#every voice sounds wrong for any character and i never want to find out who plays who | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 1 month ago

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forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is.

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly.

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal.

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you.

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it.

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream.

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work.

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor.

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on.

That��s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself.

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you.

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know.

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you.

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end.

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

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AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless.

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself.

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

“Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone.

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely.

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page.

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up.

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand.

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence.

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.��

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away.

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at.

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone.

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all.

But of course, as you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors, or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications.

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?”

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you.

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering.

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There’s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door.

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them.

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it.

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest.

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out.

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer.

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day.

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness.

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable.

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.”

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years.

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it.

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate.

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this.

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened.

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment.

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board.

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals.

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you.

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes.

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever.

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out.

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss.

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too.

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all.

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.”

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected.

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime.

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free.

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

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HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality.

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts.

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I’m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

"It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you.

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded.

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.

But the words never came out of your lips.

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains.

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

“I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

355 notes · View notes

benkeibear · 9 days ago

Text

⛧°。 ⋆༺ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 ༻⋆。 °⛧

𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 (𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠)

𝐷𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 (𝐴𝑠 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟)

༺ synopsis: during a seemingly idyllic weekend getaway with your fiancé, you find yourself irresistibly drawn to a mysterious lake of blood. As you plunge into its depths, you're rescued by a stranger whose presence is slightly unsettling but it marks the beginning of your new life.

༺ character: Choso

༺ reader: female | AFAB

༺ wc: 4757

༺ cw: implied hunting and blood drinking, description of drowning (but no one actually drowns)

༺ notes: I'm a little nervous posting this first chapter if we're being quite honest but here we go! I sincerely hope you guys enjoy this ride as much as I do - please let me know what you're thinking as well as theorize 🫶

MASTERLIST // -> Next chapter (coming soon) // Taglist

You've never experienced the feeling of coming home before setting foot onto the cobblestone ground of your weekend hideout, away from civilization - a beautiful small castle in the outskirts of a quiet village. Shaking the feeling off, you enter the bedroom with a small smile, the feeling now wrapping around you like a blanket and unable to ignore any longer.

"Is something wrong?" Your fiancé asked curiously, having seen the little shiver of your body upon crossing the threshold.

"A déjà vu, I think," you answered nonchalantly - perhaps a long forgotten childhood memory, you thought to yourself right after, but you've never been this far from home.

“A Déjà-vu?” Your lover questioned with one of his thin brows raised before his hand reached out to take your bag from you. It wasn't like your bag was heavy, but he couldn't bear to let the love of his life, his soon to be wife, carry anything more than the grace she emitted in every step.

“You know, I took it from you on the way up here for a reason, I don't need a man to do these things for me.” Your voice sounded playful, but your words were sharp, a small reminder of how he will share the rest of his life with a woman who is in no need of a man to provide for her, seeing a partner as not much more than a fun addition to her life. Yet this is what he wanted, to serve you, to make you happy and help you fulfill the dreams ahead of you in no regards to his own. You were simply the center of his universe, his own sun that he was circulating around.

“I know, love, but am I not allowed to spoil you rotten?” He asked and a coy smile formed on his lips, lashes batting as if he’s trying to convince you, that yes, this is indeed necessary. A small chuckle bubbled past your lips and you shook your head in defeat.

“I won't complain about getting spoiled a little,” you admitted and the smile lingered on your lips when you looked around the beautiful room like a curious cat.

“Is that a tree?!” You heard your fiancé exclaim excited, yet confused from the bathroom before you followed him into the tiny space to see what exactly he meant.

“Yeah, I think it is,” you mumbled as you looked at the huge branch of a tree that grew into the sturdy walls and out again on the other side of the corner. It looked like some of the stones had been removed to make this all possible and it made you smile some more before you went back to the bedroom of your little weekend suite. Plopping down on the bed, your face scrunched up upon hearing the unpleasant squeak of the mattress and were reminded of the luxury of your own bed back at home.

A little flyer on the bedside table caught your attention when you moved your head to the side on the scratchy pillow. With a curious expression, you picked up the piece of paper and flipped it around to get a quick look at it before starting to read about what this little castle has to offer. It was a typical tourist information, letting you know about the sights nearby as well as on the castle grounds.

“A botanical garden,” your fiancé's voice startled you out of your trance-like state.

“Hm?” You raised one eyebrow and turned the piece of paper in your hand to see what he was looking at - pictures of a tiny greenhouse next to a small lake caught your attention.

“Botanical garden?” You snorted amused, the greenhouse was barely big enough to fit more than four people, perhaps, but the lake was what's interesting - the water seemed to be blood red.

Rising up into a sitting position, you handed the paper to your fiancé, your eyes urgent as they found his.

“We need to go there!” You say almost serious, but the excitement was evident, which made him chuckle.

“Calm down. It's most likely just some bacteria that caused it to look red,” he tried to reason, not seeing why you're suddenly so invested in nature's goods.

“And? I could swim in blood!” You retort amused as you got up from the bed, the old mattress squeaking once again.

“You shouldn't. If it's a bacteria causing this, you might get sick or god knows - even worse,” he immediately said in a serious tone, the urgency ringing in every word of his, but you could only roll your eyes.

“Calm down. I'm not gonna swim in some random lake anyways,” your words came out defeated and you sat back down onto the bed, almost pouting like a little child.

“We can still look at it and the great botanical garden,” he offered with a silly smirk, his fingers forming quotation marks when he talked about the botanical garden. You only rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance at his words, but nodded before pulling him down to join you on the squeaking bed, a laugh erupting from you when he only winced at the noise.

“Is this bed trying to tell us to lose weight or what's the deal?” He asked amused, the old springs almost poking his spine.

“Not entirely sure, but I'll be using you as my makeshift bed while we're here,” you mused and jabbed his chest with a single finger of yours.

“Poke me any harder and one of these springs might impale me,” your fiancé joked as he caught your finger right before another poke hit his defined chest.

The both of you stayed like this for a moment longer, eyes slowly tracing along the length of the thin veil of tulle that covered the bed like a canopy. It made you wonder if the ceiling might crumble down dust and small rocks whenever someone on the ground above was walking over it, but you quickly moved over to marvel at the details in the ceiling, cracks and ridges made you sink deeper into the daydream of what life here must have been like many decades ago.

“We should head out to the lake soon if you want to spend some time there before dinner,” your fiancé suggested as he slowly rose into a sitting position, elbows holding up his weight. It was his voice that pulled you out of a daydream, your brain buffering for a moment to fully comprehend his words before giving him the smallest of nods.

As you rose up from the old mattress, you could hear your back crunch in protest but paid no further attention to it when you held your hand out to your fiancé to help him stand up - not that he needed it, but it was just a kind gesture.

As he reached for your hand, he suddenly pulled you back down and on top of him, both of you erupting in a fit of laughter that seemed to bounce off the cold castle walls, making it even harder for you two to stop. It took a kiss to finally cease the seemingly endless fit of giggles, but as the kiss deepened, you forced yourself to pull away and shake your head.

Fuck, he looks so beautiful like this, you thought to yourself. His black hair against the white sheets like a black halo and his cheeks the softest shade of pink as his chest rose at a fastened pace. It was moments like these that took your breath away - just everyday, small domestic moments with him that had you topple over and fall in love all over again. It felt like a trance when you simply stared down at him, and he looked up at you with these dark puppy eyes as if you were the only star in his entire universe… but his lips were moving.

“What?” you asked confused, your vision slowly focusing back to reality and shifting out of your thoughts. You sounded so lost and almost dorky with the way your little what was half slurred, half squeaked. Your lover shook his head with a smile, a small chuckle breaking through.

“I asked if you trust me, my little daydreamer,” he mused and gently moved to hold both your hands as you still sat on top of him, playing around with them.

“Of course I do, why do you even have to ask?” You were almost hurt by that question, but he discarded it and pushed you off of him in a gentle, yet playful manner that had you bouncing and the bed squeaking. He didn't deem it necessary to explain anything as he rose to stand on top of the squeaky mattress, pulling you up with him.

“What are you doing?” You asked, having a hard time holding back a laugh when he started bouncing on the bed like a little child, holding onto your hands in hopes it would animate you to join him in his shenanigans - and it did.

Both of you were giggling and bouncing on the bed to make it squeak when he suddenly started moaning obnoxiously loud and far too pretentious, but you couldn't help but join in. It felt good to just fool around like this, swearing to yourself that yes, you're an adult in this moment, but once you two were out of breath, he helped you get off the bed and made sure you were steady and standing properly before letting go of your hands.

“What was that for?” you asked amused as you still tried your best to catch your breath.

“People should know that we're here on our pre-honeymoon, don't you think?” He asked with a boyish grin and gently combed his fingers through his shoulder length hair in an effort to detangle it from your previous activities. An overly exaggerated gasp left you and you gently hit his chest.

“Hand holding and eye contact before our marriage? Scandalous!” You exclaimed in amusement and shook your head in disbelief as both of you moved to get dressed to go outside into the crisp fall air. Just as you left, one of the maids walked past you, unable to look any of you in the eyes as she blushed and giggled. You didn't want to know what exactly she was thinking, given your pretentious little show just mere minutes ago. It left you feeling a little guilty and you too could feel the heat creeping up your neck as your lover only smiled proudly at the poor elderly lady.

“I don't even want to know what she was thinking,” you mumble on your way out of the small castle as you hold onto the biceps of your lover, hiding your face in his arm for a second or two in a shy manner.

“Probably that we're two young lovers who enjoy love and showing it to each other on a rather… physical level,” he explained with a grin, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You can just say - she was thinking that we just fucked - you know?” You retorted with a small jab to his ribs to make him laugh, which he did.

