๐ฆโโฌ Isn't this what you wished for? ๐๏ธ
< Intro | Chapter 1
Self aware Sylus x gn reader, hurt/comfort
CW: vomit, derealization, general sickness
wc: 1.7k
You slowly stir back into consciousness, a gooey exhaustion clinging to your entire body and weighing you down uncomfortably. A wave of motion sickness flows through you as you attempt to sit up, having to try multiple times in order to get your aching muscles to cooperate.
Your vision spins as you try to reorient yourself. Everything feels just slightly wrong, like a space you were once familiar with has been tampered with, all your belongings moved an inch out of place, causing your body's instinctual memory to falter and stumble over what once felt natural.
But, by far, the greatest discomfort comes from your heart. It aches, a deep, pulsing pain; and it thumps harder than it ever has in your life. Each beat jostles your whole body, and you slump over, your hands clasped over your chest as you tremble.
After a couple of deep breaths to hold the nausea at bay and attempt to calm yourself, you sit upright again, and your vision clears enough to be able to make out your surroundings.
You're in a large, intimidating room with gothic-style decor, dimly lit by flickering firelight that's dampened by walls painted completely black. Your aching body is gently cradled by silk sheets with the highest thread count you've ever felt. Something about this room tugs at the edges of your memory, but it slips away whenever you attempt to grasp at it. A canopy drapes above you, framing the view of a shadowy-looking city outside the large floor-to-ceiling windows, andโฆ
You startle as your somewhat delirious mind finally takes notice of the figure seated in front of you. There's a pitcher of water with two expensive-looking glasses set on a table behind him, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit. He's slumped over in a luxurious armchair, his head resting on his knuckles as he breathes deeply, fast asleep. That's- no way, this can't be right.
You check your hands โ five fingers on both, no abnormalities. You're wearing your usual pajamas, and the details are all there, down to the smallest stain. This is too clear to be a dream. This hurts too much to be a dream. So what, a psychotic break? Are you going insane?
Intense pain blooms deep in your skull, and you cover your face, holding back a shuddering sob. Chills and shivers wrack your body, and it takes everything you have to keep yourself from crying out and waking the stranger in front of you. The stranger, because there's no way that's who you think it is. He's not real. You must be going insane; it hurts so badly. You bite down on your palm to keep yourself quiet, tasting iron as your unease builds even further.
You have to get out of here. You have to get out of here. Dizzy and delirious, you climb out of bed, nearly collapsing to the floor just from trying to stay standing. You unsteadily stumble forward on legs shaking from the effort of holding up your own body weight, singularly focused on moving forward. You've never felt this weak before.
With a great amount of effort, you reach the door to the bedroom, and luckily, the door's hinges don't squeak as you push it open. You're relieved to have something to lean on, bracing your shoulder against the wall as you force yourself to keep moving forward.
You're unsure of your goal as you mindlessly limp down the hallway, peeking past the open doors in hopes of finding something, anything. No luck. Not even a promising-looking potential hiding place. Acid bubbles up in your throat, and you choke on a cough, just barely swallowing it back down. Your throat burns as the liquid retreats, but you know it likely won't be gone for long.
A bathroom. You need a bathroom. Shivering as another wave of chills rolls through you, you keep moving forward. There would have likely been one attached to the bedroom you woke up in, but you're not going to risk heading back in there, not when there's some sort of doppelganger at your bedside.
A wave of pain originating from your heart forces you to your knees, and you gasp, your vision blurring with tears. You struggle back up to your feet, and you think you catch a glimpse of red, beady eyes glowing in your direction from a vantage point up above. But when you try for a second glance, they're gone.
The nausea in the back of your throat is rapidly worsening, and it's looking like you won't get to a bathroom in time. You stumble into a random room, looking for a garbage can, but there's none in your limited field of vision. Acting on instinct, you crawl under a table in the corner like a defeated dog, curling up as you try to hold back the inevitable.
The ringing in your ears grows louder as tears drip down your nose, hand pressed to your mouth. You're too drained to flinch when you feel cool fingers brushing your neck as they carefully gather up your hair, holding it out of the way as another hand gently pries yours from your mouth, nearly engulfing it as a thumb rubs slow circles on the back.
"It's alright. Just let it out, sweetheart. I've got you."
You sob, a hiccup quickly followed by a cough, then a violent retch as your body expels a thick, viscous, black goo onto the ground in front of you. You don't even have enough time to be horrified before more quickly follows, this time mixed with the contents of your stomach.
It tastes awful, leaving a lingering burn in your throat and your mouth, and the taste of what you can only imagine as rotten flesh. You cough up a few more mouthfuls before slumping forward, easily caught by the large hands that have handled you so delicately.
Your vision is spotty as your body is pulled forward, retrieving you from your hiding spot with the utmost care. Your mouth is carefully wiped with a silk handkerchief before you feel the figure lifting you with incredible ease, guiding your chest to lean against his own as he stands up. He must be very tall, you muse, as you're quite far off the ground.
He walks slowly, one arm beneath your thighs and the other rubbing circles into your back to keep you steady and attempt to mitigate the effects of motion sickness. You appreciate his efforts to keep you comfortable. Your throat still burns; you think it got into your sinuses, too. You sob softly into his shoulder. You can't stop shaking.
