#I was debating if I should include this one

[viiennie]

𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

Gojo Satoru x f!reader

chapter one

Tags and warnings: Zombie Apocalypse, mentions of gore (including blood and death), slight angst (?), spoilers to ‘Happiness’, eventual smut, female reader, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, lovey dovey sex in the midst of a literal lock down, masturbation, slow burn kinda?, fluff, romance, drugs, manipulation, exhibition, gojo is a pervertttttt, mdni — 18+, enemies to lovers word count: 4093

You never thought that at the ripe age of 29, you’d be taking walks for the sole purpose of hoping to find dropped money on the road. 

Hey, You can’t be blamed now, can you? Life is completely unpredictable, and you’re just glad you at least have an apartment to sleep in and a job that pays kinda enough. But what can you do when the bills are still high, and you still got a loan to settle? Your salary barely covers your living expenses, and you’ve got those damn loan sharks to be worrying about to add to the list. 

You always thought life would go well after graduating Criminology and getting a job in the military. To top it all off, you climbed the ranks and secured a respectable position without getting your hands dirty. Back then, you lived on the tallest floor of your dream apartment and bought all your dream cars to drive and wake the neighbors with.

It was the sweetest life had gotten. 

If only you didnt—

Riiiiiing!

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, the lights flashing as the name of your boss along with the picture of a very stern looking pig pops up on screen. You sigh, staring at it and pondering if you should answer the call. Your finger hovers over the green logo, a hesitation in the twitch of your digits as you debate missing the call and getting a handful of scolding when you go to work or answering and getting the same amount of scolding for something stupid you probably did while on the job. 

Another sigh leaves your lips when you decide to answer.

“There’s a job for you. I emailed all the details to you.”

He hangs up, not even bothering to hear a response from you. 

God, he’s always like that. Acting like some VIP, treating everyone else like they were below him. Countless times have you slapped the shit out of him in your dreams, and countless times have you hurled curses at him behind his back. Why’s there always a stick up his ass anyway?

You open the pdf file in your email, groaning at the 42 pages you have to read over. 

You work as a bodyguard now, the only place that didn’t blacklist you being an executive protection services company. Your job was to make sure your clients stayed out of harm's way, and so far, it’s been an absolute piece of cake compared to your previous occupation. You just had to stand behind them, look intimidating, and keep that up for the rest of the day.

As you skim over the file, you realize that this was the typical case of a nepo baby being rebellious whilst getting neglected by their parents. It was always, ‘I just can’t seem to control my teenager’ ‘He gets out of hand and always ends up almost killing himself.’ but they have never considered the fact that they’ve barely present in their child’s life?

Your duties consisted of absurd things, like cooking and making meals for the client, ensuring he does not leave the house, and even doing the laundry. A rise of annoyance boils in you as you continue to read down your responsibilities—things that nannies would do. If they wanted to hire one then they should’ve contacted someone else, not a body guarding company. Besides, why was this task assigned to you and not someone more qualified? You don’t ever remember putting ‘experienced nanny’ in your resume. 

No. You’re not doing this. You had your pride to—

Total Salary: 15,000,000 ₩ per day.

Well, it’s not like taking care of a child is that hard right? Besides, you do these so-called duties everyday for yourself! Not like adding an extra pair of clothes to the washing machine or cooking for two would be that hard. And! you get to sleep in a million dollar penthouse for three whole days, who wouldn’t miss that offer? And the living expenses are covered by your client too? Man, the pros are really outweighing the cons right now. 

You carefully read through the pages, scanning over the personal details of your new beloved client.

Full Name: Gojo Satoru

Birthday: 1994 December 7

Age: 28

Gender: Male

You blink

Once, twice, and then thrice.

Are you seeing this right?

The person you’re going to be babysitting is in fact not a little boy, but a grown ass man at the ripe age of 28? The person you’re going to be cooking and cleaning for is a grown adult capable of doing these daily chores with all of his four limbs intact? This couldn’t possibly be right, could it? You shake your head, scrolling back to look at the delicious view of the 15 million displayed on your phone screen. So what if it was a grown man? That means you wouldn’t have to be too worried about buying toddler food and all that, right? And him being an adult means he’s perfectly capable of doing his own chores, meaning, less work for you! 

Yeah, that’s right.

Things don’t have to be negative.

You inhale, gathering your thoughts and prayers, hoping this wasn’t about to be the worst decision of your life. No way it will be. It’s just for three short days anyway. And what if you actually end up getting along well with the guy?

Day One

Standing before these grand doors bring back memories you never liked. It reminded you of what you used to be—what kind of glory you used to hold. The keys in your palms feel cold, like ice that doesn’t melt despite the warmth your skin radiates. It feels illegal entering someone’s home without knocking— it's like you’re trespassing. But what can you do when those are your instructions?