“But I would never simply fuck you. You deserve to be worshipped and made love to. Fucking is for wild animals,” he reflected and leaned into you so he could kiss your temple as you two slowly walked on the cobblestoned path away from the castle and towards the small, private forest area. You shouldn't think too much about his words, but it made you feel a certain way, the heat rising up inside of you as you thought back to all the times you were intimate with each other. He indeed never simply fucked you, he always made sure to put you before him and to make you feel valued, loved and well taken care of.

The path to the little greenhouse, or what they lovingly called it, the “botanical garden” was rather short and uneventful, cobblestones slowly turning into gravel until it was nothing but a mix of a few stray stones and packed mud.

“M'lady,” he exclaimed jokingly as he held open the glass door of the greenhouse so you may enter first. You smiled at him and gave him your best curtsy before ducking under his arm to enter the cramped space.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased him when he entered right after you, the air so moist it hit you like a wall. Both of you had to look around the colorful variety of flowers, herbs and greenery before actually walking around in the rather small space. As you marveled at the beautiful vines hanging down from the ceiling to your right, you were suddenly startled by a gasp and whipped your head around, clutching your chest in shock.

“I can't believe they have Kadupul flowers here!” Your lover exclaimed excitedly as he pointed at what looked to you like a bush of wavy, green leaves, which left you more confused than before.

“Kadu what flowers? It's just leaves?” You ask as you carefully walk over to where he was standing to get a closer look at the bush of leaves; perhaps the flowers were just so small you couldn't see them from five steps away. Yet, when you closed the small distance, there were still no flowers to be seen and you gave your fiancé a quizzical look, so he got his phone out.

“Kadupul flowers, Epiphyllum oxypetalum, also called Queen of the night,” he explained and showed you pictures of a beautiful white flower. The thin, white petals surrounding bigger petals that looked like they were forming a star in the middle looked quite dramatic but enchantingly beautiful to you. It made you take another look at the green bush in front of you.

“It's not in bloom right now. Actually, it's rare to ever witness the flower bloom,” he explained and marveled at the plant a while longer like a boy in a candy store.

“It only blooms at night and withers at dawn when the first rays of sunshine hit it,” he then continued and turned away from the plant with a heavy sigh that sounded more like he just went through heartbreak. Of course a flower this beautiful had such a dramatic blooming story, you thought to yourself and went to hold his hand, squeezing it a little.

“Maybe we could get one, then you can witness it in bloom,” you try to cheer him up with a small smile, but he only shook his head in return.

“It's one of the most expensive flowers to exist, it's almost priceless,” he mumbled and the sad look in his eyes signaled that he doesn't want to ponder on it much longer, so you let the topic go and slowly led him out of the possibly tiniest botanical garden you'll ever see.

“Let's go to the blood lake!” You quipped and dragged him towards where you assumed it would be, but he ripped his arm out of your grasp.

“Actually… it's that way,” he retorted and you simply stomped back and past him, grabbing his arm once again to drag him along, but in the right direction this time. After what seemed like an eternity due to your excitement, you finally arrived at a beautiful clearing. The grass was luscious with small daisies and clovers growing all over the clearing, and a small stone bench was perched up right next to the lake as well - it made you wonder if someone used to sit here and ponder over the world and what it had to offer.

“The statues look eerie,” your lover's voice ripped you out of your thoughts yet again and upon looking at the two statues at each side of the slim lakebed, you agreed to his conclusion.

Two huge gargoyle statues stood there, looking at each other as if they're making sure that those who dare to come close to, or go into the lake know that they're being watched.

“I feel a little bad… Who knows how long they've spent their days unloved and forgotten about?” You wonder out loud as you take a closer look at one of the two moss covered stone statues, your nose scrunching up at the amount of bird poop you discover once you were closer.

“You talk like these are graves… It's just statues, and I figure cleaning them in a forest isn't going to last long,” your fiancé tried to speak some sense into you, but you couldn't help the pang of guilt creeping up your heart. It simply felt wrong to see them neglected like this and you almost took offense to it. But he was right, you shouldn't get upset about these little things when you could instead bask in the beauty of the blood red lake right in front of you. The pictures truly weren't lying, the water looked dark red, as if hundreds of people had given their lives just to fill this pool for two bloodthirsty gargoyles.

“Do you think the gargoyles bled out humans to make the water look this red?” You turned around with a grin on your face as if you were telling a scary story at a campfire, which made the black haired man shake his head and laugh at your childish antics.

“I believe so, yes. Maybe you'll find their bones if you dive deep enough,” he mused back at you, encouraging your little storytelling, which made you gasp and giggle.

“I really want to look for them… but I'd probably end up as one of them. Who knows what bacteria lives in there,” you laughed softly and waved your hand in front of your face in a disgusted manner to get the air to freshen up. The water smelled horrendous, pungent and almost rotten - which only worked in favor of your little story. But as the old lanterns slowly flickered on, illuminating the gargoyles in a menacing glow that made you shiver, you decided it was time to head back inside, it was dinner time after all.

When you finally arrived at the dining hall of the little castle, you only ordered a small dish for yourself, the feeling of hunger ceasing more with every passing minute, a weird feeling of sadness spread inside of you and chased away any other feeling. It was a slow process, but you could feel it deep inside you like a small tree growing bigger and bigger - the seed of sadness was planted and should ruin your first evening here.

“Are you feeling sick?” Your fiancé asked concerned when you were only eating like a bird, picking around in your food and taking the smallest bites possible.

Not wanting to ruin his evening with the weird feeling that appeared out of nowhere, you simply nodded.

“I think it's the smell of that lake, my stomach feels funny,” you lie convincingly as you gently shove your plate across the table and towards him. Barely any food was missing and you gave him a sad smile.

“I'll excuse myself and go up already, yes? You asked and didn't wait for an answer before you rose to your feet and kissed his temple before almost speedwalking out of the dining hall and into your room, where you brushed your teeth and took a shower in hopes of shaking this feeling off.

The water was almost boiling hot, yet not hot enough as you aggressively lathered the soap on your body with the fresh loofah the hotel provided. Get clean. Get rid of this feeling. The urge to step outside of your skin grew as the water slowly lost its temperature, causing a string of curses to leave your lips while you shut it off entirely. Disgust, pain and homesickness. You were able to name the emotions blooming inside of you, which no longer felt like a seed, more like vines growing over your rib cage and making it harder to breathe every time your lungs let go of oxygen.

By the time you left the bathroom, your fiancé was back in the room and sat on the bed, a cloud of steam leaving the bathroom with you.

“You really don't look too well. Come here,” he offered lovingly and patted the mattress right next to where he sat.

“I'll play with your hair until you fall asleep, how does that sound?” He asked and sat further up on the bed so he could rest his back against the headboard while you got comfortable next to him, your head resting on his lap.

A small “thank you” left your lips when you wrapped one arm around his waist, holding onto his soft sweater as if he'd disappear any moment. With a sigh you finally closed your eyes, allowing yourself to rest with the hope of waking up in the morning and this weird feeling disappearing magically overnight.

However, waking up wasn't as peaceful as you hoped, suddenly raising yourself into a sitting position with a gasp of pure shock. Your heart was beating like a war drum, your ears blocking out almost all the noise except for the steady thumping of our heartbeat, your vision pulsating with every beat. The adrenaline fueled your body as memories of your restless dream appeared, the gargoyles watching your every move, and even now you couldn't shake this feeling.

Shaking hands reached for your lover, who fell asleep in his sitting position, but no amount of shaking got him to wake up, light snores assuring you that he is alive but sleeping far too deeply to help you calm down.

“Get a damn grip on yourself,” you mumbled more to yourself than anything else as you pulled his soft sweater over your head. The smell was intoxicating and grounded you, drowning you in the feeling of safety and home, but you needed to clear your head from the nightmare that woke you up.

You weren't even thinking as your feet walked you outside, no path in mind, perhaps rounding the tiny castle once or twice to let the cool air deep into your system to clear your mind from all these horrid images flooding your brain from the previous dream.

“What? Who's there?” You were scared when you heard your name getting called, hoping it was your lover who woke up in your absence and went looking for you, but you found absolutely no one.

The feeling of paranoia wouldn't shake, feeling like someone is watching over your shoulder and there it was again - your name. It sounded like someone was longing for you, needing you to come help them, to save them from whatever misery they felt. Bare feet now padded over the cobblestone path and then the gravel, which slowly turned to a muddy path as your speed picked up. Were you running towards the voice or away from it? You weren't sure since it sounded like it came from everywhere at once, its desperation growing with each call.

You didn't feel real in the moment, your body as light as a feather, yet your head seemed to weigh a hundred pounds when your heart beat drowned out everything - everything but that damn call of your name, which now turned into a luring whisper, one that dragged you closer and closer. It wasn't fear coursing through you, it felt hot instead, like you were getting closer to something you longed for ever since you remembered and your body seemed to move out of muscle memory, following a path you've walked a thousand times.

Wet. Was it the grass that felt cold against your feet, or was the morning dew kissing your skin? It couldn't be. It didn't make sense that the feeling spread through your body as if the sky decided to pour over you, drenching you to your bones in ice cold water… until breathing became harder, the feeling of vines growing over your rib cage returned once again, but this time the oxygen was leaving your lungs with no way of returning there.

It was water that replaced the air in your lungs with each breath and your vision unblurred, seeing seaweed sway gently next to your body, a single skull to your right on the sandy ground…

“I was right about the lake… There are bodies on the ground." Your thought almost amused you, feeling no threat despite your vision turning black when all oxygen disappeared from your lungs…

“What do we have here?” Your eyes fluttered open when you heard a familiar voice, yet it sounded foreign.

The full moon was bright, your eyes slowly looking at the man who held you at arm's length, a death grip on both your upper arms as he looked at you with hunger.