You lose focus for a little while, almost dozing off, but you're brought back by the soothing sensation of a warm washcloth gently cleaning your face, wiping away your dried tears and the leftover black residue around your lips and nose. You're sitting on the edge of a cold bathtub, with the man's hand still pressed to your back to keep you from toppling over.
A plastic cup is tapped to your mouth, accompanied by a soft command.
"Swish."
You do as he says, opening up for the liquid and swishing it around in your mouth. Once you're done, he guides you to lean over and spit it out into the tub, bringing you back to wipe your lips again. How did he know your favorite mouthwashโฆ? Lucky guess?
You're lifted again, and you lean into the man, burying your face in his chest for comfort. He smells nice; a small but very welcome distraction from your poor condition. You don't think you've ever felt closer to death than you do now. The deep, burning agony in your heart has begun to spread slowly through your veins, and your muscles now protest with a throbbing pain left from overexertion.
You're pulled from the grounding warmth of his chest yet again and delicately placed in the bed where you woke up, back in the embrace of its silken sheets, now soothingly cool against your feverish skin. You're propped up like a doll against slanted pillows, and the man sits in front of you, dipping the mattress. His hands press another cup to your lips, this one made of glass.
"Drink."
You doubt you could gather enough energy to raise your arms to grip his wrist, so you thoughtlessly comply, the water feeling heavenly against your irritated throat, clearing much of the remnants of black goop still clinging to the inside. You drain the whole glass in no time, and after he refills it, you drain another. You're about to ask for a third, but the man places the cup aside, opting to press the back of his hand to your forehead instead.
"You have an incredibly high feverโฆ" He murmurs, concern laced in his tone. "We need to see how that water settles first, then I can give you some more."
You turn away from him, your gaze fixing instead on your hands. Your skin looks much greyer than it should. But you can't bring yourself to care as exhaustion begins to tug insistently at your mind, urging you to relinquish your feeble grip on consciousness. You almost do, but you're interrupted again by the man's voice.
"Do you remember who I am?"
You blink a few times, forcing your eyes to focus in order to make contact with the stranger's ruby-red ones. There's a hint of desperation and vulnerability in them that you hadn't spotted before.
"โฆ Sylus?" you rasp, your throat feeling like it's filled with shards of broken glass. Though, the pain is worth it when you get to catch the surprised relief on the man's face. Maybe it is really him.
Instead of confirming or denying your assumption, he gently lifts one of your hands, leaning down and pressing his lips to your knuckles. There's a new tenderness when he speaks now, as if your existence itself is as fragile as glass and he's afraid to shatter reality.
"Rest. I'll be by your side until you wake."
Some part of you deep inside feels comforted by that, so you let go, falling into the cavernous abyss of sleep.
๐ฆโโฌ my thoughts won't leave me alone...... so i was thinking about how it would feel to be able to hide from it all in sylus's lap.
he wouldn't intrude or push you to tell him about the way your mind is tormenting you. he'd let you lie against him, knowing that his presence is enough to hold your thoughts at bay for a while. if you want silence, he gives you silence, steadily holding you to his chest with one hand as he reads or does tasks on his display with the other.
it would be so comforting to just have his company with no obligations whatsoever. he doesn't expect you to speak to him at all, and he won't be disappointed or bored if you don't. he's self-sufficient in that way and just greatly values having you physically present by his side. while he does appreciate your words and enjoys listening to you speak, he will never pressure you to do so.
he wouldn't mind staying with you like this for as long as you need him to. he might make you drink water or eat a bit of food if you've gone too long without it, but other than that, he won't disturb your peace. he's easily able to carry you with him wherever he goes, and he offers you little bits of affection when it seems like you need them most.
just having a space to rest and to hurt without being completely alone, a shoulder to rest your head against, a warm body to hold and be held by in equal measure. someone to wait out the ache with who won't try to push you to feel better too quickly. a little pocket of peace.
i think just having his solid presence against my cheek would give me a bit of a shield against all the cruel thoughts constantly battering against my meager defenses.
and maybe what would help the most is asking him a simple question: "sylus, am i a bad person?"
and he'd have a better response than anything i could come up with while i'm like this... but i'm sure that he'd kiss your tears away and hold you tight, making sure you believe him.
He would let you ramble for hours on your daily hyperfixation be it the new anime you watch or plants youโve been researching about hes all ears.
To be honest he just loves hearing you talk.
And when you have one of those days where your mind Disides to shut down heโs right here to catch you when you fall.
What type of lover would he be if he didnโt? You are his world after all!
Thatโs why he doesnโt take shit from anyone who critizeโs your behavior. He knows the world is cruel heโs seen it first hand but for someone to inflict that cruelness onto the only thing he holds dear.
Well itโs enough to get his blood boiling and his hands gripping for his gun.
Of course he would never do it in front of you! He would never want to scare you.
Thatโs why at the end of the day when the sun finally sets and everything is just right. He ticks you into what would be more called a nest than a bed from the amount of plushies and blankets there are.
He pulls you towards him and whispers Sweet nothings into your ears. Until you eventually fall asleep.
Yes, sylus loves you oh so very much.
So donโt question why he has excessive amounts of blood coating him when he comes home.
The air at Tokyo Jujutsu High felt different from the rural school you had left behind. It was heavier, thick with the metallic tang of cursed energy that lingered at the back of your throat with every breath. It wasnโt just the quantity, it was the quality. Sharper. Denser. Alive in a way that makes your skin prickle.
