#Sans second best character ever

[illdothehotvoice]

I hope you all know that the King Papyrus ending literally lives rent free in my head I think about it a lot-

[stayteezdreams]

Mine

Plot: When you decide to show your friend San the costume you aren't so sure about, you get a lot more than you were expecting.

Prompt: "Stop staring at me like that." "If you didn't want me to stare, you shouldn't have worn that."

Pairing: Best Friend!Choi San x Gn!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Warnings: A bit suggestive throughout. I tried my best not to be too descriptive about body type or gender but it might not be perfectly gender neutral, I apologize. Slight mentions of self-esteem issues, or body-image issues, reference to low confidence.

A/N: Don't go into this expecting too much lol, you have been warned.

Words: ~1.8k

Most years when it came to Halloween, you played it relatively safe. Choosing a famous character that matched your vibe. But you got bored of it, plus you were running out of characters you could pass for.

After some convincing, one of your friends persuaded you to dress up as a character from a show you both watched. They were also going to be a character from said show, so you wouldn't be alone.

The only problem was the costume of said characters was somewhat....revealing. Parts of the costume were cut to expose random areas of your body, and though none were too risqué, the costume itself hugged your figure in a way that left nothing to imagination.

You were uncertain if it suited you, or if you would be comfortable overall. The friend who suggested was no help in making you feel better, as they had already gotten excited about you being said character.

You had tried the costume on a few times, and every time you remained uncertain if it suited you. Was it the color? The overall vibe? Did it just not suit your body type?

When the topic of costumes came up with another one of your best-friends, San, you mentioned to him you weren't feeling too confident about the costume your friend gave you.

"I mean, I like it, but...it's not like anything I've worn before. I don't know if it suits me really."

Glancing at San who nodded along, understanding, but not fully knowing your predicament. He smiled softly, "Can I see it on you? Maybe I can help you decide?"

You perked up a bit at this, though you were a bit bashful about it too. "Would that be okay?"

He nodded with a bright smile before you hummed.

"Okay!" You rose before looking back at him, "It'll take a bit for me to put it on."

He chuckled and nodded, "No rush."

It seemed like a good idea at first, San was always helpful and always honest with you. But as you put the costume on you remembered just how it looked on you and you began to regret asking him to look at it.

San had never seen you in anything really revealing or figure hugging, not that he would care, he was one of your closest friends. But he was also the guy you had a crush on for ages. And even if he didn't care what you looked like in the costume, you began feeling timid.

Would he think you looked bad? You felt your chest clench a bit at this thought. That would definitely not help your confidence. You weren't sure if you wanted this now.

"Is everything okay?" You heard San's voice come from outside the door.

You let out a soft sigh. "Yeah! One second!"

You had finished putting the costume on but felt apprehensive about showing San. Taking a deep breath, deciding it would be too weird for you to suddenly change your mind, you walked out of the bathroom.

San was looking down at his phone and waiting for you patiently at the edge of your bed. Hearing you come out, his eyes shot up to see you, but what he saw was nothing like what he was expecting.

His heart seemed to stop all together as his breath caught in his throat. He was sure he looked stunned as he stared at you, unable to look away.

San always thought you looked great, no matter what you wore, but seeing you like this was more than he ever expected or could wish for.

The costume accentuated every part of you he often caught himself staring at. Various patches of your skin were exposed, and San felt his ears burning hot at the sight.

It took you a moment to gain the confidence to look at San's reaction. When you did you weren't expected to see him slack-jawed and stunned.

Was it a good thing? A bad thing? Was the costume too much?

When his eyes started raking over your body slowly, you felt a shiver run up your spine as you felt almost naked. You felt shy under his gaze, the look on his face something you had never seen.

You let out a nervous chuckle, "San, stop staring at me like that."

San's eyes finally rose to your face, and he saw the way his stare made you react. You were nervous and shy under his gaze.

'Cute.'

"If you didn't want me to stare, you shouldn't have worn that."

"Wh- but- I" You looked down at yourself. "You told me to try it on! To help me decide if I should wear it"

"Don't."

Your eyes shot back to him, only to see him staring at your body again. "What?"

"Don't wear it."

You looked back down at yourself, your chest tightening a bit. Was it really that bad? Or maybe he was feeling protective?

"Does it look that bad?"

Through San's struggle to keep his composure, the tone of your voice caught him off guard. Paying attention to your gaze as you turned and looked in the mirror, he realized his mistake. He was making you insecure.

He stood up, "That's not what I meant."

You looked back at him, "Then it just doesn't suit me?"

San let out a shaky breath as he desperately raked his eyes over you again before swallowing harshly. As you shuffled on your feet anxiously, he clenched his eyes shut.

"That's also not what I mean."

"Then why shouldn't I wear it?"

He opened his eyes again and took a step closer to you. Your hands absentmindedly rose to your chest out of nerves and he wondered if you were feeling as....tense as he was.

You noticed his almost darkened gaze as he stared at you again. You swallowed nervously as he stepped closer.

"It suits you....too well."

"Too well?"

He nodded and you noticed the way he swallowed before he licked his lips and spoke again. "You look great. Amazing even, and I... don't want others to see you like this."

Another step forward and he was mere inches from you. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of him as his eyes cast down to your body again. Your breath caught in your throat. What exactly did he mean? What was he thinking?

"I-" slowly, he lifted his arm, as his hand hovered above the exposed skin of your shoulder. "I want to be the only one to see you like this. I want to keep it to myself."

His voice was low, almost raspy, a shiver coursed through you as you heard it. Slowly his eyes lifted and locked with yours. The look in his gaze was almost dangerous, and it took your breath away.

"Why?"

"I don't want anyone to try and steal you from me. I want you to be mine."

You swallowed nervously; San didn't fail to notice it. He took another step closer, until your chests were almost touching. His face was close to yours and you nervously met his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I want you to understand why I'm saying these things."

You almost jolted as you felt San's hand suddenly grab your waist, his hands touching your bare skin were the costume revealed it. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you against him.

His eyes stared deeply into yours as he inched closer.

"San?" Your voice was a whisper, barely heard.

"I've always wanted to keep you all to myself, but I thought it was too selfish. But this. Letting other's see you looking like this, seeing parts of you only I should see. I can't stand it. So, let me be selfish this time. Please."

Your breath wavered as San inched closer, his lips almost grazing yours as his eyes held a desperation you couldn't miss.

"Please?" He repeated, his voice soft, barely heard.

Your mind was fuzzy as your stomach swirled, warmth encasing you. You were unable to speak, so you just nodded your head.

Before you could even process your action, San's lips were against yours. His arm wrapped around you in a desperate attempt to bring you closer. One hand now held the back of your head, the kiss was deep, passionate.

As his tongue met your lips, asking for entrance, you obliged, almost gasping at his actions as he pressed you up against the wall as the kiss became almost sloppy. His fingers intertwined with your hair as his body pressed against yours.

San, managing to get some form of grip on himself, pulled away, his breathing heavy as he rested his forehead against yours. Opening his eyes he looked at your breathless figure. Slowly you opened your own eyes, as your gazes locked.

Bringing his hand to your face he gently caressed your cheek. "I'm sorry. I just- lost control a bit." He gently caressed your lightly swollen lips with his thumb. "It's been so hard repressing my feelings for you. I've always wanted you so badly, and today, seeing you..." He let out a soft chuckle, "I just couldn't hold it in any longer."

You smiled softly, "How long exactly? Have you felt like this."

"A few years, at least."

Your heart was racing as your chest clenched. All this time, you felt the same way, both of you unknowingly repressing shared feelings. Hurting yourselves and each other by never making it known.

"Then I'm sorry too." You said softly and he frowned, "Because I've been hiding it for just as long."

San stared at you for a second before a smile slowly spread across his face as he let out a soft chuckle.

"I guess we have a lot to make up for."

You nodded softly with a smile and San peered down at your figure again. He hissed as he let out a staggered breath, biting his lip. Your ears burned as he stared, your heart racing.

Bringing his hand down, he gently trailed his hand down your stomach before he hooked his finger under the cloth where it exposed your side.

Meeting your eyes again he spoke with an almost hungry tone. "Are you going to wear this?"

You bit back a grin, "I suppose I can find something else."

He smiled and tilted his head as he leaned in closer to you again, his lips hovered over yours. "Good."

You wish you had taken a breath before he kissed you again. You could tell from the way his hands hungrily gripped you as he pushed you against the wall again, his lips never breaking contact, that this was going to last a while.

xx End xx

A/N: I have written some fluff, some humor and a little spooky. So I thought I would write something a bit suggestive to throw in as well lol. Hope you liked it!

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[ladybyakuya]

are we still friends? + (togame jo, sugista kyotaro,choji tomiyama,kota sako)

cws. | gn!reader, headcanon + scenarios format, sorta character study, fluff, angst, comfort. | redirect to blog navigation.

syn. | How do they react to confession when the feelings are mutual?

notes. | omg! here's part two. read part one here. enjoy <3

☆ Togame Jo : "Did Choji put you up for this?" Togame enquires with a sharp tone, eyebrows ever so slightly growing close to each other that it goes away when you blink. The question hits you like a stone on your head. Why would he do that? unless . . . he already did that what's it got anything to do with him? Did Choji pull a prank like this before? and he might have liked them. . . and might not have. . .pushing the thoughts aside  you ask keeping your voice as even as possible,

"Would your answer be any different if that wasn't the case?" Of course, he has his wall high up. Not only that, the surface of the wall is full of sharp spikes so that no one can climb, not even you. It is no surprise that he would be so rude when a wave of affection washes over him. You force a smile upon your face and look down. The empty bottle of the cold drink containing a marble ball that was circling a while ago comes to a halt now. That's right. He should not have said that out loud. It is surprising in the first place when someone like you, so far away from his world is into him and it is even more surprising when you have the heart to confess. He did not mean to sound rude. . .It's just that . . .

"Sorry, I should not have asked that." He says trying his best he can to keep himself. He takes a quick glance at you through the corner of his eyes. Even for a split second, he saw your lips trembling. He curses himself keeping the bottle aside on the bench. "Well, no." His voice is so low, so meek that he has to clear his throat and straighten up before speaking. "No. Absolutely not. My answer would not change." was he scared? wait, he is . . . scared? He has never been the one to pray to God but now, at this moment with all his heart he asks the heavens not to let you cry. He does not wish to witness that since he does not know how to handle it. He has only been known to handle things with violence and dominance, not with talking and kindness. He takes off his glasses and stands up to face you who is still sitting on the bench head down as if gravity is growing stronger at each second. You feel a wind pass by before a cloth rests on your back, embracing your shoulders. You look up with eyes full of water up to the brim. "That's . . . that's my way of telling."

It takes a moment to sink into you what he actually meant and wear his jacket properly thinking how emotionally constipated he is. what is this? A competition? you let out a long hum.

"that's all you have to say?" Togame says impatiently. "I tell you that you like you and all you say is "hmm", huh? You grin from war to ear, and standing up you pinch his cheeks. He does not recoil like a spring-like you expected him to.

"Yeah. You said that now." Togame looks away unable to meet your water-full eyes anymore, warmth spreading over his cheeks, ears and even neck.

★ Sugishita Kyotaro

Sugishita's world is totally mapped out and it all revolves around Umemiya-san. But the moment you said you like him, his everlasting face of boredom did not do much except his eyebrows grew closer together. Is that the face of a surprised person? You ponder but it is meaningless because his eyes are onto you and all he is doing is to inspect you. If the wills and worlds had the potential he would put you under microscope. But even with so much effort all he does is to ask the most stupid question ever. “Do you? Do you really like me? You nod since your throat has become dry. He chins his face for a second and then turns towards you asking with a mellowed tone, “Is it the “i like you as a lover” or ...?” He does not get to finish his sentence while you cover your face and nod tremendously. almost five times in a row. His eyes spread wide. You are covering your face. You do not wish to see his reaction, nor prepared for the answer he is about to give. You feel a feather touch around your wrists as he whispers, “i do too. I like you too.” as he peels off your hand carefully. As someone who is known to be only talking with fists he certainly is not rigid and rough with you. He holds your hand as you look at him for a few seconds and then guides your palms over his cheeks. “y/n-san, Tell me again that you like me and I'll tell you again.” he says sinking in to your touch.

☆ Choji Tomiyama

"Huh?" It was all he could say when those magical words came out of your mouth. Within a blink of your eyes, he jumps so high that you feel if he really wanted, he could touch the sky. Then his cheeks puff a little before a devasted choice of words escapes his mouth,“It’s not fair. I wanted to say it at first,” When it registers in your head you think he might have misheard you so you try to say again but he quickly grabs your hand saying, “Why didn't you give me heads up? I wanted to tell you first that I like you. It's not fairrrreee.” if anything's is unfair is that how a leader seems to act in such a childlike manner but it's okay. This is why you fell for him. He stops whining and says in one breath, "So, then I'll be the one to take you on a date. " he is still holding your hand.

★ Kota Sako

For someone who's eyes are always glued on Hiragi, movements and talks trying to imitate Hiragi he certainly is more than aware of himself and his surroundings. You expect him to brush away your plea when you ask him to stay after the class or even just decline you by saying that he is busy or the worst: simply ignoring you even after hearing. But none of that happens. He waits for you after the class patiently, listens to all you have to say, and then says, "I'll think about it." while internally practically panicking so hard that his head starts to hurt by the time he reaches home. When you reach home, you get a text from an unknown number saying, "So, let's date then. -Sako."

[ryescapades]

aubade · ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ°࿐ | kaiju no. 8

— there is you, and then there is him. as dawn breaks, love lays its claim.

fluff prompt: palm kisses <3 characters: hoshina soshiro x gn weapon specialist!reader

genre/warning: fluff, mutual pining, ooc hoshina prolly, indirect confession, takes place after the sagamihara operation's celebration party, narumi cameo bcs why not

a/n: specially made for my lovely moot @/spookuna <3 i'm a bit attached to this one ngl..

2.9k wc

they say it is a soldier's pride to be able to serve the country they've sworn their lives on. duty, honor and discipline; these are all necessary in order to bring out the best in oneself to protect what matters to them.

expectedly, it is no different in the jakdf. bound by duty, the officers, no matter what position or department they're in, are well aware of the obligation they have to adhere to. they hone their skills and take pride in their abilities to be the best version of themselves so as to protect the lives of the people from the onslaught of kaiju in any way they can.

however, as a defense force officer yourself, your pride lies in your weapons. specifically, the weapons that you made.

ever since you were a mere child, all you've ever known was the forging of heated metals and the whirring sound of machines. the you from years ago used to enjoy watching the process of weapon-making, both machinery and man-made alike. hence, it is only natural that you grew up pursuing a career born out of your interest; a weapon specialist in the jakdf.

you were one of their best, in fact. hardworking and dedicated, you were deserving enough to be stationed at the first division base, where all the cream of the crops reside. studying and researching together with your fellow engineers in the process of making kaiju-specialized arsenals have become as natural as eating your daily meals.

additionally, discussing about the weapons with the soldiers themselves for any improvements is something you'd grown to enjoy doing.

and unbeknownst to most of those around you, you might just have the slightest bit of favoritism towards one soldier in particular...

"how was it, the blaze round? or is the explosive one still better?" you inquire during one afternoon in the testing lab. the first division officer turns to you while holding the rifle containing said blazing cartridges, half of it already emptied after the shooting trial.

"it's working well, y/n-san! your idea of flaming bullets is really doing wonders, seriously. but i do think the design could be better though, for instance..." as he drones on about what upgrades you could add to the gun, you listen with rapt attention, jotting down new ideas on your notebook. after the testing session ends, you mull over your notes in the silence of the now-empty lab.

a curious voice, fused with a bit of bafflement then brings you out of your headspace that is previously filled with a bunch of chemicals, kaiju remains and mechanical parts.