“Don't you know that swimming at night can be quite dangerous? Just floating in my lake,” he mused and his eyes raked over your body.

In the state of confusion, you didn't even notice how miserable you must have looked, your clothes soaked thoroughly with pungent lake water, yet he looked like he was about to take a bite out of you should you move too fast.

“Your lake?” you asked with a meek voice, croaking the words out, which amused him.

“Silly little girl, you don't even know what danger you put yourself in… I give you one chance to run,” he mused and let go of your arms, which only toppled you over.

The dew of the grass felt almost warm compared to the clothes you were wearing while you sat on the ground after falling so graciously onto your ass, trying to understand his words. The stranger spoke your language, but it felt like he was speaking an alien language. Run from what? I have a room in the castle just a few walking minutes from here. Your brain was racing through many scenarios in a split second until the sense of danger caught up to your tired brain. This man wasn't joking, he will hurt you. RUN!

Your legs felt like jelly, the effects of almost drowning you thought as you ran as fast as these unsteady legs would carry you. “HELP!” you screamed from the top of your lungs despite your throat straining, hoping someone would hear you and help you, but when you looked back to where the man stood, he was gone.

*Thump!* You got knocked back onto the ground after colliding with what you thought was a tree until you looked up, the fear spreading through every fiber upon gazing at this eerie smile.

“Got you,” the man hummed and pulled you back to your feet, causing you to freeze, paralyzing you entirely as you braced for whatever was about to happen.

He only chuckled as he moved one hand into your hair to grab a fist full, yanking your head to the side with force that felt like he was about to break your neck.

“Has no one told you that it's not safe out in the woods for pretty little women like you?” His voice was smooth like honey as he leaned in, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, and he inhaled your scent.

His pupils dilated when your scent hit his nostrils, it was familiar, something he knew from a long time ago, so he hesitated. Sharp fangs rested on your skin instead of piercing it to drain you from your life essence.

With your eyes shut tight, you balled your hands into fists, mentally preparing yourself to get bitten by what you assumed to be either a weird pervert or a cannibal - nothing good either way, but that stinging feeling never came. Instead, his looming presence disappeared and once you opened your eyes, the sight was almost comical, if the situation wouldn't have been this dangerous.

A blonde man, much taller than the creep who wanted to take a bite out of you, held him by the neck like a soggy kitten before the blonde man threw him against a tree, causing the tree to fall over…what? You were perplexed upon seeing the other man stand up like he didn't just get thrown against a tree so hard, the huge tree trunk snapped.

“What are you waiting for? Run!” The blonde man called out to you quite angrily, snapping you out of the shell shock, but your legs barely carried you, letting you stumble away from the scene…

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

#-ˋˏ ༻luma's musings #blood sport #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk series #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso angst #choso series #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen series #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk choso #choso kamo #💫sweet like cotton candy💫

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oishiyani · 9 months ago

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🦐 ; Where Were You?

🦐 ; y/n’s presence never missed every single day! a text, a voice call, maybe even a visit. but then one morning.. boom! y/n vanished, not a single sign of life from them has got them shuffled in their minds! who knows could be what their reaction? (SCENARIOS)

— this is a fun little drabble while i had on my free time!! huehue, i swear ill make nikolai on the pt2 of this and along with another character in mind!

Sigma

Would end up trashing in fear in his body.

sigma's love for you is known to be only pure, he loves you whole and so do you. a routine where you'd keep him occupied with everything that's happened to you while he shoots you a bunch of questions of things he hadn't heard such about. the more you talked, the more curious he got.

the way you talk has him falling head over heels for you! that's the most special event in his daily life. the part where you'd find him and call so sweetly of his name out of your lips, your voice instantly makes him forget whatever's disturbing his head- soon relaxed when he recognizes your voice.

with this everyday routine with you is like a vitamin he has to take everyday, without it he may not function well. it's the most crucial part of his life- he can't miss a day without you. then one day, he did almost did miss a day.

usually you'd be calling out for him when he's really stuffed with the casino of his. a perfect timing for you to be his savior to come and comfort him, but after a few hours- he looked at the clock that was hanged on the wall.

'that’s strange.. y/n should be here at any moment now.. y/n's coming here soon right?'

and so, he waited. and waited. and waited. like a dog waiting for their owner to return home behind closed doors.

sigma begins to fidget without him realizing, one of his legs starts fiddling as both of his hands clasped together, his right index finger tapping up and down for who knows how long. and you still weren't here.

its been hours, he noticed. he spammed your phone number with a few text messages asking where are you, were you alright? were you not safe? the thought of you in danger increased his worries. could fyodor have captured you to use you against him?

he swallowed the developed lump in his throat, he had to search for you immediately. now was the time to take action. who knows what could’ve happen to you? he stands up and grabs the telephone by his desk- before he was about to dial, the sound of his main doors pushed open.

there you were, standing with a bunch of bags hanged on your arm. "hey, sorry i kind of arrived late! as you can see here i bought-"

"s-sigma?" you were cut by your sentence as you were took by a sudden surprise of sigma who dropped the telephone and approached you with his footsteps in a haste. he then hugged you tightly- wrapped in his arms, never wanting to let go of you. his head on your shoulder while his face hides at your sight. you almost fell behind and tumbled because of the unforeseen of event.

"where were you?" he asked, a sound of his voice cracked as he spoke. you hugged him back trying your best to tolerate how really tight his hug is, "i was out in the mall.. my phone happened to run out of battery so i couldn't message you. i'm sorry about that." you let out of a bashful giggle.

soon you felt slight coldness on the fabric you wore, your eyes dilated and grabbed sigma's forearms to push him slowly from you.

with his face in front of you. sigma's eyes were bottled up with tears, his nose a bit red. which looks like he's been holding in his emotions for a while. the tables have turned- now you were the one worried, confused, why was sigma crying? did you do something wrong?

"huh? did something happen? what's wrong?" sigma looked down, a sigh escaping his lips- his eyebrows furrowed. "you were gone for too long and i just got worried.. really that's all." his eyes shifted in another direction, a small pout on his lips formed after.

you also sighed in relief after thinking that something worse happened to him, "i'm sorry for that sigma.. next time i'll invite you to the mall with me. we could try one of those fancy restaurants i saw."

he sniffled, his index finger swiped the tear bubbling from the corner of his eye. "sure, i'd love to go." he then smiled. "i'm happy you're back."

sigma then felt something pressed on to his lips. it was.. a cookie?! his eyes lit of sparks. you pushed the cookie futher and sigma took immediate bite of it, "i also bought these cookies for you! do you like them?"

a faint pink shade of blush wave on his cheeks, "mhm."

Fyodor

Would come and fetch you immediately. and once found- it’s a must to return.

your presence being absent for a while doesn’t shaken fyodor himself. why? oh y/n, you lack the knowledge of fyodor’s tracking skills- an absoulute maniac at it! he could be watching you at every placed cctv camera by the city and you’re fully unaware of it.

fyodor fonds you quite alot- well for more than what you can think. he loves how you bring gifts for him on the way back, after he just watched you struggle to buy something for him. unable to choose between two goods situation. he smiles internally at how cute you look while deciding if he'd

with your loyalty to him, he surely should protect you from any harm that opposes you. that’s why he’s spectating you from the cameras y’know! it’s all for the sake of your safety after all. he even thought of placing cameras in your house, maybe if someone attempted to rob you then he’d save the day.

as soon as fyodor came back from his office- sitting on his chair, eyes stamped on the screen that displayed different corners of each street. in an insant his eyes hunt for you like a prey.

switching from cameras to cameras, he was unable to find you through it. he double checked again- maybe you’ll appear at any moment but no. you still weren’t there at the store you always went.

‘that’s strange..’ fyodor said as he gently rubbed his chin, thinking where have you might go. he only set off his eyes away from the screen for a minute and you’re gone that quickly? that was the least he expected since you take your time at browsing your items.

little did he know you stumbled upon this local cafe that just opened up! it was located at this small apartment that the owner set it up as their own business. you happen to saw a poster and an immediate urge drove into you as soon as you saw the cafe’s new release of a drink.

with that in mind, you went on your way to try it out. you open the door that supposedly says in the poster that this is where they’re located, a small, shady place for a cafe indeed. you were met by the sound of a small bell that clang on top when you opened the door. the aroma of coffee strikes you.

there were only a few people, really few.. like 3. the man who’s behind the counter greeted you a welcome. you came upfront and told him that you wanted to try their new drink. the man agreed, but as he went on to make it- the man seems like he couldn’t find himself to stop talking about you.

he continuously asked you multiple questions about yourself, what you do for living, how was living in the city, were you still studying, ‘till he abruptly asked if you were in a relationship with someone.

the first set of questions weren’t that bad, although they progressively became more personal. the conversation still about yourself- you ended up being uncomfortable as you sat and waited for your drink to be done.

“maybe we could exchange numbers.. if you ever don’t have one though! and we could go get some coff-“

“do you serve tea around here?” the familiar voice spoke. you quickly turned to your side and saw fyodor who was about to sit down beside you. “wait- fyodor?! what’re you doing here? i mean, when did you even get here?!”

“just now.” fyodor replied, his gaze on the man who was doing the finishing touches to your drink. the man who was behind the counter was also just as confused as you for the unexpected new customer. “tea sir? i’m afraid we don’t-“

“well, that’s unfortunate. i was hoping me and y/n would go here sometime.” fyodor replied. cutting the man’s words off. “y/n?” you looked to fyodor again, giving him a sign that he has your attention. he told you to bring out your phone and to wear your headphones for some reason, he then told you to listen to this orchestra piece he liked.