Most of it seemed to come from the two boys standing near the gate.
โA Beta?โ
The voice was bright and cutting, carrying easily across the space between you.
When you looked up, Satoru Gojo hadnโt even fully turned his head in your direction. His posture was loose, almost careless, but you could feel it, his attention locking onto you with unsettling precision. Even without seeing his eyes, you knew his Six Eyes were already dissecting you, cataloging every detail down to things you couldnโt even sense yourself.
โThey didnโt tell me the transfer was going to be soโฆ DULL,โ he added, the last word edged with something between curiosity and disappointment.
โStop being a prick, Satoru.โ
Shoko didnโt bother looking up from her phone, her tone flat with long-practiced indifference.
โTheyโre a high-grade sorcerer. Try acting like you have a soul.โ
Beside him, Suguru Geto studied you in silence.
Where Gojoโs presence was overwhelming, bright, intrusive, impossible to ignore. Getoโs was the opposite. Controlled. Contained. He didnโt push into your space, but that didnโt make him any less noticeable. If anything, it made him harder to read. His attention settled on you slowly, like a weight you only realized was there once it had already sunk in.
โWelcome,โ he said at last, his voice smooth and measured.
โSatoru is just excited. Heโs never met someone he couldnโtโฆ overwhelm before.โ
The pause felt intentional, like he was choosing that word carefully.
Gojo laughed, sudden and sharp, and before you could react, he disappeared.
One moment he was leaning against the gateโ
โand the next, he was right in front of you.
Too close.
You instinctively leaned back, but it didnโt create any real distance. The Infinity between you formed an invisible barrier, yet it did nothing to ease the tension. If anything, it made the proximity feel more deliberate.
Gojo leaned in slightly, his head tilting as he drew in a slow breath near your shoulder. He wasnโt touching you, but the lack of space made it feel like he was.
Searching.
For something that wasnโt there.
โThereโs nothing,โ he murmured, quieter now, his earlier teasing tone slipping into something more focused.
โNo scent at all.โ
His lips pulled into a faint pout, and his glasses shifted just enough for you to catch a brief flash of bright blue beneath them.
Sharp and almost unnatural.
โItโs like looking at a blank canvas,โ he said. โI think Iโm going to have to fix that.โ
Before the words could settle, Geto stepped forward.
His hand came to rest on your shoulder, light but steady, his fingers pressing just enough to ground you in place.
โDonโt mind him,โ he said calmly. โHe doesnโt like things he canโt control.โ
There was a brief pause before he continued, his tone softening in a way that should have been reassuring.
โBut donโt worryโฆ Iโll make sure youโre taken care of.โ
The words might have sounded comforting on their own, but something in the way he said them made your chest tighten instead.
As they began to lead you toward the dorms, you followed without thinking too hard about it. The gravel crunched under your shoes, the sound oddly loud against the heavy quiet that had settled around the four of you.
You didnโt see the look Gojo and Geto exchanged behind your back.
Gojoโs expression was open, almost boyish at first glance, but there was a sharp, hungry edge to it something restless and intent, like he had already decided you belonged to him and was simply waiting to act on it.
Getoโs gaze, in contrast, was calm and deliberate.
Patient.
Like he wasnโt wondering anything at all.
Like he had already decided exactly where you were going to fit.
It had been three weeks since you transferred, and you were finally starting to find your rhythm. Most of your time was spent with Shoko, who appreciated that you didn't ask her for "scent-blocking" favors or get caught up in Alpha drama. You had learned where the campus went quiet.
Not empty
Never empty, but quieter in a way that made the constant pressure of cursed energy fade into the background instead of pressing against your skull.
Shokoโs spot was on the back steps of the medical building. It wasnโt much. Just a narrow stretch of concrete, a rusted railing, and a view of trees that had started to turn with the season. But it was tucked far enough away that most people didnโt bother walking past it unless they had a reason.
You found her there again, exactly where you expected.
โThought youโd be in class,โ you said, nudging the door open with your shoulder.
Shoko didnโt look up. She was already halfway through a cigarette, one leg stretched out, the other bent loosely at the knee.
โI was,โ she said. โThen I wasnโt.โ
You stepped outside, letting the door fall shut behind you. The air was cooler than it had been that morning, carrying the faint smell of smoke and antiseptic that always seemed to cling to her.
โYouโre going to get caught eventually,โ you said, leaning back against the wall beside her.
She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift upward.
โYeah,โ she replied. โProbably.โ
A pause.
Then, drylyโ
โHasnโt happened yet, though.โ
You huffed a quiet laugh and slid down to sit beside her, leaving just enough space between you that your shoulders didnโt touch. With anyone else, that distance might have felt awkward.
With Shoko, it didnโt. It was easy. She glanced at you then, eyes flicking over your face in a quick, assessing way.
โYou look less like you want to run away,โ she said.
โGive it time.โ
โMm.โ
She tapped ash over the edge of the step.
โStill no problems?โ she asked after a moment. โWith them?โ
You didnโt need to ask who she meant. โNo,โ you said, maybe a little too quickly. Then, after a beat, โNot really.โ
Shoko hummed, unconvinced but not pushing.
โThatโs new,โ she muttered. โUsually theyโve scared people off by now.โ
โIโm not scared.โ
She turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow.
โDidnโt say you were.โ
The corner of your mouth twitched.