The door to the penthouse swings open, the sound echoing through the spacious hall. The moment you step inside, the air feels different—cool, fresh, like everything in this space was designed with immaculate precision. You take a second to absorb the layout: sleek, minimalistic furniture, modern art pieces hanging from the walls, soft ambient lighting, and large glass windows that offer a wonderful view of the city. It’s everything you’d expect from a man who has money to burn but little else to do with it. It’s also everything you’ve ever wanted ever since falling into this pit of poverty.

You take another step in, and the door closes behind you with a soft click—a sound that tells you you’ve just sealed your fate. You take a deep breath in, to prepare your beating heart, and exhale, reminding yourself that you’re here now, and that this is really happening. 

“Hello?” you call out, your voice carrying a bit farther than you intended in the vast silence. You wait for a response, but there’s nothing but an eerie stillness. You feel awkward in this large space, your senses used to the small cozy apartment you lived in. You feel like a misplaced object here, like a piece of banana peel in the middle of a diamond sea. 

Then, suddenly, you hear a loud thud from what sounds like the far side of the apartment, followed by a burst of laughter. It’s carefree and youthful, almost too much so for someone who’s supposed to be the CEO’s son. Your eyes narrow as you start walking further into the apartment, your boots clicking sharply against the polished floor.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!" The voice calls out lazily, not even bothering to sound apologetic.

You stop in your tracks as a figure finally appears at the threshold of what you assume is the study. Satoru Gojo strides out, looking like he couldn’t care less about your presence. His white hair is slightly messy, falling carelessly over his forehead, and he’s dressed casually in a loose-fitting white shirt and black pants, the kind of outfit someone of his status might wear to keep things comfortable while still looking polished. You stare at him for a moment, noting how his playful, almost mischievous grin makes him seem like someone who hasn’t taken a single thing seriously in his life. Maybe this is why they told you to just walk in without warning. This guy didn’t even bother standing up the moment he heard someone entering his home.

“So, you’re the new babysitter?” His tone is light, amused, and you can already tell he’s not taking this job seriously at all. He doesn’t even bother to get off the couch, merely reclining with his legs sprawled out in front of him. “I thought they’d send someone with a little more... personality.”

Your lips press into a tight line, frustration rising in your chest. This was the guy you were supposed to be protecting? It was a far cry from what you had imagined. It’s okay! You expected this. I mean, the pay wouldn’t be 15 million for no reason right? All you had to do was endure this asshat for 3 days, and you’d be out, never having to do it again with the amount of money you’ll accumulate by then. 

“I’m not your babysitter, Gojo,” you reply flatly, setting the file down on the coffee table between you. “I’m here to ensure you stay out of trouble for the next three days.”

He doesn’t seem fazed, however. He tilts his head back and stretches his arms over his head with a casual ease that only someone with his kind of wealth and status could pull off. “Oh, come on, you don’t have to be so serious all the time, miss. Relax a little. This doesn’t have to be a hard job, does it?” 

You nod, a small, twitching smile on your lips. Yeah, this doesn’t have to be hard for the two of you, just don’t let yourself be absorbed into his insufferableness, and things will be all fine and dandy.

The smile on his face never fades, though there’s something in his eyes—something that makes you realize he’s enjoying the tension between you more than he should. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regards you with a look that borders on teasing. “Don’t worry miss bodyguard, I’ll make sure to cooperate extra well for you,” he says, his voice oozing with mock sincerity.

Gojo’s eyes flicker with curiosity for a brief moment before his grin turns more knowing. You were far from what he expected. When his father told him he’d be hiring professionals to keep him in check, he was expecting a middle aged old grump with a tragic backstory, not an angry little kitten that was his age. 

You take a deep breath, keeping your cool. You’re a professional. You endured 4 years of brutal training, and spent the next 5 years being an active soldier, one man child isn’t gonna break you. “Where do we start?”

“Start?” Gojo repeats, his eyes twinkling with a challenge. “I’ll give you a tour of the place. Get settled in, and we’ll figure things out from there.” All of a sudden, he’s all buddy-buddy and normal, standing from his seat with a groan that tells you it’s the first time in a few long hours he’s standing from that couch.

“Okay,” you mutter, though you know the last thing you need is to be stuck following him around all day. But you have no choice now—this is the job you so happily accepted. Perhaps you just had a bad first impression, right? Maybe this is just his personality and he’s actually a nice guy under all that ego!

