true you’re seeing Madison Beer?”

“Hold it. Hold it! Slow down,” he said, laughing. “No it’s not true that I’m seeing Madison Beer.”

“But they said you were.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Little Girl. You’ll find people trying to stir up trouble, just to make you upset. She’s a friend, Baby, just a friend. I’m appearing on her father’s show, and it was all set up for her to be here at my press conference when I returned to the States. I miss you, Baby. I think about you all the time.”

After that first phone call, I spent all my time writing and rewriting letters to him, but he never wrote back. Then one day he called, sounding very excited.

“I’m leaving for California in two days, Baby. I’m starting my first movie since the Army.”

All I could think about was whether he’d fall in love with his costar. As casually as I could, I asked, “Who’s your leading lady?”

Matt burst out laughing. “You don’t have to worry, Baby, I haven’t met her yet, but I hear she’s real tall. Her name’s Juliet Prowse. She’s a dancer and she’s engaged to Frank Sinatra.”

Relieved, I asked, “What’s the name of the film?”

“Wouldn’t you know it,” he answered, “G.I. Blues. I think it’ll be pretty good. I’m a little concerned that there are too many songs in it, but I think it’ll work out. It had better, or I’ll have a few choice words to say.”

A few weeks later Matt called again. His enthusiasm for G.I. Blues had turned to bitter disappointment.

“I just finished looping the goddamn picture,” he said dejectedly. “And I hate it. They have about twelve songs in it that aren’t worth a cat’s ass,” he said angrily, and then added, “I just had a meeting with Colonel William about it. I want half of them out. I feel like a goddamn idiot breaking into a song while I’m talking to some chick on a train.”

“Well, what’d the Colonel say?” I asked.

“Hell, what could he say? I’m locked into this thing. Already been paid,” he complained. “They seemed to think it’s wonderful. I’m goddamn miserable.”

“Maybe the next one will be better,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, starting to calm down. “The Colonel’s requested better scripts. It’s just this is my first film since I’ve been back and it’s a joke.” There was a long pause as static filled the line. Finally Matt said, “I gotta go, y/nn, and I can barely hear you. I’ll call you soon, be good, I love you.”

I was living in a state of suspended life, waiting for Matt’s infrequent calls. There was never a pattern to them. He would phone out of the blue after three weeks—or three months. He always did most of the talking, chatting about his current film or his costar. Occasionally, he’d talk about Nicole, saying their relationship wasn’t what he had expected when he returned from the Army. He was no longer sure he wanted to be with her. I didn’t know where I stood. Time and distance had created doubts and questions; I wanted to ask him, “Where do I fit in your life? Or do I?”

Matt was still mentioning that he really wanted me to see Graceland, especially at Christmas, when it was its most beautiful. He said I’d meet Pauline, the maid. Matt called her Pauline VO5. He laughed and said, “I’ll tell her, ‘O Five, I’ve got a little girl I want you to meet.”

This gave me some hope of a future. I wanted to believe him when he said he still cared for me. But during the periods when I did not hear from him, I couldn’t help but doubt that I would ever see him again. I heard his latest hit record, “(Marie’s the Name) His Latest Flame,” and felt sure that he’d fallen in love with a girl named Marie.

That summer, Paul Anka was on a European tour. He was to make a guest appearance at a nearby Air Force facility in Wiesbaden. I slyly arranged for my mother to drop me off at the time specified for his arrival. My intentions, unknown to her, were highly contrived and they had to do, strictly, with Matt. I wanted to ask him if by chance he knew Matt and if Matt had ever mentioned me. But when he got out of his car he was surrounded by fans, and I was too shy to push through the crowd to speak to him.

I gleaned every bit of news about Matt that I could. I listened constantly to the overseas radio and scanned every article in The Stars and Stripes newspaper. But each story about Matt I read only upset me all the more. Besides Nicole, he seemed to be romantically linked with many beautiful young starlets in Hollywood—Tuesday Weld, Juliet Prowse, and Anne Helm, among others.

I wrote him: “I need you and want you in every way and, believe me, there’s no one else  . . . I wish to God I were with you now. I need you and all your love more than anything in this world.”

It was a cold, snowy day in March 1962, nearly two years since Matt had left Germany. In the late afternoon, I received a call from him. It had been months since we last spoke.

“I’d like to make arrangements for you to visit me in Los Angeles,” he said. “Do you think we can work it out?”

Stunned, I blurted, “What? I’m not sure. Oh God, I wasn’t expecting this. It’s going to take some time, some planning.”

I didn’t think my father could ever be persuaded to let me go. There were several phone calls with Matt trying to say all the right words to please my parents. I had separate talks with my mother, hoping she’d help me convince Dad.

Once again Matt met every one of Dad’s demands: that we wait until I was out of school for the summer, that Matt send me a first-class round-trip ticket, that he send my parents an exact itinerary of my daily activities for the two weeks I’d be in Los Angeles, that I be constantly chaperoned, and that I write my parents every day.

The next few months might as well have been years. I marked off each day on the calendar until we would be together.

Los Angeles

When the plane landed in Los Angeles, I found the terminal bustling with vacationing students. But I easily spotted Nate Doe, who was still working for Matt.

It was good to see Nate. His big smile and warm embrace were comforting. I loved hearing him tell me I looked great. I didn’t think I did. The last time Matt saw me, I had been fourteen years old and five pounds lighter. I was afraid that he might be disappointed when he saw me, that he might send me home the next day.

I got my first glimpse of Los Angeles when we drove in from the airport. It was beautiful, a far cry from the drabness of postwar Germany. As we passed the MGM studios in Culver City, Nate said, “That’s where Matt films most of his movies.” Soon we were speeding along the legendary Sunset Strip and through the large wrought-iron gates of Bel Air. I was entering a world I’d never experienced. Every home along the winding road seemed grander than the one before.

We turned in at Matt’s house on Bellagio Road, a large home modeled after an Italian villa. We were greeted by Matt’s butler, who introduced himself as Arnold and said, “Mr. S is in the den.” As we walked through the door, I could hear loud music playing and people laughing. Nate led me downstairs.

Before entering, I took a deep breath. The years of waiting were now over.

In the dim light I saw people lounging on a couch and others standing over a jukebox, selecting songs. Then I spotted Matt, dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt, and a black captain’s hat. He was leaning over a pool table, ready to make a shot. I wanted to run to him, but this roomful of people was not the setting I had dreamed of for our first meeting. I continued to stand there, watching him.

