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How To Fucking Write: a guide by fairyhaos

[masterlist]

this post details:

DIALOGUING INTERESTINGLY

hi gays and gals! the first post on starting and pacing a story did really well, so "how to fucking write" is back, with yet more advice and tips for everyone ^^ please feel free to let me know if there's something you want me talk about, because i'll be more than willing to see if i can help. also a reminder that i have a taglist for this series as well, and please reblog if you find this helpful :)

# - HOW TO DIALOGUE.

.. bullet point one : grammar

okay guys, as a native english speaker, i'll be the first to tell you that this language fucking sucks in terms of its grammar, but when it comes to dialogue, understanding how it works even to some extent will help you branch out and vary the way you write dialogue, which makes it so much more interesting.

with dialogue tags (said, asked, etc) if the punctuation mark in the dialogue is not a ! or ? then it should be a comma.

example : [junhui + castle]

as you can see in the first line, a comma is used rather than a full stop, because the sentence hasn't been finished yet. there's a dialogue tag, ('you correct'), that comes after it. and since the pronoun 'you' isn't a proper noun (i.e. a name) then it shouldn't be capitalised, because, again, the sentence hasn't been finished.

with action tags however, (he smiled, he stood up, etc) then it should be a full stop.

example : [i just made one up bc i don't use this a lot lmao]

"I disagree." He stood up, and walked over to close the door. "This isn't safe. You shouldn't go alone."

and now, since there is a full stop, it indicates that the speech is a sentence all by itself. that means the next word ('He') ought to be capitalised.

but the key part when grammar-ing dialogue in order to make it interesting depends on where you put the action and grammar tags.

if you constantly have lines that are just:

"dialogue," he said.

"dialogue," she said.

"dialogue but a bit longer," he said.

... then it can get repetitive, and annoying. by varying your dialogue structure, it can create more interesting dialogue.

example : [minghao + password]

there's a variety of dialogue and action tags being used with each line of dialogue, preventing everything from sounding too repetitive.

the first line starts with a normal sentence, and an action tag. the second is a standalone line of dialogue with no tags. the second has the action tag in the middle of the dialogue. and the last has a dialogue tag in the middle of the dialogue.

by varying the ways in which you write your dialogue, it makes everything a lot more interesting.

.. bullet point two : verbs and adverbs

the easiest way to make dialogue interesting, though, is to use fancy words.

this can be by replacing 'said' with a range of other dialogue tags (see this really comprehensive list for a whole variety of different words), but i'd advise against overusing these. 'said' is your friend! it's the invisible dialogue tag, helps your reader read through your dialogue in comfort, but of course, if you wanna add a nuanced way of describing the dialogue, then replacing 'said' is the easiest way to make your dialogue interesting.

but don't overuse these. for me, i'd focus on action tags and adverbs.

use interesting adverbs that add description to how a character is saying something can go miles. and using action tags that break through what could have been a long section of characters just talking? it helps so much.

i'd recommend having onelook thesaurus open as you write. you don't have to type in just words: phrases, the overall vibes of the word you're thinking of, all of that can be typed into the thesaurus and they'll provide you with pretty good results each time.

it also really helps when you've forgotten a word and can only remember vague bits of what the word should feel like.

.. bullet point three : voices

the best way, however, is ultimately to create a character. write a personality for them, bring them to life, think about the way in which they would talk and then put that down onto paper.

it's difficult, perhaps the most difficult to do, because it's also so tricky to advise someone on how to do this. it's all about the character you want to create, the personality you envision for them, and the only person who can fully write that is you.

however, i would find a few 'ticks' of theirs and use them as indicators in your writing.

for example, in my seoksoo long fic, seokmin's tick is that he always "chirps" what he's saying. and beams. a lot. this identifies his character, makes him unique(ish), and establishes his personality and differs him to the other characters.

but ultimately, it comes down to word choices, when you're writing a character voice.

like, your character describing something with elegant, floral language vs them going "this is so pretty". or perhaps making them stumble over their words when they're panicked vs them simply just going silent when they're flustered.

it's about being specific. about making choices with your words that would have english teachers analyse and unpick your writing, hundreds of years later.

(even if it's fanfic. especially if it's fanfic: because who knows how many fans may join your fandom in the next few years?)

... and that's it ! if anyone has anything else they want advice on (how to structure, how to write dialogue, how to plan etc) then just shoot me an ask, because i'd love to help however i can :)

tagging (comment/send ask to be added!): @selenicives @stqrrgirle @weird-bookworm @eternalgyu @blue-jisungs (tough luck guys btw but youre gonna be tagged in this entire series ehehehe)

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For all your dnd purposes

Part of getting older is realizing how absolutely insane it is that basically every form of media is constantly trying to convince us that the most interesting moments of the lived human experience are happening in HIGH SCHOOL…… girl who gives a flying fuck what 16 year olds are doing.

283,000 likes………giant meteor strike the earth rn holy shit. oh my god.

I DONT EVEN WATCH MHA LIKE😢😢😢 HELPPP

I just can't get over the fact that usually Ochako is the one who's beautified,

and Toga is the one showing her raw expressions, i.e. she's presented as a monster, in blood and spider lily but during the main TogaChako fight and its conclusion...

Ochako is the one in her most raw form....all bloody, and bruised, covered in scars, mud and blood...

while Toga is the one in her most beautiful form...

It's just beautiful❤️

akari (complete)

*incoherent screaming and hollering* AAAAAAAA—

he'd begrudgingly agree that he has taste in music

songs referenced: 1, 2, 3, 4

do not repost, reblog only

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HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO

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

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

all sexual content present in part two.

⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k

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

LINK TO PART TWO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s very, very intrigued by that. 

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

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

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

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

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

He approaches slowly, quietly. 

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

“Oh, uhm. Hello?” 

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

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

“Surprised?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seem plenty friendly to me.” 

He pretends to think about it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A little,” 

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

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

“And yours?” 

“Gojo Satoru.” 

__

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 By you in general.

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

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

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

What’s heaven to a man born there?

__ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never called him before. 

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

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

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

You laugh quietly. 

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

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

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

He smiles to himself.

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

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

His first instinct is to disagree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait a minute, hesitating with your words. 

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

“Shy, huh? Cute.”

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

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

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

“Don’t wanna.” He states outright. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain. 

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

__

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you see it…?” 

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

“....It?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” 

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

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

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

“T-Thank you,”

He grins at you. 

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

You nod your head and sip your tea. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

You look confused.

“...Are you a celebrity?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were a high school teacher.” 

He smiles. 

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

“Oh.” 

You look befuddled. 

Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist. 

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

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

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

“You can’t use cursed techniques?” 

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

Vulnerable. 

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

“Is it that bad…?” 

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

“Do you carry anything with you?” 

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

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

“What other kind would there be?” 

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

“Everybody gets scared sometimes.” 

“Mm,”

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

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

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

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

He smiles. 

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

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

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

__ 

Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.

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

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

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

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

__

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.

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

Then, he’s inside. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Showing signs of anxiety.” 

Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’re you still here?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gives Gojo a pointed look. 

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

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

“No. Your aura.” 

Gojo stares ahead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thinks for a minute longer before sighing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s being sincere. 

“Should you be sympathizing with me?” 

“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”

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

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

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

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

Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too. 

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo shakes his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Yeah. I’ll do that.” 

__

The case ends anti-climatically. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s been seeing you again regularly, too. 

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

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

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

Above all, the offer is tempting.) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(sent 11:15am) Ready ~ 

He laughs to himself. 

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

(sent 11:16am) For coffee? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” 

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

“They’re an important friend,” 

He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend. 

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

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

“Not at all,” 

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

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

It’s a pleasant sort of day. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you complimenting yourself right now?” 

“Am I wrong?” 

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

He gasps in offense.

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

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

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

Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully. 

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

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

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

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

Your frown deepens. 

“I don’t care for your tone, mister.” 

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

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

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

“What do you want?” 

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

“Heard,” 

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

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

“Mm, there’s always next time?” 

“You say that every time!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then, I’m glad you asked me.” 

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

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

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

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

“Don’t forget.” 

“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?” 

You nod enthusiastically.

__ 

You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you. 

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

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

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

“Hey. Hey, look at me?” 

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

He doesn’t like it. 

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

“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?” He asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About time to get out of here, huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

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

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

“Let’s go sit,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You….knew?” 

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

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

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

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

You nod softly. 

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

Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry and cry and cry. 

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

__

In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who the…what the fuck is going on?” 

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

“W-w-what…how did you…” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

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

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

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

It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic. 

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

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

He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too. 

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

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

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

“P-please, I have—” 

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

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

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

Gojo hums.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence. 

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

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

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

Gojo pretends to think about it. 

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

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

Gojo hums.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” 

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒫𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇

Barbarian King!Bakugo x Priestess!Reader x Fire Diety!Dabi

Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

You’d always known exactly what was to be your fate. Enter the temple of the fire god as a high priestess, serve Dabi in his every need, and dedicate your whole life to worshipping him. That fate slips between your fingers when invaders plunder the temple and King Katsuki takes you as a war prize.

TW : Yandere, War, Sexual Slavery, Noncon to come in the next part.

AO3 Link.

Keep reading

Sundered 2: EMBERS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, implied pregnancy, mentions of abortion

word count: 5.4k

a/n: it's not sad.

Pining so intensely for something you never had to the point where you physically ache.

Each step that you take away from Satoru’s house feels like a stomp to your already broken heart. Your eyebrows furrowed, feeling the waterlines of your eyes start to get hot and itch. You recalled the noises and laughs that you heard from them while you walked out of their door. 

They have no idea how much you want to get down on your knees and beg them not to take away the only thing you have left. 

Your feet feel heavy with each stride you make toward your car. You could taste blood inside your mouth as you bit your inner lip to channel the pain away from your heart and to your body instead. You found yourself looking for answers on why all of this has to happen to you. As if being replaced by the man you love so easily and having to see how he treats someone else a thousand times better than you were not enough, you also have to witness your own flesh and blood turn away from you. Am I really that far behind that woman?

Is she that much better that even my own child prefers her over me?

You placed your hands on the steering wheel, looking down at your lap as you let the tears fall. You kept glancing over at the gate, hoping that Satoru would come out, running with your baby in his arms. Yet, you don’t want him to see you crying miserably. You swallowed thickly, letting out a large breath in an attempt to get rid of the painfully heavy feeling in your chest.

Driving away was numbing, and all sorts of thoughts ran inside your mind. But above all of them, your eyes were focused on the toy store as it got bigger in your view. You wondered about what you could get your little love to at least make her smile when she comes home. You remembered how your gift to her, her favorite bear that she used to hug as she sleeps ever since she was an infant, was cast aside as she clings to her new ones. 