Gojo leads you through the penthouse with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, his movements exaggerated for your benefit. The whole time, you feel his eyes on you, like he’s analyzing you as much as you’re analyzing him. He talks non-stop, making sarcastic comments here and there, each one more annoying than the last, and you keep your responses short but interactive. Last thing you wanna hear is him whining about you being a cold person. 

When you finally arrive at the guest room, he gestures dramatically to the sleek, modern decor. “There you go. It’s not much, but it’ll do for the next ten days. I hope you like the view,” he adds, pulling back the heavy curtain to reveal a stunning view of the city skyline, one you’ve seen countless times in your dreams. 

You take a step inside, but before you can say anything, Gojo’s already made his way back to the living room. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

As you stand there, staring at the sprawling apartment, you feel a strange tension in the air. You’ve dealt with dangerous situations, but this—this was something else. This penthouse may be the safest area in the entire apartment complex, but there’s something in here that greatly unsettles you, that what’s dangerous isn’t outside of this place, but inside. Your eyes linger on the door that your manchild is behind and you finally realize how hard your heart is thumping against your chest. 

It’s Gojo.

Gojo’s the dangerous one here. 

Shaking your head, you set down your bags, neatly placing them against the door before you pull out your phone to check if there were any updates from your boss—any additional information or duties perhaps, but your notification bar is empty. (thankfully)

Ding!

Omg, have you heard about the attack at the training center?

You raise an eyebrow at the text you received from a friend that was followed by a 10 second video she sends. The thumbnail sends chills down your spine, the image of an unsettling trainee with bloodshot eyes and protruding veins being the first thing you see. He has blood dripping down his chin, his teeth stained with a deep red. There's no possible way that was real. This is probably a prank, right?

As you play the video, you realize the unmoving body in the background with blood pooling around it isn't a prank. Neither is the way the zombie thing continues to bang its head against the glass part of the door where the cameraman stands behind. You can hear people screaming in the background and the labored breathes of the person holding the camera.

What the fuck?

For this type of thing to happen in a military training center is unheard of. With the amount of security and the amount of trained professionals around, they would shoot at the sight of suspicious movement. Perhaps that trainee was infected in the facility itself?

You sigh, shaking your head. That wasn't for you to worry about. You're sure they've already taken care of the situation, making sure no one else would be harmed after one casualty. Besides, you weren't even in the military anymore, so what business did you have with all this?

You lock your phone and toss it onto the counter with a bit more force than intended, the dull clatter echoing in your quiet apartment. For a moment, you stand there, staring at the blank wall in front of you, the disturbing video replaying itself in your mind despite your best efforts to shake it off. It was none of your business, you remind yourself. You weren't a part of that world anymore—no chain of command, no classified briefings, no need to carry the weight of threats on your shoulders.

Still, the unease lingers like an itch you can't quite scratch. The image of that bloodied trainee and the helpless body in the background refuses to leave your thoughts, clawing its way into the forefront no matter how hard you try to shove it back. The screams and the clattering of rushes footsteps ring in your ears like a broken radio.

“Snap out of it,” you mutter to yourself, dragging a hand through your hair. Standing still wasn’t helping. Maybe you just needed to clear your head, step outside for a bit and distract yourself with something mundane. Groceries. That was the perfect excuse to leave this place. And besides, it would help to restock in the case that a zombie apocalypse would really break out soon.

Opening the door, you’re surprised to see Gojo sitting in the living room, manspread as he switches through the channels with a bored look on his face. His eyes glaze over to you, a grin stretches through his lips. “Out so soon? I know my face is irresistible, but you barely spent 5 minutes in there, miss bodyguard.” As soon as he opens his mouth, it’s like flies are flocking over to him. You push aside the feeling of annoyance, not wanting to waste energy on him. 

“I’m going out to buy groceries. Is there anything you want?” You sigh for the fifth time today, hand resting on the doorknob of the front door. 

“Anything sweet pleaseee” He hums sending you a wink that has you cringing before focusing back on the TV.

Nodding, you make sure the credit card provided to you is safe in your pocket before heading out. You’re greeted by a kind cleaning lady who smiles at you with fondness, “My, I didn’t know such a pretty young lady lived here!” Her voice is soft, reminding you of your grandmother whom you dearly miss. You smile back at her, feeling yourself relax in her presence, “I’m not moving in, auntie. Just staying with a friend for a few days.”

“Oh my, that’s a shame. I would have loved to see you everyday!”

You chuckle at her response, politely saying goodbye before stepping into the empty elevator. 

Whilst you were out on a grocery store run, Gojo shuts off the TV, a serious expression overturning his previously cheerful one. He was getting sick and tired of his father hiring these people to watch over him like he was a child. Being a detective was a step he took to free himself from the chains of being born into his family, a step he took to rebel against his unreasonable father, who was a businessman obsessed with continuing his legacy, he didn't expect the price he had to pay would be getting house arrested by his father in his own home with some stranger.