He looked up and saw me and after a slight pause his face lit with a smile. “There she is!” he shouted, throwing down his cue stick. “There’s y/n!”

He made his way over to me, picked me up in his arms, and kissed me. I held onto him for as long as I could—until he put me down. “It’s about time,” he said, joking. “Where have you been all my life?”

Aware that every eye in the room was on us, I was uncomfortable and embarrassed. I quickly wiped the tears from my face before anyone noticed. Matt took my hand and introduced me around, and then we sat down together.

“Baby, I’m so glad you’re here,” he kept saying. “I can’t wait to show you around. You’ve grown up. You look great. Let me look at you. Stand up.”

As his eyes surveyed me, I became increasingly self-conscious, and I didn’t want him looking too long. He might find flaws.

He looked terrific, although I was surprised to see that the brown hair he’d had in the Army was now dyed black. He looked thinner, happier.

“Don’t go away,” he said. He kissed me lovingly, then returned to the pool table to finish his game. The night seemed to go slowlytoo slowly. While Matt continued his game a few of the girls eased their way over to me and started talking. They said Matt threw parties almost every night.

Hearing this and watching him as the night progressed, I felt out of touch with his new life, even though the girls told me he talked about me often and even showed my pictures around.

Playing pool, Matt laughed and joked around, and when one of the girls bent over the table to attempt a shot, Matt poked her in the backside with his pool cue. She shrieked in surprise and everyone laughed,everyone except me. I couldn’t help noticing that there had been a slight change in Matt. He’d left Germany a gentle, sensitive, and insecure boy; through the course of the evening I’d see that he now was mischievous and self-confident to the point of cockiness.

He also seemed quick to anger. When a girl cautioned him to watch out for a glass that was perched precariously on the edge of the pool table, he shot her a dirty look, as if to tell her, “Move the glass yourself.”

I felt a surge of uneasiness. I was unsure of what to do or say. Between shots he’d come over and give me an affectionate kiss, ask if I was all right, and then move back for his next shot. Meanwhile, the curious stares of his female admirers never left me.

It was after 12:30 a.m. when Matt finally sat down next to me. Now it was like the old days in Germany: He was suggesting that we go to his bedroom. “Up the stairs, the first door to your right,” he said. “The lights are on. I’ll be right up.” I started to rise. “Wait a few minutes, until I get up and leave,” he said. “That way it won’t look so obvious.”

I wasn’t sure if I liked that. I knew he was protecting me, but there were so many pretty girls around, I wanted to make sure everyone knew he was mine—at least for as long as I was here. I’d waited too long to be discreet. I got up, stretched a little, and politely said good night to everyone, hoping they would know exactly where I was going.

I ran up the stairs and easily found Matt’s bedroom. How different it was from his ordinary-looking quarters in Germany. I never imagined him living in such luxury—thick carpets, exquisite furnishings—but the room had a welcoming, lived-in feeling.

And then my eyes fell on the king-size bed in the middle of the room. I immediately thought of how many women might have slept there  . . . whose bodies he had embraced. . . and even worse, whose lips had passionately pressed his and driven him to ecstasy. I couldn’t think about it anymore.

I walked over to the French doors, which overlooked the driveway, and saw Matt’s guests exchanging good nights as they got into their cars. Knowing he’d probably be coming up soon, I rushed into the large adjoining bathroom.

Within ten minutes, I had jumped in and out of the bathtub, combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and dusted my entire body with some powder I’d found in the medicine cabinet. I put on my favorite blue pajamas and stood motionless before the door leading to the bedroom. I was so apprehensive that I was unable to open the door. This was the moment I had both longed for and feared. I sat down on a chair and remembered that when I’d been fourteen, Matt had said that I was “too young.” Now that I was sixteen I tried to imagine just what this new Matt, who I hardly knew at all, might be expecting of me.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard him as he opened the bedroom door, yelling down to his cousin, Billy Smith, who also worked for him: “Don’t let me sleep later than three tomorrow, Billy.” Then I heard him close the door, lock it, and call out, “Where are you, Baby?”

“I’m in the bathroom,” I shouted. “I’ll be just a few more minutes.”

“Don’t take too long. I want to see my girl.”

I still couldn’t move.

He called again: “What are you doing in there, y/nn? No one takes this long to get ready for bed.”

It was the moment of truth: Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and walked out. Matt was lying on the bed, facing me. I walked slowly toward him, climbed into the bed, and lay down next to him. Our faces were only inches apart. It was such an unexpected moment of tenderness that I was mesmerised looking into his eyes. We lay there for what seemed like a long time, staring at each other until our eyes filled with tears.

Matt softly touched my face. “God,” he whispered. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. You’ve been an inspiration to me. Don’t ask me why, but I haven’t been able to put you out of my mind since I left you in Germany. It’s been the one thing that’s kept me going.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer: Tears streamed down my face. Matt took me in his arms and held me close, but I couldn’t get close enough. If I could have gotten inside him, I would have.

“It’s gonna be all right, Baby. I promise you. You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We’ll have a good time and not think about you going back.”

As we lay in the dim light, he soon discovered that I was still as untouched as he’d left me two years before. Relieved and pleased, he told me how much this meant to him. It was as if every feeling I had as a woman began to emerge, and I began kissing him passionately. I wanted him—I was ready to submit entirely to him. He returned my passion. Then, abruptly, he stopped.

“Wait a minute, Baby,” he said, speaking softly. “This can get out of hand.”

“Is there anything wrong?” I was fearful that I wasn’t pleasing him. He shook his head, kissed me again, then gently put my hand on him so I could feel for myself just how much he desired me, emotionally and physically. He pressed his body to mine and it felt wonderful.

“Matt, I want you.”

He put his finger to my lips and whispered, “Not yet, not now. We have a lot to look forward to. I’m not going to spoil you. I just want to keep you the way you are for now. There’ll be a right time and place, and when the moment comes, I’ll know it.”

Although confused, I wasn’t about to argue. He made it clear that this was what he wanted. He made it sound so romantic, and, in a strange way, it was something to look forward to—just as he had said.

Later that night he told me that I had to stay with friends of his, George and Shirley Barris. Although I protested, Matt said, “I don’t want to go back on my promise to your father. Besides, if he found out you were staying with me, he’d make you go right home.” It didn’t make any sense, but I got out of bed and Matt had Nate drive me over to the Barrises’ house, where I would spend the night. Reluctantly.