"you're still doing tests on that fire gun-thingy?" you lift your head up to see captain narumi waltzing in, the usual air of confidence and nonchalance sticking to him like a second skin.

you perk up, throwing him a quick salute. "yep, as usual! still got a long way to go though. there's so many stuff i need to fix, especially the cartridge and the substance formula. and there's the barrel part too—"

narumi grimaces, "okay, okay, chill, y/n. i'm only here to pick up my weapon, not to hear you nerd out about your little experiment," he huffs, walking over to the corner of the lab where his bayonet case is kept. you only give a responding chuckle and a lighthearted apology.

being the nosy ass that he is, narumi peeks over your figure to glimpse at what you're working on. however, his magenta hues latch on to your hands. in all the years he's known you, narumi has only ever seen you with your gloves on but today, your hands are bare and free from the confine of those military-issued fabrics.

with the case now slung over his shoulder, he's about to interrogate you about the lines he'd just seen on your palms when your phone that was sitting on the desk rings, a familiar name flashing on the screen.

the captain clicks his tongue. "the heck does this asshole want from you?" he questions in annoyance, albeit while sliding the device to you all the same just as you ask him who's calling.

he takes note of the way your eyes light up when they land upon the name of the caller, a smile quirking up on your face as you feel your heart skipping a (few too many) beat. you immediately slide a finger across the screen to put the call on speaker so that you can still look over your findings and talk to him all the while.

right, speaking of favoritism...

"vice-captain hoshina?" you cheerily greet, and narumi forces himself to hold in a gag (spoiler: he fails) when the man on the other line speaks up, "hey there. you free right now?" internally, you almost punched yourself at how giddy you get after hearing the smooth and light baritone of hoshina's voice.

you send your captain a glare before shooing him out with a wave of your hand. gruntling under his breath, the bicolor-haired man rolls his eyes as he pushes the door on his way out. "damn lovebirds,"

you ignore his not-so vague comment, fully focused on the one you're currently in love speaking with. "no, not really. i was just testing out some new stuff. why?" you query.

"you've heard about the sagamihara operation, right? well, ya see... one of my blades broke while i was fightin' no. 8, and the other one is pretty scratched up. i'm afraid i'd have to get the spare ones you keep at the hq," hoshina explains, and your eyebrows raise in shock.

"what? i've only heard that the mission turned out quite the struggle in the end, but nothing about no. 8 showing up. are you okay?" hoshina finds himself to be a lucky man, for you're not there with him to see how wide he's smiling, his cheeks practically hurt from your expression of concern for him.

"i'm all good, don't worry, dear. and besides, i won't be taken down so easily like that, ya know? have some faith in me, yeah?" you blush slightly at the nickname and his teasing tone before letting out a small laugh. "sorry, sorry. i do have faith in you, vice-captain. you hold that 'strongest close-quarters combatant' title for a reason, no?" you muse, not even bothering to keep the sheer honesty from flowing out.

the grip on his own phone tightens, relishing in the subtle praise sneaking behind your words. throughout his years in the defense force, people have complimented him on his hand-to-hand skills, sure. more often so now that he's a high-ranking officer in the third division. but when it comes to you, it just feels... right. assuring, somehow.

hoshina chuckles breathily, "you're right. so, about my swords... should i go there to pick it up or will you be sending a courier for it?"

for a moment you contemplate, weighing over your decisions. on one side, you really don't have any other purpose to go all the way to tachikawa apart from delivering the weapon. plus, your schedule is not exactly flexible enough to be making such impromptu visits to another base.

on the other hand, going to tachikawa means you get to see him. and deliver the weapon, obviously. but the way you see it, meeting him is enough reason for you to confidently set your choice.

"actually... you know what? i'll be going to tachikawa myself,"

if it were anybody else, you would've reprimanded them for disregarding their duties so carelessly like this. why do something so pointlessly time-consuming when there's a more effective way of doing it? or something along the lines of 'you should stick true to your obligation as a defense force officer, something something, blah blah...'

but who could blame you, really. for hoshina soshiro, you would take the tiniest crumb of chance to see him standing in front your very eyes, only to remind yourself time and time again that he's the one your heart longs for.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the hour clock strikes around six in the morning when you step foot onto the third division's turf, the sun still on its way to reach above the horizon for the incoming dawn.

you had taken some good five minutes of lecturing yourself about impulsively making a trip to another base, hands gripping tight on the steering wheel as you eventually came to terms with the fact that you were, indeed, driving by yourself from the ariake maritime base straight to tachikawa.

being the responsible officer that you are, you informed captain narumi of your little quote unquote adventure, which he only cackled at. you definitely did not bribe him with a new disc game of his choosing for his bs5 if he promised not tell on you to your superiors...

now, as you settle your belongings in the third division's library, you suddenly feel the nerves wrecking inside. it's quite a silly issue, really. it's not like this is the first time you're meeting hoshina. truth be told, you think you've seen more of him than captain ashiro, even though the latter is the more frequent visitor to the main headquarters out of the two.

you can't help it. everything about hoshina just makes you feel nervous, shy, but warm and happy all the same. your heart would beat a thousand miles per hour when he's near, heat rushing to every part of your body as if you had just burned yourself. well, maybe that's partly accurate, with how stupidly and ridiculously hot hoshina soshiro is—

a knock on the door interrupts your train of improper thoughts.

a figure stands at the huge opened entrance, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed against his— oh, sweet lord... he's wearing that compression shirt again. it takes every ounce of your willpower to not let your eyes stray anywhere below the turtleneck-line, lest you're in for a lifetime of teasing by the man.

you're a bit unlucky, it seems. because when you finally look at him, there is a knowing glint in his wine-tinted irises, as if he understands exactly what goes on in your mind, though he produces no word to address it.

"vice-captain, hi," you start, then proceed to mentally smack yourself because what the heck is that lame-ass greeting?

hoshina smiles, and your eyes greedily take in the sight of his curled up mouth. "hi yourself. how was the drive? i was worried for a second when ya said you're comin' here alone. you could've taken the shinkansen... or better yet, i could've gone there myself," thin eyebrows furrowing slightly, he approaches where you stand in the middle of the room where a metal table sits among others.

you laugh sheepishly, scratching gingerly on the skin of your cheek. "traffic was okay, thanks. and this is kind of an impulsive idea, really. i went straight to my car without thinking instead of going to the train station. plus, i wanted to give these to you myself," you say, mentioning to the leather sheaths sitting on the table.

hoshina tilts his head, giving you a confused smile, "why so? aren't they the same ol' blades like the ones i've been using before?" he asks, which causes your expression to brighten.

grabbing the weapons in your hands, you excitedly unsheathe the twin swords before displaying them in front of him. the blades are familiar, marked as his signature weapon SW-2033, gleaming sharp in the dim light of the library and shaped as similarly as his old ones.

"they are, but i added some touch ups to them too! i did some tweaking in the metal constitution of the blades to make them lighter, but more sturdy and tough to cut through harder things. they're supposedly more responsive to any change in your combat power too. the new composition has some kaiju remains in it, but you didn't hear that from me, okay?" you whisper the last part cheekily.

hoshina laughs, comfortably taking the swords when you hand them out to him and slowly turning them back and forth for observation, awestruck with your creation when suddenly a small detail catches his eyes. "what's this?" he mutters curiously, bringing the handle of the swords for a closer scrutiny.

you immediately straighten up at his attentiveness, your arms sliding behind your back and your fingers starting to play with the hem of your gloves from the jitters. "ah, that. well, i figured the swords would hold out much longer this time. so i thought it wouldn't hurt to do a little mark of ownership on each of them," you mumble, holding your breath while gauging his reaction all the same.

there, beside the jagged, razor-sharp edge of the dark steel blade, a small and intricate swirl of his first name is carved, along with a pressed mark of your own initials just above the izumo tech logo at the hilt.

there's a lump his throat, his slanted eyes widening in surprise.

bashfulness washes over you when he doesn't say anything, still staring at the weapons. "o-of course, i can remove my name if that's what you're concerned about! the hilt is easy to be swapped so—"

"no, they're perfect... thank you," he breathes.

your own eyes widen, gulping down the nervousness that is starting to dwindle down a bit, thankfully. you inwardly smile, relieved at how this is turning out. "think nothing of it! it's just something i thought to do in passing and it's not like there are many others in the defense force who specializes in swordsmanship." your hand reaches up to brush it off.

hoshina suddenly freezes when his eyes latch onto your gloved hand, the piece of stitched up cloth slightly nudged up from your earlier fidgeting to reveal a smidgen of your palm, causing you to tense slightly. you move to hide your hand from his view but your speed is no match against his; the man snatches it into his own, frowning deeply.

he puts aside the twin blades and takes a step towards you. one of his slender, much longer fingers slides under the dark fabric, exposing more and more of your palm to his amaranthine gaze at such a slow pace that it just makes the embarrassment to settle even deeper, simmering in the depth of your stomach and causing shivers to run down the length of your back.

eventually, the glove comes off and his eyes rove over the skin of your palm. it's soft to the touch, hoshina thinks. even so, he can't help but to stare at the lines upon lines of raised skin, ragged and roughly positioned on the surface. your hand is severely scarred.

you try to clench your hand into a fist and pull back but the swordsman seems persistent enough that you just relent, looking away to avoid his eyes. "it's bad, isn't it?" you smile, no mirth whatsoever.

play with knives, and you're bound to get nicked, you'd heard once.

his downturned expression remains. "it is. did you get them while refining my new swords?" he questions quietly into the air between you. your teeth catches on your bottom lip before you let out a low hum, "i always get them when i refine your swords.” the space around you grows tight, and the next thing that happens causes your chest to be even tighter.

hoshina moves closer into your space, your forehead almost knocking against him as he brings your palm to his lips. your mouth dries and feels like sandpaper as the airy, featherlight sensation continues to descend on various spots on your skin a few more times, your pulse quickening as he trails them to your wrist. he's careful with his fangs, but the sudden appearance of his tongue has you gasping slightly. it's wet, and it's warm against your skin. "w-what..." you stammer.

"it's beautiful. you're beautiful, y/n," hoshina murmurs, causing the sharp intake of your breath as the blood in your veins pumps in a frenzy.

he glances up to see your fluttering eyes and reddened cheeks. with those as the only indications he needs, he closes the distance to press his lips onto yours in a shy, tender kiss.

finally, your foolish little heart wants to scream. after months of lingering eye contacts, of shy touches, whispered praises and not-so-platonic gestures. after months of dancing around these intense, dizzying feelings.

the softness of your mouth gives to the pressure of his, dancing unhurriedly against each other as you savor the heat he emits. hoshina holds you close, your imperfectly perfect hand cradled protectively against his chest as his free hand comes up to steady a palm over your warm cheek.

he pulls back slowly to give you space and take a minute but you follow him, eyes still closed and lips chasing after his in an attempt to be connected once more. hoshina breathes out a chuckle and calls out for you, fondness seeping out from each syllable of your name that has you opening your eyes to peer at his own.

and here, as the first rays of sunlight pour through the windows of the library, casting a golden hue across the room and painting him in such an exquisite way it leaves the air rushing out of your lungs. the bell chimes somewhere in your mind, the musical vibrations synchronizing with the love you hold for the man in front of you.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you’ve never thought so beautifully of your hands ever before.

what i would give to be otp with hoshina like i'm his actual gf ... *cries in non fiction

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 3]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

Hongjoong, along with some other Ateez members, stood with him in the now quiet area of the abandoned building. He stepped to the side, clicking his tongue when he saw the blood splatter had gotten onto his new Oxford loafers.

"We're taking this guy with us, right?" San held up the leader, who was on the brink of death but still alive compared to his fellow gang members that have fallen.

"Yeah, keep him in the dungeon. We need him alive for interrogation." Seonghwa said, his hands going into the pockets of his coat.

"Should I get a clean up crew?" Jongho asked, his foot kicking one of the dead man's leg away so he could walk.

"Don't bother. Just torch the place." Hongjoong said, a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Mingi raised his eyebrows, looking at Seonghwa, who sighed and nodded his head.

"Alright. Let's torch it." Mingi rubbed his hands excitedly.

"Let's go then." The rest walked out. San dragged the man's body with him, throwing him into the trunk of their car.

"Please..." The male coughed blood.

"We're not letting you go that easy, you're going to wish death came faster. Better rest up, you have a lot to do." San smiled and patted the man's cheek before shutting the trunk. He climbed into the car that already had Hongjoong in the passenger seat. Seonghwa rode along in Jongho's car.

BOOM!

Looking out the window, the 4 watched as the 2-storey building became engulfed in flames. Mingi emerged with a satisfied smile, climbing onto his bike.

"He always get weirdly excited about blowing things up." Hongjoong shook his head with a chuckle.

"That's Mingi for you." San laughed, beginning to drive away from the scene. Mingi sped past them on his bike, flipping them off.

"If it's a race he wants, it's a race he gets." San growled and began to speed. Jongho seemed to get the memo too because he was revving to catch up and overtake them.

"Ah, you guys are crazy. Seonghwa's gonna get motion sick." Hongjoong said, knowing his best friend well.

"Well, if he pukes, at least it's not my car." San shrugged.

"You guys already race on a regular basis. Do you really have to race right now?" Hongjoong asked. Of course he was joking, he didn't care that the boys wanted to race now. Everyone in Ateez was very competitive, no matter what the subject was.

"Nice!" Hongjoong hi fived San when he pulled up a split second before Jongho. Mingi had already reached way before them, there was no beating him on a motorbike.

"I hate you all!" Seonghwa yelled as he fell out of the passenger seat. Hongjoong laughed and took a video of him on the ground.

"San, unload the cargo." Hongjoong instructed, referring to the guy in the trunk.

"Yes, hyung." San drove the car down to the basement while Hongjoong went to help Seonghwa up and they walked in through the front door.

"Hyung, you're back! I need help." Wooyoung ran over excitedly.

"What is it?" Hongjoong looked at him quizically, sitting down on the couch and Wooyoung took the adjacent armchair.

"Paint swatches for the new casino. I need your artistic eye." Wooyoung poured out all the paint swatches. In the middle, he placed the colour scheme of the intended decor and vibes. Wooyoung and San were the ones that managed the casino businesses that belonged to Ateez.

"It's hard to tell from just the pictures, can we not do this on site? I have time until my next meeting, we can go now." Hongjoong asked the younger.

"O-Oh! Okay, sure. Let me change and I'll meet you in the basement." Wooyoung ran upstairs.

"Get me a coffee in a mug." Hongjoong said to one of the maids.

"Yes, sir." She bowed and ran to the kitchen. Hongjoong slumped back into the couch. He looked at his hand, he could remove the bandages today. Maybe he'll do it when he gets home.

"Sir." A butler handed Hongjoong a to-go mug of coffee. Hongjoong took it and headed down to the basement.

"I'm here, hyung." Wooyoung jogged over, dressed in a black shirt with the first two buttons open and the sleeves rolled up, and dress pants.

One thing Hongjoong appreciated, as someone who values fashion, is that all the Ateez members dressed up well too. They also liked to dress up and look good, no matter where they were going. Yes, they mainly wore suits but they were all different.

"How's the hand?" Wooyoung asked as he drove.

"It's fine, I'll remove the bandages when I come back. We've all been injured before, this is minor considered to the gunshots that we've dealt with." Hongjoong said.

"I know... But you know this is under different circumstances, hyung." Wooyoung said boldly.

"Just because my mother died, it doesn't mean I'm fragile now. I'm not as torn up about it as you all think." He replied.

"Did you tell your construction crew that we are dropping by? There's no point going in if they are going to board up the place." Hongjoong changed the subject.

"Yeah, I sent the contractors a message that we'll be stopping by." Wooyoung hummed.

When Wooyoung pulled up, they saw the contractors there, already waiting for him and Hongjoong. The smell of the construction site irked Hongjoong slightly but he didn't express it, merely taking a sip of his coffee. There were some words exchanged between the contractors and Wooyoung.

"Hyung, this way." Wooyoung nodded towards the entrance of the building. Hongjoong looked around the place as they walked in, the place was coming together nicely.

"Get me one of the arm chairs." Wooyoung ordered.

"Yes, boss." The men went away.

"The furniture arrived earlier than expected so they've just been put aside until the finishing touches are done and the place is painted." Wooyoung informed.

"It's looking nice, Wooyoung. Once the paint is up, it'll come together very well." Hongjoong said in approval.

Even if the members updated each other on their projects, Hongjoong respected them and never interjected unless asked.

"Boss." The contractors placed one of the armchairs that will be used by the big wall. Another one of the workers brought in a standing light since the light fixtures were not working yet.