“just for a moment.” he told you, mouth close to your ear, then puts back the lifted half of the headphones on your ear. you watched him talk to the man, both of them having a conversation while you listened to melody in your ears. you then continued to sip your finished drink, ‘this is good.. and refreshing..’ the wave of relaxation was disturbed by a sudden slam that vibrated on the wooden counter.

you turned your gaze back to the two, lifting your headphones. the man’s face expression showed he was terrified, while fyodor was only giving the poor man a smirk. “get out before i call the police!” the man threatened. “wait- what happened?” yet again confused, you asked fyodor. he only stood up and stared at the man who’s legs began to shake.

“let’s go y/n. we surely don’t want to be in this place of a stench.” fyodor took his steps to the door turning the doorknob. you left your payment on the counter and catched up to fyodor on the way out of the apartment.

you were filled with questions for fyodor to answer, but the only answer you ever got was quite odd-

“i only gave him a little piece of advice, i wouldn’t want that cafe to be shut down completely.”

the next day, you were walking by the side of the streets. you found yourself in the same spot where the cafe you went was located. but this time, you took notice that there was a sign that said ‘THIS PLACE HAS BEEN SHUT DOWNED’

#bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs imagine #sigma x reader #sigma x you #sigma x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n

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angelltheninth · 4 days ago

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Every Time He Leaves

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, reunions, teasing, family planning

Word count: 0.8k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I heard that the sequel isn't coming in 2025 but that won't stop me from writing fics for this amazing man.

"Mi vida, I'm home." Miguel heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, a good sort of comfort now in your current state. "Baby? Are you asleep?" You could pretend to be. Like you pretended all those night before, then wake up in the morning and wonder if he would be there or not. No. Not this time.

You waited for him to open the door, his charming, soft smile thrown your way, almost shaking your resolve.

"You didn't have to wait up for me you know, I don't mind cuddling up next to my-" He stopped talking once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom and he saw your eyes red from crying, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You nodded. You were about to explain when he was in front of you in a flash, his hands pressing and prodding, looking you over. The bed dipped to one side under Miguel's weight, his worried expression turning a little angry, " Where does it hurt? Who hurt you? I'll make them regret it!"

You let out a long heavy sigh. Taking one of his hands you placed it above your heart and then pointed your finger at him, finally meeting his eyes with your being full of tears, "You hurt me."

"What?" He looked like you just slapped him, which would have been preferable, he would hardly feel that. But your words, they cut deep. "What do you mean? Was I rough with you last night? You told me it was-"

"Oh for gods sake Miguel, I'm not talking about that. I'm not physically hurt." You backed up a bit, putting some space between you two. It was a little empty space, easy to close, yet it felt like you were worlds, universes apart, "I don't ever see you anymore. You go on missions, you come back, you... fuck me and then you leave. Do you really not get how that makes me feel? How... used and alone I feel?"

The sex was good. The sex was damn good. Perfect even. He was so close to you, he was smiling at you, you were one with him, holding him, feeling him everywhere, kissing him. But those moments, they passed way too quickly for your liking and then you were empty and alone again.

"Is that really how you feel?" He sounded like he couldn't wrap his head around what you were saying. At the same time you could see it on his face that he was putting the puzzle pieces together. "I love you, more then anything, you're the most important person in this or any universe to me. I... would stop. If you wanted me to. We could settle down, buy a bigger house, start a family, like we talked about."

"How? How can you say that when you leave without... without even telling me? Your job is important, I understand that, but for the love of god Miguel, I'm your girlfriend! I at least deserve to know when you're leaving don't I? What if... what if one day you... what if you don't come back to me?" You started hiccuping while you cried, your body shaking from the wave of emotions that you were finally able to unleash. There was a part of you that felt like it was selfish, that Miguel wasn't yours to keep and that doing so would mean a lot of people would get hurt. Did you deserve him in the first place?

Miguel's arms wrapped around your smaller frame, you could hear his heart beating quickly, you could feel him shaking along with you while he balanced himself on his knees, his suit flickering on and off. "I would never abandon you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell itself I'd find a way to come back to you. I made up my mind long ago, when I die it will when we're both old and I lost all my hair."

"And we have grandkids running around?" You whisper against his chest, voice still raw from crying and nose stuffed from sniffles.

"So many grandkids. We're gonna have a big family, just like we planned. I know its hard right now but its almost over okay? Then we can settle down anywhere you want." Miguel cupped the back of your head as his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for the longest time, "Nothing is more important then you. Nothing."

"I want at least three kids." He nodded, "A big house in the country side." A nod, "A big, cuddly dog." Another nod, "And you in my bed every night." He kissed you, not caring the least that you tasted like tears. But he didn't stop there. His hands lifted you up by the hips, your legs wrapping around his body as you felt yourself being lowered on the bed.

You felt his suit vanish and warm muscles take its place, "Three kids. That's a lot of work. We should practice as much as we can." Miguel smirked like an idiot while he undressed you, ready to prove his love to you.

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coolprettyleo · 9 months ago

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obsessed with your ex? - juraj slafkovsky ☆

wc: 650+

tw: toxicity? obsessive. mention of sex. stalking?

juraj slafkovsky x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was four in the morning and you couldn't sleep. your thoughts were running wild as the six foot three man was laying sound asleep next to you. you were staying over his place tonight and what was supposed to be an easy going night turned into a nightmare; for you at least.

you had opened your instagram to find that jurajs ex had followed you, and commented on her recent instagram post, how you slayed the photo dump you posted on your recent trip to Milan.

I mean his ex didn't mean to get in your brain. you had finally met the girl, about a couple weeks ago at a brand dinner seeing as you were both models. you had been professional with her. but since you guys had many mutual friends the ex seemed to be trying to befriend her.

oh my god I wonder if she was friends with jurajs friends? did she know arber like you know him?

was she good in bed?

does he still think about her?

was she easy going?

every controlling?

well traveled?

well read?

all these thoughts made you want to scream into your pillow and die. something you couldn't do because you were at your boy friends house, sleeping in his bed on a side that was now 'your side' but you knew it was once hers.

when you met the ex about two nights ago you had to act like you didn't know every little thing about her, when you did. you knew everything about her, from her star sign to her fucking blood type.

you felt insane. you were honestly borderline of psycho. you were so obsessed with jurajs ex and everything about her was making you so upset.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt the boy next to you move.

"why are you still awake" jury asked seeing her stare up into the ceiling. he moved to wrap his arms around her and pull her in, trying to to comfort his girlfriend.

what were you supposed to say to him? I'm up thinking about your ex? that im fucking obsessed with her? he would think I was her freaking best friend with how much I would want to talk about her and ask him.

and it wasn't like there wasn't anything I could complain about too, anyways. she was an angel, who was perfect. my friends would even tell me she talked so nicely about me. she was the life of every party and had these perfect hips with the most perfect lips. god you sounded like you were in love with her.

he had once told you that she hated flying so she would take melatonin when they would go visit his family with him back home, and you've never forgotten that detail about her.

"y/n" jurajs voice rasped again.

"what did you call me?" y/n exclaimed sitting up moving away from him. she could of swear he said HER name.

"your name?" juraj said slowly, beyond confused. he loved you so much and the last thing he would of thought was wrong with his girlfriend in the middle of the night, was that you couldn't stop thinking about his ex. he doesn't even speak to her anymore and he loves you with his whole heart.

you looked at him, studying his face for any lie. he wasn't. you felt so obsessed and you knew it was crazy upon repair, but you couldn't help it for some reason.

"alright what's wrong. did I do something" he says sitting up and turning on the nightstand lamp.

you felt horrible. he looked exhausted and he needed his sleep, he had games coming up and he had practice in about five hours.

"no-" you sighed looking at his soft eyes urging you to go on.

"-its just" you stumbled upon how to word your next choice of words.

"you can tell me" he said rubbing your back and kissing your shoulder.

"im obsessed with your ex"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

omg this is my first non au right and also like no oc character. if its cringe lmk! I like feedback. also this is based of an edit I saw on tiktok!! goodnight loves!!

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #juraj slafkovsky #hockey fic #hockey imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #montreal canadiens x reader #juraj slafkovsky smut #arber xhekaj

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ufopigeon · 4 months ago

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to the random ass proshippers

I’ll block proshippers and I won’t throw any first punches if I find the accounts. Just block n’ move on. Think what you want, but think it away from me. This is for the ppl who are going after others both anonymously and in the open, and being insistent about misunderstanding his character. It is absolutely absurd that some are really trying to PUSH the mere implication that the Postal Dude could be a pedo/have pedophilic tendencies, or that “it makes sense for him”. Some of you are ragebait I’m sure, but I also sadly think some of you are really genuine. And this is also the last I am going to speak about it. Just wanted to do something longer on behalf of everyone else who does not agree with this random influx.

The Postal Dude is obviously designed to be an ambiguous character, allowing players to project various characteristics onto him. HOWEVER, this doesn't mean that any and all negative traits can be justified. Ambiguity in character design is meant to give freedom in interpretation, but it doesn't equate to carte blanche for projecting extreme or inappropriate characteristics that aren't supported by the game’s narrative or the developer's intent. Assuming that a character would commit any and all bad acts simply because they commit some is a lazy and inaccurate approach to understanding character design.

The argument that, "Durrr he’s literally a mass shooter, why is it so far-fetched for him to be a pedo too?" is a slippery slope fallacy. It’s that same exact shit all the edgelords try to use when they say (just so they can justify attacking any queer fans, same way SOME proshippers want to feel justified in attacking those who disagree), “The Postal Dude SPECIFICALLY hates gay people and trans people and wouldn’t support them at all/be grossed out by them! Why? Uhh, because he’s literally an evil, vile character! Duh!” Sure he is. No denying that. And sure, you can think that about him. But it’s just fundamentally inaccurate. Just because the games allow for extreme behaviors doesn’t mean they endorse or include every possible immoral action.