Is that a foreshadowing of how you’d end up being in her life? It scared you.

Reaching the parking lot of the store, you looked at yourself in the car mirror, noticing your bloodshot eyes. You inhaled and let a big breath out slowly, puffing your cheeks as you assured yourself that it’ll be fine when she comes home later. Your head hurts so much but you can’t afford to care, stepping out of your car and heading to the front door of the store. The first thing you saw was a pregnant, young lady checking baby books. 

She reminded you of yourself when you were still pregnant with Yui; curious about everything, eager to learn, and all was about the baby. You admit that it wasn’t like that at first, given that you were young and had to drop out of college at that time. You were anxious, torn between decisions, and terrified of what life would be like for you from that point in time. During that period, you and Satoru were ignorant but trying hard to figure everything out.

You met Satoru at a nightclub you worked as a bartender at. He was flashy, and women just flock to him as if it was the most natural thing to do around him but that night, his eyes were on you. What with persistent offers of buying you drinks and talking to your manager to let you off early for the night, you ended up in a luxurious hotel suite with him. 

He even wrote his number on the price tag of the fancy lingerie set that he brought you after he ruined the one you were wearing the previous night. He was joking that you’ll never get enough so he’s providing you his contact for next time. You thought that would be the end of it. You didn’t think that it was just fate giving you a helping hand in advance because you’d end up with a child together. 

You consider it a dumb mistake. You know that Plan Bs exist. But with a working student like you who couldn’t even have time to get a proper boyfriend, it slipped your mind. The first thing you did after you got the results was call Satoru. You thanked the heavens that he wasn’t seeing anyone, and that he remembers you. It was a tense first meeting, what with you asking if he wants you to abort the fetus. Next thing you know, you two were already dealing with your mood swings. 

“Look, I really want to work this out with you, Y/N. For the baby.” Satoru sighed, slamming the door behind him as he watched you sit on your old couch. You lean your elbows on your knees as you covered your face with your hands, harshly running them down your cheeks to wipe away the big, fat tears that fell from your eyes. There are just so many things going on with your life. 

“I’m only 21, Satoru. I got my whole life ahead of me.” You looked up at his tall figure, frustration was evident in your eyes. You can tell that he was also distressed. His hair was messy, his jaw was clenched tightly, and even if you cannot see behind his tinted glasses, you can tell that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. The dark half-circles under his eyes and the redness in them show just how exhausted and disquieted he has been in the past few days.

Satoru’s five years older than you. He was born to a rich family of politicians who don't and probably will never need support from him or the other younger generations in their household. He has a stable source of income, he could probably make life investments that could cover your yearly living expenses. He has nothing to worry about, he won’t be dropping anything if he decides to take in another mouth to feed. But you…

You’re basically your mother’s retirement plan and now you got pregnant with a kid of a man you barely know. “Y/N, listen to me.” He got down on his knees in front of you, trying to take your hands off of your face as you sob, struggling to catch your breath. What’s going to happen to you now? You didn’t even get to finish the degree that your mother was working her ass off day and night for?

“You won’t have to worry about anything, you know? I’ll handle everything you need—” He trailed, trying to calm you down as he gently grabbed your forearms. “You don’t understand!” You cut him off, snatching your hands away, aggravated that he’s not thinking about how it could affect everything in your life. “Then, what the fuck do you want to do?!” You flinched as he raised his voice at you, breathing hard as he backed away.

“You think you’re the only one who’s going to be affected by this? You think you’re the only one who’s being robbed of another future! Open your fucking eyes, stop being selfish!” Satoru snapped back, harshly taking his glasses off before throwing it across the room. You started to cry, whimpering as you used the collar of your shirt to wipe your tears away.

“I’m scared, Satoru. I’m just so scared. I can’t even take care of myself, how am I supposed to raise a child…” You broke down, turning your body away from him. There was a long pause, a moment of pure silence, save from your sniffs and Satoru’s ragged breathing. 

You felt the couch dip as he sat down before pulling you to him, letting you cry on his chest.  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” You would be lying if you said that the back rub, the temple kisses, and his whispers of reassurance didn’t calm you down. Those thoughts were recurring in your head and now that you finally let it all out and got answers from him, you were soothed.

You blinked hard, shaking your head to get out of your trance. You went straight to the dolls section. You can’t believe you just had a flashback of Satoru comforting you in the warmth of his chest. Your mouth started to twitch, wishing that he held you like that earlier when his girlfriend was slapping into your face that they’re gonna give your child siblings. It shouldn’t hurt you, but it still did. You realized that this girl, this woman is gonna have everything you wish you had with Satoru.

You walked past the kiddie pools and trampoline section, stopping when you saw a playpen, almost similar to the one Satoru bought for your little girl but smaller. The size doesn’t really matter though, because you know that you don’t have enough space in your place for something so big, anyway. 

Going closer to check the prices, you bit your lip as your eyebrows bumped together. You were calculating your monthly expenses along with the money for your savings in case of emergency. It’s expensive but you’re determined to cut back just to buy it. You kept your eyes on the tag as you took half a step away from it but your back was met by something, or rather someone behind you.

“It’s not cheap, is it?” A man’s deep voice boomed as you turned around, but your eyes were met by a broad chest. He’s big, you thought. He’s literally blocking your view. It didn’t help that you were short enough to have to look up to see his face. He was also staring at the playpen as he held the pushcart beside him.

“Y-yeah…” You answered, a bit awkward as you found yourself admiring the guy. You admired fathers who are active when it comes to their children. You didn’t grow up with a father so, you just found it endearing. You looked away from the man, gritting your teeth as an image of Satoru and his girlfriend shopping for baby things appeared before your eyes for a split second.

“Excuse me, sir. I still have to buy my daughter a gift.” You bowed slightly before turning away. He just nodded his head, too occupied to even look at you. You proceeded to check out the little dolls, hoping that you’d find something that’ll really catch your daughter’s eye. Picking up a dark-haired baby doll with big blue eyes sitting on a stroller, you smiled as you remembered how it has the same eyes as your baby.

You went to pay for the doll, and your heart was filled with joy despite the throbbing pain in your skull and the hot feeling behind your eyes. You reminded yourself not to forget to take your medicine. Thinking about getting sick and having to leave your child for a couple of days with them again makes you anxious, afraid that she’ll never want to go home to you again. 

You hurriedly went home, driving in the midst of the rain. You put the little doll on the chair, ready to surprise your baby girl when she comes back. You had to bear with the time, constantly checking your phone if your little girl and her dad are on the way to you. Your heart swelled at the thought. 

Though, you know that you’ll never be the one he comes home to, it’s still nice to think about. 

—--------------------------------

“She really called me Mama.” Naomi giggled as she kissed his daughter’s cheek. Satoru smiled, watching them play together warms his heart. It made him feel like he was staring at his family even if he knows that his daughter isn’t hers. He pursed his lips, remembering the look in your eyes at what you heard the child say.

He felt conflicted, not knowing how to react to all of it. He doesn’t to embarrass his girlfriend by correcting her in front of you. But he also felt bad that he just watched you walk out that door on the verge of tears. Satoru had you memorized after all this time, it wasn’t a long time but he used to watch everything you do.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, though.” Satoru sighed, shaking his head as he pushed a bit of Naomi’s hair away from her face. Her expression dropped as she adjusted the toddler in her arms. Satoru pulled her close to his side, hugging her waist as he thought about how to explain it to her without making her feel disheartened.

“I’m worried about how Y/N will feel about it, to be honest. I don’t know but it may worry her.” He kissed the side of her forehead before stepping away as he watches his daughter’s eyes look at them. He knows that she’s still too young but he feared that she’ll get confused by all of this. 

Like why is her father not with her mother, and why is he holding someone else?

He wondered if she’ll grow to hate him for giving up on their family. “Oh, Is that so…I thought we were fine already.” Naomi’s voice was quiet as she bit her lip, making Satoru rethink. “It’s not that, I just think that maybe that’s how she might feel.” Satoru took one of her hands, kissing it before rubbing his thumb on her soft skin. “No, I understand, I got too comfortable. I’m just a girlfriend, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Satoru doesn’t want to make her feel like this, she’s just really attached to his baby. He knows that Naomi adores kids, they often joke around about it, so he could see why she’s excited about his daughter calling her Mama. Thinking about it now, maybe this shouldn’t be so bad. After all, she’s not gonna be just a girlfriend to him forever, right? Naomi is a great person, and Satoru thinks that it’s not impossible to have a future with her.

“Don’t say that. That’s just my assumption. She’ll tell if it’s not alright, I know. We’re co-parenting so we have to talk about those stuff.” Three squeezes to her hands made Naomi smile sweetly at him, her eyes as kind as the stars. “Yeah, discussions are important. I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to keep her away from us.” The calmness in her voice comforted Satoru.

—-------------------------------------

After receiving a text from Satoru, you found yourself staring at the mirror, retouching your makeup like it’s gonna make him fall for you. Hopeless. Not long after, the doorbell rang and you dashed to the door. There, Satoru stood with Yui asleep on his shoulders. You took her bags, along with the teddy bear that she was hugging to her chest. Seeing her holding it again made you feel relieved.

“Are you feeling better now?” Satoru inquired, walking past you to put your kid in her little bed. You hummed in response, “She’s full, don’t give her any more milk. Naomi fed her before she fell asleep.” Her again. You thought as the small smile on your face dissipated. You’re just thankful that he didn’t take her with them here.

There was a moment of silence as the two of you watched your daughter sleep peacefully. A sigh escaped Satoru’s lips before he turned to you. He was about to say something, but closed his mouth, thinking. You took a deep breath, pursing your lips as you collected your thoughts. You started to rub your hands together, trying to get rid of the cold feeling on your fingertips.

Your communication issues with Satoru only worsened when he got a girlfriend. Seeing how he is with her made you doubt the importance of your words to him. It’s like if you get stuck in a room together with her and something happens, you’re almost certain that he’d accuse you first. You wouldn’t admit it but you yearn for him. You yearn for the way he acts towards her. You yearn for the things he does for her. 

You yearn for the things he so easily, willingly offer to her; things you had to beg for when you were still together.

“Satoru, I just want to ask…Since when did Yui start to call Naomi Mama?” You looked at the ground, somewhat embarrassed of your question but can’t pinpoint why. It just made you feel…weak and insecure. And you are that. But you can’t let Satoru see it. You don’t want him to feel even more sorry for you. You can see it in his and his girlfriend’s eyes whenever they look at you. They probably pity you and the state you are in. 

Alone. With no one to hold your pieces together but you.