Later I found out through one of the wives whom I had befriended the reason for my spending that first night with George and Shirley. Apparently Nicole had been sent back to Boston the day before, and Matt was taking precautions to avoid any awkward situations for himself that might have resulted from late-night phone calls.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - longer chapter to make up for the last shorter one🩷

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #Spotify

[godihatethiswebsite]

These little drabbles keep getting longer and longer...

Mummy AU part 4:

Life had been slower since your parents passed from sickness a few years back. One of your father's business associates now handled company matters, but was kind enough to keep you informed of the goings on regarding shipments to the museum. It felt like there wasn't much to do nowadays after a few unsuccessful seasons in society, spending most of your time either upkeeping the estate left to you or in the company of your cousin who practically lived in the house with you the last few months.

Passing by familiar friendly faces weathered and old from years in service, you weaved through various wooden containers packed full of priceless relics, getting a first look as they were unloaded before any of the public could get their sights on them.

A noise drew your attention from the delicate Nubian bracelet you'd been admiring. There was a slight commotion when one of the smaller crates overturned onto the warehouse floor, a very flustered new hand getting chewed out by a man three times his age as the surrounding workers started gathering everything up. To his luck there was nothing fragile in the container, but you'd seen something small roll under one of the carts and had quickly hiked your skirts up to grab whatever it was.

Sitting back on your heels, you stared at the dark little metal contraption in your hands, educated mind picking apart every hieroglyph as you rose from your spot on the floor and walked back over to one of the unloaders. Scanning the manifest for the crate in question, you found nothing indicating towards the little box's presence even after having one of the others turn their eye to the paperwork to double check you weren't missing something. None of them had seen anything like it before, nor you to be sure.

You decided to take it up to Dr. Price for his insight, mind a little too curious to wait for the other museum curators to get their hands on it first to give you an answer. You hoped he wasn't indisposed with other matters, glad to find him alone in his study peering over the dreary headache inducing paperwork that kept most of his attention during the day.

He allowed you to interrupt his work, rounding his desk to place the item down in front of him with buzzing excitement. At first he stared at it with furrowed brows, turning it this way and that with analytical intrigue, happy for the brief distraction from the mundane. He must have caught something you missed as his eyes flashed, positioning his fingers just so to press down on something, surprising the two of you with the way the device snapped open into an almost star shape at the bottom.

Price's interest suddenly turned to that of indifference once he turned it over, revealing the hollowed out interior that at some point must've housed something you think.

But... there! What is that marking on the inside?

Gently removing the box from his grasp, you angle the interior of it towards the light to inspect the writing you'd glimpsed. Where the markings on the outside seemed to have been purposely stamped in during the initial creation, the symbols within looked to have been added with something sharp after the fact in the ancient Egyptian equivalent of chicken scratch.

It wasn't a word you were overly familiar with - your brain taking a moment to pull from long ago knowledge - but you couldn't help the gasp that followed as you whispered the name, "Hamunuptra."

The scoff that followed from Price had you feeling very much like the little girl the adults had chuckled at when you'd first shown them the book you'd found full of myths and legends, softly chided for believing in such nonsense and corrected on the differences between fact and fiction.

"Got more important things to do than go hunting down ghost stories, love." Price spoke up at you from his spot reclining back in his chair, hands folded casually over his abdomen as he gave you the look usually reserved for long suffering parents.

It didn't matter what you tried to say afterwards to convince him to maybe consider the possibility the tales were even partially based on some element of truth. He dismissed you away with a wave of his hand, brushing off your words before instructing you to take it back down to the warehouse so one of the employees could put it away with all the other knick knacks in storage.

You left his office with your head down from your scolding, a bad taste in your mouth at not being taken seriously even if the rational part of your mind told you what you'd always known: the lost city of the dead was just a myth invented by ancient Arab storytellers to amuse Greek and Roman tourists. This was a topic of interest for the occassional treasure hunter, not scholars.

You quickly deposited it right back where you'd found it before taking your leave of the museum, having had enough excitement for one day and needing some time to cool off from your disappointment.

It was only a few days later when you'd found yourself sitting out on the balcony with your dearest cousin Kyle (freshly back from a months long trip to Tanta and mostly sober), recanting him with the circumstances and conversation surrounding the artifact. Even now it was a subject that seemed to plague your mind, having done your best to try and ignore the way it scratched an itch you hadn't felt in many a year. You wouldn't admit outloud to the various drawings you had in your sketchbook of the item in question shoved beneath your pillowcase.

Kyle listened intently to your ramblings, slouched forward in his wicker chair idly swirling two fingers worth of whiskey in his glass before suddenly speaking up after a moments contemplative silence. "Want to find out if it's real?"

Now it was your turn to scoff, rolling your eyes as you tucked your legs up under yourself in a decidedly rare unladylike fashion. Typical Kyle trying to lure you in with fresh bait to go off and do something deemed irresponsible and imbolic by normal society. You casually reminded him it was just an old wives tale, but he shrugged unbothered as he raised the glass of amber liquid to his lips, one side raised in a slight smirk.

"You just leave that part to me, dolly. I'll get your answer for you."

He'd practically disappeared after that, only coming home late into the evenings well after the staff had gone to bed and leaving early in the mornings before the sun had barely risen. If it wasn't for the pantry being pillaged no one would have ever suspected him of hanging around the estate in the first place. At least it gave him something to think about other than the memories you knew still haunted him. And Kyle had always loved sinking his teeth into a challenge.

It wasn't even a week later that you'd come back from a promenade along the river to discover your cousin lounging in your bed as if he owned the place, hands behind his head staring at you with a Cheshire cat grin that you knew could only spell trouble.

Imagine your surprise when he told you he'd managed to track down info about a man who'd claimed to have seen the fabled city with his own two eyes.

Your first instinct was to call nonsense on the idea. Preposterous. Ridiculous. Absurd. You didn't know how your cousin came to that conclusion, but surely he had been swindled by cheap honeyed words half drunk at a bar. He stood behind you in the mirror as you sat at your vanity, pulling the pin keeping your hat in place to take your hair down, his hands on your shoulders and expression adamant as he held your gaze in the reflection.

You could see the mischievous youth from yesteryear in the sparkle of his eyes, ever ready to take on the world and the challenges brought forth by it. But it was overshadowed by the man he'd become, molded by hard work and dedication to king and country. He rarely spoke of the horrors he'd seen in the British Army, but they were evident in the lines of his face. Kyle had always been a handsome lad who'd chased plenty of skirts in his time, capable of charming the stripes off a zebra if you let him. But you knew he had experience well beyond the comprehension of your comparably simple life.