"Leave us." Wooyoung waved them off. They bowed and walked away. With some painter's tape, Wooyoung taped the paint swatches to the wall above the armchair so he and Hongjoong could look at it properly and visualise it.

"I do like the classic burgundy but painting the walls that shade might seem too tacky or old fashioned." Hongjoong said.

"San and I agree. That's why we're exploring dark shades of blue. It wouldn't feel too stuffy like if we were to go with a red shade. It'll make it feel cooler." Wooyoung nodded.

"Hmm... I like Prussian blue but it is too dark. What if we go lighter?" Hongjoong advised.

"What about this?" Wooyoung held up the book to the wall since he didn't take that many swatches.

"Nice. Come see." Hongjoong swapped placed with Wooyoung, holding up the book for him to step back and see. Wooyoung nodded in approval and took a picture.

"I'll show it to Sannie then we'll get to painting." Wooyoung said.

"Good, I can't wait to see it come together." Hongjoong smiled, patting Wooyoung's shoulder. After they were done, and Wooyoung was able to give some instructions to the contractors, the two of them headed back home. Hongjoong still had work to do and paperwork to go over.

Besides the underground businesses, there were legitimate businesses that Ateez ran as well. That's how they were able to build their reputation in the business world.

"I put the newest contracts on your desk, hyung." Yunho said as he jogged past Hongjoong.

"Thanks, Yunho." Hongjoong nodded and headed to his office.

"Ah, finally." He sunked into his plush chair. Sitting up, Hongjoong began to unwrap the bandage that you had put around his injured hand. Honestly, it was looking a lot better than before.

"Where is..." Looking around the place, he tried to find the tub of salve that you gave him.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Come in." Hongjoong threw the small tub into his drawer. The butler entered Hongjoong's office with a bow, informing him that he had some visitors come.

"What visitor?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow with suspicion and caution. He stood up, grabbing his blazer on the way out the door. He wore it and buttoned it as he approached the staircase and went downstairs to the living room area.

"What's going on here?" He asked when he saw Yeosang, Seonghwa and Jongho, guns drawn to the three men that stood there.

"Hongjoong sshi. Could you tell your men to keep their weapons?" The man smiled eerily.

"They can do as they like. What's your purpose here? We gave you mercy by letting you go despite having stolen from us. Did you not appreciate that?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow.

"O-Of course we do. We're merely here to offer our condolences. We heard what happened to your mother." The man stuttered slightly.

"Just let me shut him up permenantly, hyung." Jongho growled. Hongjoong held a hand up.

Hongjoong remembers that day well, they left most of this clan's men dead, only a handful that were barely hanging by a thread. Death was always an easy way out.

"We all know you're not here to offer condolences. Cut to that chase, what do you want?" Hongjoong smirked, crossing his arms.

"I'm here to make amends to Ateez. There's a rumour that the smaller gangs are forming together to take over your territories. They think you're going to be down with your mother's death so they're aiming to strike your territory first." The leader said, his face changing to one of confidence and pride.

"That's all? Do you really not think that we face threats to our territory everyday?" Hongjoong scoffed and the other Ateez members present laughed too.

"For wasting our time, I suggest we take compensation." Seonghwa tilted his head. The 3 men took a step back.

"Good idea, hyung." Yeosang smiled.

"That's true. I don't like people wasting my time AND I don't like people showing up unannounced, especially here." Hongjoong nodded in agreement.

"So that should be two compensations but maybe we only take one? Are we feeling nice today?" Jongho turned to the others.

"Hmm, whatever you guys want." Hongjoong shrugged, turning away to head back up the stairs.

"You'll regret this, Kim Hongjoong!" He heard the leader yell as he ran away with one of his men, leaving the other to be taken by the 3 Ateez members.

Everyone called Ateez the devils, with Hongjoong being the worst amongst all of them. But that's the only way to wield power, to strike fear in people. Everything they do serves as a lesson to others. In the underground world, it's kill or be killed.

"Aww, I missed out on the fun." Mingi said, looking over everything from the second floor banister.

"Don't worry, I have a feeling there will be more where that came from." Hongjoong chuckled and Mingi smirked at that.

"I need a coffee." He went back to his office, going to the coffee maker to make a triple shot espresso. Hongjoong could already feel a major migraine coming on.

Sitting back down, he retrieved the salve you made and haphazardly put them over his healing cuts.

"Hmm..." There was a slight cooling feeling but nothing else.

"Hyung? I'm ba- What's that smell?" Yunho sniffed the slightly herbal smell in the air. Hongjoong cleared his throat and sat up, putting the salve jar away.

"Just something to help with my injury." Hongjoong said awkwardly. Yunho raised an eyebrow.

"You went to see that girl... didn't you? The one that went to your mother's funeral. I know that she's a florist but she knows botany as well. That's the only place you would get herbal medicine." Yunho teased Hongjoong with a knowing smile. Hongjoong glared at the taller male.

"She's a business owner in my territory. Of course I would go visit her, I always visit the businesses from time to time." Hongjoong said through gritted teeth.

"Sure~" Yunho sang. He reached over to pick up the jar that Hongjoong failed to hide under his papers.

"Is this good? Can I try?" He asked.

"Give me that! No, you can't try it." Hongjoong snatched the jar back with a hiss, throwing it back into his drawer. Yunho snickered at the captain's almost flustered behaviour.

"Yunho, I'm busy. What is it you came here for?" Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I'll let you change the subject for now. But yes, I went to discuss the logistics for our upcoming gala." Yunho said.

"Okay. Show me." Hongjoong leaned forward as Yunho placed his laptop on the desk. He pulled up some documents showing Hongjoong his notes, the bill, pictures, everything related to the upcoming gala that they're hosting.

"This is good. Present all this to the rest at our next group meeting, I want them to weigh in on it and see what they think before you go forward with the plans." Hongjoong said.

"Okay. I'll chase the other suppliers for more accurate quotations." Yunho nodded, closing the laptop.

"So, hyung. About the girl..." Yunho raised his eyebrows.

"What? There's nothing about her." Hongjoong replied a little too quickly with a small frown, showing his discomfort about this subject. Yunho bit back his snicker.

"She really knew your mom?" Yunho asked. Hongjoong stiffened at the mention of his mother.

"Yes, no... Well, I don't know." Hongjoong sighed.

"She says she knows my mother but when she speaks about her, it is like we're talking about entirely different people. The person she knew wasn't the mother I knew." He explained.

"That's confusing... And frustrating." Yunho hummed with a nod of his head. Hongjoong let out a grunt of agreement. Yes, his mother was dead but why was he so bothered by this random girl that knew his mother too? Deep down, he knew that she can't change his perception of his mother but it intrigued him.

"Don't think too much about it. The others don't need to know about any of this." Hongjoong shot Yunho a look.

"My lips are sealed." Yunho did the action of zipping his lips.

"If that's all, I need to go for my tailor appointment." Hongjoong checked the time and stood up, turning his computer off. Yunho nodded and walked out with him.

"Don't you usually get our tailor to come to the house to do everything?" Yunho asked.

"Yes but I have a meeting nearby and I wanted to try doing it in the shop this time. Go out for some fresh air too." Hongjoong shrugged.

"Have fun, hyung. Good luck." Yunho wished. Hongjoong waved and headed downstairs to his car. It felt good to drive his own car again, even if it had only been a few days.

"Hey, Seonghwa. I'm going to meet with the new weapons dealer right now to see what he's all about then stop by the tailor for get a new suit done for the gala. Can you take care of the interrogation for me? You can take one of the boys with you." Hongjoong requested.

"You're going to meet a stranger that we've never met before and you didn't take back up?"

"It's fine. I can manage it. Plus, we're meeting in a public place. I highly doubt he'll try anything. But is that a yes on the interrogation?" Hongjoong asked.

"Can I ask Jongho to do it? I have a race tonight, it's a big one."

"Sure, please make sure that he knows what information we're trying to extract." Hongjoong hummed.

"Of course. I'll also make sure that he stops the others from getting too carried away with the torture. The last prisoner died before we got anything good out of him."

"Exactly, that's why I wanted you to do it. You're more objective but I trust Jongho to do it too." He explained.

"I understand. I would say I trust Jongho to get what we need too. Plus, he has the strength to stop the others if they go overboard when trying to get answers. And back to the main issue, why are you going for a meet up without any backup? Should I send some men your way to guard the area?"

"No need, I'm fine. I can handle it myself. Have a good race tonight." Hongjoong wished.

"Thanks, stay safe. If you need backup, alert us."

"I will." Hongjoong promised and hung up. He didn't know what he would do without Seonghwa. They've known each other the longest and started Ateez together, Hongjoong knew he could count on him.

-

"That should be everything. Thanks again for doing this so last minute." The couple said, closing the trunk of their van.

"No worries. Have a good one." You smiled and bowed as they entered and drove off. The moment the van was out of sight, you let out a long sigh of exhaustion. This couple had changed their order last minute and you tried your best to accomodate them.

"At least they compensated." Was what you told yourself before heading back to the shop. It was closing time soon, you usually would have one or two customers at night.

"What a mess..." You sighed. Today was hectic, while rushing orders, you had no time to clean up and just left the mess.

"Good evening, are you open?" You heard a customer come through the door.

"Yes. How can I help you?" You wiped your hands on your apron. You helped the customer get what he needed. Thankfully he was content with choosing one of your premade bouquets.

"Do you prepare all these bouquets yourself?" He asked as you swiped his card for payment.

"Yes, I do." You giggled, handing him back his card.

"They're all very nice. Thanks, have a nice evening." He complimented. You smiled gratefully, walking him to the door and opening it for him to leave.

After that, you began to clear the area, composting the discarded plant parts before you could grab a broom to clean up the small bits and pieces. There was ribbon, tissue paper and wiring scattered everywhere. You kept all the spare materials in the trolley that you usually wheeled around.

"Now I'm hungry." You groaned. There was still two more hours until you had to close so you couldn't eat yet. You tried to pass time by answering to some customers enquires and order confirmations.

"Finally! Closing time." You threw your arms up in the air. You went to turn the 'CLOSED' sign and gathered all the trash to dispose of.

"Ugh..." As you were out back, you heard someone groan.

"H-Hello? Is anyone there?" You called out as you took a wary step back. The back alley was very dimly lit and you were not about to take any chances.

"W-Who is there?" Fumbling for your phone, you turned the flashlight on and saw a leg sticking out from where the recycled boxes were.

"Excuse me. Are you oka-" Your eyes widened as you took in the sight in front of you.

"Hongjoong sshi?!"

~

Series masterlist

[giannan04]

Hiii, can you please write a Yandere San X reader fanfic? Maybe where he’s her therapist and he gets her to break up with her bf because he’s been obsessed with her? 🙏🏽make it dark pleaseee? Tyy in advance

Thanks for the request!💕🫶🏻I hope you like it, I tried to fit everything in the best I could 🥹🫶🏻I hope it’s dark enough for you 👀

-

Pairing: Therapist Yandere! Choi San x afab! Reader, Mention of Jung Wooyoung X afab! Reader

Genre: Yandere; thriller

Warnings: Manipulation, mentions of a toxic relationship, slight smut, character death, very slight gore.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 🔞

-

Dr. San Choi's reputation preceded him. He was the therapist everyone seemed to swear by. Patients praised his ability to get results where others failed, and he was known for treating some of the most complex mental health cases in the city. When your relationship with Wooyoung started having problems, your best friend Mingi suggested therapy. You were hesitant at first, but when he specifically recommended Dr. Choi, someone who had worked wonders for him, you decided to give it a try.

“Trust me, San’s the real deal,” Mingi said, leaning in with that serious look he gets when he really means something. “He helped me when I was going through one of the darkest periods in my life. If anyone’s gonna help you figure out what’s going on, it’s him.”

That’s how you found yourself meeting with San in his warmly lit office multiple times a week. From the start, Dr.Choi had a way of making you feel truly heard, like every word you said mattered. He never rushed through sessions and even went as far as canceling other appointments just so you could have more time when you needed it. He never told you that you were wrong, no matter how messy or complicated your relationship issues sounded. Instead, he listened with that same calm, reassuring expression that made you feel understood and validated. Over time, he even gave you his home address, offering to meet there if you ever needed to talk outside of office hours. You didn’t think much of it—you just figured he was incredibly dedicated to his work and to helping you through this tough time.

Over the weeks, San subtly guided you into believing that your relationship was toxic, that Wooyoung was holding you back. He never said it outright; instead, he asked questions that made you second-guess everything. "Do you feel like you're truly happy?" he'd ask, his voice gentle but insistent. "Sometimes, we stay in situations because we're afraid of being alone, not because they're right for us." Little by little, you found yourself reexamining your relationship with Wooyoung.

San’s advice seemed to play on repeat whenever you fought with Wooyoung. The tension between you two had been getting worse for months, with minor disagreements escalating into major arguments. Every time you argued with Wooyoung, you couldn’t shake the feeling that San’s words were right there with you. Even though part of you still hoped things could improve, the truth was hard to ignore: deep down, you knew San was right, there was no saving your relationship. It felt like there was no way to fix what had become broken, despite your hopes that things could somehow get better.

One night, after another argument left you in tears, you found yourself at San's apartment instead of your own. You needed someone to talk to, and San was the first person you could think of. You had caught Wooyoung with another girl, and you didn’t want to be alone. You needed to let everything out. Your heart was broken, and you know the only person you could talk to was San. You hadn't planned on it, but he'd always offered you to come to his place,and before you knew it, there you were, standing outside his front door.

When San opened the door, pleasantly surprised to see you. His brows furrowed as he glanced at his watch. “Y/N? What happened? It’s almost midnight,” he asked, concern replacing the confusion in his eyes as he noticed that you were sobbing. Tears covered your face, and you were so hurt and anxious that you were shaking. San’s heart broke seeing you like that. Without hesitation, his expression softened, and he gently took your trembling hand. “Come in,” he said, his voice soothing as he pulled you into the safety of his home.

You sat on his couch, trying to hold back more tears as you told him everything—how you found Wooyoung with another girl, how you felt like your relationship was falling apart. San listened intently, never taking his eyes off you, nodding with genuine empathy. When you finished, San leaned in closer, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “You deserve so much better than this, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and comforting. “You deserve someone who would never even think of hurting you like that. Someone who truly values you.”

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his words and the way his hand lingered on your face, the soft caress sending a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. His touch was tender yet firm, making you feel safe; cared for. You haven’t felt that way in a while. You caught your breath as he leaned in just a bit closer, his other hand gently resting on your thigh, as if waiting for your permission. “I can show you what it feels like to be treated right,” he murmured, his gaze darkening with desire. Despite the hesitation you felt at the back of your mind, you couldn’t deny the lust and attraction you felt in that moment. You leaned into his touch, your body responding before your thoughts could catch up.

His lips were dangerously close now, and there was no more space between you. All the tension, all the confusion, all the heartbreak you were feeling—everything faded away as his hands slid further up your skirt, placing his hands on your ass, pulling you into him with a gentle firmness that felt intoxicating. “Let me take care of you, Y/N,” San whispered, his words making your body tingle and heart flutter. And before you could even think to resist, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you. In your head, you knew this was wrong, but your body felt so right. And you needed, no, deserved to be loved and cared for. It was about damn time.

“I want you, San… I need you. Please, take care of me,” you told him softly, never looking away from his brown almond-shaped eyes. That was all San needed to hear-the very words he had been waiting for since the moment you stepped into his office. San smirked, as he began undressing you with a deliberate slowness, savoring every second. He took in each sight of your beautiful body, pleased that it belonged to him.Before you knew it, he was fucking you right there in his living room, each touch, each kiss, each thrust leaving you wanting more. For the first time in months, Wooyoung and your relationship problems vanished from your mind, replaced by the warm sensation of San's hands on your body, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. The way his dick filled you up, the way he kissed your body was he made love to you.

The only things you were thinking about was how you never wanted San to stop making love to you. And San knew, finally… you belonged to him. San's hands rested possessively on your waist as he thrusted deeper and deeper inside you, your ass slapping against his thighs. You moaned uncontrollably, never wanting him to stop. You wanted to show him he had complete control over you. San’s eyes never left the sight of you, he loved seeing what a slut you could be for him, and how only he could make you feel this way. Smirking, he bent down close to your ear, whispered sweetly to you. "See? You feel it, don't you? How good we are together. You don't need him, Y/N. I'm the one who understands you, who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. Only I can make you feel this way. You belong to me, and I’m never letting you go."