He hops off of the couch, walking over to your room and opening the door without a care in the world. He snoops through your things, looking through your identification cards, opening all the pockets in your bag. He’s surprised when he discovers an ID tucked away in the deepest depths of your bag, as if you didn't want to see it but kept it with you because you didn't want to let go.

​​Gojo's fingers brush against the smooth, metallic edge of the card as he pulls it out of the hidden pocket in your bag. The ID feels substantial in his hands, heavier than an ordinary card, exuding an air of authority and importance. He almost feels guilty snooping around like this.

The front of the card is dominated by a sleek, black matte finish that absorbs light, giving it a tactical, almost stealth-like appearance. At the top, bold silver letters gleam against the dark background:

“13th Special Mission Brigade”

Below that, a faint watermark of the Decapitation Unit’s insignia—a black panther—catches the light at certain angles, visible only upon close inspection. 

Your photograph occupies the upper-left corner, a stern, no-nonsense expression on your face. You wear your ceremonial full dress uniform, badges of what you've done and where you've been displayed onto the clean cloth. Next to the photo, your name is printed in capital letters, the font crisp and official: 

Y/N L/N

Lieutenant Colonel, Decapitation Unit

Beneath your name, your serial number and rank are listed in smaller, but equally precise text, alongside a QR code that has been scratched out, an occurrence that happens only if you've been discharged from duty.

The right side of the card displays the unit's motto in embossed silver script:  

Silence in Action, Swift in Justice.

Just below the motto is a small holographic seal that shifts between the South Korean flag and the emblem of the Decapitation Unit, further verifying its authenticity that Gojo was most definitely not doubting at this point. Around the edges, faintly visible microtext runs continuously, forming a border of tiny but legible words repeating:  

For honor, for country, for the safety of all.

On the back, the design is equally meticulous. The background is a faint camouflage pattern in shades of gray and black, with a magnetic stripe running across the top. Centered in bold red letters is a warning:  

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY: This card must be presented upon request. Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

Beneath it, a small, clear rectangular panel reveals an embedded fingerprint that has also been scratched out by a blade. The rest of the back contains rows of text detailing clearance levels, blood type, and emergency contact information.

Gojo turns the card over in his hands, raising an eyebrow. "So, former Lieutenant Colonel, huh?" he murmurs to himself, a mix of admiration and suspicion flickering in his eyes. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he slipped the card back where he found it, making sure to tuck it away with the same care. 

“Guess you’re not as simple as you seem, miss bodyguard,” he mutters, stepping out of your room. The gears in his mind are already turning, trying to piece together just how someone with your past ended up here, protecting him.

The buzzing of your phone on the bedside table catching his attention, the constant dings sending a mix of irritance and curiosity through him. Well, he’s already touched all your things, what more was a phone? He takes the phone in his hands, testing his luck by typing 12345 in. He face palms when your phone opens, wondering why a special forces agent would set a password like that on her phone. He opens the chat that’s been spamming you, skimming over the ‘y/n stop ignoring meee’ ‘i know you’re seeing this’ and the random emojis being sent. 

A video with the thumbnail equivalent to a zombie horror movie garners his attention, his finger tapping the play button without much thought, thinking he’d be watching some kind of trailer to an upcoming film. But he’s met with a gruesome sight, the same thing you had watched before leaving. His eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend the scene.

Then he’s reminded of a recent case he investigated before being locked in this penthouse by his father. It was manslaughter, with the victim being the front desk worker of a motel. The crime scene was gruesome—bite marks and ripped flesh along the neck of the man. They had originally thought the perpetrator fled from the scene, but as he scanned the room, he discovered the motherfucker hiding under the bed, his mouth still dripping with blood. “I don’t remember much of what happened.” He said as they interrogated him on the scene, “I just took this drug, and before I knew it, I kinda blacked out.” 

He had originally thought it was a classic case of reckless manslaughter under the influence of illegal narcotics because the perpetrator seemed perfectly human. No bloodshot eyes and no visible veins like in the video he watched. 

Perhaps they were completely unrelated. 

He’s about to erase all evidence of him snooping around your phone until the last message your friend sends makes him pause.

‘They say he returned to normal when he was transported into the vehicle, that’s so freaky!’ 

Okay, they’re definitely related.

He puts your phone back on the table, rushing to his room where he opens his drawer and removes the hidden compartment that contained a capsule he found in the crime scene of the motel safely sealed in a tiny ziplock bag. It’s clear blue with a shine around the edges. He opens his laptop, entering the police force search engine and encoding his badge number before surfing the net for information about a blue capsule drug. 