“I don’t really remember. Look, I was going to mention that…” Satoru trailed, looking everywhere but you. He probably noticed your discomfort earlier. “I know it doesn’t seem right to you because she’s just my girlfriend but…” Here’s the “but” again. How come he can always find the good when it comes to her, even when she literally did you so wrong by letting your daughter call her Mama and even acting like one in front of you?

Ever since Satoru got a girlfriend, arguing with him started to feel like fighting in a war without any type of armor in your body. How are supposed to stand strong, when the fact that he’ll always be on her side was your weakness? There were times when you wanted to fight for yourself but you couldn’t bear to because you know that he was shielding her from everything, heedlessly deserting you.

“I didn’t really appreciate it. I mean… I-I just think she’s not in the place to—” You thought the words you chose to describe the situation were too risky when you were cut off by Satoru, taking his glasses off. You can’t read him but he’s looking at you with that apologetic gaze again. His face was filled with contrite and you can’t quite understand why. But like a mouse sensing danger, you wanted to run away.

“I…I’m thinking about proposing to Naomi.” It shouldn’t hurt. You told yourself again. You don’t have the right to feel hurt. This man disrespected you, hurt you, and made you feel so incredibly small yet here you wish you were the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. “I know she’s just my girlfriend now, but it’s bound to change.” You suddenly just want to leave. “She…she’d like to ask for permission to let our daughter call her Mom. You know she treats Yui like she’s her—” 

“I don’t want to.” You whispered firmly through gritted teeth, cutting Satoru off. You don’t wanna hear it anymore. You can’t go through that again and you can’t let that happen again. “Yui is my daughter, and I don’t want her calling anyone else Mama.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes before turning away to walk out of the room, not wanting to startle the toddler from her slumber. Satoru was instantly on your tail, calling your name.

“She’s my daughter, too. Y/n, what is wrong? I know that you have your limitations and that’s why I’m here to talk about it with you, but why are you acting like this?” He walked closer to you, trying to catch your eyes. “I know it’s not just about this, I know you’ve been having problems with her but give a reason, at least. She’s been nothing but good to our kid. ” It’s getting hard for you to breathe as you tried to process your emotions and his questions.

You proceeded to the kitchen, hurrying to grab yourself a bottle of water before you collapse, but failing terribly when Satoru spoke the next sentence “Y/N, we all have to adjust, don’t be unfair to her, she doesn’t deserve it.” 

“And I do?!” You shouted at him, taking him by surprise and making him take a step back. 

“You think she doesn’t deserve any of that shit but I DO?!” You lamented, shaking your head in pain and disbelief. There were tears streaming down your face and no pattern of breathing can help you control it. You were able to keep it in when he shoved his new girlfriend in your face several months ago, but now it’s taking its toll.

You were about to get the clothes that he bought for your daughter on your way home from work but were met with a woman snuggled up to him on his couch. You hated him for allowing you to see them like that when he knows that you haven’t even processed your split yet because a month before that he was saying that he could fix his shortcomings for you and his daughter. 

You remember how sick you felt in your stomach when he introduced her, saying that you weren’t supposed to see them like that. It’s revolting; how he thought that you were upset because of what you saw and not because he just went back on his words. Naomi kept her head down, standing in front of you as she muttered an apology before scurrying to Satoru’s room. 

Naomi was his father’s new assistant and unlike you, she got to finish her studies. Despite being classmates in high school, she was three years older than you due to the frequent relocation of her family. Regardless of her tough childhood, she was known to be a smart kid. No wonder his mother approved of her in such a short time. 

You and Satoru were never perfect but it doesn’t mean that you were never happy with each other before. The issues overpowered your interest in each other, making it hard for the two of you to bounce back. You admit that you’ve been negligent of Satoru at a certain point of your relationship but it was only because you got tired of his ways.

He would come home late, making you stay up all night because he failed to reply when you texted him, asking him his whereabouts. He’d be out drinking with friends, and it wasn’t a problem but you just wanted him to at least let you know so wouldn’t be worrying to the point that you can’t even sleep.

His mother was overbearing. You got pregnant by someone’s son in a one-night stand and that’s all she paints you with. You were belittled and told that you can’t even take care of the child properly. Hell, was she so eager for Satoru to leave you and find someone better who achieved something in life.

Consequently, this negligence led to fits of jealousy from Satoru. This drove you to quit the job you used to have after a coworker of yours who only wanted to help became the subject of his suspicions. His mother saw you getting dropped off by your friend while she was babysitting your daughter. 

It was only because your car broke down and you don’t want to bother Satoru at work. You couldn’t really blame him for thinking that way because you know that he’s been feeling invisible to you which wasn’t true. You just don’t know how to deal with it anymore and you started to pull yourself away.

It got to the point where you couldn’t even communicate how you truly feel about him because it was overshadowed by your problems. You were arrogant enough to tell him that someone could treat you right and do much better and now, look at you; standing before him and his girl. Longing for him and eating the words you spitefully told him.

Pining so intensely for something you never had to the point where you physically ache.

The memory was tormenting, heart-rending, and traumatic to you. And now you get to watch them write their happy ending while you are here, left in the dust, drowning in the feelings that will never ever get recognized and will never ever be relevant. 

It hasn’t even been a year, and he’s already planning to marry her. He’s been nothing but better to her, yet, he couldn’t even change his ways for you and your child? Couldn’t he learn to truly love you after everything you endured just to be with him? You know that you have flaws, and chose some wrong steps and paths in your relationship. 

But you can’t bear to lose him like this. You know that you could have fought more for your relationship. He’d always say that you’d work things out. So, why did he stop? How could he stop choosing you so easily?

“How could you give her the world, yet refuse me the tiny bit of what I have left?” 

Your voice was small as you backed away, defeated. Satoru couldn’t move. From everything that has happened that morning, he could tell that you’ve been on edge. To Satoru, the only thing that connects you to him is his daughter. He refuses to believe that after all of that, you can still make it work.

At least, that’s the realization he came about when he met Naomi. She taught him that love isn’t supposed to be strenuous, it isn’t always about fighting. Within his tumultuous relationship with you, she came around and showed him that he’s seen. That his feelings are valid. He came to the conclusion that maybe he just wanted to love you because you have a child together. 

“Tiny bit?” He asked, frustrated that you just won’t let this go easily, irked that you always think you’re the only one having a hard time. If Satoru’s being honest, he’s just tired of it all. He just wants you to understand his point and get it over with. But now you’re crying in front of him and again, he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t even think of the right things to say or the right decisions to make. It’s like it’s all back to square one with you.

“You call it ‘tiny bit’ when I couldn’t even live my life because of you?! I’ve given everything, Y/N! I just want to be at peace with everything and I’m obviously not having it with you!” You couldn’t even breathe through the piercing ache in your chest from the daggers that are coming out of his mouth. Your hand reached over to your chest, grasping your shirt as his every word irreversibly pulverized your already wounded heart.

“I wish I never met you that night and I wish I never had Yui with you. You’re a thorn in my side, Y/N!” By the time he finished screaming at you, you were shaking like a leaf, grabbing a chair beside your table as your wide eyes stared at him in shock. Grief, mortification, and agony were plastered on your face, and only then did Satoru’s words sink into him.

“Y/N, I—” Before he could even form a proper phrase, a loud cry erupted from the other room. Yui. He watched as you quickly wiped away your tears, seeing the emotions mix inside your eyes until they turned into a weeping void with all the tears pooling inside them.

“I…I loved you, Satoru. And I hate that even now when you’re kicking me while I’m down for the sake of someone else, I still love you.” The crack in your voice had Satoru subconsciously moving closer to you, opening his arms to pull you into him but you were quick to flinch away, sniveling.

“Please, just-just go. Do whatever you want, just d-don’t take Yui away. I’m fine with it now, Satoru.” It’s almost as though something in you died when he spoke those words to you. You don’t know if he heard because you couldn’t even hear yourself. You could feel the beat of your heart in your chest and each one of them sends a burning ache to your body. “Just go, please.” You whimpered as you bit your upper lip, looking down on the floor. 

Satoru can’t take his eyes off of your fragile figure as you leaned on the kitchen counter, slowly walking back to your daughter’s room. He remained unmoving until you exited the kitchen area. It was only after a few minutes that he decided to go, not bothering to wipe away the tears that rolled down his face as he listened to your muffled cries behind the closed door.

Each sob was filled with anguish that Satoru knows he’ll never be able to erase.

—------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later have passed yet Satoru still doesn’t know what to make of himself. He couldn’t focus on anything that he works on. He couldn’t even workout properly, he always ends up getting angry. It was a good thing that both he and Naomi were swarmed with tasks; they didn’t have time to interact any more than what their jobs would allow. If they did, Satoru isn’t sure if he’ll be able to focus on her. She still has time to visit every week, though. During those days, she spends her time with Satoru and sometimes, Yui.

He makes sure to free his time and himself completely when he’s with his daughter so he can give his full attention to her. Satoru picks her up from your house, same schedule as before. Sometimes it’s you, but other times, it was your mother. “All I asked of you was to never break her, Gojo.” were the first words she spoke to him. Satoru can’t look her in the eyes. Your mother was a kind woman, humble and unjudging. And to have her talking to him like that, Satoru was beyond ashamed.

He couldn’t give her a reason, or an answer. All he did was apologize. Like he should. Naomi was unaware of it all and the proposal that Satoru was planning for her was set aside due to all that had happened. He just doesn’t think it’s the time to think about it when his relationship with you is strained. Yes, you’re not together anymore but you’re still the mother of his child and he wants to be civil with you, at least.

Yui kept asking for you even when she was with him as if sensing that her Mama was hurting. She’s always carrying the new doll that you bought for her. Satoru once asked her if you cry and she would simply shake her head. He gets nothing out of it, of course, she’s just a kid. But who else could he ask?

Satoru has no idea what you have been doing. He knows that you go to work, but other than that, he’s clueless about the places you go to and why your mother started babysitting his daughter more during the past few days. Satoru thought that maybe you just can’t stand seeing him anymore and is refusing to face you when he picks his daughter up. You have every right and reason to despise him, after all.

So, now he stands on the other side of your door, wondering if he’ll get to see your face this time or be welcomed with the frowning face of your mother. He knocked three times, like he always does, adjusting the collar of his shirt. To his surprise, it wasn’t any of the two women he was expecting holding the door open for him. 

“Who are you?” A shirtless man with a muscular build stood before Satoru, a curious yet accusatory gaze scanned him like he was an intruder in his own woman’s home. He leaned on his tattooed arm against the doorframe, blocking the tiny view he has of the inside. It pissed him off, clenching his jaw for a few seconds before speaking.