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the curtains, but the warmth in the living room felt oddly suffocating. You noticed a heavy blanket was draped over your naked body. You must have fallen asleep after what happened last night, so San must’ve brought a blanket out for you. You glanced over and San was still lying beside you, sleeping peacefully. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist. Yawning, you reached for your phone which was on the floor next to you. You unlocked your phone, and your heart nearly skipped a beat when you saw a text from Wooyoung: I know I fucked up. But I love you. And I want us to work on things. I don’t want to lose you. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.

Your heart fluttered with a sense of hope, but before you could respond to the text, you felt San's eyes boring into you. You looked up at him, not realizing how closely he was watching your every move. You didn’t even hear him wake up. His expression remained calm, but the slight clenching of his jaw told you everything. He was furious. He must’ve seen you open the message on your phone when he woke up.

"Oh. Wooyoung texted me. He wants to fix things," you said, a little too eagerly, not noticing the anger settling into San's expression.

San's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

"That's... nice," he murmured, though his voice didn’t reflect that. He actually sounded pissed, but you could tell he wasn’t trying to show it. San stood up, wrapping the blanket around him as he walked towards his bedroom. “I have to get dressed. You can stay here as long as you need, Y/N. I actually have to head out for another appointment, but make yourself at home, alright?"

You nodded. “Okay, thank you,” you said sweetly, ignoring the tension.

San drove in silence, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He replayed your excitement over Wooyoung's text in his mind, a bitter taste settling on his tongue. How could you be so blind? After everything he had done to get you away from Wooyoung, after showing you what real love felt like, you still had the nerve to be excited about that cheating scumbag reaching out! Pissed off didn’t even begin to describe how San felt. He was so angry his eyes twitched and his hands shook as he drove. He had to do something, he was about to have you all to himself until that mother fucker sent you that text.

His thoughts darkened further as he arrived at the home you shared with Wooyoung. His plan formed in his mind, making him feel only a little better. He knocked on the door, his face wearing the mask of a friendly, concerned therapist. Really, he was the furious therapist who wanted to fuck somebody up.

Wooyoung opened the door, blinking in surprise. "San? Aren't you YIN's therapist?"

San let out a cheerful laugh. "Yeah, I am! My office is getting renovated, so I thought I'd stop by and see how things are going. I know Y/ N's been having a tough time, and I wanted to touch base."

Wooyoung relaxed slightly, shrugging. "She's not here right now, but come in. We can talk about how she's been doing. Ive been wanting to talk to you, anyway. Maybe you can give me some insight."

San stepped inside, carefully observing every detail of the house, the place where you once tried to build a future with someone who never deserved you. They moved throughout the home and as Wooyoung started talking, San could feel his blood boiling but he knew he had to remain calm. Wooyoung would get what he deserved shortly.

Wooyoung led San into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “Want some?” he asked, holding the bottle up. “No, thank you. I’m just here under professional circumstances” San smiled, watching as Wooyoung shrugged and opened the bottle. “Suit yourself,” he said, taking a sip. San and Wooyoung sat at the table, ready to discuss sessions. Which was what San wanted Wooyoung to think, anyway.

"Ever since she started therapy, it's like she's blowing everything out of proportion.

She's been acting like our problems are way bigger than they actually are, like she's ooking for an excuse to leave. I don't know, man... it feels like she's being pushed into seeing the worst in me." Wooyoung stared long and hard at San.

San's eyes darkened, his smile slipping for just a moment as he watched Wooyoung ramble on. How dare he accuse him of manipulating you? Wooyoung was the one who had been lying to you, hurting you, cheating on you, and who knows what else. Hell, this dick was the whole reason you needed therapy in the first place! And yet here he was, acting like the victim.

"You really think so?" San's voice was low, dangerous. He took a step closer to Wooyoung, who didn't seem to notice the shift in San's tone.

"Yeah, it's like she's-" Wooyoung was cut off by the sudden pressure of San's hand around his neck. Panic flashed in Wooyoung's eyes as he struggled against San’s grip.

“San, what…what the hell are you doing?" Wooyoung croaked, trying to break himself free. He managed to break out of the hold, shoving San back with surprising strength, but San's fury was beyond reason now. The therapist quickly regained control, his movements turning brutal as he rained down punches, each one fueled by the sickening memories of everything Wooyoung had done to hurt you.

"This is for Y/N," San hissed between clenched teeth, his eyes wild as he struck Wooyoung with relentless force. San began to stop on Wooyoung, not caring that his blood was getting thrown into the air.

"For every tear she shed because of you."

Wooyoung's resistance weakened as blood dripped from his split lips and broken nose. San's breaths were ragged as he lifted Wooyoung's head by his hair, glaring into his fading eyes. “Pl-please, man…don’t do this. I love Y/n. I never hurt her that much. Believe me”, Wooyoung tears mixed with the blood covering his face satisfied San beyond reason. “Sorry, but with you gone, Y/n will be happier. If you really loved her, you wouldn’t mind dying.” With a final surge of strength, San twisted his hand, the sickening crack of Wooyoung's neck snapping echoing in the room as he tore his head clean off.

The lifeless expression on Wooyoung's face was frozen in terror as San calmly wiped his hands on a towel he found in the kitchen. The sight of Wooyoung's head dangling by his fingers didn't faze him-in fact, he was feeling a sense of satisfaction

San returned to his apartment, already mentally preparing to tell you to ignore Wooyoung’s text, that he didn’t deserve you. But when he entered his home, he found you pacing the living room, your phone clutched tightly in your hand.

"San, I've been thinking... maybe I should give Wooyoung another chance," you blurted out. You didn't notice how San's entire demeanor shifted, his smile growing unnervingly cold.

"Why would you even consider that, Y/N?" San's voice was sharper than you expected, laced with barely-contained fury. You thought your therapist would’ve been happy for you, that you were ready to work things out. “After everything he's put you through, why would you care? Especially after what we did last night."

His words cut through you like ice. You hadn't anticipated such a strong reaction from him. Your face turned bright red and you avoided his gaze. "I... I don't know. I guess I was just confused. I just wanted to feel loved but I’m in love with Wooyoung, and it’s hard to let go of someone you cared about for so long."

San's eyes narrowed, his patience thinning. "You shouldn't have even cared when he texted you. Do you think that was fair to me? Letting me be the one to comfort you, only to get excited over him? And then you let me fuck you-" His words dripped with venom as his eyes blazed with barely-restrained anger. “You’re a worthless whore. Disgusting… I don’t know how I’m even looking at you right now. I shouldn’t have felt bad for you all of those times you came to my office, crying about him. You deserve to be treated like shit!”, his words dripped with venom, his face turning red as he screamed in your face. Your ears throbbed and you broke down in tears. San was scaring you, and the things he was saying to you hurt.

You took a step back, sobs shaking your body. San... I didn't mean for things to get so complicated… please stop yelling at me, you’re scaring me!,” you put your hands in front of your face, just in case he was going to starting hitting you.

San's expression hardened, and without another word, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the living room. "I think it's time I show you something, Y/n.

You nodded, unsure of what he had to show you. For some reason, there was a feeling in your stomach, a gut feeling. Something was off. The unease grew as he led you to a trash bag that was sitting in front of the front door. “What’s that?,” you asked, confused. Why on earth was he showing you a trash bag? Did he want you to take the garbage out?

San laughed, but it wasn’t humorous. With a single swift motion, San tore the trash bag open, revealing the gruesome sight inside.

Wooyoung's severed head stared back at you, lifeless eyes wide open in horror. His olive skin had turn a sickly gray color, and a stench burned your nose. Your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled back, terror freezing you in place. You screamed, your hands covering your eyes as you dropped to the floor. “Why… why would you do this?”, you covered your face, as you choked on snot and tears. Your body shook and between the crying, the smell of rotting flesh, and the sight of the love of your life’s body-less head was all too much. You stared up at San. Someone you trusted with your problems, someone you felt safe with, was a monster. San looked at you, a twisted grin on his face.

"Now, Y/N, tell me... are you still confused about who really cares about you?"

-

I’m still taking requests everyone, I’ll write anything🫶🏻❤️

[tojjist]

“At Least” S. Gojo

☆ genre: angst to fluff (kinda)

☆ pairings: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

☆ summary: After Geto left, nothing has been the same. Especially not your relationship with Gojo Satoru. Once you decide to move to Kyoto for good, Gojo is less than pleased. But fate does not seem to want to let you go.

☆ cw: mentions of sex, depressed gojo, not spoiler free, hopping between timelines but like i added non-canon events, smoking, drinking, getting drunk, high school Gojo being a high school boy, cussing, mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t happen, mentions character death (from the anime), gojo satoru (yes that's a trigger warning).

☆ wc : 5.6k

☆ a/n: this has been in the doing for so long? I've been waiting to have the chance to upload it for maybe a year now smh. Also was originally written for an irl of mine lmao

“Oh my god,” you emphasize each word, pushing the wooden chair away with your knee. “Satoru, is it yours?”

His black pupils, lined with iris the color of morning skies, study your figure from behind the shaded glasses, pink lips quirking slightly upwards in approval of your attention.

“Nah, it's only staying with me for a week,” he stated, watching nervously as you strode over to him. “His owner is away for some business.”

Your attention remained fixed on the pet in Satoru's long, long arms. Your face lit up when a bark escaped the infant animal. “Can I hold it?”

Satoru watched over you carefully, pleading eyes coming in line with his blues. You make it hard to say anything other than an immediate yes, but he tries to stretch out the conversation to his best ability.

“It's 400 yen for 10 minutes,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. He earned a look of amusement from you; a small victory. He then braced himself for the next part. Satoru bent down, meeting you eye-to-eye, and noticed your breath catching in anticipation. “Or... you can shorten your skirt.”

Your face took no time to grow hot, not giving any verbal answer besides the blank expression you stare at him with. For a second, Gojo let himself think he's the victor of this little challenge he started in his head. But he soon came to realize how grave of a mistake he's made.

You're not flustered, you're angry.

“You're such a fucking pervert,” you fume, eyes glaring daggers. He dares not move, noticing the way your eyes flutter over his face.

“You're truly unbelievable,” the shorter male chuckled, making sure he didn't bump into Satoru's now-bruised arm. “What were you even thinking?”

“I thought it was funny, y'know?” He huffed in response. Gojo's fingers ran through his own bright locks as he took a seat on the wood hung up by metal chains. "Besides, has she always been this strong? Physically, I mean."

Geto stared into the reddish sky of dusk, placing himself into a swing in turn and kicking the air so the swing would start moving. "I don't know. Girls are really full of surprises.”

He never thought, not in a million years, things would come to this. Ever since Gojo's last encounter with Geto after he, well, changed... Gojo became unable to face anyone quite the same way he did before.

How did he get here? How did things escalate to this? Thinking about it, Geto had shown signs of a change in his heart and mind. It was Satoru's fault, was it not? He should have done better. He should have noticed. How could he not have? wasn't he the strongest? Wasn't that his job? How could he be so bad at everything?

How could he fail everyone like this?

“Gojo-San?”

Your feminine voice cut his train of thought. He almost forgot the situation he is now stuck in. He's been doing that a lot: losing himself in thought, mind almost immune to the outer world until he temporarily lost his sense of self. Nothing felt quite the same any more. It was like the world had lost its color.

“Sorry- What's up?” He turned to you. Gojo-san, you called him. When did you stop using his given name? What's with the '-san'? Gojo hadn't realized that losing one person was the first step, and now he found himself deep in the road of losing everyone.

And now he's stuck in the elevator with the girl he had liked for so long. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything to you, to push your buttons like he always did or joke around. When did the world become so heavy? He does not know.

“Are you okay? You seemed off.”

Your face is devoid of any genuine emotion, seemingly expressionless. But your voice is laced with concern. Gojo could only guess you didn't want him thinking you pity him or anything of such. But if that isn't the case, he wouldn't know. He's too tired to bother thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he smiled in assurance, “Just bothered by, well, this-” he threw his hand in the way of the control panel. The elevator doors have been stuck for almost twenty minutes now. How pleasant.

“uh huh,” you sigh, turning back around. How did you turn so cold?

When the silence stretches, you start a conversation, hesitant at first. “By the way, I got accepted as a helper in a nursery in Kyoto,” you mutter, gaze avoiding his own. “they're expecting me to start work right after spring break.”

Spring break?

Holy shit. It hit him like a truck. That’s barely a week and a half from now.

“Spring break? Why so soon?”

“That’s when the students file back in,” you mumble, fiddling with the watch placed around your wrist. You pause to read the time, then turn to meet his eyes. “I’m leaving in four days to get settled.”

“Oh…” His breath caught, “Train?”

What a stupid question. He knows. Satoru has never been unintelligent, especially in conversing. But now his unintelligence shines through as if it’s his only trait. He’s glad you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I have no other form of transport really.”

“Well, uh…” He hates himself. He hates himself for not doing anything. He hates himself for being so weak and  cowardly, for being unable to keep his friends around him, for shutting everyone he holds close out. But now, he especially hates himself for being unable to feel happy for you, or to congratulate you on the opportunity, “come visit us every once in a while, yeah?”

Your mouth remains shut, only staring at the tall man before your eyes. The silence stretches between the two of you once again, and you don’t find it in you to speak of how you feel.

“You.. you know you could have died, right? We all could have b-but you…” You trail off, thoughts splattered like a spilled pot of ink. Although you seemed unfazed, in your mind you were anything but. Haibara, Riko, and all the losses that trailed and every event that followed has been stressful and nerve-wrecking. And even in the quietness and silence of the general atmosphere, it has been nearly impossible to find peace within yourself.

“Well, I didn’t. What happened had passed. Can you change that? I doubt so. No point in ‘if’ and ‘could’ve’.”

Before you could respond,the lights flickered back on. You grow unsure if you’ve struck a nerve, but that wasn’t what you meant. Gojo’s response had nothing to do with what you said, you were sure he knew exactly what your words were meant for. Why is he so scared of confronting it?

You don’t know. You could never hope to know because you and Gojo Satoru live in different worlds, the man who was only Satoru some time ago. You were worlds apart, yet  Satoru loved to play pretend that he lived in the same world as you, even when he stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was no longer. Ever since Geto left… it’s safe to say everyone has been changing slowly, deforming from their previous lives and personalities. But Satoru flipped, like the head and tail of a coin, he got himself a new face. He turned into Gojo Satoru; the strongest. A soul unalive. A broken boy in an ever growing body. A stranger.

Two days later you find yourself still roaming the campus , searching so desperately for something. Anything. A reason to stay, perhaps? You don’t find it anyway. You have no attachment as this place holds nothing but misery. Or that’s what you told yourself over and over as you packed your things.

Your steps were graceful, walking so cautiously as if careful to not wake someone up. Your fingers find rest on the old, dusty door frame, pushing yourself into the room that hadn’t been used for a good month or so. The classroom looked the same as it always did. Except for the shadow that loomed over it; a gray shade that sent chills down your spine. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. 

Then you spot something rather out of place. You’re sure you’ve never seen it before and although you know it’s none of your business, the way it tugs at the strings of your curiosity is undeniable.

It’s red, poking out of what you’re sure is Gojo’s desk. The gloomy classroom was no fit for paper with a color so vibrant. 

Your heart skips a beat when you glimpse the seat next to Satoru’s. You do your best to avoid looking at Geto’s desk any further. You busy yourself with the task at hand, reaching out for the mysterious paper hidden in the wooden desk. Shivers run up your arm at the texture of the scrunched paper.

You attempt to straighten it to your best ability, strained by his hard work of crumbling it with obvious frustration. you can barely make out the letters of your name in the middle of the paper, outlined by a messy circle. How Gojo of him. A few lines stick out of the ‘circle’, one of them has the name of a steakhouse somewhere in Tokyo. Another has a date, reading somewhere along February. It’s near impossible to make out what the small combination of letters say, especially when Satoru’s handwriting is closer to symbols than a comprehensible language.