If he was looking at you with such surety, then you knew better than to keep spouting words of disbelief.

What you did object to however was the part where he was trying to convince you to sneak into the museum and steal back the little metal box 'for insurance purposes'.

"Who said anything about stealin', dolly? We're merely borrowin'." Yeah, right. As if the terminology would matter to the authorities should you happen to get caught.

You cursed his sly mouth and persuasive personality as you found yourself wandering down aisles and aisles of unsorted artifacts, scanning shelves and half empty crates for the item in question. The collection in the storage rooms was large enough that you could spend hours inside and hardly make a dent, but you were keeping your eyes out for the more recent additions towards the front. It had been hardly anything to walk in there past the loading bay crew with a pleasant demure smile on your face as if you belonged there just as much as them.

You'd almost given up in frustration when you spotted it hidden behind an elaborate stone bust of Sekhmet, easily glanced over as if hidden in plain sight. No one was the wiser when you whisked it away into one of your pockets, strolling back out past the men with the same carefree attitude you always carried yourself with. They didn't pay attention to the way your hands shook in the folds of your skirts from barely restrained nerves nor the way you slouched against the nearest building to calm your racing heart. Mark your words, you were going to whip Kyle for this.

Now all there was left to do was to go meet back up with him to hunt down the man he had assured you about. You wondered where you might go about even finding such a person...

#soap x reader #cod #call of duty #mummy au #kyle gaz garrick #john price #firmly in denial that I'm not just a lurker anymore

[ladyelainehilfur]

The raw translations were very rough for these panels so I'm glad to see the official translation. Julia's more philosophical than I thought. She's right though: she isn't a robot for not sharing her problems, and people like Lala who make everything about themselves are the anomalies. After all, everyone's got their own struggles. She shouldn't have to feel obligated to be Lala's personal therapist.

#and that's on periodt #weak hero #very excited to get into the girls' back story #julia Chae #webtoon

[itspileofgoodthings]

also I am not an Austen heroine but I might be if Bingley were a woman and also inherently and of necessity smarter and much further along in my character journey (all love to Bingley)

#akskskjejejeje #the quality that’s the same is just. We get the party started #We BEGIN the things #and then kind of have to go off and have our own little journey (the going back to town journey) #but the excitement of when we enter and re-enter the story (if I may say so myself) is the same #also there’s not really any Austen heroine who fits #Anne and Fanny are temperamentally very unlike me simply because of the being inwardly withdrawn/focused #I am close to a Marianne! But I don’t have the running into a brick wall intensity #Or at least not in the same way #I’m not Eleanor I could be Emma or Catherine but I don’t have Emma’s interfering faults or catherine’s total naïveté #and I’m just not Lizzy because if I saw a Darcy at a party I wouldn’t think ‘that’s a vaguely unpleasant man I’m either going to tease’ #‘or totally ignore’ #I would be like wow AMAZING I want him to be my best friend right now and then I would make it happen #hence the Bingley #Lol #anyway this all came from when I met Emma and she wrote fixing on the hour based on us being the girl version of their friendship #Anyway this is your open invitation to tell me which Austen heroine you think you are (if you want to!)

[swordmaid]

just got the durge reveal..!!! screamnnn it’s saur good when you actually have a durge specific character and not just an au of the char you previously made lol. anyway I’m just imagining yves admitting that she’s one of bhaal’s children and then her going like oh btw I was his bride too 🧍‍♀️

#I was watching corpse bride earlier (bc of yves lol. it’s inspo) and now I have a vision #of yves wearing her old vein again (gifted by gortash) maybe in her old dress but idk if she’ll manage to find that #but anyway yves in her old veil walking back to bhaal’s temple with her flail humming here comes the bride #it’s a whole ass visual in my head ok LIKE THE girls who gets it gets it ‼️‼️‼️ #but I’m like 🤭🤭 at the reveal then waking up to jaheira watching you #bc yves is not revealing anything!!! she’s not saying that she’s gonna turn away from bhaal nor is she saying she’s gonna embrace him #she’s being very sly rn… keeping her cards close to her chest … #her dialogues are getting more calculated too… unlike in act 1 where she was mindlessly following whatever people were telling her #(like she literally smeared shit on her face lol) she’s now being very careful of what she says … #and I just imagine her demeanour changing completely after the reveal … she’s not that naive cleric anymore she’s someone else entirely …. #her eyes are hardened she is more shrewd and reserved … but there’s moments where she lets her guard down #and she becomes that sweet girl again .. #anyway start of act 3 is yves starting to plot…!! and to scheme ..!!! 🤭 #/IM/ particularly excited bc I’ve been planning to do this particular thing and it’s the sole reason why I’m doing her playthrough #so I hope it works out LMFAO like I’m hyped for it personally feels like a fitting climax to her story #shut up about bg3. #bg3 spoilers

[seagreenstardust]

I don’t know how they did it but they somehow captured the exact feeling of confessing your feelings and learning that the other person likes you back. I’ve only been in that position once, but there was this soft excitement of new possibilities and watching Marichat kiss actually made me remember those feelings and I am so impressed by that

#let’s not go into how I actually have no romantic inclinations in my real life at all #and how the one time I was in this situation it was because I was just a baby who had decided to like someone #because it’s what teenaged girls are ‘supposed’ to do #long story short #let’s just say #the emotions I get watching this scene were so soft and real and I applaud the whole team #ml spoilers #ml s5 spoilers #marichat #even though I didn’t understand myself and what I wanted yet the feelings I felt were still valid #it’s exciting when someone likes you back #I just didn’t understand what real world relationships were like yet #or how little interest I had in them #so the soft new feeling of being loved was very real and very sweet and very exciting and marichat gave that back to me

[quil12]

This line fucking killed me lmao

#persona 2 innocent sin #i honestly really love lisa a lot #ive played all the other games besides 1 #and i think shes my favorite of the lovers arcana girls #its really like a combination of ann and chie #and i love it #shes very good #i also like how shes confident enough to joke about her crush on tatsuya #love that for her #im really enjoying this game though #i can tell im getting near the end #and i already kind of know what happens #but im excited to get the full story #also #i knew that you fight like nazis and hitler in this game #but i was not expecting it to happen the way that it does #that part was wild #definitely gonna come back too

[enwoso]

WELCOME TO THE WORLD — alessia russo

-> three moments during pregnancy, and one which means the most.

one

you and alessia had been best friends since the two of you met all the way back on the first day of primary school when you were both were just four years old. alessia was older by two months and was something she loved to use to her advantage.