“Who are you?” Satoru bit back, raising his brows in an attempt to intimidate the guy. He’s only a couple of centimeters taller than the stranger but he’s bigger. It wasn’t a big deal to him until the man opened the door wider. A short, deep chuckle escaped his lips before a smug smirk appeared on his face. 

Tilting his head, the man gave Satoru a clear look at the scratches adorning his nape and the purple and maroon marks on his jaw. It made Satoru’s blood boil, unreasonably so.

“Think you know who I am now?” 

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ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

c/w: 11k wc, SUGGESTIVE, summer romance, strangers to fwb to lovers, eren is a surfing instructor, overall it's just a light and hopefully enjoyable story full of sea, conflicting feelings & newfound friendships! it's been a minute since i published anything but i'd love to come back with part 2 if you guys enjoy :)

i've read i wish you would by @meowzfordayz so many times i eventually got inspired to write my own lil summery piece <3

Eren doesn’t think anything of it.

He’s used to being watched as he runs back and forth by the shoreline, salt drying on his tan skin and surfboard faithfully tucked underneath his arm.

He’s used to drawing the interest of girls, women and some men whenever he hangs out at the beach cafe with his friends. Eren actually gets a kick out of the thrilled glances he receives as he travels from thick towels to colorful beach umbrellas, in search of strangers bold enough to take part in a volleyball match against his team.

But it’s the third day, your yellow towel is always in the same spot and he finds himself glancing back at you more often than not. You’re a tourist, most probably from the city. It’s clear from how you shield yourself from the sun and the way you keep attempting to brush the sand off your legs with a frown he finds comical. You’re a reader, if the thick book you carry around in that straw bag is an indicator. You’re also alone, he’s never seen you in the company of a friend or a relative. Or a boyfriend.

Somehow, you manage to pique his interest, if only for the smile you grant when meeting him halfway to give back the ball Sasha’s serve has conveniently thrown too far away. As he watches you walk back to your towel and right as he manages to catch the brief glance you shoot him from over your shoulder, Eren thinks he just needs the right chance to try his evergreen luck once more.

Fortunately, the perfect opportunity comes earlier than expected.

He’s fresh out of the water, one hand running through brown locks rendered thicker by ocean salt. The pace is cheerful as they walk towards the cafe, hungry as ever after what felt like hours on end of catching waves, adrenaline slowly flowing out of their bodies and heart rate calming down. Eren spots you right away, suddenly so distracted he doesn’t reciprocate Jean’s playful shove nor does he wince in annoyance when he flicks his forehead.

You’re sitting across from Connie and Sasha, polite smile that turns into laughter at what’s most probably one of his friend’s lame jokes. Despite Jean’s yo! that loudly announces their presence, it’s Eren’s the face your gaze flickers to. The smile is still there and wouldn’t it be unkind of him not to return it?

“Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” Jean is absolutely oblivious to your presence and ungracefully lets himself fall down onto one of the rattan stools.

“Burgers are on their way” Sasha pushes her plate of fries towards him and he thanks her with a grin so bright it’s blinding. Her hair is still wet from the lazy swim she took shortly after they arrived at the beach, auburn hair drenched in enough red saturation to contrast with her magenta bikini. 

“I don’t think we’ve met” Eren hasn’t let his eyes shift from your features, so relaxed while witnessing his friends’ antics. You lazily return your attention to him once more and, with a pleasant squeeze of his stomach, he senses the anticipation. Is this encounter so casual, after all? Or is everything going exactly how you’ve been wanting it to? Either way, he’s more than fine with it.

“We haven’t” you reply with a sweet smile, offering a hand he oh so easily envelops in his.

Connie introduces you and your name rolls off from his tongue with a fond inflection already.

“She’s gonna spend the summer here and doesn’t really know anyone—” he interrupts himself to land a protective slap to the back of Jean’s head. He’s been choking down way too many of Sasha’s fries.

“She was asking for some advice on what to do, where to go” Sasha takes it from there, flashes you a smile “so we invited her to join us tonight”

“And I already said I don’t want to intrude” you shrink in your seat a little and Jean scoffs at your demeanor, a lazy wave of the hand to brush your concerns off.

“It’s cool. The more, the merrier”

“Besides” Eren worms his way into the conversation “you’re gonna need reliable allies if you want to survive in the wild”

Genuine amusement settles at the corners of your lips while you take note of the jovial glint in his mirth gaze.

It’s exactly what you must look like to them, you think while trying to decide what to wear for the impending night out. An outsider in need of some guidance, the right companionship not to feel too lost while attempting to navigate the pathetically lonely summer ahead of you.

The simple truth is that you don’t really mind being on your own. This was a last minute, impulsive trip you had booked without thinking too much about it. You sort of wanted to get accustomed to the quieter life, idyllic days puncuated by late brunches, ocean waves crashing against the shore, the familiar rustle of pages of your favorite books, perhaps a movie or two while comfortably snuggled in the big, soft bed your small vacation rental came with.

All you’re actually after is a peaceful summer but sure enough you don’t mind meeting a person or two, nice people you can have a chat with at the beach instead of spending hours on end listening to true crime podcasts. You don’t mind having an excuse to finally put on something other than your sleeping shorts, pull out the only lipstick you have carried with you halfway across the country and actually spend some time outside of your room.

You definitely don’t mind having the chance to get to know hot surfer boy either, pretty much the embodiment of any summer romance trope a girl could think of. Doesn’t take a genius to understand that he’d be the main character in each individual one.

Attractive? Check. Charming? Check. Residing on a remote island in the middle of the ocean? Check. Eats, sleeps and breathes just to flirt with anything that moves? Most probably, check.

And although romance is definitely not what either of you are after, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have some harmless fun.

Isn’t that what summers are for?

That’s the thought you carry with you as you approach their table at the bar, a confident smile hopefully concealing the slight tension in your shoulders. In the end, you opted for a striped blouse and a simple, white denim skirt.

Connie enthusiastically chirps your name and Eren, who is seated on the outer edge of the booth seating, makes room for you right away. The space is cramped enough for everyone to be basically leaning against each other and you think it’s not exactly a coincidence that your thigh has to be flush against Eren’s in order to fit in the booth.

“You have to try this, it’s amazing!”, Sasha grins while gently pushing her drink towards you, the glass leaving a trail of condensation on the mahogany table. You lean over to take a small sip from the green straw. It’s a classic piña colada, the frozen blend of pineapple and creamy coconut a little too sweet for your liking.

“Think I’ll go with a moscow mule” you smile an apologetic smile and she just shrugs, unimpressed.

“I second that” a gentle yet unfamiliar gaze meets yours, copper mug raised in a metaphoric toast “I’m Armin, so nice having you with us tonight!”

“Thanks, Armin” with a soft chuckle you introduce yourself as well.

They’re such a diverse group but manage to fit amazingly well together, you find. The common denominator is genuine friendliness, there’s not an ounce of fabrication in the kind tone used to direct questions your way, each and everyone of those present genuinely curious and determined to make you feel included.

“You can’t be serious” Connie’s nose scrunches in a displeased grimace “books? Tv shows? Is that seriously what you’ve been doing?”

“I’m technically on vacation” your weak attempt at justifying yourself is laughed at.

“A great reason not to stay indoors the whole damn day” Jean downs his third beer of the evening and points a finger in your direction “consider yourself under our wing from now on”

“Not sure sweating under the sun while jumping after a ball matches my idea of fun” you give him a skeptical albeit playful look.

Sasha, three piña coladas in, slams her fist on the table .

“That’s exactly what I tell them every summer!”

“No one forces you to play like, ever” Connie smirks her way “wish you’d spare us the agony of having you on the team actually”

“He’s kidding” Armin is quick to chime in, alarmed by the childlike astonishment suddenly filling Sasha’s big brown eyes.

“What’s your idea of fun, then?” a deep, warm voice pulls you away from the funny scene taking place in front of you.

“This night is fun” you smile, gaze finally meeting sage eyes that have been so intently focused on you throughout the evening. Your leg is still shamelessly pressing against his, more of an intentional touch than a forced one. The amount of warmth radiating through his jeans is enough to send a shudder down your spine.

Eren mirrors your smile.

“We’re fun people” he concedes “what else?”

You pause, pensive for a moment. It’d be great to actually be the mysterious, secretly entertaining stranger from the city he’s probably picturing but the sour truth is that you own a boring, quite ordinary personality.

“Reading at the beach instead of my bed?” you crack another smile, met with a chuckle and an eyeroll this time.

“Ever tried surfing?” despite the amused expression, it’s clear he’s not mocking you.

“I literally live in Tokyo”

“Not even on vacation? As a kid? Ever?”

It’s cute, the authentic shock painting his features. So you smile again with a slight shrug.

Eren clicks his tongue.

“I’ll teach you. You’ll never be the same again”

This time it’s you who’s laughing as he frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just trying to picture how many girls you must’ve said that to”

Slightly taken aback, he offers half a smile.

“I don’t need to say that to girls, I’m actually an instructor”

“Right, so they come looking for you anyway”

“What’s this sudden interest in how I get girls?”

You innocently cross your ankles underneath the table, which causes your leg to press against his a little more.

“Not sudden”

Another boyish smirk splits across his face as he leans slightly closer, a dangerously inviting scent enveloping your senses already. He’s not even wearing any cologne.

“Seriously, come take a look tomorrow” Eren pauses for a second, intentionally, eyes travelling down to the soft curve of your lips “I usually make it fun, or so I’m told”

Sulking in your seat, you playfully raise your eyebrows because this is a game two should play.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna show me your place tonight?”

Without missing a beat, Eren fakes a pensive hum, magnetic gaze shamelessly lingering on your lips again.

“I might. If you promise to come take a look tomorrow”

He’s not one to be intimidated and, as a matter of fact, he has been fighting the urge to place a hand on your thigh for the entire night.

You huff, newly found boldness courtesy of the second moscow mule and the thrill of the unknown. Surf is something you’ve never been interested in and you sincerely doubt all the women telling him how good of a teacher he is weren’t simply after the same thing you are being offered right now. But if a little stroke of the ego and some acquiescence will get you what you want, which is for him to finally just touch you, would you really be dumb enough to miss the perfect opportunity?

“Fine. I’ll stop by” you concede but whatever he has to say in response gets harshly sucked in by Sasha’s sobs.

The invisible bubble that had shortly enveloped you both suddenly bursts with a pop as you redirect your attention to the rest of the party. Jean seems genuinely horrified, Connie is just laughing with literal tears in his eyes as he watches Armin whisper comforting words to their friend.