For a while, the two of you just sat there. The quiet wasnโt heavy. It wasnโt filled with expectation. Just the distant sounds of students training, leaves shifting in the wind, the faint crackle of Shokoโs cigarette.
It feltโฆ normal.
โYou know,โ she said eventually, โyouโre the first Beta weโve had here in a while.โ
โYeah, I noticed.โ
โNo scent, no instincts getting in the way, no weird pack dynamics.โ She shrugged lightly. โMust be nice.โ
You tilted your head, considering that.
โIt has its perks,โ you said. โPeople donโt look at me like Iโm something to claim.โ
The words slipped out before you could stop them. Shoko went still for half a second.
Then she let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
โGive it time,โ she said.
You frowned slightly. โThatโs the second time youโve said that.โ
โYeah,โ she replied, taking another drag. โAnd Iโll probably say it again.โ
You glanced at her, trying to read her expression, but she was already looking away, gaze fixed somewhere out past the trees.
โTheyโre not subtle,โ she added after a moment. โEspecially not Satoru.โ
You let out a small breath. โI noticed.โ
โAnd Suguru?โ she went on, her tone flattening just slightly. โHeโs worse.โ
That got your attention.
โWorse how?โ
Shoko stubbed the cigarette out against the concrete, grinding it down with slow, deliberate pressure.
โHeโs patient,โ she said simply.
Something about the way she said it made your chest feel tight.
โWhich means,โ she continued, glancing at you again, โif he wants something, heโll wait as long as it takes to get it.โ
The words lingered in the air between you.
You didnโt respond right away.
After a moment, you forced a small shrug. โGood thing Iโm not something he wants, then.โ
Shoko looked at you for a long second. Then she sighed, pushing herself to her feet.
โYeah,โ she said, not sounding convinced at all. โGood thing.โ She nudged your foot lightly with hers.
โCome on. If weโre skipping class, we might as well do it properly.โ
You blinked up at her. โWhat does that mean?โ
A faint smirk tugged at her mouthโsmall, but real.
โIt means,โ she said, turning toward the path, โweโre getting food that isnโt from the cafeteria.โ
That, at least, was an easy decision.
You stood, falling into step beside her without thinking about it.
For now, it was simple.
Just you and Shoko, walking away from everything else.
The next day you were sitting on the steps of the courtyard, minding your own business and reading a textbook, when the air suddenly shifted.
"You're doing it again," a voice chirped.
You didn't look up to know it was Satoru. He didn't teleport this time; he actually walked, his hands in his pockets, stopping just far enough away that he wasn't crowding you. It was the first time heโd been this "tame."
"Doing what, Gojo-kun?" you asked, turning a page.
"Existing without me," he said. It sounded like a joke, but his Six Eyes were fixed on you from behind his shades. He sat down two steps below you, leaning his head back against your knee. He wasn't touching you yet, just hovering in that Infinity gap. "Itโs weird. I canโt hear your heart rate jump when I do this. Are you even human?"
"I'm a Beta, Satoru. We don't get 'starstruck' by biology."
"I like it," he murmured, his voice losing its playful edge for a split second. "Itโs quiet when Iโm near you."
"Is that why you've been following them for the last twenty minutes, Satoru?"
Suguru emerged from the shadows of the hallway, carrying two cans of coffee. He didn't join the pile on the stairs; instead, he leaned against the opposite wall, watching the two of you with that, weary smile.
"I wasn't following," Satoru huffed. "I was observing. Right, transfer-kun?"
Suguru walked over and handed you one of the coffees. His fingers brushed yours as you took it in a lingering, deliberate contact. He was checking your pulse, just like Satoru, searching for the crack in your composure.
"Don't let him annoy you," Suguru said softly. "Heโs just fascinated by things he can't break. But if you ever need a break from the noise... My door is always open. I keep things much more... orderly."
He was already planting the seed. He wasn't pouncing; he was just making himself look like the "safe" option compared to Gojoโs chaos.
Later that day.
The three of them were leaning against the brick railing of the second-floor balcony, a rare moment of stillness in their chaotic lives. Shoko was flicking ash into a soda can, while Satoru leaned back on his elbows, his blindfold on this time was pushed up just enough to let his Six Eyes scan the clouds. Suguru stood beside them, his gaze distant, his mind likely dwelling on the bitter taste of the morning's curses.
"There's the transfer," Shoko remarked, nodding toward the courtyard below.
Satoruโs attention snapped downward instantly. He expected to see you walking alone or perhaps tucked away with a book, but instead, you were standing near the koi pond with Nanami Kento.
The scene was jarringly out of place for the "quiet" Beta they knew.
You were laughingโa genuine, melodic sound that neither Satoru nor Suguru had ever managed to draw out of you. Your face was slightly flushed, a soft pink dusting your cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with whatever the blond upperclassman was saying. You looked bright, open, andโworst of allโattentive.
"He's an Alpha, isn't he?" Satoru's voice had lost its playful lilt. It was flat, an edge of territorial friction grinding beneath the surface. He watched the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so shy and feminine it made his God Complex itch with a sudden, dark annoyance.
Suguruโs eyes narrowed, his hands tightening on the railing. He didn't say a word, but the smile he usually wore had vanished. He was watching the way Nanamiโs hand hovered near your elbow not touching, but close enough to offer a sense or closenessย that Suguru felt belonged to him.