"y/n i'm older so i know what's best!"

"less! you use that same excuse every time!"

the two of you being polar opposites in school, alessia being the more confident one, who loved football with her entire heart while you were definitely the more introverted one who swore you were allergic to any form of athletic activity. you instead loved having a book in your hands, escaping to another world within the story from the book.

but that's what made you too the bestest of friends and that was something neither of you would change, ever.

you had gone through school together, knowing every aspect of alessia's life and in turn she knew every aspect of your life. and the older you got the more your family's began to become more and more closer.

like when you two were little, you would sit and pick the daisies from the grass on the field making a daisy chain to give to alessia while she would run around the field with a ball at her feet a big toothy grin on her face as she did so.

as alessia got older she made sure you were at every one of her football matches and you proudly did, alessia always making sure to make the point that she played a lot better when you were standing there watching her, even if you didn't have clue what was happening.

you had to there, you were her lucky charm.

so to your families it wasn't the least bit surprising when you both began to start dating when you were 17, however you held off telling them until just a few months before alessia moved to go to university in america.

there reactions being very far from what you both imagined it being a simple — “we knew all along" with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders leaving you and alessia more confused then what your parents were.

now the both of you were 24, having been together now for seven years. alessia had came back to england having made her break through into the lionesses senior squad and was now playing for arsenal after just having the summer of her life, even if england were unable to win the world cup, you know that just making a final was a huge achievement alone.

you on the other hand had graduated from university having gotten your dream job and you couldn't be anymore prouder of your girlfriend — life with her by your side was amazing and was just about to get a whole lot better.

you were finally pregnant.

after a few failed rounds of ivf, you and less decided this would be your last try before you stopped trying for a while in order to give your body a rest however you were now stood in your bathroom shaky hands holding a positive test a huge grin taking over your face.

you had been feeling horrible for the past few days, thinking you had just gotten a tummy ache but now it all made sense there was going to be a little human growing inside of you.

alessia being at the arsenal training ground as it was the beginning of the wsl season in just a few days time, this gave you a few hours to set up a little something in a way to surprise her.

alessia was due to be home in the next ten minutes so buzzing with excitement you found a sticky note and wrote 'hello mama!' on the note and placed it next to the pregnancy test

stepping back and looking down at your stomach and admiring it, it beginning to settle in that you were about to have a baby with the girl of your dreams. thoughts of alessia with a baby over run your mind but you were soon took out of that track of through by the sound of the front door shutting.

"baby i'm home!" she called out hearing her drop her keys on the side table and her bag hitting the floor as you came over to the door a giggle slipping from you as you watched her tussle with her trainers to try and get them off.

"hi love" you smiled as she engulfed you in a hug, "how was training?" you asked as the blonde moved her head into your neck, inhaling your perfume. "good but i missed you" she mumbled into your neck as you kissed her forehead.

you hummed, "i've missed you too but i've actually got something to show you" alessia's head rising from your neck, confusion knitting over her face. "show me?" she repeated hesitantly.

you nodded, "close your eyes" alessia looking at you apprehensively, "should i be scared?" the blonde asked, a nervous smile on her face. "no! no i actually think you'll really like it — just close your eyes and trust me!" you said as the blonde finally shut her eyes, you grabbing her hands and leading her to the kitchen.

"okay.. open them!" you say standing to the side as the room is filled with silence, you waiting for alessia who is looking at the little display as you waited for her to piece everything together.

"no way- really!" alessia gasped turning to you a wide smile not so dissimilar to the one you had on your face a few hours ago. you nodded as a squeal came from the blonde as she wrapped her arms around you, twirling you around attacking you with kisses.

placing you back on the ground, her hands staying on your waist as they travelled to your stomach. making sure she's gentle both hands rest on your stomach where your little human will live for the next nine months.

"this is the best thing that has ever happened to me!" alessia mumbled before placing her lips on yours, a slow and loving kiss taking place as your hands came to cup on her cheeks as alessia's hands stayed put on your tummy.

"i love you!"

"i love you too lessi."

two

it was a rainy sunday afternoon and alessia had just gotten home from playing at meadow park, a solid win and even bagging a goal, it was all a good feeling but nothing beat being tucked up next to you as you watched tv.

you lying with alessia on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder as your legs draped over the blondes, tangling themselves within hers as she played with the rings on your fingers.

“where you going?” the blonde asked a pout on her face as you made a sudden movement to get up, looking back at the blonde with a smile, “just to get a drink?”

before you had a chance to even move any further off the couch, alessia had sprung to her feet. “i’ll get it” the blonde sweetly said, pecking your lips quickly before rushing into the kitchen, not before stopping and yelling asking what it was you actually wanted.

“just a water love!” you yelled back, hearing her open the fridge as you smiled to yourself. ever since you found out you were pregnant alessia had been amazing.

helping you whenever your morning sickness struck, giving you your weird cravings whenever you wanted, being patient with you whenever you weren’t in the best of mood because you were tired or just weren’t have the best of days, you could already tell that she was going to be an amazing mother and the little human inside you was only about the size of a peach.

"oh my god!" you gasped as alessia almost ran back in the living room.

"what's wrong?" she frantically asked confusion hitting her as she wondered why there was a big cheesy grin on your face.

"little one just kicked!" you said watching intensely at you bump to see if it would happen again. "is it not a little early for kicking?" alessia asked as you shook your head. you were just hitting the fourth and a half month mark.

you midwife had told you to keep an eye out for any movement as it would begin to happen but it would all depend on the little one growing inside as some baby's were very active inside the womb whilst other weren't.

"no, she said it would be around about now" you explained as alessia nodded, you hands going over your bump trying to feel for any movement.

"pass your hands" you told alessia as she placed your water bottle down on the coffee table at the side of the couch before handing you her hands.

you moved you top up a little more to reveal your bump which was huge but was definitely getting bigger by the day. moving your girlfriends hands around you bump hoping for her to feel your little one's movement.

"can you feel there little kicks!" you looked towards alessia, a little “wow” escaping her as she felt the little kicks as she sat in awe.

"powerful little kicks" you whispered still loud enough for the blonde to hear you as she hummed in argreement her hands still holding your bump.