“What the hell did you say to her?” you’re slightly surprised to hear the protective annoyance embedded in Eren’s tone, especially when you thought he’d just laugh the whole situation off.

“Nothing!” panic makes Jean’s voice squeaky and Connie only laughs harder, slamming a hand on the table.

“She thinks the ocean has dried up!” he can barely spell the words out before erupting in another fit of laughter right as Sasha’s desperate sobs increase in volume.

“Sash, I promise nothing has happened to the ocean” Eren attempts to gently take one of her hands and move it away from her face but she just harshly slaps his fingers away.   

“I don’t believe you!” she wails so heartbreakingly Armin deems wise to catiously hide what’s left of her drink behind one of Jean’s beer bottles.

“Sasha” you softly chime in and perhaps it’s because your voice is still unfamiliar that she looks up, puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks “I just got back from the beach, with a gift” it takes everything in you not to laugh as her eyes widen in shock when you pull out a glass of water from underneath the table.

“Special ocean water, just for you”

“How did you get that?” before you even have the chance to come up with a believable answer, Sasha gasps so audibly a few people turn around to look at your table “are you a mermaid?”

Connie is howling with laughter at this point, as Jean slaps a hand to his mouth to no avail. Eren just sighs.

“Why do we let her drink every time?” he mutters under his breath.

You ignore each and every one of them as you inch across the table, palms facing upward.

“You can’t tell anyone” the conspiratorial whisper is what probably gets her as she leans over in turn, absolutely amazed while inspecting your wet fingertips.

“Guess it’s time to take her home” with a sigh of relief, Armin finally relaxes in his seat.

“Your turn” Connie grins mischievously at Eren, who just rolls his eyes.

“I could use a hand” his lips conveniently brush against the shell of your ear as he pretends the sudden proximity was nothing but a natural consequence of his standing up. You follow suit with a soft smile and so does Sasha, who refuses to let go of your hand.

“We’re not like this all the time” Armin looks exhausted and something tells you he’s usually the one responsible for keeping tabs whenever things get out of control. It suits his kind nature, or at least that’s the impression you get after spending a few hours with him.

“Will you come to the beach tomorrow? I’d really like to continue that conversation about confessional poetry” and so you smile at him, no ulterior motive besides the genuine pleasure that comes with meeting a new potential friend with interests so similar to yours.

Sasha impatiently pulls you by the hand as Eren balances her body against his, an arm around her waist to make sure she stands.

“Yeah” warmth radiates from the tired albeit gentle smile Armin offers you “I’ll bring my Robert Lowell book”

“Remember what I said” Jean scoffs impatiently as Connie waves goodbye with a pestiferous grin glued to his face “our wing. Fun summer. No more indoors”

“Aye aye, captain” you chuckle.

“Let’s go!” Sasha tugs at your blouse twice and Eren has to literally keep her from collapsing on the floor when she clumsily stumbles upon her own feet.

You gently untangle your hand from her grabby fingers and secure her arm around your shoulders, careful not to fall yourself as she suddenly leans in to press her nose to your cheek.

“Your hair smells like the ocean” she mumbles dreamily and you can’t hold back the giggle that bubbles from your throat while you help her out of the bar, Connie’s chuckle the last thing you register before stepping out in the humid hair of the night.

“Everything okay over there?” Eren can’t help but smile when he glances in your direction, sincerely amused by the way his friend is all over you.

“Absolutely” your smile is intended for Sasha instead, who is walking pretty much blindly since her undivided attention is still focused on something that’s entirely different from the sidewalk. With a careful brush of your thumb, you clean off some of the smudged mascara underneath her eyes.

“Maybe someone should’ve stayed with her” you discreetly whisper over her head.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll tuck her in, make sure she wakes up with water and some painkillers nearby” Eren meets Sasha’s gaze and laughs when she grins widely at him.

“You’re my best friend!” she cheers so loudly you jump a little “the best Eren I know!”

“I’m the only Eren you know” he gently flicks her forehead, fingers barely grazing her skin.

You chuckle again, too caught up in the moment to realize how disarmingly nice and attentive and attractive he actually is.

Sasha is not steady enough on her legs but you can barely feel the weight you’re supposedly sustaining, Eren most likely doing the majority of the work. He hums and distractedly mumbles reassuring nothings in response to his friend’s incessant nonsense, still more amused than annoyed. When you reach her apartment at last they both insist you step in with them, Sasha being particularly excited at the thought of showing you her seashell collection (“it’ll make you feel at home!”) but you kindly refuse and watch as he quite literally drags her inside while she enthusiastically waves and promises to visit you the next day. Whether she means to come by your place or dive underwater, you can’t tell.

Because of what you’re wearing, sitting on the sidewalk is a hard pass. Still, Sasha doesn’t live far from the beach, much like basically every other island resident. You don’t mind waiting outside, not when you can hear the faint sound of crashing waves and the brackish breeze gently ruffles your hair.

It’s relaxing, really, getting to quietly stand by as everything else drifts before you. Couples taking a stroll by the shore nothing more than dark silhouettes barely discernible from where you’re standing, an old man slowly pushing a gelato cart and then stopping to take a break, groups of friends loudly making their way through the street as some bystanders direct them glances expressing disapproval.

“Hey” Eren materializes next to you out of thin air, a smile tugging at his lips when you wince “want one?”

With a small nod, he indicates the ice cream cart. You smile back.

“Ah, no, thanks. Is she okay?”

Something passes through his handsome face, some sort of indefinite emotion gone before you have the chance to even fully notice it, the apology remaining tucked up in the corner of his mouth.

“Out like a light. C’mon, I want one, we can share”

He doesn’t give you the time to decline again. You just have to promptly follow him not to fall behind as he marches towards the vendor. They seem to know each other: Eren calls him uncle Katsu and the older man seems delighted about the encounter. He asks if his favorite customer wants the usual but Eren glances at you, amusement conquering his relaxed features once more.

“Nah, she wouldn’t understand. Give me something more tourist friendly”

Brows furrowed, you open your mouth to protest but you’re cut off by Katsu’s boisterous laugh.

Sullen, you end up with a butter pecan cone Eren lets you hold more than a fair amount of time for two people who are supposed to be eating equal amounts of ice cream.

“What’s the usual?” you grumble and he grins walking beside you, hands shoved in pockets and pace comfortably slow.

“Pineapple, with chunks”

“Nice” the attempt at playing off your skepticism as nonchalance fails miserably.

“You’re gonna try it eventually, I’m just giving you some time to get accustomed to the wilderness first”

With a huff you pass him the cone, trying to ignore the pleasant flip of your stomach at his words. Is he assuming you’ll hang out more than just this once?

“You really like living here” it’s a sincere observation that just slips out, past all the casual facade you’re trying to keep up.

Eren shrugs but there’s fondness in the way he looks at the ordinary street ahead of him.

“I do. Can’t imagine myself anywhere else”

The affection vibrating in his tone makes you bitter. You never experienced that sense of belonging, not to a place, not even to your own family. The only person who’s ever been the closest at becoming home has let you down so violently, so suddenly, your scarred skin is still having a hard time healing itself.

Eren peers down at you, taking in your pensive expression. He wonders why you look so gloomy all of a sudden, if your friends ever call while you’re busy spending your days all by yourself on the other side of Japan. He wonders why you’re here on your own.

“What about you?” his tone is light, poised between genuine curiosity and the urge to elicit a shred of actual information “how come you’re staying here all summer?”

The gloom dissipates so abruptly it hardly looks natural.

“Ah, my rich parents agreed to pay for the vacation so why not take full advantage of their kindness?” you shrug with a smile that hopefully covers up the lie well enough. His furrowed brows indicate that he’s not fully convinced but genuine intimacy and heartfelt confessions in the middle of the night are not what you need nor what you want, therefore it’s only fair to batten down the hatches.

“So, where’s this place of yours? Far from here?” you jokingly ask with a light shove of your shoulder to his arm.

Eren pauses for a second, seeming so taken aback you feel your face getting hot with embarrassment.

“You actually want—”

“You don’t—”

Both of you look at each other with furrowed brows, until he stops in his tracks.

Fuck.

“Uh” you let out a nervous chuckle “I’m so sorry. That was weird of me, I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably stood in the sun too long today. Anyway, I can totally walk myself home, don’t feel obligated to—”

He too laughs but, again, it’s not to poke fun at your pathetic little self.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” the playful glint in his eyes only contributes to embarrass you further, so he promptly softens his tone “I should be the one apologizing. I just thought you wouldn’t want to, you know, after Sasha and everything”

You blink a few times, candidly confused.

“No? I mean, I like Sasha. I like all your friends” it’s the unexpected truth, one that makes him smile.

For a split second, he considers asking if you like him too, even if your willingness to let him take you home already speaks volumes. But why would he? If Sasha getting absolutely plastered and almost throwing up on you wasn’t enough of a turn off, Eren should just shut the fuck up and savour the opportunity he’s been waiting for ever since seeing you at the beach for the first time. He’s been picturing the pretty creases of that blouse on his bedroom floor pretty much the entire evening.

“I’m just a few blocks away” therefore he smiles that attractive smirk of his, right before taking one last bite of the crumbly cone in his cream-stained hand.

“Don’t feel compelled to—”

“You look beautiful right now” Eren cuts you off abruptly, words dying in your throat as you look back in shock “the whole night, actually. The last thing I’m feeling is compelled” his noses scrunches slightly, as if feeling nauseated by the ridiculous assumption alone.

Another beat passes before you allow your lungs to deflate with the release of a breath.

“Okay” you mutter, still dazed by the sudden, straightforward flattery.

Eren’s smile grows in softness this time. An entire second is spent thinking that smile suits him more than the confident smirk of a moment ago.

“Okay” he says back.

When he arrives at the beach the next morning, earlier than usual, he spots you right away. You’re sitting on your yellow towel and seem engaged in a heated discussion with his best friend, both of you interrupting the other with a frantic gesturing of hands.

Eren stops for a second, surfboard planted in the sand for good measure, one hand on top of the other as he just takes a moment to observe you. His mind travels back to the slight disappointment swallowing the convenience of waking up with an empty spot next to him, the sun bleeding through the shutters because he’d forgotten to close them. How could he had remembered with your fingers running through his hair and the goosebumps blossoming on his forearms?

He didn’t have the time to explore you like he had intended to, he couldn’t take his time because you were so eager and it was surprising how impatient Eren found himself to be in turn, how rapidly you adapted to each other. He even remembers genuinely enjoying the short, embarrassing incidents that came with growing accustomed to such a sudden yet highly anticipated proximity: your head bumping into his while straddling his lap, him knocking over the lamp from his nightstand, airy laughs swallowed by each other’s mouths.