And just because a character engages in morally questionable actions doesn’t logically lead to them engaging in the worst possible behaviors. The creator's stance is crucial in defining the boundaries of the character. If the creators have explicitly stated that Postal Dude would never engage in pedophilia (just like how they explicitly stated he wasnt transphobic) and that such content would never be included in the game, this is a definitive limitation on what the character can be reasonably interpreted as. Again, I don’t care if you hold a private opinion that differs. But when you start accusing those who disagree with this extreme interpretation of being the weird or wrong ones, that’s where it becomes an issue.

Dude's actions, while extreme, are presented within a certain context that aims to criticize or mock certain aspects of society. Pedophilia is not something that fits within this satirical style. Yes, even for Postal 1997. I don't care if it is generally considered more "serious" than other games, they still had Dude throwing out stupid-ass catchphrases in a silly radio-host-sounding voice that was obviously supposed to be a stark contrast to what was happening on screen (“Buttsauce”. “Smells like chicken” when burning NPCs. Really now? Go ahead and listen to more from the original. They’re all silly one-liners.). It was a shock at the time and a bit of dark humor. Following games only increased this aspect.

All in all, Postal Dude’s actions, while immoral, are usually presented in a way that allows for some level of detachment or absurdity, keeping them within the realm of dark comedy. Yes, 1997 is still included here. It’s an absurd game. One man took out hundreds of people and was armed to the teeth, even with literal rocket launchers. His main weapon has infinite ammunition. It was an obviously over-the-top video game with a loose connection to reality and an even looser message about “something something mental health and everyone has it in them to go postal”. It was a game made to shock people. Pedophilia, however, is universally considered an irredeemable act, something that cannot be framed in any context that would make it acceptable or even darkly humorous. The distinction between immoral and irredeemable acts is crucial here. The Postal Dude can be morally ambiguous, but crossing into irredeemable territory would fundamentally alter the character in a way that the game and its creators/99.9% of the fans do not support.

Also: “But muh 1997 promo art where it says his girlfriend was 17!! She says they just started dating 3 weeks ago!!” Yeah. The same photo was used with the girl also saying, “It was so weird. He told everyone I was his girlfriend, but I only met him once.” It says “live” near the bottom corner, implying this was an interview with the girl AFTER the crimes had taken place. In the promotional pic where it states she’s 17, it also says she DIED of third degree burns while he was on his rampage. Now that doesn’t really add up, does it. How can this girl give an interview after everything is said and done while also dying in the middle of his killing spree?

AKA, these promotional photos were reused over and over because they were on a budget and really not thinking about it, and are absolutely not valid for legit storytelling purposes at all. RWS has even said this themselves.

#postal dude #postal 1 #postal 1997 #postal 3 #postal 4 #go back 2 telegram lol #postal 2

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apompkwrites · 1 year ago

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disappearance of an asim || kalim al-asim

masterlist characters: kalim (platonic) genre: angst contains: help there's more names oh god, kidnapping summary: the asim siblings go down from 32 to 31 children in the span of a single night. notes: lol posting this before I sleep and go to college again tomorrow anyway you get to meet more siblings :)) parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

faraj was used to waking up to a bundle of siblings gathering in his room. in fact, he would find it odd if none of them were there in his waking moments.

he never minded it. it was a welcome surprise that greeted him every morning. he played an internal guessing game of "which of my siblings are here" before he opened his eyes.

he usually won this game, too. he had a good balance of gut instinct and reading slight clues in the room that he knew right away which sibling had decided to wake him up that day.

light fluttering of book pages being turned? that's rawiya, most likely there to collect new ideas for stories she wanted to write.

heavy footsteps that sounded like constant marching? probably junayd who had just come home from training.

and, this morning, faraj heard soft pattering on the floor, one more sluggish than the other. he knew immediately that it was the pair of sleepy twins qamar and hala.

"faraj...!" qamar yawned. but, despite his sleepy tone, there was a hint of panic laced in it. faraj opened his eyes slowly, letting out a yawn himself, before sitting up in bed.

"good morning, you two," he hummed softly, trying his best to fix his bedhead.

"faraj...!" qamar whined, sleep still lacing his tone. he sniffled and scrambled onto faraj's bed, tugging on his pajama sleeve.

"what's wrong, qamar?" faraj yawned again, rubbing the boy's shoulder gently. as he stared down at his sniffling siblings, he felt something tighten in his chest.

"w-we went to find (n-name)," he cried, his words catching in his throat with every sob, "b-but we couldn't f-find them!"

"deep breaths, qamar," faraj cooed, rubbing his shoulder. he turned to look at hala, who had crawled up onto his bed and curled up into his other side. "did you check their room? maybe they went to bed early."

"we checked," hala huffed, burying her face in faraj's side. "they weren't there."

"huh..." faraj muttered. "well, breakfast is in an hour or so. I'm sure you'll see them then."

that was what he thought, of course. but, when he and the rest of his siblings gathered at the table, the guards standing outside of the hall, he noticed one chair was left empty.

in between lulu and qamar was (name)'s empty chair.

faraj had to pause for a moment. that was strange... without fail, (name) had always made it to breakfast. he scanned the table before his eyes landed on menna, who was the one to wake up any remaining siblings in their rooms.

"menna," he called out as everyone nestled into their seats. "did you see (name) in their room this morning?"

"i was just gonna bring that up," she responded. "I was gonna ask if the twins saw them last night."

"that's the thing," faraj muttered worriedly. "they didn't."

the table fell into silence for a single moment. it was unnerving. it was quite rare for the room to be completely silent. the only times it ever happened were if kalim, nawra, or rawda were absent from the table due to a threat.

"...what did you say?" menna asked, her voice straight and emotionless.

"they didn't see them," faraj repeated. "they woke me up this morning saying they couldn't find them..."

"are you trying to say (name)'s missing?!" kalim gasped, slamming his hands on the table. the other siblings jumped at the sudden rattle, prompting kalim to utter an apology under his breath before he continued to panic. "they couldn't, right?! they must have fallen asleep somewhere else, right?!"

"kalim, settle down," faraj responded in a stern tone. "panicking won't help us."

"we'll go look around for them," menna offers, standing up. she points to herself before listing off the other siblings. "raabi'a, mahdi, faraj. samad, come with me. kalim, safaa', tasnim, watch the others."

the siblings all fell into their duties relatively quickly, except kalim who was insisting on going out to find (name) as well.

but, the five ignored his pleas, hurrying out of the dining hall. outside, they were met with a handful of their servants, all of whom stared back at them with surprised expressions.

"is something wrong?" jamil, as expected, was the first to speak up. he stepped forward, a bit tense when he noticed kalim was still in the dining hall.

"we're just searching for one of our siblings," safaa' huffed. "no need to get involved."

"...yes, of course," jamil bowed his head and stepped back. faraj and mahdi could only offer apologetic looks as they hurried off into the hall.

the five split up, covering each part of their home. and, when they gathered again, they all came up empty handed.

kalim, upon the arrival of his five siblings and not six, was quick to rush out of the dining hall. he hurried down the hall, past jamil, past the guards, past the advisors that wandered the home, and straight to where his father was.

"dad! dad!" he called out as he burst through the door, ignoring the surprised looks of his parents. "(name)'s gone missing!"

his father paused for a moment. a single moment. his eyes were wide as kalim's words were processed in his mind.

"kalim's gone missing!"

"nawra's gone missing!"

"rawda's gone missing!"

his father was so used to hearing these sentences, but...

(name)...? why them? why, why, why?

he couldn't think. and as his wife placed her hand on his, squeezing it tight, the first words tumbled out of his mouth.

"find out where they've gone," he ordered to the guards, who all took the command and hurried off out of the room.

kalim and his father stared at each other for a moment longer. neither of them knew why this fate had fallen them again, especially with one of the siblings that were supposed to be at the least risk of being in trouble...

kalim nor his father wanted to think about it any longer. but they knew they had to.

the room is dark. quiet. eerie. you hated it. your mind was so fuzzy and faint that you could barely understand whether the room was truly empty or if it was just the unconsciousness enveloping your brain.

you tried to move. but you couldn't. you were latched onto something. it wasn't rope or cloth because it wasn't soft, no, it was cold. and stiff.

you tried again. you still couldn't move.

you heard something creak across from you. footfalls. heavy, heavy footfalls.

"well, well, well, look who's awake."

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sweetwolfcupcake · 1 year ago

Text

The Taste of Deceit(Hyungline Part Two-Finale)

Masterlist

The Taste of Deceit Masterlist

Hyungline- Part 1, Part 2: Hoseok, Namjoon

Warnings: Violence, Dark Characters with Darker Intentions. Disturbing imagery, allusions, blood, and slight gore. And the most important- DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT(Dub-con, Non-con).

This took me so long...It has been a long year.

Word Count: 13k-ish

Happy New Year Everyone.

Kindly excuse typos and errors. No advanced editing done.

(GIF credits to the owner)

"Where are the rest of them?"

The man leading the team asked as he inspected the bloodied bodies of his colleagues, keeping an eye on the cold corpses, while the rest of the team spread out in the house, in search of Officer (L/N)(Y/N).

They were not very hopeful regarding her survival.

The backup force in the adjacent house, who were allotted to keep a watchful eye, were all found on the floor--cold and mangled. It was a direct dent in the department. A declaration of war.

His eyes scanned through the bed, trying to figure out any oddity in the darkness. Switching on the lights would alert the lurking enemies. And he could not afford to lose more of his team members. Tentatively, his gloved hands ran through the bloodied sheet, the room stunk of it.

Finally!

He found something, a square–no, rectangular device. Fishing it out from below the covers, he inspected the device. It seemed akin to a voice recorder. Marred with blood, the man had every reason to consider if (Y/N) deliberately left it there for them to find her, or maybe a clue...they were too late.