"gonna be a footballer just like there mama" alessia said smugly as you shook your head in amusement. looking at the blonde, leaning forwards to plant a kiss to her cheek, as she moved the kiss landing on her lips.

three

you were back at wembley for the first time since you had found out you were pregnant, the england girls were set to face the netherlands in the uefa nations league match in hopes of securing qualification for the the olympics next year.

you were nearing six months into your pregnancy, your body was changing massively and you had your 21 week scan telling you the gender of your baby a few weeks ago and with each ultrasound you were falling more and more in love with your little one and you couldn't wait to meet them.

watching as alessia would sit in the room with you, eyes in awh of the tiny human growing in your belly. listening intensively as the heartbeat would fill the small room in the hospital.

however as the weeks were passing, alessia was growing more and more protective of you. not allowing you to pick up anything heavier than an empty bottle or allowing you to stand in your feet for too long meaning she had been taking on the roll of cooking for the past few weeks but secretly you didn't mind that as you loved her cooking.

you were meeting with alessia's mum, dad and brothers at the match, alessia having left earlier this morning to do her usual pre match routine however every half an hour there was another message asking if you were okay - the blonde had been a little wary about you coming to the match but you had assured her that you would be perfectly fine.

walking in the entrance to wembley it was quiet for now fans still not allowed to enter for another thirty minutes. seeing alessia's family in the reception area all with england jerseys on, russo and the number 23 plastered on the back. yourself with the blue england away shirt on with your girlfriends name proudly on your back.

"hi honey, how are you, and the little one?" carol asked, engulfing you in a hug, she had been amazing to you since you had found out along with your own mum - the both of them giving you plenty of advice and tips on how to deal with pregnancy symptoms.

"i'm feeling good today, happy to be out the house!" you beamed it being to longest you had been out without the urgency of needing to go home.

"and little one is very happy and healthy in there" you smiled, "this is from the scan a few weeks ago- look!" you said getting the latest scan photos up on your phone.

"going to be such a beautiful baby" carol pouted, nudging her husband and alessia's two brothers to come and look at the scan photos.

"can't wait for me to pass on all my football secrets!" gio said as you shook your head at the younger russo's childishness. "i think less will beat you to that" you chuckled as giorgio shook his head rolling his eyes at your comment.

"and who do you think she learned them off, hmm?" gio said with a smug grin as it was your turn to roll your eyes, "your dad?" you teased as he scoffed beginning to walk away in a pretend huff.

"giorgio!"

you had all made your way to the family box, gio coming out of his little huff but not before alessia had made it her mission to find you before she began her warm ups.

"are you sure your okay? you haven't got any p-" alessia began before you cut her off. "lessi, i promise you i'm fine plus your mum and dad are here so i'm not alone okay" you said placing your hands on her shoulders squeezing them a few times as the blonde nodded a few times letting out a big sigh her body relaxing a little.

"now you go out there and play the game that you love!" you smiled as she sighed loosening herself up before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"i love you" she whispered as you lips lingered and you hummed repeating the three word back to the blonde before pushing her in the direction of the rest of her teammates.

"come on less, she's not made of glass, she's isn't gonna break in the next ninety minutes!" hearing a thick manchester accent of non other than ella. turning your head to wave at the girl before turning to your girlfriend who had a light scowl on her face in the direction of her bestfriend.

"go on!" you nodded your head in the direction of her other teammates, as the blonde began to walk away not before kissing your goodbye on the cheek. watching as she walked off towards her friends not missing the fact she tripped on the carpeted floor, shaking your head in amusement.

"typical"

it had been a tight game between the dutch, the current score being 2-2, lauren just equalising for england. it was all to play for and england desperately needed the three points in order to put them in a good place for qualification.

alessia had been substituted in the 68' minute having been brought offf from fran kirby.

england managed to pull the win with ella scoring in stoppage time meaning england secured the three points putting them in with a chance of qualifying for the next round of the nations league.

the girls walking around, stopping and signing shirts, books, you name it while also taking photos with the fans. walking around wembley waving and thanking the fans who took the time to come and watch them play.

alessia finally gets to where the box is, looking up trying to find you and soon enough she does giving you a wave as you blow her a kiss back. as she caught it holding it close to her chest.

you were now waiting in reception for your blonde lover to emerge from the changing room, a few of the england girls coming out, waiting in the reception area to board the bus.

mary, beth and lucy being the first of girls to come out all showered, wet hair in low buns and wash bags hid under their arms with big grins all over there faces, there being a hint of surprise in their faces when they find a sight of you.

"hey y/n! how's you and the little one?" beth asked as you sat scrolling through your phone. a smile appearing on your face, sliding you phone into your pocket.

"yeah i'm good, tired and little one kicking my ribs like no tomorrow!" you sighed leaning back in the chair that you were sat on, as the three girls joined you.

"less been teaching them football tricks already?" lucy joked as you all began to laugh before getting into the conversation of how long the blonde was going to take to get ready - knowing she loved her skin and hair routines too much as you found yourself spending a lot of your time waiting for her to get ready on a mornings.

"do you know the gender yet?" mary asks as the topic changed again, "i think it'll be a girl!" the manchester girl appeared beside you as you rolled your eyes nudging her slightly as she sat down next to you.

"and then you can call it ella!" she cheekily smiled as you shook your head along with a few weird looks from the other girls.

“you can take that up with less, yeah!” you say softly, patting ella on the back as you give her a look that tells the midfielder that the answer is a definite no.

"what! just saying ella is a great name" she was the one to now roll her eyes as you chuckled shaking your head, "we did find out the gender-" you began smiling as the debate began of what you and alessia were having.

"so what's the gender then?" lucy asked the debate stopping as they had ran out of points to back up why one thought it was a girl and why one thought it was a boy.

"you'll find out in good time!" you smiled as the four began to all talk at once crowding you but luckily your saviour came to your rescue who was in the form of a tall blonde wearing a tracksuit and a massive wash bag hanging tiredly under her arm.

her blonde hair which was still wet, racked back into a low bun at the back of her head. her tired movements getting closer to you, "woah, don't crowd the pregnant lady!" she yelled walking closer to you, standing behind you as she shooed the girls away. resting her hands on your shoulders as you looked up at her with a smile, as she leaned down to place a quick kiss on your lips.

"well we wouldn't have to if she would just tell us if your having a girl or boy!" beth complained as the other three joined in with their complaints.