The most similar one in appearance is a treatment drug for pneumonia called, ‘Next’. It had failed due to the fact that it was mutagenic, meaning it had the chance of mutating human DNA. 

It didn’t take a lot of brain cells to conclude that this drug was probably the cause for the odd series of events. Judging from the way an apocalypse hasn’t started and he doesn’t hear people screaming for their lives, then the military probably has this disease under control. Just when he’s about to sigh from relief, he hears a loud thud from the hallway of his apartment building, followed by three more before an eerie silence deafens him. He has half the mind to check outside, but he knows that’s probably the last thing he wants to do. The amount of horror movies he’s binge watched tells him that the first to die is always the one to check whatever’s going on.

Then his front door opens. 

“(y/n)...?” He calls out, goosebumps rising on his skin. 

“Gojo, stay in your room.”

He’s not sure why, but he’s relieved it’s you who walked through that door, and not some flesh eating monster.

a/n: first chapter outtt yaaayyyyy!!!! kinda scared for this series bc the premiere didnt get a lot of attention😞 anyway!! hope u guys enjoyed this chapter💖

taglist: @atomicweaselpaperapricot @boothillglazer

[bootsukki]

2.

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As soon as you leave the apartment complex, Tsukishima’s hand leaves yours.

“Sorry, they were looking at us.”

“That’s fine.”

“Are those all your friends?”

“Well…” As he starts walking, Tsukishima realises that he’s nervous. “They are Yachi’s friends but they have always included me in their hangouts, I don’t know if they consider me their friend.”

Tsukishima is usually confident with everything he does but doing this fake-thing with you fill him with a lot of anxiety. Last night, the reality of what he was doing kept him awake during the majority of the night, debating on whether he should call it all off and tell his friends that it was a prank but damage was done: he told Yamaguchi about you and sent a picture to the groupchat which didn’t calm his friends but rather made them more excited to meet you.  Tanaka’s invitation to their usual hangouts extended to you and he just answered with a big fat “we’ll be there”.

You’re an angel. An angel for accepting doing this with him. 

He nods slowly, hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket.

“Tanaka is the one with the buzz cut, right?”

“Right.”

“And we’ll be there with… Hinata, Yamaguchi, Kageyama and someone else?”

“Maybe Nishinoya will show up if he’s in town.” 

Tanaka does not live far from your apartment complex and less than 10 minutes later, you find yourself waiting in front of apartment 223’s door. You can hear people talking inside and laughter as Tanaka opens the door. 

“Hi there!”

You watch as a tall man approaches you and hugs you without even thinking. Tsukishima mumbles something under his breath, waiting for Tanaka to leave you alone and you just send a look towards Tsukishima.

“That’s enough.”

“Tsukki, don’t be that protective.” Tanaka smiles, pulling away from the hug. You feel your cheeks reddening and he introduces himself. “Tanaka Ryonosuke”

You smile and introduce yourself before Tanaka grabs your arm and pulls you inside the apartment, rambling about something you can’t seem to understand. 

Tsukishima follows close behind and Tanaka tells you where drinks are before leaving the kitchen and moving towards, what it looks like, the living room.

“Sorry about that.”

“It was… interesting.” You say with a laugh, opening the fridge. “Are all of your friends like this?”

“No, Tanaka is just… really touchy.” He adds. “Listen, if anything makes you uncomfortable or you feel like leaving, just let me know, okay?”

“Okay.” You answer, grabbing a can of beer. “You’re not going to kill me or something, right?”

Tsukishima scoffs, grateful that you’re taking everything with humor and his nerves start to dissipate. This is easy. Be together, stay for a few rounds and leave.

“I’m joking, of course.” You offer him a can and he takes it, opening it. “Cheers for little white lies.”

“Cheers to that.”

After taking a few sips and preparing yourself mentally for the task at hand, Tsukishima leads the way towards the living room. The decorations are simple, a black couch, a big table, a TV stand and a dead plant. The couch is occupied by some people that can’t keep their eyes off you and you recognize some of them from the picture Tsukishima showed you the day before. 

“Tsukki!” A boy with bright orange hair jumps from his spot on the couch and makes his way towards you. “Introduce us! Introduce us!”

All the eyes are on you now and you feel a bit insecure about your outfit, hair, well, everything. Those are Tsukishima’s friends and you shouldn’t worry that much, right?