"Nanami's a good guy," Shoko said, glancing between her two friends with a knowing look. "Stable. Reliable. Everything you two aren't."
"He's boring," Satoru snapped, his blue eyes flashing with a, delusional fire. "He doesn't even have a personality. Why are they reacting like that for him?"
"Because he treats them like a person, Satoru, not a project," Shoko muttered, though the boys weren't listening.
Down in the courtyard, Nanami said something else, and you beamed at him, your eyes crinkling in a way that felt like a slap to the two Alphas on the balcony. For weeks, they had been observing you, poking at your Beta neutrality, trying to find the "trigger" that would make you look at them with something more than polite detachment. And here you were, giving it away for free to a man who barely spoke ten words a day.
"I don't like it," Suguru murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous, velvet low. He wasn't just annoyed; he was calculating. He realized now that your "neutrality" wasn't a biological limitโit was a choice. You could react. You just weren't reacting to them.
Satoru let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his ego finally shifting into something darker. "I want that," he whispered, his gaze fixed on the flush on your neck. "I want them to look at me like the world just started. Iโm going to make sure thatโs the only way they look at us from now on."
The koi pond was the only place on campus where the air didnโt feel like it was vibrating with the ego of a Prime Alpha.
Standing here with Nanami, the world feltโฆ normal. He was an Alpha, yes, but he was a man first. He didn't lead with his scent or use his presence to suck all the oxygen out of the room. He spoke about the stock market, the humidity, and the inefficiency of the schoolโs administrative filing system.
"You're quite adept at focusing under pressure," Nanami said, his voice a steady, grounding baritone. "It's a rare trait in this environment."
I felt a genuine heat rise to my cheeks, my lips curving into a bright, unforced smile. "Itโs easier when the person Iโm talking to doesnโt act like theyโre the center of the universe, Nanami-san."
He gave a rare, barely-there huff of amusement, the closest thing to a laugh Iโd ever heard from him and my chest felt light. This was what I wanted. Stability. Respect. A conversation that didn't feel like a power struggle.
My mind involuntarily flickered to Gojo and Geto, and I felt a familiar curl of distaste in my gut.
To the rest of the world, they were "The Strongest," icons of the jujutsu world. To me, they were simply barbaric. There was no other word for it. They moved through life with a primitive, sub-gendered entitlement that made my skin crawl.
Satoru was the worst a man-child wrapped in god-like power, so blinded by his own Six Eyes and Infinity that he forgot other people were actually human. He didn't "ask," he took. He didn't "walk," he occupied space. Every time he leaned into my space, sniffing for a scent I didn't have, I didn't see a "honored one." I saw a predator confused by a lack of blood trail.
And Suguruโฆ he was almost more dangerous because he was calculated about his animalism you realized shoko was right. He wore his politeness like a suit that was two sizes too small, his cynicism leaking out of the seams. He looked at me not as a classmate, but as a resource to be managed, a Beta "anchor" for his spiraling morality.
They were slaves to their biology, governed by instincts they were too arrogant to even try to suppress. They wanted me to be "affected" by them, to tremble or flush or bow.
You remember it like it was yesterday, it happened the day after you had that conversation with shoko skipping class.ย
It happened in a place that should have felt safe.
A side corridor, half-lit, tucked between two unused classrooms. You had taken it a dozen times already because it was faster, quieterโempty.
That was your first mistake. You felt it before you saw them. That shift in the air. The pressure. Like something large had stepped into your space without making a sound.
You stopped walking.
โWhere are you going in such a hurry?โ
The voice came from behind you.
Too close.
You turnedโ
โand Satoru Gojo was already there, leaning casually against the wall like heโd always been part of it. Like he hadnโt just appeared out of nowhere.
The hallway suddenly felt smaller.
โI have class,โ you said evenly.
Gojo tilted his head, considering that, like it was a mildly interesting suggestion rather than a fact.
โDo you?โ he asked.
Before you could respond, something shifted at your side. Suguru Geto stepped into place beside you, close enough that your shoulder nearly brushed his chest. You hadnโt heard him approach.
That was deliberate.
โYour schedule is flexible,โ Geto said mildly. โWe checked, you seem fine skipping with shoko.โ
Your stomach tightened.
Of course they knew.
You glanced between them, recalculating distance. Gojo behind you. Geto to your right. The wall to your left.
Boxed in.
โIs there something you need?โ you asked.
Gojo smiled.
Too wide. Too pleased.
โNeed?โ he echoed. โNo.โ
He pushed off the wall and took a step closer. The Infinity was there, you knew it was but it didnโt matter. He closed the space anyway, like the concept of boundaries was optional to him.
โWeโre just curious,โ he said.
His gaze dragged over you slowly, openly, like he wasnโt even pretending not to.
โThree weeks,โ he went on. โAnd nothing.โ
You frowned slightly. โNothing what?โ
โNo reaction,โ Gojo said, almost pouting now. โNo scent, no shift, no instincts kicking in.โ He leaned in, again, too close, his voice dropping just a fraction. โItโs weird.โ
Before you could move, he inhaled near your neck.
Sharp. Intent.
Searching.
Still nothing.
A flicker of irritation crossed his face. Behind you, Getoโs hand came to rest lightly against the wall, just beside your shoulder.
Not touching you.
But close enough that you felt it.
A boundary drawn.
โYouโre not affected by us,โ Geto said, his tone calm, but far more focused than before.