"we might as well tell them all together" alessia said as she began to gather the rest of the girls around in a huddle, you and less being in the center,

"what's this about russo?" georgia asked as a few others asked the same.

"well we had planned to tell you all in a different way but some are clearly too impatient. but we did find out the gender of our baby the other day and we are having a little... girl!" alessia explained leaving a few pauses just for dramatic effect as the rest of the girls cheered at the gender.

"told you mary! you owe me tenner now!"

four

you were now officially nine months pregnant and if you were being honest you were over it, you wanted nothing more than for the little one to be born for many reasons, one being so you could finally meet your little baby and two so you could get back to doing things without feeling tired after two minutes or needing to go and pee every ten minutes.

alessia with a lot of convincing had gone to training after ensuring that you were going to be okay for a few hours by your self expect you were not going to be by yourself as she had sent her mum to keep you company for the duration she was away.

not that you minded as it meant it kept your mind of the contractions you were having every few hours that had been progressively closer together since yesterday.

you knew it was going to be any time now, your hospital bag sat at the bottom of the stairs which alessia had made sure to pack and then unpack it to then repack it to make sure you had everything you and the new baby would need.

you were currently stood at the kitchen counter folding some clothes of your own while carol insisted on making you lunch, "lessi said that the.. oh" you stopped feeling another contraction wave over you this being a much more intense one that the previous ones you had been having in the past few hours.

"honey, are you okay? do you want me to call alessia?" carol asked as you hummed, leaning over on the kitchen counter trying to steady your breathing.

"okay, just keep breathing, in through your nose and breathe out through your mouth” carol soothed as she picked up her phone from the kitchen counter and pressing on the blondes contact who answered before the call even have a chance to get to the third ring.

"mum? what's wrong? is y/n-" alessia blurted out in a panic before the older women even had a chance to say hello.

"alessia! y/n is fine, but her contractions are getting slowly worse and she's going to want you here to comfort her" carol explained as a sigh of relief was heard from the other line.

"tell her i'm leaving now i'll be twenty minutes max!" alessia said in a hurry as it could be heard of her rushing around, many sounds of doors opening and closing.

"alessia, please don't panic. she's okay and if anything changes i'll call you as soon as i can" carol calmly said as the blonde on the other line hummed along rustling still heard.

"okay mum, i won't be long!" alessia quickly said before saying bye and ending the call. carol puts her phone down, you still in the same position controlling your breathing.

"she's on her way. do you have a yoga ball?" carol asked as you gave her a look wondering why on earth she would need one of them right now - pain fogging your brain for a moment.

"it's for you to bounce on, it'll help you stay upright and active" carol explained further as a knowing look came across your face - it slowly coming back to you remembering the midwife telling you about a range of exercises to do on it but admittedly you were a lot more focused on the sound of your baby's heart beat than the midwife's words.

"oh.. um i think there's one in spare room upstairs, less put it in there somewhere" you paused every few words your voice shaky as with each contraction you tried to steady your breathing - in through your nose and breathe out you were repeating to yourself.

carol telling you she would go and get it for you but not before asking you a few times if you would be okay left alone for a few minutes, you nodding and the older omens coming back a few minutes later with a bright green yoga ball.

helping you into the living room, as you lent forwards thinking it would help with the pain but really it did nothing. carol placed the bright green ball in the middle of the room and helping you find a rhythm to follow as you bounced up and down on the green ball.

it admittedly helping to reduce the intensity of the pain from the contractions as you were able to fall back into conversation with the older women but just as you did your blonde lover burst through the door with a sudden urgency.

"y/n, oh thank goodness your okay!" the blonde said out of breathe as she held her hand on her chest, as she stood in the doorway of the living room. a small laugh leaving your lips as you shared a look with her mum.

"have you ran back from coloney or something? why are you so out of breathe?" you asked a small chuckle coming from her mum but nothing from alessia as she wasn't impressed with your joke.

"sorry for being concerned for my pregnant girlfriend, but i did run to tell jonas where i was going before running to my car!" the blonde rolled her eyes before going into the kitchen to get a drink.

"sometimes you would think it was her with the pregnancy hormones" you joked to carol who laughed slightly along with you.

"i can hear you, you know!" alessia yelled from the kitchen as you laughed a little more with the older women.

an hour had passed and gradually your contractions were getting worse, carol had gone back home and told alessia to call her when you were in labour and she would be straight there with you both.

you were getting yourself a bottle of water from the fridge when you felt a popping sensation, a groan coming from you as you lent on the counter as another contraction came along.

"baby?" alessia called out from the living room, "love are you okay?" she asked again after not getting an answer, you hummed letting the last of your contraction hit.

shaking your head as another hit soon after, "n-no- i think my waters just broke" you whispered feeling slightly embarrassed as the feeling of warm liquid rushed down your legs

"breathe, love. let's get you changed and then we'll head to the hospital" alessia said softly taking your hand and leading you to get a change of clothes.

within half an hour you were changed, hospital bag in hand and being lead down the corridor to the maternity ward by a nurse.

"your midwife will be here in a few minutes to do some checks" the nurse smiled as she lead you both to a private room. you nodded your head your contractions were still very much present and very often. "thank you" alessia spoke for you as she helped you over to the bed.

like the nurse said the midwife came through the door, a few trolleys of medical equipment following her through the door as she began doing your checks and telling you how far you were dilated - 5cm.

“we can give you your epidural now, and then in about an hour or so you’ll probably be ready to start pushing” the midwife explained as both you and alessia nodded along.

“i’ll have the epidural” you said immediately after the midwife had stopped talking, the women nodding and letting you know she would be back in a couple of seconds

"i can't believe that we are going to meet our little girl soon!" alessia whispered kissing the top of you head as you got comfy in hospital bed, a smile creeping on your face it not lasting long as another contraction hit you as your face scrunched up with the sudden pain.

_

"that's it y/n, one more push and the head will be out" the midwife encouraged as you face was pooled with sweat and tears, alessia holding your hand as you squeezed the living day lights out of it.

"you doing so good love!" alessia encouraged, kissing your head as you groaned again, the midwife urging you to push again.

a few more pushes and baby's head had officially been delivered, only a few more were needed to get the rest of the baby out.

"keep pushing, baby's nearly here!" the midwife told you as you hear alessia urging you on with words of encouragement stroking your hair out of your face and within seconds of your last push, you hear a baby cry.

your swear your heart stopped for a second, looking up to alessia who was grinning from ear to ear. "you did it!" she whispered into the side of your face as tears fell down your face and your baby was passed to you on your chest.