Tsukishima introduces you to the guy in front of you: Shoyo Hinata, who starts talking your ear off, saying how excited he is to finally meet the girl “Tsukishima has been hiding” and you just politely smile and greet him back. Almost all of Tsukishima’s friends join the conversation, introducing themselves: Yamaguchi, who you already know, waves in your direction; Nishinoya Yuu, Tanaka’s roommate who has just arrived home from being in the US for over two months, working for his grandpa’s business, some other people that you don’t recognize from the picture (maybe Tanaka’s friends from class?). Only one of his friends stays behind: a tall one with black hair and blue eyes who you recognize as Kageyama.

You feel him looking at you from his spot next to the television and you just politely wave at him. He just nods his head and ignores you for the time being. Rude.

“Where are you from, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, Hyogo.”

“Wow, that’s far from here!” Hinata exclaims. “Do you usually travel by train?”

“Yes, that’s the fastest way to get to Sendai.” You answer him, noticing how Kageyama has approached the group, taking sips from his drink. “I like Sendai, it is pretty cool.”

“I feel like Hyogo is better. You’re really close to Osaka and Kyoto.” Hinata’s smile widens. “I’ve heard that the rail system is the best out of Japan.”

“Are you a train nerd now?” 

“What brought you here?” It is the first time you have heard Kageyama talk. He looms over the others, still watching you with a weird expression. Putting out your best fake smile, you answer.

“Sendai has the best journalism program out of the majority of the Japanese universities.” You look at Tsukishima, ignoring Kageyama’s gaze on you.

“Hey, Tanaka, where’s Kiyoko?” 

“Ugh, ignoring me like always. She likes to play hard.”

You excuse yourself, getting out of the conversation to grab another drink from the fridge. As soon you approach the kitchen, you feel someone behind you and you turn, finding Kageyama in front of you.

“Oh, sorry. Did you want another drink?”

“Not really, just wanted to properly introduce myself.”

You open the fridge and pick up a cherry cola.

“I’m Kageyama.” He placed a hand on the door of the fridge, leaning towards it, looking at you. You introduce yourself again and open your drink, feeling really awkward at the silence and Kageyama’s blue eyes roaming all your face.

“I need to-”

“I didn’t know there were pretty girls in journalism.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I always thought they were….” Kageyama says. “You know.”

“I don’t but okay.” You try to make your way out of the kitchen but he stops you. You send him your best smile, trying your best to get out of the conversation. Is this truly the guy Tsukishima is worried about? “Tsukki is waiting for me.”

“Is he? I’m sure he doesn’t mind me stealing his girlfriend for a few minutes because… That’s what you are, right? His girlfriend.”

“Of course.” You pray he doesn’t notice your shaky voice. “I’m his girlfriend.”

“Do you treat him right?” Kageyama places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. “I want the best for my friend, you know?”

You move his hand away from your shoulder and nod. “He’s great.”

“It is weird that he has been hiding you from us, don’t you think?”

“I think that what we do is none of your business.”

Kageyama smirks and you feel your blood boil. What is his problem?

“No need to get angry, girlie.” Kageyama raises his hands and leans back, giving you space to leave the kitchen. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same.”

You leave the kitchen and make your way next to Tsukishima, who looks at you, waiting for a signal. You don’t want to cause bad blood between him and Kageyama and you avoid saying anything about that weird encounter you’ve just had. 

“Okay! Sit down and get ready for the games!”

Tsukishima offers you a mint drop and you take it, savoring its falvour on your tongue. 

“Your friends are great,” you utter. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Tsukishima turns to you. He watches your rosy cheeks for the few drinks you have had and your pretty smile. 

“I’m glad you had fun.” He answers. “Before going home, I want… Do you like ramen?”

You nod slowly and he grabs your arm, pushing you towards him.

“I’m going to show you the best ramen you’ve ever tried.”

You start walking side by side and you feel sad when his big and warm hand leaves your arm. You’re a bit cold and you curse yourself for wearing a skirt in the middle of November but the silence between you is more than comfortable.

You had teamed up with him or Yamaguchi for the majority of games, enjoying the discussions created by Nishinoya and Tanaka and the horrible guesses Hinata had of Kageyama’s definitions.

“My friends like you.”

“Really?”

“I promise.” Tsukishima says. “They haven’t said anything to me because they’ve just met you, but I know them.”

You think of Kageyama for a second, not agreeing with what Tsukishima was saying, but you nodded. 

“I’m glad.” You look up, looking at the few stars that were visible that night. You truly are happy about it. Meeting new people, socializing… You feel like a brand new person. “Thank you, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima stops and looks at you, confused. 

“Thank you for being the best company tonight.”

Tsukishima’s smile broadens as he walks in front of you and you run to keep up with his fast pace. You start to ramble about a project that you need to finish before Wednesday and Tsukishima only asks you basic questions about it while you walk together. 