It wasnโt a question.
โNo,โ you replied.
The word came out steady. That seemed to interest him more than anything else.
โHm.โ His other hand adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, a small, controlled movement that didnโt match the intensity of his gaze.
โThatโsโฆ unusual.โ
Gojo clicked his tongue softly.
โI donโt like it,โ he said. โEverything reacts to me.โ You let out a quiet breath. โIโm not everything.โ
For a second, the hallway went very still.
Then Gojo laughed.
Not loud this time.
Something sharper. Thinner.
โI know,โ he said. โThatโs the problem.โ
Getoโs eyes didnโt leave your face. โIf youโre not influenced,โ he said slowly, โthen you canโt be guided. And if you canโt be guidedโฆโ
He let the sentence trail off.
You didnโt like where it was going.
โโฆthen weโll just have to find another way,โ he finished.
His hand shifted slightly closer.
Not touching.
Yet.
The implication settled heavy in your chest. Gojo straightened, rolling his shoulders like heโd just made a decision.
โYeah,โ he said lightly. โWeโll figure it out.โ
You held his gaze. โIโm not something to figure out.โ That made him smile again.
This time, it didnโt reach his eyes.
โWeโll see.โ
For a moment longer, neither of them moved. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the pressure lifted. Gojo stepped back first, giving you space like he hadnโt just taken it. Geto followed a second later, smooth and unhurried. The path ahead of you was clear again.
But neither of them looked away.
โGo on,โ Geto said, almost polite. โWouldnโt want you to be late.โ
You didnโt wait.
You walked forward, steady, controlled, refusing to rush.
But you could feel it the entire way down the hall.
Their attention.
Still there.
Still fixed on you.
Like the conversation wasnโt over.
Like it had only just begun. You had been in your head for so long almost forgetting you're talking to Nanami.
You looked back at Nanami, who was checking his watch with a dignified frown. He was an adult. He was civilized.
"I should get back to my report," he said, nodding politely. "Try not to let the noise of this place get to you."
"I'll try," I said, my smile widening.
I didn't notice the six eyes watching me from the balcony above, or the shadows that had stopped moving as Suguru's grip tightened on the railing. I didn't realize that by showing Nanami exactly what I refused to give them, I had just turned their curiosity into a primitive, starving need.
In less than a second, he was gone, no warning, no dramatic build-up. Just absence. One moment Gojo was leaning lazily against the balcony, the next the space beside Suguru was empty, the air still humming faintly from where his technique had bent it.
He didnโt think. He didnโt plan.
He just appeared.
Right behind you.
Close enough that the faint scent of something clean and expensive clung to the air, close enough that the distortion of his Infinity brushed against your skin like a pressure you couldnโt quite name. His hand came up instinctivelyโnot touching, never quite touchingโbut hovering near your shoulder as if deciding whether you were real.
Because that was the problem.
You didnโt react the way people should when he arrived.
No flinch. No spike of fear. No instinctive recoil.
Justโฆ that same steady presence.
I didnโt pull away. Not yet. I wanted him to see that his presence didnโt make me tremble; it only made me tired. I looked past the shock of white hair and the single, frantic blue eye peering over his glasses, and I spoke with a clarity that seemed to physically push against his Infinity.
โWhat was that? Why him?โ He asked.
"You want to know why I smiled at him, Satoru? Itโs because he didnโt force me to."
I saw his fingers twitch from the corner of my eye above my shoulder, his ego visibly bruising at the comparison. Behind him, the shadows in the corridor seemed to deepen as Suguru arrived.
"Nanami-san is a man who understands that his sub-gender isn't an excuse for bad manners," I continued, my voice steady even as my skin crawled from the static of Satoruโs power. "He treats me like a person, not a puzzle to solve or a territory to mark. When I talk to him, he listens. He doesnโt spend every second of the day trying to suck all the air out of the room just because he can."
I took a deliberate step back, forcing his hand to drop. Satoru looked struck, his mouth hanging open in a silent, indignant pout.
"You and Suguru? Youโre animals," I spat, the word hitting them like a physical blow. "You think because youโre Prime Alphas, the rest of us are just background noise to your instincts. You act like animalsโsniffing at my neck, hovering over me, teleporting into my path like youโre entitled to every second of my day. You want to own me, and youโre too delusional to see the difference."
Satoruโs expression shifted from confusion to a dark, simmering annoyance. He wasn't used to being told 'no,' let alone being told he was anything less than the Honored One.
"Iโm the only one who can protect you," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave, losing its playful mask entirely. "Nanami is weak. He canโt keep you safe from whatโs coming."
"I'd rather be in danger than be a pet," I said, finally turning my back on him.
I didn't see the way Suguruโs eyes narrowed, his hands fisted at his sides as he processed my words. I didn't see Satoruโs gaze track the movement of my hips with a hungry, desperate intensity. I only felt the cold realization that by calling them out, I hadn't made them back off, I had just challenged their Alpha instincts to prove me wrong.
My footsteps are even and heavy on the stone, leaving the "Strongest" standing there with his ego laid bare and his mouth still half-open.
Satoru watched your retreating back, his Six Eyes tracking the minute shift of your shoulders until you vanished around the corner of the dorms. The silence that followed was thick, flavored only by the faint, bitter scent of the courtyard koi pond and the residual hum of Satoruโs Lapse: Blue.