Wiping away the blood, he switched it on.

There were a few muffled sounds and some glitches initially before he could clearly hear–

There was a continuous huffing before he heard a gasp and a moan.

"Who do you belong to? Huh–?"

"You-Oh my–ah!"

"Why–I thought y-you fucking worked for the authorities."

"I—Jin-hah! That's notyou, Please!"

It was somewhere between a beg, a cry and a moan. The captain stood still, blood beginning to boil. But he continued to listen.

Officer (L/N)'s gasps and the sound of skin slapping were clear to him as much as what was transpiring in the recording.

"Please Jin—just surr–surrender, this was—"

Smack!

"Tch! Shut it already—You– and I both know that they are never seeing us again!"

"Oh–my—"

"Right Baby, just let g–go–shit! Too much of this fuc-fuking game–yeah? It'sokay..."

The sounds that followed felt like a slap on his face. No, it was a slap on the whole fucking department's face.

"I forgive you, love."

That was the final straw, the officer rose his hands to smash the bloody thing on the ground. Kim Seokjin messed with the wrong person, he fucking spit on the Department. He was going to hunt—

He paused midway.

Kim Seokjin left the tape deliberately. It was an open challenge to the department, he even did not bother to clean up after the murdering two of the officers himself, not the rest too. The recording, the murder scene, the whole house— all these were powerful pieces of evidence.

So why would he just...Leave them behind?

That sly rat obviously did not want to get caught.

But the evidence...

Unless...

"Officers! Officers wherever you are get out of the building I said evacuate the buildings. Over."

He held the tape close as he rushed out of the room and into the hallway."

"Sir, what is wrong?" One of the officers asked through the device.

"It's a trap! I REPEAT IT'S A TRAP! EVACUATE THE—-"

BOOM!

The deafening boom was swift, followed by another within a millisecond, but the amber and the sparks were quicker.

And within a moment, the two buildings burst into flames. Fire and fireproof helmets flying out, some parts of burning cloths, burnt uniforms and perhaps some skin attached to them.

—---

Jin smiled at her sleeping form through the mirror before he felt his burner phone vibrating.

"Sir, it's done." A voice from the other side spoke as soon as he picked up the call.

"Good, now get out of there." Jin instructed before hanging up the call.

He could finally lean back. His eyes remained on the road ahead, along with a smile that he did not wish to wipe anytime soon.

—--------

Waking up was a slow process. But (Y/N) had not felt more blissful before. She felt like she was surrounded by soft clouds. She felt pampered, and it was not a feeling foreign to her but she was relaxed and—-

She woke up with a start, shaking the remaining sleep off her, though her mind was still a bit muddled. Flashes of the night before occupied her mind as she blinked to clear up her vision. He...What had she done?

Did she give in?

She just...She just laid there, under him, taking whatever he gave her

She put her whole department to shame and yet—

The gentle fingers brushing through her hair, detangling the tresses were all too familiar to even guess– she knew it was Jin. Laying behind her.

"How did you sleep?" It was the morning voice that she was used to, but this time, she was alert for a whole new reason.

Did he wish to play with her a bit before slaughtering her?

There was one thing that Kim Seokjin would never forgive, she had learnt in her two years with him– betrayal.

Expecting forgiveness from him after stabbing him in the back was like trying to dig up a well in a desert.

"You need to relax, Love. As I said yesterday, I forgive you."

She frowned but did not dare to turn.

"I forgive you..."

Was that what she heard before she fell into a tired, hopeless, dreamless slumber?

Even if she were to die, she knew that she was no coward. And she would not die like one. So (Y/N) turned around, facing the man who shaped her nightmares and dreams.

Turning around, she realised she was naked, while he was in his usual night pyjamas. And while she had been naked with him several times before, this made her feel vulnerable, exposed even.

"You did not give away the other pen drive, Jagi. Of course, I forgive you. How can I not?"

He looked soft, hair ruffled, eyes slightly swollen, and overall deceptively harmless.

"You killed them."

As long as she could remember, there were two bodies. Two of her seniors lay bloodied and dead on the bed.

"Yes, Jagi, I killed them all." Jin's smile was sweet, the one she had grown used to.

And so was it unhinged.

"You can't hide forever, you know?"

"We, Love. It's us against them. You proved your loyalty to me last night. The remaining doubts shall be dealt with effectively." He rose slightly with the support of his elbow and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. "I will be back, yeah?"

He left after that. Left her with her thoughts as she spiralled further and further down. All the things that had gone wrong and that she had done wrong. Two of the senior-most officers were dead. The department would hunt her down, hunt them down.

She had no clue how long it had been until Jin returned with a tray that she assumed contained breakfast.

"I had the maids prepare a light breakfast, did not want you to get your stomach upset again."

She frowned. Why did she not remember any of that?

"I–I threw up last night?"

"Yes, you did, even had a fever. Perhaps things were too much for you. Had me worried there for a while. Now, rise up, you must eat something."

"Why are you doing this?" She refused to believe that she was 'forgiven', she was not even apologising in the first place. "If this is your way of prolonging—"

"I could have killed you the day I found out who you were."

She stilled at his words. They were obvious but that did not stop the chill that descended into her spine. It was a strange cocktail of sadness and affirmation.

"But I didn't..."

I couldn't

The words lingered with uncertainty in the air.

"I wanted to see how far this little game goes. And then I saw it..." He tilted his head as his lips curved into a condescending smirk "...How naïve you were. It's pathetic actually. Thinking what you do is the 'right thing'."

"You run an underworld business of drugs and weapons Jin. No matter what you do, how you are, you cannot separate that from yourself...You have blood on your hands Jin and the only way to wash it—"

He interrupted her with a loud scoff that broke into a cackle.

"Honey, you don't wash it all off, it took my blood sweat and money to build this empire. And then I watch some puppet idealists coming to topple it...It's amusing."

He gently laid the breakfast tray on the foldable table placed over her lap.

"It's a game (Y/N). A big game where people like you are only disposable pawns...Why do you think the department is bothered about me now? Why not years back? I was easier to crush then."

When she only frowned, he continued.

"Because they are not hunting for sweeping the city, or the nation clean. They are hunting for those who cannot be loyal to them. Once you are ready to spend billions on election campaigns, domestic and international deals, give money to their pretty puppets and invest in their projects– be their loyal dogs, do the dirty work for them...You are free to do whatever the fuck you want."

He gently cupped her cheeks, leaning in to level with her gaze. "One Government topples, so does their favours upon their underworld allies, the next one would only want to uproot them all. It's not about just tice, or charity, or protecting the city. It never was. It has and always been about power...Once they find out that you have not handed over the other pen drive, you are going to end up with a 'criminal' bullet lodged into your head."

"What about the bullets in those officers' bodies?"

Jin only smiled "If my soul were made of what has shaped yours, Jagi...I would not have been where I am."

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Get something into your system. I will prepare a bath for you."

Standing up, he towered over her.

"For now, you are not allowed to step out of the room without my explicit permission. Not until my trust in you is restored completely. You still went to meet them, and I cannot risk another slip-up."

"So I am your prisoner."

"Of course not, Jagi. I have a special place for my 'prisoners'. You are the woman I love and refuse to lose. You are the one for me. But fortunately, love cannot blind me to the realities of your position. It is just a bump in the road, we will pass through this."

She could not even begin to decipher what odd amalgamation of emotions she was feeling at the moment. It was all too much. But she knew one thing...She was trapped. A trap she had willingly walked into.

"I will let you have the bath to yourself. Finish up, okay?"

With that, Jin walked into the bathroom. The little muffled sounds here and there let her know that he was doing what he said he would do. Exactly that.

—--

The water felt perfect against her skin, washing away the aches and clammy sensation. But nothing could wash away him. He was imprinted on her mind, and even if he had thoughtfully left her alone in the bathroom, (Y/N) felt him everywhere, in everything. It was like the whole place, not just the bathroom or the room, but each brick was breathing Kim Seokjin.

It was an odd situation. After everything she had seen and experienced, she knew that there was something going on in Jin's mind– he was concocting a plan and if he was not, then he had already emerged as victorious.

She would not be surprised though. He had himself revealed that he had known her true occupation for a while now. It was all a bait. Her two seniors were dead, and perhaps even her colleagues who were in the other house and—

The realisation hit her like a truck. Before she knew it, she was scrambling out of the tub, splashing water everywhere, slipping here and there. But she did make it back to the room, albeit with only a bath robe on, she rushed out of the bathroom, only to begin searching for a TV remote.

She finally found it on the nightstand.

"There are only speculations we can make as no confirmation has been provided by the Police Department or the intelligence. The intensity of the blast was moderate but enough to kill each and every officer present in the two buildings...."

The words of the reporter sank later than the pictures being displayed on the screen. There were all twenty of them.

Five of whom she had personally worked with on her previous missions. Out of the five, two were the ones she recognised as friends, close friends.

The rest of the six were acquaintances and the others, she could barely remember their names.

But all of them were her colleagues.

Her colleagues with families to look after, one of them was expecting his first child in the world, and another was the only hope for her aged and ailing parents.

And now, they all were reduced to nothing but burnt flesh and ashes.

"Jagi, I thought you were in for a nice, relaxing bath, why are you crying?"

She had not taken notice of his presence first, it was only after he gently wiped her tears did she realise her predicament.

It was like she had blood in her hands.

"Why?"

When she looked at him with the question, his unreadable eyes expressed the unexpressed. There was no other thought in her mind.

"They were innocent—"

Jin cackled– one that sounded everything that she had heard before when it concerned an expression of glee. But felt like nothing she had felt before. One that could inspire unadulterated fear. It was sinister– mockingly sinister at its best.