"congratulations, you've given birth to a beautiful baby girl!" the midwife smiled as you handed you your baby, as you pushed the towel from covering your little girls face. her little cries stopping as soon as she heard yours and alessia's voices.

"she beautiful" alessia said, stroking the side of her small face, you silently nodding as you both sat admiring your little girl. excitement coursing through you as after a long, tiring nine months your little girl was here.

"welcome to the real world, little one"

liked by giorgiorusso_ and 1,042,106 others

alessia 23/05/24 ☁️

when two became three. me and mummy love you so much our little love🤍

comments -

leahwilliamson my heart🥹 congratulations i can’t wait to meet the little one🤍

31m 129 likes     reply

giorgiorusso_ next in line for me to pass on my football knowledge to!

1h 230 likes     reply

-> alessia in your dreams gio.

yourusername omg your milf era is beginning!

1h 360 likes     reply

-> alessia your my favourite milf<3 forever proud of you

ellatoone oh gosh they grow up so fast🥹

1h 207 likes     reply

-> yourusername your literally younger than us tooney?

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo x y/n #woso #woso blurbs #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #awfc #arsenal wfc #awfc imagine #awfc x reader #lionesses #england wnt #england women #enwoso

[lenteur]

random thoughts about strong girl nam soon, episode one (pt 2)

(read more because i always get carried away lol and this post might contain spoilers)

the love nam soon has for pappa is pure and beautiful. she grew up with that horse and to say goodbye to it is never an easy thing. i almost brought out the tissues with how emotional i was </3

the ending scene where nam soon stops the plane from crashing reminded me of the one for all in bnha (yes i have interesting references lol). when her eyes changed colors, both her mother and grandmother felt it in their bodies and that's when they both realized she landed in sk.

it was a very epic scene

the preview of the next episode makes me want to watch it right now. good job staff of sgns good job

before i forget to mention it, i'm also curious about ong seung woo because i haven't seen any drama he's been in so i can't wait to see him acting.

all in all this was a great first episode. i can't wait to see how the story evolves.

i'll rate this a 9/10

#guess who’s back with their random(al) thoughts about dramas? ME #did you miss me? I hope so #i can’t believe how easy it was for me to get into this drama #i always struggle or have this fear of being bored by the story but not with this one #the characters are great and the songs too #my favourite thing so far is that this drama makes me excited and impatient for the next episode #i just want nam soon to be able to show her strength and reunite with her family #strong girl nam soon #random(al) thoughts #kdrama #sgns #just saw that i wrote two pages for this episode only... i was VERY inspired lol

[yioh]

the jjk leaks have me so heated for someone whose not even caught up w the manga 😀😀😀

#like yes it’s sad and all but damn gege god forbid one of the women i was looking forward to see in the story actually lives to even get an #arc or storyline :))))))))))))) #but yeah . poor megu 😢😢😢😢😢 i have to say it’s drawn and written very well the panel of megumi and the writing is heartbreaking #but fuck i was so excited for tsumiki to come back💀 my bad for expecting a Girl whose not maki not to die #jjk spoilers

[endfght]

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delilah wayne & kinsey oliver: kins has tattoos,,, (i think) and piercings.... let delilah Do Them. idk anything about soa but delilah is in california?? in la?? if that means anything??? she would probably have a biker bf or smth i literally dont know shit about fuck but xo no one will replace mal ever but let them be besties. she also did hair?? so maybe she can do kinseys i literally do not know but i think that they could be Neat somehow.

riley mckendry & kinsey oliver: did kins develop a problem with her meds after they got out of the hospital or am i making that up??? bc if she needs someone to talk to,,,, she should go to anyone But riley unless she wants to meet hell priests and creatures from hell<3 no but actually if she needs to talk riley is There.

alexander duffy & kinsey oliver: stinky man. Stinky man that needs to Get Away from kins right now. he kind of sucks and is emotional (not like sweet emotional tho like angry emotional the Bad Kind). idk he's just like a Guy. if kins has any paranormal problems??? hes ur man for sure. hes going to flirt with her and im sorry theres going to be nothing that ic an do to stop it. she Is allowed to punch him in the face without warning. pepper spray is Also an option and he would deny it but it would not be the first time! anyway!

shiv roy & kinsey oliver: kinsey in succession when. i went on so much ab mal in succession and deleted it bc this is not the time rebecca. ANYWAY u need to tell me about kins in that World but even without knowing anything i think shiv,,, would love her (but maybe im just biased bc I Love Her). i could also throw out a younger shiv to be closer to kins maybe theyre in college or smth together?? atn had to have covered what happened to kins and mal right? like no shot a story like that Wasn't national. anyw.. yea Them.

colin graham & kinsey oliver: how. many times have we done the father/daughter trope before? who the hell actually cares bc i eat it up every damn time. we're granted one (1) tired apocalypse thread bc truly its what we do best but colin comin across kins n mal on their way home > him offering to guide them there since he has More Experience. him sayin yea sorry ur actually my kids now until further notice so sorry about that but yeah. he did have two daughters and he Will see those girls in kins and mal so get ready for that!! definitely would not be a lee/charlie/alice Dupe. colin is more Chill ok he was a park ranger hes just Vibing. plus he has a dog so like emotional support cuddles for kins or smth??? @graecland.

#＆. inbox ‚ answered . #hallowburnt #IDK WHAT SUBSTANTIAL THREADS DELILAH AND KINSEY CAN HAVE BUT THEY COULD BE SO NEAT #um yea. anyway. #i saw riley and kinsey and got so excited and then immediately deadpanned at my computer bc wtf how can they interact #i think u went back to single ship so obv alexanders flirting would be unreciprocated #u kno u kno #he would just be Annoying #so YEAH shiv and kins??? idk young adult/college besties??? #i dont rmr if u ever said what kins was going to college for but #shiv being her mentor > #(if that At all makes sense bc i have no brain cell) #i think...... shiv getting very protective over kins n mal after hearing their story is Something..... #her flying out to nc to meet with the girls herself... to interview them #IDK i just think that she would see herself in them in the smallest of ways and just #want to Do Something am i making sense #i feel like i am Not #i think that colin and kins could be sweet and like yea we have Done It before but this would be different i swear #these were all so random but kins is fandomless so we can absolutely make them work i Know it