"Barbaric," Satoru finally repeated, his voice low and oddly hollow. He didn't turn around, but he knew Suguru was standing right behind him. "She basically called us barbaric, Suguru. Like weโre just... some strays she found in the trash."
Suguru didn't answer immediately. He leaned against the railing where you had been pinned just moments before, his fingers tracing the hairline fractures in the stone, the physical proof of Satoruโs lack of control. A cynical, sharp-edged smile pulled at his lips.
"Sheโs right, Satoru," Suguru murmured, his dark eyes fixed on the empty space youโd left behind. "We are. But the mistake you're making is trying to convince her otherwise. You're trying to win a debate when you should be winning a war."
Satoru finally turned, his blindfold pushed up, his blue eyes flashing with a delusional, manic intensity. "I don't want a war. I want her to look at me the way she looked at Nanami. I want her to see me."
"Then stop acting like a child who lost his toy," Suguru said, his voice dropping to a velvet, predatory low. He stepped into the light, finally taking the lead. "A Beta doesn't respond to the noise you're making. They respond to stability. To necessity. If she thinks weโre animals, we stop trying to hide the teeth. We just make sure we're the only ones she has left to turn to."
Satoruโs anger flickered, replaced by a slow, dark understanding. "You want to isolate her."
"I want to make us her only world," Suguru corrected, his God Complex matching Satoruโs beat for beat. "Nanami is a 'civilized' distraction. We need to remove the distractions. If we're the only ones who can provide the 'respect' and 'safety' she craves... she'll have no choice but to realize weโre exactly what she needs."
Satoru let out a slow, jagged breath, his grin returning, this time, wider and more permanent.
ย "She said sheโd rather be in danger than be a pet. I think itโs time we showed her just how much danger there is... and just how much we're willing to do to keep her."
Before he was committed, Yandere!AsylumPatient was a walking urban legend. He wasn't a calculated mastermind; he was completely, terrifyingly chaotic, the kind of monster who would end up on the news for destroying a public space or going after completely random people for reasons only his warped mind understood. The entire city breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally locked away in the high-security wing of the asylum. He is notoriously violent, and even the beefiest, most hardened guards refuse to enter his cell without a full riot squad and tranquilizers on standby.
You, on the other hand, are the absolute polar opposite. You are a deeply anxious, fragile, and heavily medicated patient who was completely eaten alive by the brutal reality of the asylum. The constant echoing screams down the hallways, the loud slamming of heavy iron doors, and the cold, clinical apathy of the staff keep your nervous system in a state of permanent panic. You spend most of your days huddled in the corners of the recreation yard, trembling, staring at the floor, and trying to make yourself as invisible as possible.
Yandere!AsylumPatient noticed you on your very first day in the yard. While the other patients kept their distance from him out of pure survival instinct, you were too dazed by your sedative cocktail to realize who he was. When a group of aggressive, larger patients tried to corner you to steal your ration card, he didn't just step in, he turned the entire recreation yard into a bloodbath. He dismantled them within seconds, his face twisted into a maniacal, joyful grin as he broke bones just to hear them snap. But the moment he turned around to look at you, the wild, crazed light in his eyes instantly softened.
From that exact moment, he appointed himself as your absolute, immovable shield. He treats the entire asylum like his personal playground, and you are his most prized, delicate treasure. When he is around you, his terrifying, bloodthirsty persona completely melts away into an affectionate, playful tease. He loves leaning his head on your shoulder, poking your cheeks, and whispering ridiculous jokes in your ear just to see if he can get you to crack a small smile through your anxiety. "Hey, little bird... look what I got for you. Don't tell the doctors, or I'll have to bite them again."
Yandere!AsylumPatient is a master at stealing things from the staff and other wards just to spoil you. Despite being heavily monitored, he always manages to slip into your hands things that are strictly forbidden or impossible for a patient to get: a soft, smuggled contraband blanket that doesn't scratch your skin, a handful of sweet candies he swiped from a nurse's desk, or a colorful drawing he made using stolen crayons. He will literally sit at your feet in the dayroom, shielding your body from the view of the guards, hand-feeding you treats like you're a pampered royal rather than a prisoner.
The asylum administration is absolutely terrified of the codependency developing between you two, so they try to separate you constantly. But every single attempt results in absolute catastrophe. The second a guard puts a hand on your arm to lead you to a different wing, he flips the switch back to his "batshit insane" self. He will scream, spit, and fight with the strength of ten men, throwing his body against the concrete walls and threatening to rip the throats out of every doctor on the board. He makes it completely impossible for the facility to function.
During his worst, most violent episodes when he is strapped to a gurney in a straitjacket, foaming at the mouth and laughing hysterically while doctors try to pump him full of sedatives, the only thing that can calm him down is you. The staff eventually learned that the fastest way to stop a full-scale riot is to just wheel his gurney right back into your room. The second he sees your face, his frantic breathing slows down. Heโll look up at you through his restraints, his bloody teeth bared in a soft, goofy grin, and whine like a puppy. "See? I told them I'd behave if they brought me back to my favorite person. Come untie me, sweetie."
Yandere!AsylumPatient has effectively turned your shared corner of the asylum into an untouchable sanctuary. The other patients are too terrified to even look in your direction, and the doctors have completely given up on separating you out of fear for their own lives. You are still trapped in a cold, terrifying asylum, but as long as his heavy, protective arm is draped around your shoulders, pulling your anxious frame tight against his chest, the rest of the world can't hurt you anymore. He will keep you safe in his madness forever.