The thought of it was so funny it didn’t feel like him at all. Satoru never planned anything. Every breath he took was based on pure impulse. Never would it have occurred to you that he thinks through things, let alone brainstorm.

The thought makes you smile. But the realization that he never asked you out because he changed his mind or everything that happened getting in his way makes your stomach churn unpleasantly. 

You decide it’s probably for the best to never bring it up. It would only make matters worse for both of you. Life ran its course; who are you to try and change it?

“I apologize, but my answer remains. I refuse to take part in this,” you spoke in an even tone. “I have a job and a life away from jujutsu. I’ve made it clear sorcery is not a part of my life anymore.”

"That’s completely understandable,” the old man argued, his voice hoarse with age. You’re pretty sure you hear anger further straining his voice, “but your technique is quite strong. That strength could be of great assistance if put to use.”

“Thank you, sir,” you dip your head, maintaining eye contact with the decaying man. “But I truly apologize. The decision is final.”

“If you ever do change your mind, please let us know. We’d be more than happy to hear it.”

You almost let a sigh of relief escape. Finally he gave up. You end up only nodding your head in response gratefully, retreating from the old man. As soon as you're safe and out of sight, you let your posture drop, eyes rolling back in annoyance. These guys are truly as relentless as ever.

You stopped upon a familiar scent catching in your nostrils. Lifting your head up, your eyes roam around, scanning the room for your friend.

“You look troubled,” Shoko approaches you, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth. “What’s with the face?”

“How is that man even alive,” you look at her, “he’s ancient.”

Your comment earns a light chuckle from the brunette. “I’m glad I never have to get caught up in this bullshit.”

“Blissed aren’t you,” you roll your eyes as you speak. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, I knew they were going to do this.”

“It’s alright, you’re all done now. Here-” Your friend then lifts the cigarette up, putting it near your mouth. When you don’t show any resistance she, being the bad influence she has always been, proceeds to place it between your lips. You waste no time, making quick work of the drag you inhale, bringing the familiar cloud of toxic chemicals and tobacco into your lungs. Your expression relaxes, shifting into one of relief. Shoko scoffs playfully, muttering that you’re dramatic under her breath before she pulls her cigarette from you, taking in a drag.

“Satoru’s here, by the way,” Shoko didn’t need to look at you to guess the way your eyes snap towards her. She bites back a smile. “He’s calmed down. He’d even seem the same as long as you don’t squint too hard.”

“Good for him,” you mutter, trying to seem as unbothered and nonchalant as your accelerating heart rate would allow. You avoid looking at Shoko, trying to seem disinterested. You know she’d pretend you weren’t gawking at her the second she said his name.

“He’s trying, you know. He’s just as nervous as you are.”

“‘M not nervous,” you scoff, “For god’s sake. It’s been ten years already.”

Satoru is stressed. He's nervous, as Shoko put it. He’d spent so long trying to ignore the past, pretend the past wasn’t at all. He couldn’t confront it. He didn’t want to. Satoru knows what he’s done, he's aware that he hurt you the last time you two had interacted. And that was ten years ago. He even let you leave without so much as a goodbye. How could he look you in the eye and pretend nothing has ever happened?

Gojo didn’t want to face the consequences of what he’s done. More so what he hasn’t. So many things were left unsaid in the elevator that day. They’ve been hanging over Satoru ever since, weighing his heart down and wearing it out.

What if he’s met by another woman? Ten years change a lot as is. What if the eyes that meet his aren’t yours? What if he finds himself talking to a stranger that carries around your name and features? Of all the horrors Gojo Satoru had faced in his life, nothing caused dread to pool in the pit of his stomach like this thought does.

Shoko seems to find something beyond you interesting. You don’t bother to turn to see as the brunette has always been a little in her own head. She’s probably just dozed off.

“Hey, think you can hold this for me?” Shoko muttered once Gojo crossed her sight. She stands facing you, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back, nature’s calling.”

From his distance, Gojo couldn’t make out what the two of you were saying. He watched as your shoulders shook, presumably in laughter. Shoko then made her away from you, barely sparing Satoru a glance.

Every step he took felt heavy, weights landing on his shoulders as he moved towards you. He watched smoke emerge from over your head. He didn’t know you smoked. And even though he’s not completely sure what you do for a living now, he’s not expecting any nursery to accept a smoker in their team.

His long strides finally arrived, opting to remain a step behind you. Close enough to make his presence known.

The aura was unmistakable, almost as if it could be physically sensed. You freeze in place, the cigarette remaining a few inches from your lips. Even after he changed his perfume to one a lot more manly and appealing, and clearly grew taller judging by the shadow he cast over you, his presence still had the same strength as it did before. If not stronger. Anyone else would say it’s intimidating. But you find surprising comfort in it.

“That’s going to kill you,” his hand  reached from over your head, making sure to not cause any unnecessary physical contact. His fingers slip the burning cigarette  from your grip. You find yourself unable to make a single move in response, only watching his actions unfold.

He took a step, moving closer, dimming the light from the roll by rubbing it against the metal bars, then throwing it off the balcony. “You’re too young to kill yourself like that.”

“That bitch Shoko set me up,” You hiss, regaining your composure. “Will you look who showed up. You’re killing the ecosystem by throwing waste like this, Gojo.”

Although you haven’t glanced his way yet, You were every bit sure his mouth was quirked in the same smug smirk he wore so much when you were younger. You could even hear it in his voice as he spoke, “You haven’t grown at all, have you?”

“Oh shut it,” you chuckle. “You’re still as immature as ever. How you could be a manchild at 27 is a wonder to me.”

27… It felt so weird to say it out loud. Weren’t you just 17 a few days ago?

“Oh, how you hurt me,” he says in exaggeration, his voice conveying anything but the hurt he claims to feel. “That isn’t very nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You say. He laughs a little, you do too. But the silence that follows is not that of a joke. He knew what you’re referring to. Maybe he underestimated your last encounter’s effect on you.

The silence speaks for itself. It’s louder than any conversation you’ve had before. What now? What have we become? Is it of any use to try anymore? Neither of you had an answer to the question that began to surface with this interaction.

The questions remain hung in the air, dimming the atmosphere around you. Was this fate’s doing? Or his karma? Gojo has always been told he’s a god, but how could he be a higher form of life when he struggled so much to hold a conversation?

He’s about to speak again when you cut him off, muttering “here-” as you push your hand down the coat you wore. Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you search for the anonymous object.

You pull out a worn out paper, grown from what could have been a bright red to an orangish shade. His eyes study as you shove the paper in his  direction, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Seeing your bashful expression made him rather curious, the contents of the wrinkled paper piquing his interest. He hesitates before he pulls the paper from your hand, half-expecting you to bite him.

The letters were scribbles, almost like they’re straight out of some cult’s ritual,  that with the wrinkles of the worn out paper making reading it next to impossible. Still, he could make out just enough to realize what this paper is. His eyes widened behind the blindfold. It didn’t take much to remember this paper, trivial as it may be.

“You found this- how did you even…?” he trails off, confused.

“I guess I did,” You confirm. He’s unsure if you’re proud of yourself for your rather… interesting discovery. It’s bold of you to pull this out ten whole years later. But he can’t deny the relief he feels that at least this means you don’t completely hate him. For once, he’s truly at loss for words. 

But he wouldn’t let a perfect opportunity like this slide.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me? You’re so obsessed with me that you kept this for so many years, what a loyal fangirl.”

Before he knew it, a weight so crushing landed on his foot. He turned off his infinity around you as a sign of trust. But he soon came to regret his rather unsmart decision. Your foot stomped and crushed his toes. It makes him groan in pain, bending slightly forward.

“Tomorrow, at Narisawa in Minato city, 5:30. I’m leaving for Kyoto in 3 days. Don’t waste your chance again, Gojo Satoru. You’re not getting another one.”

“I take it you’ve been in love with me ever since?” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Say, did you fascinate about me?”

“Hmm..” you hum softly at his childish question, “only a little.” You show no signs of interest in his tactics as you sipped the wine in your hand. Undeniably, Gojo is taken aback by your lack of reaction. He hasn’t known you to be so reserved and smart at keeping him on edge. He couldn’t help finding your new behavior enticing.

Is there anything else you’d like to have?” You nodded your head towards the plates sitting on the table, some empty and some half-full. “Or do you wanna do something else before I go back to the hotel?”

“Hmm? Maybe I could join you at the hotel, actually. Surely it’ll be a lot less lonely with me around?”

You’re tempted by his offer, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. He looked strikingly handsome today. Maybe you were just really lonely and touch starved, or maybe it’s the way his lips quirk as he teases you that makes your brain a little hazy, inappropriate thoughts floating through it and send jolts to your core. Yet, you set your mind on refusing his advances. You haven’t had a decent conversation since high school, for god's sake.

He keeps his eyes set on you, shining before him. You looked glamorous. He’d lie if he said there wasn’t a certain allure to  your matured looks. The years that flew by changed a lot of things about you two, but his breath still catches in his throat when your eyes meet his dreamy blues. The feelings rush back, memories clouding his train of thought. 

He’s sure he’s going to pay. He didn’t mind it at all, what a small price for getting to spend an evening with you. But you surprise him when you bring up that you had already put your card down, courtesy of having been the one to ask him out. Or maybe this was your way of telling him that you are in pretty good condition, living perfectly well without needing sorcery.

“How’s working as a jujutsu teacher?” you quip, smiling softly. “Utahime says you’ve got some interesting kids in your pack? Two special grades, too. You’re sure a favorite attraction for wonders.”

“You’re still in contact with her too?” he dodges talking about his students, not meeting your gaze. “That’s ironic. Weren’t we friends too?”

A hoarse chuckle emerges from him. But nothing about it leads back to amusement, as it was a joyless sound devoid of life. Almost as if he were mocking you. The dark lenses of the shades sitting on the bridge of his nose served as a shield. He curses himself for being so weak. He's almost thirty but somehow you’ve got him acting like he did when he was 17. 

“You didn’t try to contact me either,” you shrug, not willing to take the blame for your lack of contact. 

“You could have visited then. Even Yaga talked about you every once in a while,” he isn’t too happy and it’s showing.

“All good things, I hope-“

“Don’t change the subject,” he frowns, an uneasy edge outlining his words. “He was enough. You didn’t have to go ahead and leave too.”

“I had to move on, Gojo,” the name felt like a jab every time you used it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. This is how you drew your boundaries. Calling them by their last names gives you a false sense of satisfaction, convincing yourself that your sorcerer friends are past figures now. Mere acquaintances. 

“-I couldn’t remain hung there forever, I valued my mental health. You grew distant, the atmosphere was growing uneasy every day. I had to cut ties with Jujutsu before I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Yet you’re here now. Back to square one,” his playful tone was long gone, now replaced by an even, stern one. “Whether you moved away or called us by our last names. It’s a curse you can’t escape. you’ll always end up back in the palms or jujutsu.”

His words held some truth. You know that. But just as he refused to confront this past, you repulsed the idea of your reality. You truly want to believe that you could escape this part of yourself and live a normal life. You couldn’t come to terms with your inability. You held onto your hopes as if your sanity completely depended on it. Another thing that won’t change no matter how much you grew.

“I'll be okay as long as I refuse to interact with this world.”

Once you leave the restaurant, you find yourself wandering through the rich streets of Minato city. It felt as though the night was pulling you further into its welcoming embrace, with nothing rushing you.

“He was only thirteen,” you chuckle, arm linked in his. “It’s unbelievable how bold kids nowadays are.”

“I would’ve done the same thing, honestly,” he smirks, his gaze fixed on the stores around.

“Of course. You’ve got the brains of a thirteen year old.”

Satoru grins at your remark, pulling you into a clothes store. 

“What’s this?” you look around in confusion, noting a woman in a suit welcoming you. The place looked a little too fancy, judging by the display of the items and the lighting of the place.

“It’s a western brand,” Satoru answers. Looking over at him, you can’t help but smile a little. He looks good tonight. His fancy outfit gave the impression that he’s a model to strangers. “Louis Vuitton, I think,” He furrows his brows, trying to remember the name of the brand stores he’s been to with Nobara and Shoko.

“Prada, sir,” The lady in a suit corrected him. “Can I help you?”

“We’re just browsing, thank you.” It’s a phrase he heard from Kugisaki countless times whenever they wandered into a store. His response makes you chuckle, watching as the lady takes a few steps backwards politely.

You’re soon comfortable, searching through the expensive coats and bags. Satoru watched tenderly. Even though the ten years that passed with no contact whatsoever definitely propose a wall between you, he's glad you're able to feel free. You might nit on the same page, but you two can work with what you have.

You stride back to the “S” shaped velvet couch sat in the middle of the checker-carpet store, where Satoru sat. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You walk around in hesitance and confusion, completely aware of the lady walking always a few feet behind you. Surveillance, you guess.

You find him standing in front of the white counter, taking a black bag with the brand’s name printed onto it in golden letters from the man standing behind the counter in a white shirt with the brand's logo on it.

“Gojo,” you call him, confusion fused into your expression.

He extends his arm to you, trying to suppress any sourness at you calling him Gojo. “Let’s go?”

You nod, eyeing him suspiciously before you link your arm in his. You make sure to flash a grateful smile at the woman by the door as you walk past the reflective glass door.

You almost forgot how busy the world outside is. It felt as though the glass building of the store was sound proof. Now you have to adjust to the noise of the full streets again.

Satoru remains silent for the most part. It’s not awkward, rather just neither of you knew what to say. He expected you to ask about what he bought, which you have considered. You decide against it though as you feel it’s none of your business. You’re not too surprised anyway as Gojo has always been a wealthy man. He could buy the entire Prada chain with half of his monthly spending.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

You think about going to the club to give the night the best closure. But neither of you were dressed for it anyway. You contemplate your choices. Then you grin at him, and Satoru knows it’s best to fear what comes after

You’re well aware that he has a high alcohol tolerance. While you would be wasted a few shots in. Yet you consumed so many drinks recklessly, thinking that maybe you could beat him in a drinking game.

That’s why he’s stuck to your side now, helping your sleeping body out of his car. Satoru is glad your hotel card was so easy to find in your purse, taking it out as he gets into the lobby.

A few people eye the man, glaring at him and at the way he held you in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mission is to get you to bed now.

“Satoruuu~” You whine, rubbing your face into the pillow once he sat you on the white bedding. “Stay with meeee”

And Satoru is nothing if not human. Despite what everyone else says. It’s proven now that he had come to face a human flaw like this. He is weak, and you are all but practically seducing him.

“Stop crying,” He mutters. He finds himself smiling sheepishly at the unlikely scenario he found himself in. Tucking you in bed, your face hot due to the drinks you had. He really should have stopped you. “I’ll stay the night, so sleep already.”

He convinced himself it’s for the best. He should watch over you for tonight. No funny business. Deep inside he knew he was just finding a reason— any reason to stay around you for a little longer, heart yearning for the lost years. But he ignored the pathetic feeling, convincing himself it’s for your sake instead.

“But I’m uncomfortableee,” you whine again, hands running down your body. “The dress...”

Did you have to make it so hard on him? Satoru is tempted to kiss you, eyebrows knitted in the space between, eyes looking around the room for any sort of aid.

This is probably a form of invading your privacy, but he sees no other choice. He’ll have to hold it together for tonight.

“nngh..”

Your groan came with an impending headache. Your body moves against the rich covers of the bed, sunlight illuminating your physique.

He stopped in his tracks, feet bare against the gray carpet.

Your form is beautiful, one to compete with statues of goddesses. The rays of light complimented every inch of skin in all the right ways. Satoru had to physically shake his head to stop the flowing perverted thoughts in his head.

Your flinch when you catch him standing near the door, heart beating slightly faster. You thought that you’re alone. You don’t think much of it anyway, muttering a “holy shit” under your breath.

“Good morning,” he casually greets, brushing off the mutual shock, albeit for different reasons. “I made coffee, if you wanted some.”

“Oh... thank you,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not yet, no,”  he says, holding his overly sweet coffee in both palms. “Thought I’d wait until you woke up.”

“You’re a real sweetheart, Satoru,” you yawn. His name slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You busy yourself with stretching your arms. “What a doting housewife God has blessed me with”

His response is only a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he sighs on the edge of the bed. “Well, at least I wasn’t begging a man to spend the night with me”

“Huh?”