She had fallen in love with a cruel, cold and evil man.

"You have known me for years now, have you not...(Y/N). Have I ever been forgiving to obstacles? They were the wall between us, our love."

And yet he claimed to love her.

"It was a small warning, Jagi. You know that I could do worse."

He was right. She knew him, after all.

"Now, we would not have to worry about some petty people in uniform trying to come after us. Don't think too much about this and tire yourself out."

He took the remote from her grasp with ease and switch the television off before gently leading her back to the bathroom.

(Y/N) was in a daze, letting him take her out of the bathrobe with ease before he put her back in the bathtub after moderating the temperature again. But when he joined her, the feeling of his warm skin rubbing against hers broke her daze, but the faces of her colleagues never vanished from her mind.

She heard him sigh as he pulled her over his lap, relaxing in the perfectly warm water, basking in the soothing fragrance of lavender and pines. It felt like once she closed her eyes, she would be somewhere else, somewhere beautiful.

But she did not dare to close them.

(Y/N) knew that the moment she closed her eyes, the faces of her friends and colleagues would flash in front of her.

She felt his body against hers, roaming hands, fingers drawing circles over her shoulder to comfort her. But none of them worked.

"I know that there is a lot of questions in your mind, so may dilemmas. But you will see Jagi. You will see how much far we have come. You chose me. You made the right choice."

His voice was that of a siren– hypnotic, melodious, but one that would lead its follower to their ultimate demise.

That was Kim Seokjin.

He told her once that she was the one for him, and they would grow old together.

She knew that he would have it no other way.

He was not afraid to spark a bloody battle for that. But there was no line to it. He did not care who or what the price was-- he would have what he wanted, where he wanted.

She realised when he turned her head to land a soft but promising kiss on her lips.

He wanted a battle?

His lips were soft but firm, his hand on the side of her neck left no room for backing away.

She would give him war.

She kissed him back, cautious, but not empty of thoughts.

***

The days were humid, and the nights invited light to moderate rainfall. Life in the relatively remote town was peaceful, in a nutshell.

To live in innocuous obscurity, to work for nothing but to run her and her family was what (Y/N) needed after everything she and her sister had been through—her sister Chae, her only surviving family. The same family she had smashed someone’s heart for and perhaps ruined his life forever.

She might as well be a monster in his eyes. But with her experience through all this, she had learned that not all monsters were evil. And that just made everything much more complicated.

She never knew Min Yoongi.

Of course, she had heard of him, maybe even seen his pictures a handful of times, but never paid much attention.

Not until Chae, her sweet little sister, and her only family, was diagnosed with an illness that was slowly swallowing her up. And (Y/N)’s regular office job could not pay the bills for too long. Their savings were running out, and the treatment and medicines were weighing heavy.

She was desperate.

Truly desperate

And truly desperate people never weigh morals, risks, or possibilities.

They take any chance given to them.

So did she, when a decorated officer offered her a chance to save her sister and find a better life for both of them.

She took the chance; it only took her a day to think through everything. They were paying for her sister’s treatment and the medical bills; they were to overlook Chae and her security, and the net money to be transferred into her bank account after the work was done was good enough.

That one offer had everything she desperately needed. Not desired. Needed.

She was never worried about herself– walking under the shadow of a man like Min Yoongi, she had to have courage. And she was courageous because she was desperate. Whatever she had heard of the man was foul deeds and evil temperament; she had never let that diminish her courage.

To the officers, Min Yoongi was a monster. A clever monster who needed to be pulled out of the sea.

It was for the betterment of society– she was not doing anything morally wrong if perceived through those lenses.

But that was the catch.

People, morality and justice were not read through a single lens, they needed prisms to look at, to analyse.

She had learned that with her time spent with Min Yoongi. Her experience defied every other fact she had learned from her temporary employers. He was no monster. But as she dug deeper into his life and his personality, she discovered that the officers were no liars either.

Min Yoongi was a monster after all. But he was not evil. Not every monster was evil, not every evil looked like a monster.

Min Yoongi was an intimidating man. True to the officers’ words, he was a dangerous man too. Before she knew it, she was already praying that the assumptions about him would be proven false and that she would never have to hear his deeds from his lips.

The same lips that had kissed her so softly, the eyes that looked at her with such a distinct tenderness, closed when her fingers traced his scar. Her touch was soft, but his hold on her would be delicate. It always had been.

Until the doomed night.

She was frozen with shock when she looked into his eyes– the same eyes that once held tenderness seemed to belong to a true predator. For the first time, she truly felt the danger that she was in.

She was in a lion’s den. Unarmed. Unprepared. But desperate.

She saw the shadow fall over his face, she truly saw why even a decorated officer would not like to mess with Min Yoongi without an intricate strategy and heavy backup.

And yet, she had mouthed ‘Run’ to him.

As if she wanted him to get away. To be saved.

Perhaps he did need a second chance— to be saved from the chilling darkness she had seen merging with him.

But she was no saint, and definitely not his saviour.

She was his doom.

It was an opportunity too good, too bright a chance. And she took it.

Yes, she had grown to care for him, even sympathise with him, more than she would like to admit. But she loved her sister. And she did whatever she needed to do to save her only family.

She had religiously avoided watching the news for months. Three months since she had settled into town with her little sister. She did not want to burden herself anymore.

I did what I needed to. We needed to survive.

She told herself again as she prepared warm milk for Chae along with her medicine. It had become kind of a ritual ever since that night.

“Chae, get off the tablet now. Time for bed.” She called out from the kitchen before making her way to their room from the kitchen with the tray with her.

“Just a few more minutes!”

(Y/N) could not help but feel uplifted by the sound of her sister’s chirpy voice, it had withered so pitifully once. But now, as she was recovering, their trips to the hospital had reduced from every three days to twice a month.

“No. Screentime’s over. Give that to me.”

Despite her sister’s whining, she took the gadget from her tiny hands and replaced it with the cup of milk.

“Say ‘Aaa’”

Chae opened her mouth wide as (Y/N) put a circular tablet into it before helping her gulp it down.

She let out a soft sigh after she finished the cup– soft pink in shade with the partially protruding face of a smiling panda.

“Let’s get you to bed. Why don’t you show me how you make your bed before going to sleep?”

“Yes!” Chase jumped up, ready to show (Y/N) her newfound field of expertise.

“Look, you first, take off the pillows, clear off your bed…” She spoke as if there were cameras around, like the lifestyle shows and YouTube videos on ‘How to Do Household Chores Right’.

She had been watching such stuff lately. And while (Y/N) felt that her Chae might be a little too young to learn how to make pancakes, if her sister enjoyed the sense of independence and thrived in it, (Y/N) did not mind.

She watched her little sister work with a fond smile until she was done and was beaming with a smile that (Y/N) held the most precious to herself.

“And look, it's all done!”

(Y/N) clapped in appreciation and played along, before tucking her into bed and switching off the lights, keeping the nightlights that made the ‘Glow-in-the-dark’ wall stickers illuminate better before placing a goodnight kiss on the top of her and leaving the room.

—---

Laying on the bed after a long day felt good. She doubted that anything could even compare to the comfort and sense of safety a familiar, comfortable bed would provide after a long day of toil and trials.

Sighing, she let herself sink into a relaxed state of mind, welcoming the sleep that was rapidly filling her eyes– rapid but soft and—

Buzz! Buzz!

The vibration from her phone jerked her out of the sweet lull with a low gasp. Her senses stood alert as she blinked away the rest of the sleep. In the dark room, her phone’s screen illuminated in a way that there was no other way but to look at it. As if, it had a sense of urgency to it. as if it demanded for her to look into the text.

She knew, of course, that it was all but her imagination– the phone would not buzz a different way for different situations, and neither would it illuminate any brighter to alert her.

With a tired sigh and heavy eyes, she unlocked her phone and opened the message from an unknown number.

Indeed, it was a very important message.

—------

It was a nice place– at least nice in the sense that it served good food and had a warm and cosy atmosphere– something one would expect from a cafe in a fairly isolated town.

Not many people visited the town, neither tourists knew about it. A perfect hiding corner in the country indeed. They had considered sending her out of the country, and they had assured her that once things settled down, they would.

But here was the thing– she depended on one of the officers to inform her if the ‘things had settled down’. (Y/N) had consciously avoided any news or updates regarding Min Yoongi.

She was indeed afraid of coming across something upsetting. She already was miserable with guilt.

Sure, she never loved Min Yoongi, but she had grown to care for him, to understand him and truly see him for what he was– a love-starved, broken soul.

“So…”

She began, eyeing the door and the road outside for any sign of a vehicle with red and blue sirens.

“Is there something to be worried about?”

In her time with Min Yoongi, she had mastered the art of poise, to some extent. However, she never had the chance to master her fear– she never felt the need to. It was an odd sense of safety in his company, she knew that nothing could touch her when she was with him.

But he was an exception.

The man in front of him was an officer in disguise. She remembered him for he had been closely associated with Mission Raven.

“I have not been keeping track of any news regarding—”

“There’s nothing on the news Ms (L/N). Nothing at all. That night, the police station blew off.”

She stilled, slowly processing his words.

“There was no record of his arrest because he was to be shifted to a bigger, more secure station overnight but…”

“So…So everyone there…”

The officer sighed and nodded.

“Min Yoongi was never found. What a coincidence.” He shook his head with a bitter chuckle “When I joined the police force, I thought that I was going to be a hero– help the people in need, bring justice…That night, when my eyes met Min Yoongi’s, I felt my resolve faltering for the second time in my life.”

He shook his head with a sardonic tilt of his lips.

“The first time was while I shot a criminal dead.” He added before taking a sip of the coffee that no longer had steam rising from its surface. “Overall, I am glad that I and two of my teammates had gone out for a cigarette break…So we survived.”