Tsukishima stops dead in his tracks in front of a small restaurant next to the education building. You have never been in this part of university, having your class on the other side of campus but it seems like the restaurant is open 24 hours during exam period.

Tsukishima pushes the door open and you follow him. A gentle chime rings as the door swings open and your mouth waters at the smell of the shimmering miso broth you love. The warmth of it mixes with ginger and garlic, each scent sending you into a personal heaven. 

You hear the soft music play in the background and you notice that, even at this time during the night, thedre are a few students sharing storeis over a bowl of ramen, the soft golden illumination casting golden pools on the walls and tables. 

Tsukishima moves towards a table while you admire the place and the sounds of the sizzle of oil and the rhythmic sound of noodles being stirred in boiling water. As you sit, you feel like there’s something in the air, a sense of connection–people sharing personal stories over food, others sharing notes… it feels intimate in some way.

You see Tsukishima talking to the waiter and you quickly make your way towards the table, noticing that Tsukishima has ordered for you. You sit down, looking at him for just a second. The golden light makes his eyes look lighter than usually and even though he is usually handsome, you feel like, under this light, he looks prettier. 

Tuskishima offers you a glass of water and you accept it quickly, hoping the cold water cools your rosy cheeks and wake you up from your tipsy state.

“I asked for my favourite. I think it’s the best.”

“I trust you.” You look around once again. “How did you discover this place?”

“Well, the education library is one of the calmest ones and I like to walk, so I tend to study here after I finish volleyball practice. I get really hungry whenever I play and I sometimes eat a bowl before studying.”

You nod slowly, mouth watering at the sight of other bowls passing by.

“How long have you played?”

“Nearly 6 years. I started when I was 15.”

“Are you good?”

“Not as good as Kageyama or Hinata but I’d like to think so.” Tsukishima answers. “What are your hobbies?”

“I like to read and… craft.”

“Craft?”

“Yeah, I love watching DIY videos and try making them. For example, I love making bracelets and earrings and all those kinds of stuff.” You say, watching as Tsukishima places his chin on one of his palms. “And… Sorry, I am boring you.”

“You are not. Please, continue.”

“O-Okay.” You look at him. “I love photography and music, fashion and travelling.”

You continue mentioning all the things you used to do in your free time and, between laughs and more than one embarrassing anecdote (“I had to get my eyebrows waxed as a child because I thought putting glue on them was a great idea”), your food arrives.

The bowl sits in front of you, radiating warmth. The broth catches your eye first—a golden sea, shimmering and alive, its surface punctuated by tiny droplets of chili oil that ripple and glisten under the soft light. Steam rises, carrying the scent of roasted garlic, caramelized soy, and a whisper of sesame, weaving its way around you like a spell.

Your chopsticks hover and you grab them, thanking Tsukishima for the meal before looking at the noodles, swimming in the broth, golden. Next to them lies a slice of chashu pork, one of your favourites, with its edges seared just enough to give it a smoky feeling. You  focus next on the soft-boiled egg, its yolk glowing with a rich, creamy orange hue that also hurts to look at. You don’t know if you could eat the piece of art that is in front of you. Scallions, nori and bamboo decorate the bowl and tiny sesame seeds sparkle on the surface. 

Tsukishima is looking at you, waiting to see your reaction to the food he has chosen and you take your first sip of the broth, its warmth heating up your entire body. 

You nearly moan at the taste of it and you just closed your eyes and hum, which Tsukishima takes as an “this is great” and starts eating. 

After a few minutes of eating, Tsukishima leaves his chopsticks on the edge.

“You’re also the best company I could have had tonight, (Y/N).”

[every-koito]

[r0semultiverse]

[winteriron-trash]

rdj the (whitewashed) electric boogaloo

This is a reminder to everyone who's excited about RDJ's casting as Doctor Doom that this casting is whitewashing. Victor Von Doom is a Romani character and has been a Romani character since his introduction in the 1960s. (Fantastic Four Annual #2 [1964]) Not only that, but his Roma identity and the persecution he and his family faced due to it is integral to his character, it is what forms his identity. (Books of Doom by Ed Brubaker) Even if on the off chance this casting is meant to not be Victor but instead be some variant of Tony or whomever else becoming Doctor Doom, it is damaging to the character to rob him of that important cultural background. Doctor Doom does not exist without that history. Fans have been pushing hard to cast Doom as a Romani actor for years, especially since the MCU has whitewashed other Romani characters. (Wanda, Pietro, etc) This casting is not a celebration moment, it's fucking heartbreaking that the MCU repeatedly ignores the important and nuanced cultural backstories of characters.