You couldn’t remember anything of the prior night. Nothing that occurred after you sat at the bar, specifically. But then you begin to realize, eyes widening at the revelation. You feel dreadfulness landing in the pit of your stomach a little too late. 

He’s shirtless, wearing only his suit pants. And even though you wouldn’t mind the sight any other day, the fact that you are in your pajamas isn’t helping at all.

“Did we...” You trail off, expression darkening. Your eyes meet his own, fear implanted in your pupils. You watch as his expression drifts from confusion to an awkward hesitance. Unsure how to break the news to you.

You don’t know what to expect, not realizing you’re holding your breath. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighs, gaze faltering as his eyes look away from you. Your eyes widen further, oxygen becoming hard to consume.

What have you done?

“But- don’t worry. You know I’m not some asshole...” if anything, he sounded chivalrous. “I-I’ll be accountable for my mistake. When do you want to hold the wedding?”

You gasp, face feeling hot. “You piece of shit-“ You groan as your foot reaches him, forcefully pushing him off the bed. “As if!”

He breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound full of genuine delight. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” He manages between the laughter.

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you mutter, a smile of relief breaking across your face. “I can’t believe you pulled something so childish.”

“Why are you so down?” He climbed back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot on the edge. “Are you disappointed? You know it’s never too late to just as-“

“Fuck off,” Your heart is pounding as you send him another kick, less forceful this time. “Say one more word about it and I’ll make sure you don’t make it out of this room in one piece.”

He laughs, asking you to pass his coffee. You reach for his coffee from the bedside table. Your fingers lift the glass mug to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage before handing it to him.

Your face scrunches up at the horrible taste. Too much sugar. Too much milk. It’s a lot worse than you might think.

“Your coffee should be criminal,” you push the mug his way, frowning. Satoru hums in response. 

There’s no awkwardness between the two of you, and he can’t help but cherish it. He feels content, enough to sit a little closer, at least.

Enough to lean in towards you, mouth closing over yours in an ever awaited kiss, at least.

[gemharvest]

Finally blessing tumblr with a native version of this video. That has been on YouTube for like a month now. I am the best at poasting ever.

[Video Description: A meme with Friday Night Funkin' characters, done with the audio of "wow its the empire state building", originally posted to YouTube by @/brombo. Captions for the audio are done in Comic Sans font at the bottom of the video. It opens with a close-up of Boyfriend and Girlfriend holding hands, facing to the right at a 3/4 angle, while Boyfriend points forward to say "WOW it's the Empire State Building"It opens with a close-up of Boyfriend and Girlfriend holding hands, facing to the right at a 3/4 angle, while Boyfriend points forward to say "WOW it's the Empire State Building". He stops pointing once finished speaking, holding a smug expression while Girlfriend smiles. It cuts to a view further away from the two, which holds for a second before the silhouette of Pico pops into frame on the right side to say "Let me explain this in a language you understand..." BF and GF's expressions change to ones of confusion as question marks appear beside them. The camera then cuts to show Pico from the front, no longer a silhouette and can be seen holding one of his guns out, as he shakes his head and says "that is not the Empire State Building". He then looks to the left and gestures his gun out while sliding to the right, the outline of the state of California sliding into view. He says "that is the entirety of the state of Califor-" The video then cuts to uncolored doodles of the three, BF and GF standing with stunned expressions and an ellipses to the right of GF. Pico stands more seriously. The final six frames are of Pico and BF kissing with drool (Pico kneeling) while Girlfriend cheers "That's how you do it!!" in all caps. End Description]

[itstheghostofmypast]

Meow

Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: He had spent an entire millennia in solitude, waiting for her to come back to him, bearing this curse that was a constant reminder of his ignorance, his mistake, and his guilt. He had forgotten how fate had always been cruel to him, punishing him for all he had done, and so be it, meeting her in the 21st century should have brought him joy- there was only one problem, his love for her may not have decreased a drop, but she may love Poofy more than she ever loved him.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: death of a major character, war, PTSD.

A/N: Here's a quick peak of what this series will comprise, I wanted it to be a one-shot, but turning it into a series would be easier for me since this semester has me sobbing. If you want to join the tag list, please feel free to comment below! @edenesth HOW ARE WE FEELING ABOUT THE PIC? HMMMM?

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Rating: mature

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

"So, you're either a hook-up who hasn't left yet, which is hella creepy dude, it's 10 am- a secret boyfriend I was never told about which proves I have been a horrible best friend or you're a freak who broke inside mind you I am a cop."

He froze mid-walk, eyes wide and swirling with panic. His instincts were telling him to bolt out the door, but the tug in his chest followed by his heart dropping to his stomach had him frozen in spot, years- no millennia; he had kept safe, he had kept it a secret and to think he would be discovered not by the one destined to be with him, but this mutt- apologies, he used to be a mutt, centuries ago, the same time he had found his mate, ridding him of the curse. What stood before him now was a human, a reborn version of the hyperactive, clingy, filthy-

"I believe you're the creep who is my innocent Y/N's dream man?"

"I can explain."

"Oh?" quirking his head to the side, his eyes scanned the other man, who was dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of his fresh shower hanging off the tips of his onyx locks and falling onto the carpet. Yunho’s hand was itching to reach his gun hooked to his belt, hidden with his jacket, he may have been a bit taller than the intruder, but the man looked well built, enough to put up a fight, so he may need to make this quick.

“I’m Poofy.”

“I- you’re what?”

“Poofy, the cat, Y/N’s cat, the one she saved.”

“I might need to call for backup.” He mumbled to himself, taking out his gun and aiming at the barely covered man.

His eyes widened at the statement, shaking his head as he raised his hands in the air, “Listen to me, I’m not lying, Yunho.”

His name caused him to pause, so the intruder knew his name, huh, “How long have you been stalking her?”

“I haven’t I- a millennia later and you’re still so annoying,” letting out a whine, the man stomped his foot against the carpet, the movement leading his towel to slip off, both men freezing as soon as the plush, wet material hit the ground, their eyes meeting for a split second before Yunho’s trailed down, pausing and taking in the sight.

“I don’t remember if she ever mentioned a big-

“I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING TO HER, YOU DAMN MUTT.”

[kimetsu-chan]

~playing in the snow headcanons~

A/N: so I asked five of my friends if I should have snow or instruments be the main focus on what I was gonna write, and four of em said snow :3 so we got some playing in the snow headcanons with some my fav bsd characters.

Characters: Akutagawa, Atsushi, Chuuya, Sigma, Nikolai, Ranpo, Kyouka, Lucy, and Tanizaki

TWs ⚠️: Uhh- I don’t think there are any, but it is important to note that Kyouka’s is the only one that is written to be strictly platonic. You can choose romantic or platonic for the others :D GN!Reader

I think there are slight spoilers in Sigma’s?

Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

It would take a lot of convincing to get that man within five feet of the door. And I mean a lot.

Why would you want to go outside in the freezing cold when you can stay inside where it’s nice and cozy?!

Once you explain to him that you want to play in the snow, he gets even more confused.

Why-?

He’d be sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on something with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other while staring up at you like you just grew two heads.

After you told him it was fun and something you really wanted to do, he stare for a second or two longer before spitting out a response.

“Okay….? Then go play in the snow..? What, do you need my permission??”

“No, I want you do come with me, Ryū!”

He would let silence envelope you so for a moment or so before saying a quick and simple “No.” and going back to reading.

After some puppy dog eyes and the best begging you could muster(along with a deal that you’d leave him alone for at least six hours afterwards) he’d finally go with you.

And when he was dressed up and finally ready to go outside with you, he’d watch you excitedly start making a snowman with a fond look on his face.(he will deny enjoying this for the rest of time.)

Atsushi Nakajima

He is hopping out of his seat and putting five coats on at the mere mention of snow.

Heck yes he wants to go out and play in the snow with you!

Did you even have to ask?

You could tell him to put some warm clothes on and be ready to go outside and he’d do it in a heartbeat and with absolutely zero hesitation.

The first thing he wants to do when yall get outside is make snow angels. And he wants your snow angel to “hold hands” with his (they’re just next to each other)

He’ll let you choose what to do next, deeming it “only fair” since he got to choose first.

“No- [Name]-San-! You get to chose!”

“But I don’t know what I want to do, Atsu, you should pick!”

It would be just a bunch of giggly “no you”s back and forth until you finally relent and ask to make a snowman.

And you best believe that he is going to make that the most cozy looking snowman you’ve ever seen.

It is going to be even more fashionable than Chuuya Nakahara. (No it’s not.)

Chuuya Nakahara

Once again, a lot of convincing will be needed.

What did you expect? The man is extremely busy like 24/7, he doesn’t have time to play in the snow?

But he can’t just deny you when you come up to him to ask him so sweetly if he can please come play with you in the snow.

He wants nothing more than to accept and make you happy, but he really needs to finish his work.

So he sighs and comes up with an alternative.

“How about this, [Name]. I’ll work for about another thirty minutes, then we can go outside, okay?”

“That works! Thanks Chuuya!”

“You’re welco-“

He gets cut off when you roughly wrap your arms around him in a quick hug before running off to do who knows what.

He stares off after you for a few seconds before turning back to his work with a shake of his head and smile.

(Extra bc we can’t end Chuuya’s w/o him actually getting outside 🤭)

When he actually finishes his work, he exited his office to see you already playing outside.

He decided that it would be most fun to quickly get ready and sneak up on you, who was busily forming the base of a snow fort.

There was a yelp as cold snow fell on top of you, and you turned to glare at the ginger who was smirking smugly.

But don’t worry, you got him back by pushing him over into the snow and dropping some snow down his shirt.

Sigma

Poor boy-

Being three years old, the poor guy has never played with snow once in his entire life.

So when you ask him to go with you, you’ll have to explain to him what the heck snowmen and snowball fights were.

He’s mildly interested when you do explain, but he doesn’t quite understand the point.

Doesn't being outside in the cold for a long time give you the risk to get sick?

Overall, he’s rather confused about the purpose of playing with cold, wet snow, but he’d agree.

Once he was free, that is.

And that turned out to be a lot quicker than he thought it would, perhaps it’s because your “silly” wants have peaked his interest.

He would quickly finish his duties his duties within the sky casino, and go to find you and get ready.

When you guys step outside, Sigma immediately felt chilly. The high altitude of the casino only making it colder.

“[Name]… Are you sure this is a good idea-“

He grunted as a snowball landed square in his face.

You giggled as you saw him frozen as he processed what you just did.

Before you could ask if he was okay, he quickly picked up some snow and threw it back at you.

He had a small smirk on his face, oh it was game on.

Nikolai Gogol

Oh boy.

He was the one who initially proposed the idea of playing in the snow, because why wouldn’t he.

He doesn’t care if he’s supposed to be busy, he’s dragging you outside with him whether you like it or not.

You could be busy, you could be relaxing, and he’s suddenly ambushing you and struggling to get a coat over your head.

He will make sure you’re nicely dressed for being in the snow.

After all, you’re no fun if you’re sick.

As he’s yanking you to your feet and dressing you in so many layers, you may as well become a fur ball at this point, he’ll be running his mouth, explaining in grave detail what he wanted to do.

“Okay, so first, we’re gonna make little forts, then we’re gonna hide behind them and throw snowballs at each other. Now- I promise not to throw them too hard, okay?”(that’s a lie, he’ll throw them as hard as he pleases)

You could only watch and nod as he led you outside to begin building.

I sure hope you wrote out your will.

Ranpo Edogawa

He’s busy eating snacks working at his desk, when you came in.

He took one look at your face and flushed cheeks from already having been outside for a while, and knew exactly what you wanted.

He debated whether or not abandoning his precious sna— I uh- I mean work just to make you happy.

He thought it over for a second and decided he could go a little bit without his food, and could grace you with his wonderful presence.

He stood up from his seat with his usual smirk and pointed his unfinished lollipop in your direction.

You didn’t even get to ask him before he started bargaining with you.

“I’ll go outside with you on one condition, you gotta buy me lunch.”

You paused, that actually didn’t sound that bad, so you agreed.

You two quickly got dressed (after Ranpo put his snacks away) and headed out of the office to play in the snow, leaving a extremely frustrated Kunikida at the door yelling at you.

It wasn’t very long before all the grass/ground surrounding the agency was covered in snow angels.

Kyouka Izumi

To be honest, I see Kyouka getting rather excited.

Sure she hadn’t done it in a long time, but Kyouka used to love to play in the snow when she was younger.

It was kinda a bittersweet thing to her.

So when you asked, she was more than willing to go with you. She gently grabbed your hand and led you all the way to her and Atsushi’s dorm to get some warm clothes.

Seeing that she didn’t have enough to comfortably be outside, you took your scarf that was hanging loosely on your shoulders off and wrapped it around her neck to help her keep warm.

Kyouka smiled at you when you did so then with increased energy, she took your hand again and made her way outside.

She immediately opened her mouth and tried to catch a falling snowflake on her tongue, being successful in doing so.

She turned to you with wide eyes and pointed at where the now-melted snowflake had been.

“[Name], did you see that?”

“Mhm!”

“[Name], let’s go make snowmen..!”

Before you could even respond, Kyouka grabbed your hand and jogged to the nearest open space to make a snowman.

You guys ended up making two, a bigger one complete with its younger sister.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Lucy, much like Akutagawa, would decline immediately at first.

She’s in the middle of a shift, she can’t just abandon her job as a waitress.

Or so she thought.

Until her boss gave her the go-ahead that she could take a break and go play in the snow.

Her next argument would be that she was “too mature” to go play in snow.

But then you turned that right back around at her and asked if that meant you were immature.

She stuttered and blushed from embarrassment as she denied what you said.

“N-No-! I didn’t mean you were immature! I just-“

“Then let’s go!”

Cue you grabbing her arm and running towards the building door and shoving her coat that you stole earlier into her arms.

Lucy sighed and reluctantly pulled her coat over her arms and stepped outside with you.

In the end, you guys had a lot of fun running around and pushing each other into the snow.

Tanizaki Jun’ichirō

Actually, Tanizaki was the one who suggested the idea.

He said it would be a fun way to get a break from all their work(totally not because he wanted to show off his snowball fight skills, nooo-)

He would offer to fetch your coat for you when you agreed, doing so anyway when you declined his offer.

He held your coat out for you as he put on his own on, happily suggesting the snowball fight he was planning.

You agreed, not thinking about how he could use his ability to his advantage.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He hid behind a tree and made his illusion self dash to hide somewhere else, effectively turning your attention away from where he actually was.

He hit you in the back of the head a little harder than he meant to, and immediately stood up to rush over and see if you were hurt.

“[Name]! I’m sorry, I didn’t me— AGH-“

Karma came so sweetly as he slipped and landed on his back.

There were no hard feelings though, you guys called a truce and laughed about it for the rest of the day

A/N: these were so fun to write, omg-

I hope you liked it! Please consider liking/reblogging if you did :3

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | next chapter

Six days after Maverick’s disappearance, Bradley isn’t quite whole anymore. But, there isn’t time to crumble.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc! avery mitchell : age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, extra warnings to be added chapter by chapter. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

“Rooster, those bandits are closing. We can’t go back.”

“Rooster, he’s gone. Maverick’s gone.”

It’s a stomach-sick, sweat inducing kind of fever that lingers now on this mild morning. Breeze blowing across his skin, patterned and rhythmic, reminding him every now and again to breathe.

It has been exactly six days since Pete Mitchell was declared missing in action. Six days since a missile meant for Bradley hit Pete’s plane and sent the sixty-five million dollar aircraft spiraling into miles and miles of desolate, freezing forest. Bradley has slept four times in those six days, and each time he has, his subconscious reminds him of exactly what he is responsible for

Today is a relatively chilly morning in May, and Bradley is sitting on the front step of a cottage near Bird Rock in northern San Diego. Today is the first day since he got home three and a half days ago that he has left his apartment. Natasha stayed over last night. She has stayed over every night. She slept by his side, on top of his covers, just holding his hand. When he was in the shower this morning, she laid out his clothes for him. She hasn’t ever known him to be this quiet. Ever.

He hasn’t said much at all since they got back. Natasha knows that he’s picturing himself alone in that forest. Dead, or worse.