Yandere!AsylumPatient has a literal, physical dependency on touching you. The doctors call it a "pathological hyper-fixation," but to him, itโs just breathing. Whether you two are sitting in the cold dayroom, walking the bleak corridors, or eating in the cafeteria, he must have some part of his body connected to yours. Heโll walk right behind you with a large, heavy hand resting firmly on the small of your back, or heโll constantly play with your fingers, tracing the lines of your palm. Even if heโs in the middle of a manic, high-energy rant to himself, his other hand will be gently, rhythmically patting your head, treating you like the only grounding wire in his chaotic mind.
This constant touch is actually the only thing that keeps his violent impulses at bay. The guards have noticed a terrifying pattern: if he is touching you, his heart rate is stable, and he just acts like a teasing, overly affectionate boyfriend. But the exact millimeter his skin loses contact with yours, like if a nurse forces you to step away for a blood pressure check, his entire body goes completely rigid. His jaw tics up, his eyes go dead, and he begins to growl. He will literally glare at the staff like a rabid dog on a short leash until your hand is safely back in his.
Yandere!AsylumPatient treats your high levels of anxiety as an invitation to smother you. Whenever the alarms go off, or another patient has a loud, screaming episode that makes you cover your ears and shake, he gets this dark, intensely satisfied look in his eyes. He will instantly pull your fragile frame into his lap, wrapping his long arms around you like a human straitjacket, burying his face in your neck. Heโll rock you back and forth, whispering playful, sweet nonsense against your skin while shielding your view of the room. "Let them scream, little bird. Just listen to me. I'm right here. Breathe me in."
The nighttime routine is the absolute bane of the asylumโs security staff. Because they are kept in separate wards at night, he is supposed to be locked behind a reinforced steel door. He isn't. Nobody actually knows how he does it whether he steals a hairpin, blackmails a night-shift guard, or literally forces the hinges out of the frame but every single night, without fail, he breaks out of his cell. He sneaks through the dark, sterile hallways like a ghost, completely ignoring the security cameras, with only one destination in mind: your room.
Youโll be lying in your cot, staring at the ceiling in a state of deeply anxious insomnia, when you suddenly hear the soft, familiar click of your door unlocking. Heโll slip into your room with a huge, boyish grin, completely untroubled by the fact that heโs breaking maximum-security protocols. Before you can even whisper his name, heโs already sliding under your thin, scratchy white blanket. He will pull you flush against his chest, tucking your head securely under his chin, and let out a deep, contented sigh, finally falling asleep the second he can feel your heartbeat against his ribs.
The middle of the night always ends in a chaotic, exhausting circus. Around 3:00 AM, the night-guard patrol will inevitably shine a flashlight through your window, spot the massive, notorious killer sleeping peacefully in the fragile patient's bed, and sound the red alarm. A squad of six to eight heavily armored guards will burst into the room with batons and shields. He doesn't even wake up angry; he just groans, holding onto you even tighter, wrapping his legs around yours like a stubborn child throwing a tantrum.
As the guards literally grab his arms and try to pry him out of your bed, heโll start screaming and cursing, tossing his head back and snapping his teeth at them. Heโll rip the sheets, kick the bedframe, and fight with terrifying, supernatural strength just to keep one hand wrapped around your wrist. "Let go of me, you corporate pigs! I'm sleeping! They were having a nightmare. I'm helping them! I'll skin you alive if you pull me away from them!" He will drag the entire weight of the guard squad across the floorboards just to maintain a grip on your fingertips for three more seconds.
The second his grip finally slips and they successfully drag him backward out into the hallway, he flips completely into his chaotic, batshit-insane persona laughing maniacally, threatening the night supervisor's family, and kicking the walls until they lock him in solitary. But itโs completely pointless. The staff knows that within three hours, the sun will come up, the recreation yard will open, and he will walk right back out of his cell, completely fine, covered in new bruises, and immediately seek you out to place a warm, possessive hand right back on your shoulder as if nothing ever happened.
The lads men are very overprotective of their sweet girlfriend that if any and I mean anything tries to ruin her sweetness its an all out war
Like theyโve been waiting their entire lives to be in your arms and someone dares try and ruin your very light that attracted them in the first place?!
That threat will be buried six feet under ground a day later
hii! i just saw your post abt the royal au but im too shy to leave a comment so here i am.. i think that raf could be the captain of a pirate ship or smth like that!
Ooooh thay would be intresting but Iโm going towards making him an assassin assigned by a rival kingdom to kill the princess which is mc or a famous mage who meets witch reader under mysterious circumstances.
Since in this au we will be a witch Iโm trying to find ways for witch reader to meet all the LI
But that does give me an idea for a pirate au with rafayel!
Currently thought of a Yandere lads Royal au with a witch reader!!!
Their is low-key so much potential for this Iโm thinking of making Xavier the king or crown prince from a neighboring kingdom forced to marry mc for a political alliance between the two kingdoms
Then I could see zayne as the kings royal advisor and Caleb as the general or personal gaurd to mc
Then ofc sylus as a powerful Duke thay is involved in some sketchy business
Now Iโm low-key wondering what rafayel should be?
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
prguitarman
romaincrisis
janainaart
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
dailybridgerton