Little to no foreplay was needed, the memory of your fingers closing around his wrist to confidently guide his hand between your legs still pulsing in his mind. He barely got the chance to kiss you, nowhere near as how he would’ve liked to, his lips being hastily reclaimed everywhere else.

He’s not even sure why he’s still lingering there, uncertain. Eren’s had countless one night stands before but once both parties got what they needed none of them were really there to hang out again, certainly nowhere near his friends anyway. He’s had longer affairs with tourists, mutual attraction and harmless fun lasting from days to weeks, his conquests eventually recognizing Jean or exchanging a few pleasantries with Connie. But this has never really happened. He’s never made plans with someone before even getting to the point of having them in his bed, for the next day no less. He’s never frowned upon waking up alone and he’s definitely never chuckled while barefoot in his own kitchen, the messily scribbled note you had tucked underneath his french press in hand.

Your coffee sucks.

You didn’t even bother to wash the mug abandoned in his sink but still you made sure he’d wake up to a freshly brewed serving anyway.

Eren’s never truly liked any of his one night stands enough to frame them as potential friends in the long run and so it was a little unsettling, the feeling that you were just about to change that.

“Can you believe they deemed this as lazy writing?” Armin’s finger skims across the page he’s holding open, underlining a particular verse “now the hot river, ebbing, hauls its bloody waters into holes; a grain of sand inside my shoe mimics the moon that might undo man and creation too”

You hum, appreciative.

“It’s the absence of flowered language. Nobody liked reading about raw trauma and dramatic events but at the root of hypocrisy is always fear and low self-esteem” with a little shrug, you smile “essentially, they were a bunch of assholes”

“You can’t truly appreciate poetry if life scares you” for some reason, Armin’s words make your insides twist for a second. You remember one of your favorite Anne Sexton’s poems and its brutal honesty: suicides have a special language, like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. It felt dangerously similar to how you were living.

“Enough of this unsettling realness” Armin closes his book with a loud thud and gently places it between your bodies, on your soft towel. You wonder if he’s noticed your sudden gloom or if he just genuinely wants to talk about something else. “Anything fun planned today? I know Jean can be insufferable but we do have some cool activities around here” he smiles.

“Eren wanted me to check out his lesson but I’m not sure surf could ever be my thing” the smile you return is shy, because you don’t want to sound ungrateful nor make the conversation weird. It’s pretty evident that you’ve spent the night with him, if only from the hickeys scattered at the base of your throat. Armin has just been nothing but a gentleman, too polite to even stare at them.

Once again, he doesn’t even falter at the mention of his friend’s name.

“Still, you should give it a go! I used to think the same and now I can’t go a day without riding a wave. Even when I’m not on vacation, if the weather’s nice enough I’m here as soon as I’m done working” he grins.

“I never asked what you do, by the way”

“I’m a copy editor in a publishing house, mainly work from home but sometimes I travel to Tokyo. Leaves me a lot of freedom, really. What about you?”

You hesitate. But he’s looking at you so candidly, head slightly tilted to the side, that you can’t find it in yourself to lie.

“I’ve been laid off a few weeks ago, actually. I was a winemaker at a pretty famous winery in town”

Armin lets out a slow whistle.

“That sounds so cool!”

You chuckle.

“All I do is monitor the maturity of grapes, oversee the process and place orders”

“I’d love to visit once you start somewhere else. I’m sure it’s gonna happen in no time” he places a warm hand on your shoulder and briefly squeezes it. You’ve never experienced the kindness of a stranger, not at such a high level anyway. As you thank him with a touched smile, for the first time this impulsive vacation doesn’t feel like just a way out anymore.

“I suggest you two sit closer to the shore, the first group of the day is gonna be here soon” a playful voice interrupts your chitchat and you look up to find a familiar figure silhouetted against sunlight right before your towel. A flash of embarrassment seems to take over his features for a few seconds as he takes notice of the now very much noticeable marks on your skin. But then he just smiles that friendly smile of his, one that tells you there’s a chance of not letting any potential awkwardness stand in the way of what could become a harmless friendship. You appreciate the maturity.

“Wanna help me out?” Eren then looks at Armin, who’s squinting his eyes in attempt to stare back.

“I’ll keep her company. Maybe later, with the kids”

“You’re pretty special, he never skips the chance to hop on a surfboard”

As you get up and start collecting your things, Armin’s book secured underneath your arm while he helps you out with the towel, you briefly glance at Eren with half a smile.

“Let’s see if you’re good enough to convince me to get on one in the first place”

He rolls his eyes, feigning exasperation.

“Just watch me”

And so, you and Armin look at each other with an equally amused smile, the complicity over a moment so simple warming your heart.

While sitting there with him, feet sunk into where the sand is cool and damp, you observe Eren with genuine curiosity. The variegated group he’s handling consists of ten people, it’s most probably not their first class as everyone seems to already know what to do.

They’re going over what they’ve learned until now, Eren repeating instructions out loud and nodding proudly as his students comply. Two girls, friends by the looks of it, keep asking him to help them position their bodies better on the surfboard. When the blonde one fails to properly stand up and her foot theatrically slips, with an exaggerated grimace she begs him to support her weight as she tries again. With Eren’s hands on her hips, she succeeds in hopping up with a form so perfect you can hardly hold back a scoff. Armin chuckles beside you.

“It’s pretty much always like that”

“No way” you mock “that’s crazy!”

“I mean, it’s kinda part of the job to go along with it” he shrugs.

Does he think I’m jealous or something?

“You didn’t have to stay” there’s softness in your tone, just to make sure he doesn’t take it the wrong way, but he blushes nonetheless.

“It doesn’t happen as often to me” the spluttering makes you giggle. You’re not blind: he has arms, he has abs, shoulders wide enough to well pique one’s interest and a smile so sweet he’s probably the favorite instructor of more than one student.

“I find that hard to believe” the implied compliment tints his cheeks with a richer pink and he runs a hand through his fair hair to conceal the embarrassment.

“But I didn’t mean it like that” you decide to put an end to his misery “I just meant, feel free to go ride some waves”

Armin shakes his head.

“I have the entire day to do that” he smiles “and no one else likes to talk about books with me”

“But your group is great. You guys seem pretty close”

“We all grew up here, I’ve known Eren since kindergarten and I met everyone else along the way. Some of us you didn’t meet actually, like Christa and Mikasa”

“They don’t live here anymore?”

Armin sighs, plants his heel in the sand a little deeper.

“Yeah, they moved for college and never really came back. They prefer the city”

You can understand that, to be honest. You grew up in a small town near the countryside and although it’s not nearly comparable to an even smaller island, you remember the primal need to run away, driven by the firm belief that there’s surely more to explore, better ways to live and opportunities to seize in the big city. Back then, Tokyo felt like a dream. An endless pool of magical possibilities.

“You probably think it’s insane, wanting to stay on an island that only comes alive a few months per year” Armin’s gaze is lost across the ocean, so you look ahead too. Eren’s group is in the water now, paddling in and taking off on the foam that propels colorful surfboards onto the waves. Most of the students previously warming up by the shore succeeds in remaining upright, cheered on by those who have either been less brave or simply not balanced enough.

“No, I think wanting to stay requires a lot of love. I never had that for the place I grew up in”

“And are you happy now, in Tokyo?”

You force your lips into a smile, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m happy”

Another cheerful fit of screams has you both returning your attention to the group challenging the ocean, one particular figure paddling perpendicular to an exceptionally big wave, angling his take off perfectly to the left before popping up and digging the inside rail of his surfboard into the water. Knees bent, he’s a sight for sore eyes as he beautifully rides along the vertical center of the wave, the sun complimenting his tan skin.

“Showoff” you snort and Armin laughs.

“Let’s go get a drink, Sasha makes a killer frozen lemonade”

“Sasha?” you ask, surprised.

He nods.

“She should be on shift today”

“She works at the cafe?”

Armin smiles.

“Her family owns the cafe, actually. She just helps out in the summer, whenever she can catch a break from the internship she’s doing”

And sure enough she’s actually there, all smiles and cheerful pitch behind the counter.

She turns ecstatic as soon as the spots the both of you, calling you by your name with such warmth your cheeks hurt a little from how wide you’re smiling already.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?”

You and Armin sit on the rattan stools opposite to the counter and she leans over with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Amazing, whoever left that ibuprofen on my nightstand has my endless devotion”

“T’was Eren’s turn to take you home” Armin shoots her a good-natured glare, which elicits her silvery laugh.

“I don’t think he was too bothered about it” Sasha’s intentionally looking at you and her grin has your cheeks grow hot.

“Leave her alone, make us some frozen lemonade” Armin gently grabs her chin and directs her attention to him.

“Oh come on, none of Eren’s special friends ever hangs out with us, I want some details!”

“Sasha!” he hisses as you shrink in your seat, head hanging low in embarrassment “you can’t remember this but she’s been nothing but caring last night, they both took you home”

“Armin, there’s no need to—” you mumble but he shows no sign of having heard you.

“It’s none of our business what they do” he grumbles, letting go of Sasha’s chin “now, please, lemonade. Before I die of dehydration”

She juts her bottom lip out, sullen, eyes back on you.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually happy I get to finally spend some time with another girl”

You shake your head with a soft smile.

“Please don’t apologize. You’ve all been way too kind to me”

Truth is, the fear of being seen as nothing but their friend’s easy fuck has been nagging at your brain. Especially since deciding you actually, really like them and wouldn’t mind tagging along if they’ll have you. And, of course, if Eren isn’t bothered. The last thing you wanna spend your summer doing is imposing your presence to a group of childhood friends just because you’ve had sex with one of them. That’d be gross.

“Here, it’s on the house” Sasha slides two tall glasses of frozen lemonade across the counter.

Armin grabs his with a sigh of relief, the creaminess of his drink rapidly decreasing in quantity as he gulps it down quickly. You carefully mix it with your straw, then have a first taste and have to keep yourself from moaning.

“I’m gonna need ten of these” you mutter and they both laugh. It’s genius really, the idea of combining the consistency of a milkshake with the tanginess of freshly squeezed lemonade.

You end up staying at the cafe to keep Sasha company while she prepares orders and entertains you with the latest gossip concerning people you don’t even know. You wonder where she gets all that energy from but you also think it suits her, that bubbly aura she so effortlessly carries around. If customers smile a little brighter and leave generous tips, it’s probably thanks to her never ending friendliness: she remembers their names, special orders and always offers free ice cream to kids. She even has special ice cream for dogs.