Now, she sits at his side and rubs soft circles on his shoulder over the black fabric of his t-shirt. He would do it for her, if she was the one going through this. She would be too stubborn to listen to him too. They have known each other since flight school. Natasha got so drunk the first Friday that Bradley spent his entire first Friday holding her hair back while she threw up.

The next day, Bradley had embarrassed himself so badly in front of a girl he liked that he almost quit just so that they wouldn't have to see each other again.

That kind of thing bonds you for life: After that, they have remained pretty close. Especially now, when they need each other.

“Rooster, no one expects you to be here right now — you went through something awful out there.” She says it one last time anyway, even though she knows that it won’t change a single thing.

That’s one of the reasons that their friendship is so strong — sometimes a person just has to do what they have to do, Bradley and Natasha respect that sentiment. Even if it means texting back a no-good ex, or staying out a little too late on a work night now and again. Each other’s best interests are always at heart, but it’s human to not put yourself first now and again.

Bradley hasn’t sat on the steps of Maverick’s two bedroom beach cottage since he was thirteen. Right before Maverick pissed off an admiral and got shipped out somewhere crazy, somewhere cold — he can’t remember exactly where anymore, he never wrote a letter there.

That was all right before he started only seeing Maverick on holidays and special occasions, the occasional baseball game.

Pete bought this place back in the eighties.

He got it for a steal. A craftsman bungalow three blocks from the beach, with two bedrooms and a small yard. He had wanted to be close to Carole, and he had just gotten married.

Bradley’s memories of Charlie are faint, but he knows that her father helped Pete with the down payment. Maverick hated him for that. His first and, as it happened, only marriage hadn’t lasted very long. Two or three years, maximum. She was gone before Bradley finished second grade, anyway.

He remembers that she always made sure they had the ice-cream that he liked when he came to stay here — Mav had always been a little bit more forgetful when it came to that stuff.

The spare room here used to be Bradley’s. Back when his mom worked weekends at a hotel in La Jolla, and he and Pete would take Friday night trips to Blockbuster every week.

He hasn’t even been inside yet. He can’t imagine how much the interior would have changed since those weekends back in the nineties.

Glancing down at the IWC clock face on his wrist, the big hand has been creeping up on ten o’ clock for what feels like hours by now.

Breeze sweeps a strand of Natasha’s hair off of her face. She leans against her best friend, her palm trailing to the middle of his back.

Natasha has two parents. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye often, but she knows where they are. It’s a Sunday, they’ll be at Costco. She has a sister who gets on her nerves but adores her nonetheless, Leona will be at a spin class this morning. None of the people she loves are missing. If one of them were, she would have others to lean on.

For Bradley, it’s just her now.

“I can’t let her turn up to an empty house.” Bradley’s voice comes out more hoarse than either of them is expecting it to. He hasn’t cried yet. He keeps thinking he might, the urge is there, but the tears just don’t come.

Bradley doesn’t even know her. Not really. Not even when he was a kid. It’s been sixteen years since Bradley was even on speaking terms with Maverick. Even when he still was, the news about Maverick’s accidental bundle of joy had been quite hush-hush.

He saw her a couple of times, the wriggling infant with perpetually sticky hands in an out of place looking car seat in one of Mav’s sports cars.

It doesn’t matter now that he never got to know her. Because of him, her life will be different forever. He’s got a debt to her father that he’ll never repay. For the sake of that, he’s willing to wait hours for her to turn up.

It has been six days. If Maverick survived the initial hit, and the ejection, then he has still been out in the snow for six days.

Probably injured. Alone. Being hunted. He’s gone. And yet, Bradley just can’t — or won’t — grieve him. Moving on isn’t an option.

So, he just sits here and waits. He doesn’t even know who, really, he’s looking for. He never met the mother, hasn’t really seen any pictures of you ever.

Pete Mitchell’s only child. The last time he saw her was when she was three years old, staring at him from the backseat of her mother’s blue ford escort with a pacifier in her mouth while your parents argued a few feet away.

He’d been sitting on these same front porch steps, pissed off because Mav was making him late for his baseball game.

Admiral Simpson is the one that has been doing all of the correspondence. He did Bradley a favour by giving him a heads up that the girl was even coming. Bradley wouldn’t have even known how to contact her himself.

He doesn’t have Maverick’s number any more, much less a girl he met a handful of times.

Back when he knew her, she didn’t even know her numbers. And her mother lived up near Oregon. She was a waitress. Most of the time Pete drove up to see her, or the weekends that she visited him, Bradley would stay with a neighbour.

He bows his head just slightly, elbows rested on his parted knees. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn sweats. He hasn’t ever let Natasha dress him before. Today wasn’t a good day to start. Meeting Mav’s kid wouldn’t be a formal occasion, but under the circumstances he reconsiders.

His ears perk up at the sound of an engine misfire.

Natasha flinches against him. She’s not been feeling that great since they got home either. Her dreams are like his too. It doesn’t matter.

The car squeals around the corner at the far end of the street like its driver is trying to get it onto just two wheels. He lifts his head in time to see a steel blue ford escort hit the curb on the street just past Maverick’s property line.

Instantly, he pushes himself onto his feet. That kind of maniacal attitude to manning a vehicle must be hereditary.

Both he and Natasha watch as the driver slams their fists into the wheel in frustration. Then, the driver notices them for the first time.

Hair twisted up messily, her face stark and tired, with a caught expression like a scolded child. She swallows.

Avery Mitchell has seen Bradley Bradshaw periodically throughout her life. There is no escaping his image when Maverick’s around. But, none of those photos are recent. They’re all from at least twelve years ago now.

She blinks, vague recognition in her expression as the engine splutters to sleep and she gets out of the car with the keys in her hand.

While she thinks Bradley looks different, he can’t find any semblance of the way he remembers her in her face now at all. She’s not a little kid anymore.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, brushing the dust from her palms onto her jeans. A brief look is sent towards her best friend, but he doesn’t reciprocate. He’s staring straight ahead as Avery starts off with one foot on the pavement, swinging the groaning car door shut behind her.

High top black converse. The other foot follows next. Jeans. Normal, appropriate for the early May weather before the heat really picks up. She exhales and her hand flies up to wring at the nape of her neck, sore from sitting all that way.

“Hi,” She forces out. “Bradley, right?”

That’s stupid. She knows who he is. He knows who she is. Both of them know why they’re here.

“Yeah.” Bradley agrees without a nod. His hands are neither in his pockets nor doing anything else that might be productive. He tells himself that he should maybe shake her hand, but he doesn’t. He tells himself that maybe he should say something more, but he doesn’t.

Towering over the pretty brunette at his side, Bradley doesn’t look anything like he had in his photos at high school graduation. His face is longer and wider at the same time, his cheeks have lost some of their roundness but they still have a youthful pink flush. His hair is shorter, auburn and tidy around the back and sides. Still trying to be curly on top.

He grew up near the beach and his skin tells the tale. Freckles and a golden glow to his skin that is an all year round kind of thing by now. Slight redness across his collarbones, the high points of his body where the sun hits most when he’s drying off after a swim.

In his eyes, Avery searches; she was hoping to find the boy from the pictures. The grinning blond in the baseball uniform. Something familiar down here, at least. Instead, there’s something else.

Whatever that look is, she hopes it isn’t pity. Just because his dad — no, she stops herself, she shouldn’t think that. It shouldn’t start out like this.

“How was the drive? — Not too bad, I hope?” The tiny brunette finally bursts through the wall of silence that Avery and Bradley have been competitively building up since her sneaker touched the pavement two minutes ago. “I’m Natasha. I work with… — I — I’m Bradley’s friend.”

“Hi.” Avery starts out, dropping her hands down to her sides and shifting on her feet. She glances back at the car — practically a smoking pile of crap on the road. “It wasn’t too bad. I need to see a mechanic while I’m here, but — I don’t know. I’ll find time.” Just from watching her, Natasha can see that Avery is a personal all over the place.

Neither here nor there. She doesn’t look like you’ve been crying, either. Mascara intact, lips glossed, her makeup looks pretty.

But, there’s a restlessness in her eyes that gives her away.

Bradley knows that it has been a long time since he and Maverick were on speaking terms. He knows that even before that, they didn’t talk much about the kid he had a couple hundred miles away.

But, shit — he wishes now that he had at least seen a picture first so that he could prepare himself.

He remembers footie pajamas and drool and chubby, perpetually sticky cheeks.

Now, there’s a belt looped through her blue jeans makes sure that the denim hugs her in all of the right places and that tank top is confirming to him that she’s absolutely nothing like the faint image he has in some of his oldest memories.

There’s got to be something wrong with him — that that’s one of the first things that sprung to his mind.

That Mav’s kid got hot in the twenty years since he saw her last. He shakes it from his head. Physically. He shakes his head and finally springs into action.

“What’s the matter with it?”

For the first time in five days, it’s the first time that someone hasn’t started a conversation by asking how she holding up. It catches Avery totally unprepared, and her knowledge of cars leaves her under qualified to answer anyway.

Bradley Bradshaw takes three long strides along the stone garden path and he has reached her already.

He’s on a course right for her, and he’s big when he’s not squished into one of those photo frames in Maverick’s house. She leans back slightly, starting to brace for the impact of him hitting her.

He’s aware of his size and has learned to grow careful with it, stepping around her narrowly and heading straight for her old shitbox of a car.

“I don’t know. The steering is loose and the engine is making a weird noise.”

Bradley twists his neck and shoots an incredulous look at her, back over one of his wide shoulders.

It’s a fourteen hour drive down from the Oregon coast, on a good day, and this car ran like shit when her mother bought it twenty something years ago.

Popping the hood, Bradley finds himself thinking of something other than those snowy peaks for the first time all week. He lets out a deep breath.

Ahead of her, Avery stands confronted with Mav’s place.

The cottage she was forced to spend the occasional weekend or weeks in during the summer a couple of times through her childhood.

Most of the times that she had seen Pete was in her hometown. He was always the one who travelled. It seemed fair. His job meant that it didn’t happen often.

Avery’s memories of this house are faint, but the same uncomfortable restless feeling it gives her remains. She remember quiet days sitting on the couch with her hands in your lap, waiting for that court-mandated forty-eight hours to be up.

Natasha is facing the other way. She watches Bradley step off of the curb and pop the hood. Bradley has a technical knowledge of engineering from his career, and a slightly broader scope from his interest in vintage cars — but he’s not a mechanic.

A quick glance to her right and she takes note of the way Avery’s frowning down at the weeds poking through the stone path pavers.

Like watching a storm roll in before a big surf, Natasha has a bad feeling about this arrangement. There’s a competitive nature to the way Bradley needs to be busy — given the right permission, he’d run himself into the ground with it.

Two people who should be coming to terms with their grief, and it's clear to her that they’re both planning on ignoring this problem for as long as they can.

She stares at you, already planning on tearing up all of those weeds for the week to come.

“You can’t drive this piece of shit.” Bradley decides from the street. He stands back and plants his hands firmly on his hips, shaking his head.

Avery turns slowly on the balls of her feet and pushes her hands into the pockets of her jeans, glancing back at Natasha for a little bit of help here.

He doesn’t even look up.

Crowding over the hood of the car, glaring down at it. Thick shoulders filling out a plain black t-shirt and long legs hidden under loose fitting grey sweats. An auburn curl dangles over his forehead.

“I… Kinda have to.” Avery points out. A recent graduate with no immediate career plans, who just quit her waitressing job to pick up the pieces of her presumably dead, semi-estranged father’s life. Buying a new car isn’t exactly in the budget right now.

Bradley opens his palms and braces them against the open hood. He turns his head and looks first at Natasha. His best friend. Then, the house. He learned to ride his bike on this street. Maverick lived on this street. Finally, his attention turns to her. He watches her watch him.

Leaning against her shitty, old car like it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet. Squinting at her because he left his sunglasses in work and the doctors won’t let him go back there for another couple weeks. Natasha’s going to pick them up for him later today.

Avery’s staring back at him, wondering why he’s looking at her like that. Like he’s looking for something.

He pushes off of the car and stands, wiping his hands on his sweats. “I’ll take care of it. Whatever you need. I can drive you for a bit.”

As Bradley walks around to the back of the car and pops open the trunk to grab her bags, Natasha is struck with a numbing realization.

This really is a bad idea. She knows it’s more than him being nice, and it’s more than him owing Pete Mitchell.

Maverick put himself in an early grave trying to make up for a mistake he made when he was young, and she’s got a bad feeling that Bradley won’t stop until he does the same.

…

Tags: @ahoyyharrington @diorrfairy @just-a-harmless-potato @hangmanshoney @sgt-barnesveins @shanimallina87 @nykie-love-anime @lilyevanswhore @sammyrenae68 @moonlight-addisyn @pulisvertz @cherrycola27 @chxosunbound @tayygriffith @yuckosworld @callsign-magnolia @trickphotography2 @katieshook02 @atarmychick007 @sushiwriterhere @books-for-summer @thelonelyumbrella @angelbabyange @iwontshutuptilltheyaddgeckoemoji @stillreadingfantasy @casualhilarity @s-u-t @topguncortez @sweetwhispersofchaos @aaprilshowers @shadeds-library @bradswolfe @wishingwell-2 @roostersgirlfrxend @itsmytimetoodream

[blorbo-gerrymandering]

Round 2

Baseball has sponsorships, right? If not maybe Blaseball does.

Propaganda Under The Cut

Jaylen Hotdogfingers:

The greatest came-back-wrong character ever. She's the mayor of Seattle. She's was the best pitcher in the league. She was murdered by an umpire in an act of divine retribution for the fanbase's transgression. The fanbase exploited game mechanics to bring her back to life. Immediately she murdered 12 people. She died again and got revived a second time as part of a team of undead players that killed god. She's a really awful batter. She has, like, 16 songs written about her and they're all really good. I thought about her every single day for a period of six consecutive months. I love her.

I'll be real. I'm an outsider to the Blaseball fandom. I don't understand it. I think they've crowdfunded characters from fictionalized fucked-up Baseball stats and a dream. I love seeing what the fuck they're doing in their eldritch sandbox just so much.

Simon Laurent:

I love him so much! Yay! Yippie! he got what he deserved tho

have i submitted him yet? if yes here he is again. what did you do to my French man, now he has anxiety, and maybe 50 other things. i can fix him, but it would require a lot of time travel and a complete lack of trains. as i can't do that, he instead gets his very own tumblr poll submission. one vote for train man is one dollar towards the invention of the simon-specific time machine. (your other guys cant come unless they have the same name sorry) its for a good cause

imagine: youre in the trolley situation. well an oh-so-kind tumblr user decided to give everyone who submits this character a get-out-of-a-train-free ticket! use that ticket, and you're no longer responsible for the death of someone (or you are no longer fated to die)!

[topguncortez]

I Remember Everything - J. Sersin

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: unhealthy coping mechanism

synopsis: In the aftermath of a crash, Jake tries to remember what happened, but unfortunately, he has picked up some new habits along the way

warnings: character death, grief, mentions of drinking, unhealthy ways of coping, brain injury, memory loss

word count: 1.4k

“Hey this is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Bye!” 

The Hard Deck was a bustling place for a Friday night. The local retirees who lived on base usually came out for an early dinner followed by a drink or two. Sailors who were docked at port wanting to get a jumpstart on their weekend, before they got back underway. And the TopGun recruits, who knew that for the next ten weeks they needed to have the utmost focus and eliminate all distractions, spending their last night of freedom at the homey bar that the Navy liked to call home. 

Jake had gotten to the Hard Deck before any of his crew did. He didn’t even bother to change out of his khakis, wanting that first sip of cool amber liquid to soothe the ache in his head he’s had all day. Ever since the accident, he hadn’t totally been himself. The doctor had said it was a concussion, giving him a short-term profile before sending him back up to the sky. But others, mainly Phoenix and Bradley, were convinced that they had missed something. They knew that concussions can have serious side effects, but they didn’t know that they could totally change a person they once knew. 

“Seresin,” Phoenix greeted, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a tank top, “Didn’t want to change?” 

“Nope,” Jake shook his head, downing the shot of clear liquid in his hand. He grimaced at the burning sensation, “Didn’t want to go home.” 

Phoenix nodded her head, counting the glasses in front of him, “Going a little heavy already?” 