I know I can't change anybody's mind on whether or not you want to be excited about RDJ's return to the MCU. But I do think at the very least you should be mad that the MCU is baiting us all and destroying nuanced and interesting characters for the sake of self-referential easter eggs and nostalgia bait. Because that's what it is. Feel how you'd like to feel about RDJ's return, but personally, this is soul-sucking. I had such a deep love for the MCU as a teenager, it was obviously something incredibly formative to me, especially Tony Stark. This isn't recreating what I fell in love with the MCU for. This is turning a well-planned and artistic storyline of adaptations into cheap cash grabs and fan service. Because, I think we're past the point of being able to call the MCU an adaptation of anything. They can use existing characters' names and powers, but to say they're being properly adapted is laughable.

This is not an adaptation of Doctor Doom. This is RDJ the Electric Boogaloo because Marvel's fear of losing the interest of dedicated MCU fans overrides their willingness to tell stories that are genuine to the characters. I don't know what there is to be excited about that. The MCU has lost its authenticity and aside from a few projects, feels heartless. Every movie is a copy of a copy. This announcement isn't something celebratory, it feels like a death knell of a cinematic universe that's so desperate to cling to relevancy it's resorting to nostalgia for a character/actor who hasn't even been dead for a decade. We're not getting anything new, we're just rinsing and repeating the same song and dance.

I get it. I love Tony Stark, his death destroyed me and I to this day, rue the ending he got in Endgame. It misunderstood his arc and it robbed him of a satisfying conclusion. But the solution to that isn't dragging the corpse out of the grave five years later to whitewash an existing character with rich and interesting nuance, just to forcibly tie his existence in the MCU to Tony. Whether he is a variant or not. Why would you want someone else's fave's legacy to be destroyed simply so your fave's legacy can go on? Hell, if we were really all so hellbent on the return of RDJ and/or Tony to the MCU, we have the multiverse for a reason. There were other ways to do it that didn't whitewash and ruin someone else. This just. Isn't something to be happy about.

[freakinator]

wemmbu sketch while i debate on if i should change his horn design or not

[four-eyed-floozy]

So I've been a horror rpg nerd for like YEARS and if you're new and want to get into it, it might be hard to know where to start (in light of my last post)

These are my general recommendations, I also recommend OFF and Ao Oni fangames as well. There's a lot of creativity in some of the fangames. This is BY FAR, not the definitive rpg horror game rec list, but I think I have most of the popular ones.

[fireyartccoon]

might have accidentally cooked up another AU

but hey, it’s sonic related and it is Friday, so why not

For context they are these things called Marble Critters I made a long while back, basically just pokemon but instead of pokeballs you use magical marbles, totally not an outcome after little me made too many fakemon and came up with the idea to make them their own thing

Sonic is a bunkgehog, which are supposed to be skinny and practically rabid, but made an exception for Sonic since I had no other hedgehog marble critters, so no need to worry about cannibalistic tendencies, yet

meanwhile Tails is a Kitdrop, which are supposed to have three tails, so technically in this au the twin tails are a downgrade, at least the little dude can still fly, so he has that going for him

I’m still developing this AU and honestly planning to have it be somewhat of a crossover instead of a roleswap like I usually do, to include regular marble critters and other characters from the original thing

I’ll probably post more about this some other time when I have more drawings to show, until then, have a great weekend

[quatregats]

Honestly the most mystifying thing about the New England Discourse is that people didn't just learn them as a boxed set?? I feel like New England is just one of those organizational categories like it's just a place where the rest of the country sticks those states they forget the name of. Genuinely confused to find out other people think it's a thing you can apply for membership in

[sketchingdead]

A very late halloween post, but happy halloween everyone!

Pikmin crew...

Ocs by @suga-catt, @twobellsilence, @vivilovespink, @subzerossnowflake, @tetsukuzu1230, and @shadonut !

[boom33713]

more of them. this time season 4 :)

i feel like this season they started experimenting a bit more with how they animate certain things. musk ox mania is a good example bc they had those impact effects and also that transformation at the end. also the liturgusa krattorum magical girl transformation

part 1 | 2 | you are here | ?

additionally i am a big fan of this bonus tbh

[skeleboy13]

just binged the entirety of both triguns and lemme tell ya i’m real normal about it 

[mylove-thresher]

JUMPING UP AND DOWN!!,,,!!,! I DREW!,!,,,!!!!,,

yo cuando mujeres sobrenaturales

[cryptidcalling]

Vesper would look absolutely stunning in a kimono as well <3

[vynegar]

behind-the-scenes rambling now that part one is FINALLY posted

[furrygalactaknightpaws]

Curious. Reblog and put how many sideblogs you have in the tags, if you feel up to it! I can’t help be curious x3