After a while, Armin leaves to help Eren with his next group of students, as promised. They’re all children this time, so you doubt they’ll bring them into the water: the whole class consists in some training by the shore, Armin and Eren patiently showing them how to paddle and corretly stand on a surfboard over and over again. When what you can only guess are some heated protests erupt, they patiently allow the kids to practice some paddling as close to the shore as possible. You catch glimpses of Eren’s smile and hear his laugh when two kids start splashing him with water, deaf to Armin most probably attempting to draw their attention to the lesson once again.

Eventually, he’s forced to surrender too, as one particularly agile kid climbs onto his shoulders and demands to be carried around. The whole class turns into nothing more than a game session and you find yourself smiling.

After each kid is collected by their corresponding family member, Armin doesn’t waste any more time and he swiftly grabs his bigger surfboard to jump into the ocean once more, finally free to chase waves at its own pace. Eren seems to hesitate, lingering by the shore for a moment, looking around as if searching for something. Then he turns around fully, seemingly scanning the cafe and meeting your gaze although, from that distance, you’re not completely sure he’s looking at you specifically. You’re quick to redirect your attention to the pasta salad Sasha has recommended.

“Ah, here comes the athlete” she pulls a face “let’s see how many wraps he’s gonna down, last time it was three”

“Hello, ladies” the familiar voice is so close you feel a shudder run down your spine as memories from the previous night resurface. He’s leaning on the counter, body facing you and arms crossed showcasing swollen biceps you’re surprised are not carrying any signs of the crescents you very clearly remember being a consequence of your tight grip.

“You’re dripping on my napkins” not nearly as dumbstruck as you, Sasha shoos him away with the impatient push of a hand. In response, Eren shakes his head like a dog would after getting a bath, splashing both his friend and you with ice cold water. She flips him off.

“You’re an ass”

“Will you make me one of your delightful wraps if I behave?” he grins like a child while taking a seat next do you.

“One?” Sasha skeptically raises an eyebrow.

“Make it three”

You chuckle as you meet her knowing look, which causes him to turn to you. He’s even prettier up close, salt already drying on his smooth skin, cheeks slightly flushed.

“So? Opinions on getting started with the best sport in the world?”

Pensive, you bring a forkful of pasta to your mouth.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go”

You had half an idea of teasing him by suggesting Armin be your instructor but the way he quite literally beams at your words forces you to shut right up.

“I’ll pick you up later this afternoon”

“Pick me up?” you frown, confused.

“This beach is way too crowded, there are better places to go”

“So considerate” Sasha loudly places a plate in front of him and Eren just rolls his eyes.

“You don’t even know where I’m staying” trying to swallow yet another lump of awkwardness, you keep your attention on the now almost empty bowl in front of you.  

He huffs, brushing your concern off by gesturing vaguely with a hand.

“I know where all vacation rentals are. Of course, if you wanted, you could make it easier for me”

A funny sound comes out of Sasha’s nose and this time you go along with her demeanor with the raise of a brow.

“If you want my number, just ask” the challenging words roll off your tongue playfully, you don’t really think anything of them.

But much like every other time you thought you had him cornered, he simply looks up from his plate and plants those resolute eyes in yours without so much as a hint of hesitation.

“I want your number”

Why your heart picks up its pace as you both let a beat pass while staring at each other, you don’t really understand. Nevertheless, as the corners of his mouth upturn in a smile with yet another one of Sasha’s scoffs in the background, you think it’s convenient that he’s pretty much doing all the work. Because of course you want his number too.

The place you rented is nothing more than a small beach cottage and while Eren doesn’t exactly live in a penthouse, his house is bigger and way cooler than yours. A mere 100 yards from the beach, it comes with a colorful, eclectic exterior and cute double doors opening out to the porch where he keeps his surfboard, a lounger, one whimsical sign that reads it comes in waves and a small table with two chairs. You don’t really have a porch, just three steps that lead to the front door, which is where you’re sitting while you wait for him to come pick you up. Your straw bag is resting at your feet, filled with the few things he recommended you to bring: sunscreen, a swimsuit, water, all wrapped in a towel. It’s later than you had anticipated and you nervously wonder if he’s actually gonna show up, how long it’s gonna take before you’re done. How ridiculous you’re going to look.

And then he pulls up by your little house with the peeling white paint, window rolled down and one arm gracefully hanging out a silver pickup truck. The two surfboards stored on the bed are reflecting the late afternoon sun.

A light honk has you standing up, his warm smile so wide you can guess the excitement shimmering behind those dark sunglasses.

He pushes the door open for you, so you rush to the car and climb onto the passenger seat. Eren barely gives you the time to fasten your seatbelt before his foot is on the clutch pedal again: his hand swiftly moves the gear shift to the left and then up and the accelerator pedal is pressed down way more harshly than needed.

“You do know that this is probably going to suck, right? I have no idea what to do” you anxiously shift on your seat, to no avail because your back remains glued to it.

Not bothered in the slightest by the ungodly speed he’s driving at, a genuine laugh slips out of him.

“It’s gonna be amazing, I’ll teach you everything you need to know! Plus, I’m taking you to one of my favorite spots, consider yourself lucky” he glances at you with a toothy grin and you let out a panicked sound.

“Look ahead!”

Eren laughs again but complies, not a care in the world or so it seems as he sprints through roads that are way too narrow and bumpy and lacking concrete for him to be driving like that.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why’s my coffee so bad?”

It’s the first actual semblance of a reference to the previous night. You swallow.

“Too bitter. Coffee shouldn’t be too strong, aggressive and off balance. It definitely shouldn’t have just one flavor either”

“Just like wine?”

Surprised, you just stare at him until he cracks another smile.

“Armin told me. You’re kinda cooler than what you come across as”

Eren fakes a groan when you smack his shoulder.

“I just meant” he refrains from looking at your scowl “you don’t really do yourself justice. All that talk about tv shows and books and spending the summer alone—”

“Those things can be cool too. Sorry, not all of us feel the need to live and look like olympic athletes” you cross your arms, stubbornly averting your gaze from his handsome profile to look ahead like a cross child. That’s how you miss a smirk he promptly suppresses.

“I wasn’t trying to offend you. I really do think you’re cool, regardless of your career”

A beat passes before you reluctantly eye him again.

“You’re tolerable, I guess”

The laugh he lets out is so genuine you have to fight back a smile yourself.

His good mood remains seemingly unaltered throughout the ride, lithe fingers absentmindedly drumming on the steering wheel as he strives to make conversation. By the time you arrive at the secluded beach he’s chosen for your first lesson, your nerves are calm enough for you to be actually excited about what’s to come.

The beach is nothing less than a little slice of paradise, sand so white it almost looks fake and turquoise water so inviting you can’t wait to jump in. For the first time, the island presents itself as something other than an overpriced magnet for seasonal tourists: it’s raw in its beauty, so quiet it’s hard to believe you’re not the only two people currently on an uninhabited piece of land in the middle of the ocean.

One thing you’re learning quickly is that Eren is scarily good at easing unnecessary tension. Perhaps it’s because he never seems to feel any, always so relaxed and ready to handle any unexpected circumstance or setback. Sure, he’s outgoing enough for people to easily like him but there’s something about the genuine smiles he offers to everyone, in the attentive care he reserves to his friends. Despite his well-trained figure and intimidating good looks, his touch is gentle and at times timid. He blushes just like everyone else if you trace the line of his jaw with sweet kisses and emits pleased hums when you run your hand through his hair.

You can tell this isn’t something he has set up to lure you back into his bed: how could it be, with that child-like excitement embedded in the instructions he’s giving you? You don’t even feel self-conscious nor ridiculous wearing the wetsuit he’s brought for you, he’s that great at making it fun and keeping it professional. Well, mostly professional.

For the nth time, you jump up with your feet planted and arms out to your side, stabilizing yourself and feeling the breeze flow through your hair as your personal instructor hums.

“Again” he demands and you huff.

“Are we gonna get into the water eventually? I feel like it’s been an hour of this!”

“It has been an hour of this. Now, do it again”

With a pout, you lie belly-down on your longboard once again. You practice your paddling motion once again and then place your palms on the flat of the board just below your chest. In one quick motion, you push your body up with your arms and tuck your feet up and under you. You had started by getting up to your knees first and then bringing up one foot at a time, but you have gained more confidence over the endless minutes spent practicing the same movements over and over again.

“Look at that. You’re a natural” he finally grins, letting some warmth leak through the all too serious facade.

“Thanks to a good teacher” you smile back and he rolls his eyes, barely refraining from uttering a cocky comeback to your obvious statement. He steps closer, calloused fingers gently placed on your hips and warm breath suddenly ghosting over your cheek.

“Don’t spread your legs like that” he mumbles, his own foot gently pushing from behind your left ankle to guide your foot into a better position “this might feel comfortable but it actually makes it harder to control your movements. Balance is always side-to-side, never front to back”

You comply quietly, the sudden closeness leaving your mouth dry. What the hell? It’s not like you weren’t on top of him just a few hours prior. What on earth could be making you so nervous, like some damn bashful teenager?

“Eyes up” Eren gently grabs your chin to lift your head up “always look in the direction you are going”

His other hand is still on your hip, your skin burning so much at the contact you’re positive his fingers are going to leave a mark somehow.

As he lets you go, you’re left so cold you actually shiver.

“Okay! Let’s take it into the water” he gets down on one knee to secure the leash around your ankle, the pads of his fingers grazing your skin once again sending an electric buzz throughout your veins. What the fuck.

Perhaps he senses your weird bodily reactions because he stands up again and motions you to take your board with the impatient wave of a hand. He has his surfboard too, although after seeing what he’s actually capable of doing with it, you doubt it’s gonna be used to ride an actual wave.

“Just get comfortable first, see how it feels” when you’re both waist deep into the ocean he holds your board for you, helping you lie on it again and chuckling when you slip right off a few times.

“You shouldn’t laugh at your students” with a grimace, you try to hold on to it by curling your fingers around the edges. He untangles your grip immediately, one hand gently pressing on the small of your back to keep you balanced on the slippery surface immediately after.

“Never do that, your hand’s gonna slip off and you’re gonna slash your chin open” a subtle teasing is still laced into his tone, so you roll your eyes.

“Okay. I can do this” you mutter, as determined as ever not to fall off the stupid thing again. You haven’t even started yet.

“I know you can” he sounds so goddamn sincere it’s a pain to refrain from glancing in his direction and actually focus on what you’re supposed to do.

With a deep breath, you start paddling around and although you drink your fair share of water in the process, after a while it starts feeling more natural. Your board planes across the waves, nose slightly up, your feet rightly positioned with your toes grazing the leash string. You paddle with long, deep strokes, and Eren keeps shouting instructions and encouragement even if you stray too far from him.