“Are you my fucking mom?” 

“Don’t be a dick, Bagman,” Bradley chimed in, stepping up behind Phoenix, “It’s not even five yet and you’re halfway through a bottle of tequila.” 

“My fucking god,” Jake groaned, “This is why I don’t go home. All you two do and Y/N is fucking nag me.” 

Bradley and Phoenix both shared a look, their hearts plummeting in their chests. Bradley lightly nudged Phoenix, telling her that it was her turn to remind him. Last time Bradley had done it, it resulted in a black eye and a busted lip. 

“Jake,” Phoenix started, placing her hand on his arm as he leaned against the bar, “Y/N is gone, remember?” 

Jake blinked for a second, trying to recollect the memories that had been lost. That was another thing from the accident Jake had acquired, memory lost. Sometimes it was a good thing, he didn’t remember the last fight he had with her, or the first time he ever saw his dad hit his mom, or even attending the funeral for his best friend. But other times it was a bad thing, such as not remembering that he had attended her funeral. 

“Oh,” He swallowed, nodding his head, “Yeah I remember. I mean, she used to nag me about it.” 

Neither Bradley or Natasha said anything for the rest of the night, opting to just keep an eye on Jake and slip his keys from his back pocket. It was hard watching someone you love fall apart right in front of you. It was even harder when they didn’t remember why they were falling apart. 

The accident happened so fast. Jake had only been back on land for a couple of days, after a long trip underway. Y/N had made plans for the two of them to spend the day together, getting pampered and then surprising Jake to a fancy steak dinner at one of San Diego’s top spots. Jake would never admit it outloud, but he was a sucker for a good massage and pedicure after months of sleeping on a cardboard thin twin mattress in the middle of the ocean. But while Y/N thought she was going to be surprising Jake, he was actually going to be surprising her. The ring box in his suit pocket was burning a hole while hanging up in the backseat of his truck. 

“I really, really like that girl that Bradley has been seeing,” Y/N chatted mindlessly as they drove to the restaurant, “Oh turn left at the light.” 

“Baby, why can’t you just put the directions on the screen,” Jake chuckled. 

“Cause that would be cheating. It’s a surprise,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “Anyway, back to the girl Bradley is seeing. We hung out a lot while you guys were gone and she’s super cool. I feel like he’d be dumb to not tie this one down.” 

“You and I both know Bradley Bradshaw isn’t going to tie anyone down,” Jake said, turning the direction she wanted him to.

“You two have something in common then,” Y/N poked and Jake shot her a look. After five years together, he knew that she was jumping at the bit to get engaged, and he was too. He just wanted everything to be perfect. 

“I don’t plan on living with a roommate until late in my forties like Bradshaw.” 

“Hey, you’re 35, basically already- Jake!” 

Jake gasped as he slammed on the break, and felt his body jolt forward. The sound of smashing metal and breaking glass was loud. The deploying of the airbags were like a bomb going off in his ears as he felt the force breaking his nose. The silence though, the silence was the loudest thing as the car came to a halt after being hit. The scent of copper filled the air, Jake’s head pounding as he turned to look towards his passenger seat. 

“Baby,” Jake cried out. Blood was gushing from a cut on her forehead, and her shiny hair was matted and stained. Jake reached a shaky hand out, pressing his fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse, “No, no, no,” He sobbed, “Help me! Call 9-1-1! Please!”  

He could hear the commotion from outside the car, the distant sound of sirens getting closer to them. He could hear chatter and someone yelling if everyone was okay. But all Jake could do was stare at her. Despite the blood and the sprinkle of glass in her hair, she looked peaceful, as if she had just fallen asleep. Jake kissed his fingertips, before placing them against her lips. 

“I love you,” He whispered, tears falling down his face and blurring his vision, “I want you to marry me, baby. I want you to marry me,” He was gasping for breath through his sobs, as he gently closed the eyes he loved to look into. But there was something about those lifeless orbs looking back at him, that he knew was going to haunt him forever. 

— — — 

“Bagman!” Bradley yelled, snapping Jake out of his thoughts, “You alright?” 

“Y-yeah,” Jake nodded his head, “Need some air.” 

Bradley nodded, not totally believing Jake. Ever since the accident, Jake hadn’t been one hundred percent the same. Sure, he had returned to flying. He got a clean bill of health from both his doctor and his shrink (something that Maverick made him go through). He had cleaned out his house, packing up all of Y/N’s things and returning them to her mother. It had been months since the funeral, and Jake had felt like he had gone through all of the stages of grief. 

It was just the lapses in memory that had him screwed up. And led him to picking up the bottle. 

Once Jake was outside the Hard Deck, a fresh glass of beer in his hand, he pulled out his phone, going to the familiar messages that had all gone unread. 

‘Jake: I’m not sure where you are, but can you let me know you are okay?’ 

‘Jake: sometimes i forget that you aren’t coming home’

‘Jake: i miss you’ 

‘Jake: Penny kicked me out of the hard deck tonight. Can you believe it?’ 

‘Jake: i really really need you tonight’ 

‘Jake: i got invited to bradley’s stupid fucking engagement party. I guess you were right’

‘Jake: Where are you at?’ 

Jake sighed as he started typing another text towards her number. He knew that Y/N’s mother had her phone, and how pathetic it was to keep texting her number. Even sometimes he went as far as calling her, when he was too worried about where she was and really couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t home, the calls always went to voicemail. But when Jake couldn’t remember what happened, and was wondering where Y/N was, the text thread was a gentle reminder that she wasn’t coming home. That she was buried, five miles away, in a grave that still hadn’t had a headstone yet. 

‘Jake: Bradley decided to get married on our anniversary. I told him to fuck off, that that’s our day’ 

Jake placed his phone down next to him, picking up his glass and taking a hearty sip.

taglist: @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27 @sio-ina-bottle @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @thedroneranger @angelbabyange @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @toobouquet @malindacath @badasspizzalover @justenoughmadnesss @sagittarius-flowerchild @hardballoonlove @harrysgothicbitch @hookslove1592 @noonenuts @marvellouscroissant @senawashere @bradshawsprincess @alwayshave-faith @smoothdogsgirl @4everademigod

taglist form

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

I hear people are rustling about again saying that if Katsuki called Izuku "Deku," it would be a regression of character development.

Other people have talked about it before, but I'm here to remind you that 1. Katsuki has already called him "Deku" again, and 2. it is actually further proof of his development.

This isn't an "old habits die hard" situation -- we already got that in chapter 327 with "De-Izuku!" No, this is something else.

Why?

Because "Deku" is Izuku's hero name.

Chapter 345

Katsuki is communicating combat information here, so he addresses Izuku as a hero, as opposed to how he would address him in a personal context, and he still uses it when talking to Best Jeanist.

If anybody cares about being addressed properly by their hero name, it's Katsuki!

Chapter 319

He bristles at Yaoyorozu for calling him Bakugou-san during their mission to rescue Izuku.

Chapter 346

The first time Mirko calls him the wrong name, it's during the heat of battle, so he actually ignores it and answers her with the pertinent information.

Chapter 347

He only argues with her the second time she calls him by the wrong name when they are regrouping.

And, wait, okay, look, I actually want to point out something hilarious here--in the English release, they had Mirko calling him "Dynamight," dropping the Great Explosion Murder God part, but in Japanese she actually says Dainama (ダイナマ), not Dainamaito (ダイナマイト), both times.

Which means she shortens his hero name not just by ditching the grandiose title, but also by removing the All Might reference.

I like to think that is what he is most pissed off about LOL.

(Bonus: I highlighted in blue where he calls her ウサギやろー, usagi yarou, meaning "bunny bastard." The word "yarou" is typically an insult directed at men; the etymology itself is masculine. The official English release made this "bunny gal," I'm guessing to avoid readers walking away with the notion that Katsuki is confused about Mirko's gender or that he was insulting her gender. In reality, Katsuki is simply a progressively-minded foul-mouthed youth who does not discriminate between bastards!)

Anyway, see, we have already been shown how Katsuki refers to Izuku when he isn't communicating battle information.

Chapter 362

He uses Izuku's name out loud to himself as a personal aside right before his moment of heroism.

I think everybody is missing out on a much more delightful question. Katsuki has used Izuku's hero name, so are we ever going to get to see Izuku use Katsuki's?

And if he doesn't, if he just blurts out "Kacchan!" on the battlefield like the damn nerd he is, will Katsuki correct him?

I mean, we've never once seen him demand Izuku stop calling him by his childhood nickname, so is he just gonna let that one slide?

What a funny fucking exception that would be, huh?

[elizais]

hello! i really enjoy your teen pm dazai stuff so can you please do a pm!teen!dazai first kiss with reader? i love the one where you wrote about meeting pm dazai

of course!!!

pm!dazai x fem!reader first kiss as teens in the PM, reader is the same age as dazai fluff fluff fluff

it all started when osamu found out about chuuya having a mission at a party. since you three were all 16, he would be at a party with other kids around your age. and when chuuya told him he was probably going to be kissing a girl before dazai, he just couldn't have that.

"i mean, dazai, i get to just meet a girl and instantly get a kiss! do you?" was one of the things the ginger said. this was their humour so he knew not to take it to heart, but, he was with a pretty girl every day. you.

although chuuya was only teasing, that couldn't be a milestone he gets to before osamu! so, naturally as a teen boy having a crush on a girl.. he came to you to complain.

the bandaged boy was lying on the couch in whoever's office you were hanging out in today. you were playing games on your laptop before he started on whatever frustrated him today.

" uhhh [name]?" he asked, sounding a little less confident than he usually does. you decided to only reply with a "mhm?" rather than ask what was wrong.

"did you know that shorty is going to a party for a mission?" annoyance clear in his voice. you groaned as the familiar losing noise came out from the game before replying to dazai. "yeah, nothing too interesting i think. it's with those annoying rich kids, there are a couple of nice ones though."

dazai carried on whining, knowing you won't shut him down. he always admired how you were there for him - even if you only saw him as a friend. or so he thought.

slowly shutting your laptop that mori gave 'strictly for work', you walked over to sit on the arm rest by his feet. leaning back on the sofa, you sighed. "he's probably having soooo much fun." osamu carried on.

"osamu,, what is really up?" you turned your head to see him slowly sitting up straighter. " i don't know! i just hate that hatrack so much why does he get to go to a party and i don't? like it's soo unfair! and mori-san should have definitely let me go like what the hell-" he began ranting.

you stood up and faced him while he sat. "that's not it, osa. what is it? you wouldn't be actually upset over this. if you were you would be with oda and ango drinking over it."

he sighed, praying his face isn't becoming red as he stood up too, so he can face you more comfortably. "he was just teasing me about getting to kiss a really pretty girl and.." he said nervously, very out of character for him. "and i don't get to kiss my pretty girl." he slipped out ever so quietly.

and you could only smile before grabbing his chin and using your thumb to reassure him. it was both of yours first kiss despite your big age. and you just pulled his face closer before the gap was closed.

it only lasted for maybe a second before you pulled away out of pure shock. a mafioso stumbling over her words with red cheeks and full of giggles. "oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. osamu i'm so sorry i jus-" you quickly blurted out as he stopped you before pressing another kiss to your lips with a smile.

the both of you burst out laughing. shock, love, happiness.. all of the happy emotions filled you. was it the best kiss? no. was it your best kiss? yes.

[newworldwritings]

If Only (preview)

paring: San x chubby!reader

genre/warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, second chance, time travel/new universe (1950s), mentions of car accidents, female reader, featuring all of ateez (greaser ateez), featuring some of the nct & stray kids boys, smoking, motorcycles, fuckboy activities, lowercase intended, insecurities, body shaming, we hate hyerin, san being oblivious in flashbacks, yunho being an absolute golden retriever, wooyoung is a bit of an ass (sorry, don’t worry tho he gets a character development) will mainly be in sans pov but will switch from other perspectives, any bold & italic words are what the characters are actually thinking

word count: 1k+

pls reblog!

taglist: open! just comment to be added!

a/n: I had a dream of this (not with the members) & I wanted to write it out, also got a bit inspired by “Marry My Husband” but it’s a completely different plot.

preview:

“san i can’t be letting you back in every time things go sideways with her, i'm done being the second choice.”

“i’m done. goodbye san.”

those were the last words L/N Y/N had told me after i chased after her out of the school, and being the idiot i was i just stood there watching her walk away from me towards yunho, one of my best mates. since when did they become close? but those were the last of my worries. i had just lost my childhood best friend because i was too blinded to show this school i was the best at everything by going after the most sought out girl of the school hyerin. when i should’ve gone for y/n. she always stood by my side, never once showed me disloyalty, and always picked me up anytime hyerin shooed me off for her other boy toys. she never once judged me for my ways and i took her kindness and love for granted.

now im left here alone with no hyerin in sight, probably making out with jaehyun, and my mates are probably having the time of their life’s at the dance with no clue that i had lost y/n.

while watching her enter yunho's car my mind was yelling at me to go after her. but i couldn’t, i had been selfish for too long. i knew she needed me to let her go so she could move on.

but that also meant i had to move on but how could i move on with life when i had lost the best thing that i could ever have in life.

watching yunho's car pull out the parking lot, i decided that one last time i wanted to be selfish. so i chased after the car. not noticing how i ended up on the main road, not noticing how a car was coming towards me until it hit me.

i flew back and laid on the road while looking at the night sky, i wanted to scream at the universe for doing this to me. when in reality i should’ve been yelling at myself for being stupid, and oblivious.

the pain from the impact of the car started invading my whole body. it hurts. everything. mentally and physically.

i closed my eyes hoping someone or something would come and take this pain away from me. not just from the impact but from my heart as well.

i heard sirens and people rushing towards me, but i also heard someone saying my name over and over again. but i couldn’t open my eyes. until someone shook my body forcefully.

then i got up like i had just woken up from a nap. looking around trying to find out who was shaking me rather than helping me. then i noticed i wasn’t on the road, it wasn’t night time, and there was no car.

rather i was on a field under a tree next to a building that looked like our university. what the fuck.

“san!”

i looked forward to the person in front of me calling me.

“y/n?” but this was not my y/n i could tell from the very different clothes she was wearing and her hairstyle was completely different. it seemed like a hairstyle that would be done in the 1950s.

“come on, we’re gonna be late!” she pulled me up and started fixing my leather jacket. wait when was i wearing this. where am i?!

while I was lost in my thoughts i heard a group of people calling me towards the entrance of the school. wait is that?

“come on san we don’t want to get yelled at by Ms. Lisa again hurry up!” hongjoong?

it was all my friends, but it wasn’t at the same time? since when did we all start wearing matching leather jackets? but before i can question anyone y/n pulled me towards them.

“lover boy is gonna miss his chance to talk to hyerin before class.” i turned too wooyoung, who was snickering, but i was too focused on his appearance. he didn’t have his oreo hair as he liked to call it, his hair was all black with an undercut. when did he have time to do that? before i could turn to y/n to ask her what’s going on i was being pushed towards the door, following the rest of the boys, while i had time to look around the area i looked at the backs of my mates and some of there side profiles. they all had their hairs gelled back, even jongho who preferred the boyfriend style. what stood out to me the most was the leather jackets we were all wearing had ‘ATEEZ’ in big white letters with 3 motorcycles below it. they all look like they had just came out a greaser movie with this style they all had. wait… y/ns style of clothing along with my mates. am i in a different timeline..? no that can’t be.

to further prove my theory, i turned to y/n.

“y/n, what’s the date?” she looked at me weirdly.

“it’s march 29?” she said as if it was the most obvious answer. “no, what year are we in?”

“san are you ok? did you hit your head? you’re acting really weird”

“who’s acting weird?” wooyoung turned around to look at us. “san, he’s asking what year we’re in.”

wooyoung only chuckled, “he's probably just nervous because hyerin is going out with him this weekend, san it’s 1955 you bimbo. now loosen up don’t want to scare hyerin off.”

i stopped in my place. “it’s 1955!?” everyone turned to me. “aye san you sure you good?” i turned to yunho with a look that screams ‘do i look good to you?’

“oooookaayy, i’m gonna take this one to Lee before class, we will catch up to you guys later.” y/n waved to everyone while pushing me towards a different door.

what the actual fuck is going on.