Adrenaline starts circulating in your system and your confidence gets a boost the first time you manage to pop up and shakily cruise on what’s probably the smallest, insignificant wave in recorded history for three entire seconds before slipping back into the water.

But you shout your astonished cry of victory nevertheless and Eren smiles so widely, so proudly, you let excitement cloud your senses and quite literally jump into his arms. It’s not embarrassing, not even when you realize what you’re doing, because he hasn’t tensed a second and is actually hugging you back, happier than ever for the smallest of accomplishments of someone that’s not even him. Of someone he barely even knows.

“Let’s go” you mutter and actually have to take a poorly balanced step back because he’s not, by any means, the one breaking the impulsive hug “I wanna do it again”

This draws an airy laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re already hooked, aren’t you?”

“I just can’t believe how good it feels!” you beam, absolutely euphoric “hate to admit it but maybe you had a point”

“Yeah, that happens a lot”

“People being skeptical whenever you say anything?”

Eren huffs and then inches closer to brush some wet hair away from where it’s sticking to your cheeks and forehead, his touch pleasantly cool on your heated skin.

“Me being right” he doesn’t let go of your face, seemingly conflicted about whatever is going through his mind. Oh, he looks good like this, like he belongs to the sea and the summer and whatever beautiful scenery he may be surrounded by. He just fits in. He’s like a tanned Apollo peering down at you, if his hands weren’t on you it would be alarmingly easy to think he’s just a figment of your imagination.

The adrenaline rush still hasn’t worn off, perhaps that’s why you crack a smile.

“Anything else you feeling right about?”

The self-discipline Eren has to exercise not to kiss you knocks the wind out of his lungs for a moment. Because what would become of him if he’d let himself yield to a temptation he doesn’t even completely understand yet? It’s just day two of knowing you.

Get a grip.

“I think we’d be good friends” it’s not lying, he tells himself. It’s just telling a partial truth. And he wishes so badly not to notice the disappointment that flashes in your eyes for a second, as you take a wobbly step back and force another smile on your pretty lips.

“Totally, I agree”

Eren clears his throat and runs a hand through his disheveled hair, which he hasn’t tied back like he had in the morning.

“The sun is about to set, I think you’ve trained enough for today. Let’s head back”

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” you peer up at the sky, only then noticing the soft orange hues painting it “just ten minutes. I haven’t been anywhere this quiet in a while”

“Ten minutes” he agrees and straddles his surfboard, hands pressed on the surface in front of him as he looks up as well.

You imitate his position and sit on your board as well, reveling in the gentle way the waves are lulling your body.

Eren thinks you look beautiful like this, eyes shut and facing the setting sun, features relaxed and hair wet. He can easily see himself dating you, someone who has already won his friends over and whose touch he seems unable to stop craving. But what would be the point? He’s all too familiar with what being an islander means. It’s a fluid state of being, his existence nothing more than a fleeting detail in the lives of those who come and, inevitably, go.

Insularity is painfully romanticised and although most times he gets a kick out of the benefits that come with belonging to a place so distant from the mainland, he also realizes the downsides.

You won’t be here when the days will get shorter and tourists will fly back to their dull lives. You won’t witness the way leaves turn a deep shade of crimson and fall from the trees of his beloved cedar forest, you’ll never take part in one of Connie’s notorious christmas parties nor you’ll taste the Kansai-style ozoni Sasha always brings to their new year’s dinner.

And so, Eren will just keep doing what he does best. Remaining nothing more than a fleeting detail in someone else’s summer.

“Thank you for doing this” your voice snaps him back to reality. He cocks his head, confused.

“I didn’t do anything”

You smile with a little, timid shrug.

“You were up early, training group after group and still took the time to indulge me. I can only guess how tired you are, let’s head back”

He’s not tired. He’s so not tired, he would gladly spend the rest of the evening sitting on a surfboard in the middle of the ocean just talking to you, apparently. Perhaps one of his students’ boards collided with his head?

Eren notices your subtle shivering and clicks his tongue on the way back to his car. He carries your surfboard too and secures it on his truck once again, right next to his. He then undoes the tab at the back of your neck, pulls it down and unzips it to help you out of the wetsuit, patiently waiting on the other side of the car while you get out of your wet swimsuit and slip back into the white sundress you had on earlier that day.

“All done!” you walk around the vehicle, eager to climb onto the warm passenger seat once more. But Eren sees the goosebumps blossoming on your arms and another shudder is enough to inch forward to keep the door of his car locked. You turn around to look at him, a questioning look on your face.

“Come to my place” he blurts it out before he has the chance to stop himself. Your brows knit.

“Why?”

“You’re obviously cold and my house is closer” Eren does his best to play off his tension as sense of practicality “just take a shower, warm up and then I’ll drop you off. I swear I’m not gonna try anything, it’s not—”

“Okay” you interrupt his pathetic rambling and he blinks back the surprise.

Oh.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go then” Eren clears his throat and opens the door for you.

It feels a little weird to be honest, but you’re not uncomfortable as he drives back to his place. This is probably the last time you two will hang out anyway, so what’s the harm in accepting a friendly offer, especially when you can’t seem to stop shivering?

“So… what d’you do once summer ends?” the quietness is slightly unsettling, so you take it upon yourself to make some small talk. He glances at you, no panicked reaction elicited this time as he’s driving more carefully.

“My family has been in the fishing industry for decades, I mainly help them out and try to catch whatever job I can handle from home”

“Do you ever travel? Like, to cities”

Eren huffs out a laugh.

“Yes. You think I’m some kind of savage?”

“No!” heat crawls up from your neck to your cheeks “of course not, I didn’t mean—”

“Relax, I’m kidding” he grins “my college was in Osaka. Lived there four years, got my degree, came back”

“Which degree?” still a little flushed, you avoid his amused gaze.

“Mechanical engineering”

“And you’re not offered engineering jobs?” there’s outrage laced into your tone.

Eren just shrugs.

“Yes. But they all require my presence in an office on the mainland”

You don’t say anthing, mainly because you don’t want to risk blurting out another poorly phrased sentence. It would come out all wrong, it would sound as if you’re looking down on him.

Eren senses everything that’s sitting behind your silence and he’s not bothered. His personal life is not really any of your business and although he understands you mean well, yours is an opinion he’s heard way too many times before. It’s a topic not even worth discussing, least of all with someone he’s barely just met.

When you arrive at his place, your hands and feet are ice cold, your hair painfully frizzy. He asks to give him a second and disappears into the bathroom, rattling sounds coming from behind the closed door making you smile as you hop onto the kitchen counter and take a look around. The small living room is messier than it was last night, or maybe you simply didn’t have the time to really look around on your very first entry to the house.

He comes out of the bathroom with a folded drying rack filled with clothes in his arms (I forgot I was drying laundry in there) only to disappear into his bedroom once more, the sound of closets being harshly opened and closed alongside what you can only guess are wardrobe doors slamming against the wall makes you chuckle.

“What are you doing?” amused, you have to shout the question from where you’re sitting.

He comes out of the room with arms full once more and directs you a quick smile before heading back to the bathroom.

“Fixing you towels and something to wear, that dress won’t do!” he shouts too, which makes you giggle.

“Don’t give me your clothes!”

“They’re clean!”

You laugh again, shaking your head.

Eren finally walks into the kitchen, seemingly exhausted, all the way to the counter you’re sitting on.

“Okay, the bathroom is more guest-appropriate now” a small smile tugs at his lips and you notice the wet stains on the front of his black shirt. Has he cleaned it?

“Thanks” you mutter, a sudden, small lump of uneasiness you can’t seem to swallow.

“I’m such an idiot” he snorts “you must be thirsty. Water? I also have orange juice somewhere, or maybe iced tea”

Right as he takes a step to walk past you and towards the fridge, your body moves on its own accord and your fingers instinctively grab the hem of his shirt. Eren stops, surprised gaze flickering from your hand clenched around the fabric of his clothing to your face.

“I’m sorry, Eren” your brows knit in a frustrated frown “I didn’t mean to come across as judgmental, or worse, an elitist asshole”

You exhale, unable to sustain the look in his eyes. “It’s not my place and definitely none of my business. But please know I really didn’t mean—”

“Fuck” he curses under his breath, cutting you off abruptly “you’re making it very fucking hard for me”

Disoriented, you cock your head.

“I’m making what hard?”

Eren plants his palms onto the counter, on either side of your hips, body inching forward. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, forehead dangerously close to be leaned against your own. You can’t resist the urge to gently nudge the tip of his nose with yours, an insignificant gesture that somehow has him sucking a sharp breath in. You’d love to giggle, the teasing question does kindness turn you on? dancing on the tip of your tongue but then his tongue is peeking out to wet his bottom lip a second before he leans forward and traces the soft edge of your neck with the tip of his nose. His mouth follows along somehow, not quite kissing your skin but certainly grazing it, anticipation having your breath quicken.

“You said we should be friends” you whisper, regretting it right away. Eren emits a frustrated huff, breath hot on the neck his parted lips are still gently exploring.

“I said we’d be good friends. And we can be” he places his hands on your thighs, a touch so incandescent the thin fabric of your skirt may as well not be there at all “friends who do this” and just like that he finally closes the gap between you two, capturing your lips in a burning kiss that draws a sigh of relief as you pull him closer. He tastes like the ocean, the strands you have buried your fingers into not as soft as the night before, rendered dry by the salt he still hasn’t washed out.

Eren is an eager kisser, right as his grip on your thighs tightens his tongue is languidly slipping past your parted lips with a satisfied hum vibrating in his chest. Head tilted into yours, he kisses you so hard you think your lips might bruise, he kisses you until you start getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen and he does too, although he wouldn’t mind challenging something as silly as the chance of his organs shutting down if it meant keeping his lips moving against yours and having your hands cradling his face.

You break apart first, a panting, breathless mess when you rest your forehead on the curve of his shoulder. He relaxes the grip on your legs, chest heaving with the depth of his own ragged breaths. So long for self-restraint.

“I meant it” he whispers and you find it in yourself to lift your head and meet his gaze “I didn’t invite you here to—”

“Lure me back into your bed?”

Eren senses the playfulness laced into your tone and smiles.

“Yeah”

When he attempts to take a step back, you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him in place. Except he doesn’t offer any resistance, allowing you to effortlessly pull him closer until he’s flush against the counter and the tip of his nose grazes your cheek.

“I know” you mutter, honest “and I appreciate that. But, if you’re down, I’d really like to take that shower with you”

A beat passes.

Two days of knowing you and Eren thinks you hold all the right tools to drive him absolutely insane already.