He gulped and eyed his surroundings with a subtle nervousness that made her heart thrum with warnings.

“Though I have been transferred to some other city, I thought that I must warn you. I waited, did not want him to track you down. Miss (L/N), I suggest that you leave with your sister tonight, and leave the country as soon as you can. Min Yoongi’s men killed every person in the building. We hid, but we saw him walk out, saw them walk out…Oh–look, please don’t panic.”

It was when his flow broke did she realised that her cheeks were damp with tears.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” The young officer frowned in concern.

“I…I need to lea-ve.”She cracked up, as her voice crumbled.

With quivering legs and hands, she rose from her chair, uncaring of the loud scraping.

“I can drop you.” He offered.

“No…No, you…you should leave. We are no longer safe. Are we?”

The officer pursed his lips before shaking his head.

Picking up his card from the desk, along with her handbag, she rushed out of the place, gasping for breaths. She thought she might feel better with some fresh air in her lungs. But she had no time to think. She simply rushed to her car and drove away.

(Y/N) felt like she was in a daze.

It felt like a bad dream. An ominous one.

But it was no omen, it was no dream.

It was real.

During her two years with Min Yoongi, she came to understand him to some extent. Nothing slipped past his mind, ever.

A favour or a betrayal, he paid his debts. With interest.

And she had gifted him, on that night, one of the worst betrayals a man could endure. She had seen love in his eyes before that doomed night.

But that night, he had the misfortune to witness the flicker of madness– simmering, still tame, in control. There was an odd gleam in his eyes– one that reminded her why Min Yoongi was so feared after all.

Hastily parking her car, she rushed out of the vehicle and into her house. The setting sun cast an amber glow into the sky that was gradually descending into deep blue and lavender. It might rain heavily– not ideal for travelling, but she had no other option.

They had no other—

As soon as she entered the apartment, her thoughts turned silent.

Everything felt tense.

For once, her heart skipped a beat. But she was reassured by reminding herself that Chae would be usually taking a nap by this time.

For once, she thought that she finally had the peace she had always craved. But now as she moved towards Chae’s room to wake her up, she realised how wrong she had been.

With a plan still under construction in her spiralling mind, she opened the door to Chae’s room. The blinds were pulled down, plunging the room into an unusual darkness.

“Chae?” She called out tentatively before switching on the night light.

She noticed her sister’s face first, eyes closed and limbs hanging– and then the body–no, the man who had her in his arms.

Her mind, her thoughts, and her senses plunged into a heavy silence. A silence so profound that (Y/N) could hear a low but unending beep in her ears.

She could see the outline of a back, along with the hair just teasing his shoulders. She would recognise the profile anywhere, at any time. But when the man finally turned, she could not help but take a step back, gluing herself to the wall, under the shadows as her breathing hitched.

There was nothing significantly different, at least whatever view the limited light provided her with showed that. But somehow, his form seemed to swallow every corner of the room. The scar that ran through his eyes till his upper cheek was almost faded out by the shades of blue the nightlight provided.

But she could see his smirk– a crooked, twisted smirk that made her whimper. A sudden gleam had her eyes dropping to his hand that held her sister with a silver gun flat on her back, his forefinger already on the trigger.

“You never told me about your sister…(Y/N).” He drawled, and she thought his truest, rawest nature stood before her.

A predator that loved to chase but also took its time.

“No…No!” Her voice came out as strangled as her brittle knees gave out

“Shhh, you’ll wake her up. I read out a story to her before tucking her in.”

His voice was calm, hushed and steady– a sinister melody attached to it, following his movements as he looked above her. She had not even noticed the two men standing behind her. It was only after they walked past her and took her sleeping sister in their arms that the wheels began to turn in her head.

“W-where are you taking her? No!” With skidding legs and blurred vision, she rushed to them, trying to pry her sister away from them, only to be pulled back by the man whose presence overpowered everyone and everything in the house.

“Yoongi, please! She’s innocent, punish me but—”

Her words were caught in her throat when his gaze held hers. She was looking into the eyes of a creature of the night. The blue light only enhanced the sinister shade his face carried. He was perhaps paler, broader yet his face seemed sharper. No trace of softness.

“You know how many times I dreamt of that night over and over again?” He pushed her closer, so close that she could feel his quivering breath– as if he was barely restraining himself.

“My sister needed—”

“They were simply fishing for the right victim and you just took the bait. What do you think, they would come to ‘save’ you? They don’t fucking care!” He spat.

Under the nightlight, he looked rogue, savage, unfearing.

“You are a criminal Yoongi.” She had no idea where she had found the strength to speak those words, but she did.

He smiled coldly “Of course I am, Love. The one they fear and now won’t dare challenge. You see, there is nothing between us now.”

Her wall of protection had disappeared. (Y/N) knew that she could never depend on them for long, but everything toppling overnight? She had not seen this coming.

“You betrayed me, but also saved me.” He concluded and she felt his hold tightening on her arms like a python.

“No, Yoongi…I didn’t save you. I am not your saviour Yoongi.”

“Oh, Love…I cannot be saved anyway, I don’t want to be…All that is left for you is to accept me as I am. No ifs and buts.”

But how? She never wanted this…She never loved him!

“Y-Yoongi…I don’t–I don’t love you…”,

The silence made her stomach flip. But her proximity to him made her fear for her life.

“They really had filled your mind with filth…” He drawled before she felt the iron grip of his fingers on her jaws. It was not instantly painful, but with each passing moment, the ache rose.

“Look at me, look into my eyes and tell me.”

The simmering ambre flared into an all-engulfing fire in his eyes. Some strands of his hair fell forward, exposing the deranged lover that hid behind the poised man.

She peered into the rage and chaos simmering in his feline eyes- dark but raging with emotions, yet hollowed with loneliness.

“I cared Yoongi, I always did. That is why I wanted you to survive. I wanted you to run, despite knowing who you were, I wanted you to run. But I could never love you.”

It was an odd amalgamation– she feared him, yet pitied him. He, to her, resembled a lost predator. Surviving, hunting, doing what he was born to do…but lost, alone.

“Please Yoongi…Let Chae go…She’s a child. Let us go.” She begged again, her hopes flaring when his hold on her loosened, hands falling to his side as he took a step back.

He only chuckled and looked away.

“I guess our past actions do have consequences…”

In the silence, his lowly voice sounded ominous

“And I must reap them…” He paused before turning back to her “But so would you.”.

She watched the simmering ambre erupting into an all-consuming volcano before he tapped on the earpiece attached to his left ear.

“Is the child with you? Okay, take out your gun and shoot her when I command.”

“NO! NO! Yoongi, please! No”

She was already on her knees, she did not care as long as her only family was safe. His cold eyes peered down at her with a chilling poise before he bent down a bit and cupped her cheek, breaking the neverending stream of tears.

“Wipe off the tears and come with me. If anyone suspects something, you sweet little sister will pay.”

(Y/N) sat frozen, not even registering the thrumming on her knees.

Maybe she was wrong–

Min Yoongi was a monster after all.

And monsters were unforgiving creatures.

—------

Min Yoongi knew that he was not a saint.

He was not a kind man.

But he was also not evil. Not to the people he loved, truly loved and cared for. And definitely not to the love of his life.

He had no shame in admitting– he was a monster- the worst of them all. A walking, talking, repulsive nightmare.

But he loved her. He had forgiven her the very night he was ‘arrested’.

How could he not, when she looked at him with more kindness than he had ever known in this world?

But when she outrightly refused to have ever loved him, the illusion began to crack.

“They were right about you…I never believed them until now but now I do. You truly are an evil monster.”

She had whispered those words to him as soon as they were in his estate. Even with tears in them, her eyes were cold and raging.

“I could never love a monster like you!” She finally spat out when he refused to let her see her sister.

And he snapped. Something deep, dark, territorial and unhinged gnawed its way out.

But he only smirked. Even though he could feel the dull ache behind his eyes, a strange pit in his stomach, he smirked and let it grow into a chuckle.

He must have had his true face out as she took a step back with fear blooming in her teary eyes– he was a deranged, diabolic bastard. With each step he took to close the distance between them, she took several away, until the back of her knees bumped with the bed.

Pulling her flush against himself, he leaned near her ear.

“The officers who aided you are already six feet under the ground– half burnt, half crushed, but dead anyway. All you can do is believe in every word they told you about me…I am indeed a monster, honey. He worst one you will ever know. And you will have to live with this monster. No government, no decorated officer would dare to save you.”

He felt her stiffen and shiver like frightened prey. Indeed, she had fallen prey to his love. He made peace with their reality. She would too.

Humans were adaptive creatures after all.

—--------

The hanging lights on the ceiling were pretty– the crystals shining under the moonlight, but they seemed to swing slightly.

It was only an illusion, of course. It was she, who moved, and the bed while the man above her remained still, revelling at the sight of her rocking hips, spread legs and parted mouth with the dazed bliss in her eyes.

She could only watch the chandelier instead of looking into his eyes with the victorious gleam in them and the sadistic twinkle on watching her fall apart.

“Look into my eyes, Jagi.”

And she did before hot white pleasure surged through her.

“There there, aren’t you the most beautiful of all brides out there?”

“Why can’t I meet my own sister?” (Y/N) was only a thread away from screaming her lungs out all the awful things she could think of at the moment.

Yoongi simply sat, nursing his scotch on rocks, idly watching the part of the vast garden visible from his home office. The place that only a few had access to, the place she had barged in, his guards chasing after her, pleading for her to stop lest they would bear Mr Min’s wrath.

But she could not have it in herself to care. She had not seen or even heard of her Chae for two days in the gigantic estate.

When Yoongi finally looked at her, his stoic stare made something unpleasant steer within her. His eyes assessed her with a flick before it turned steely.

“Why are you in your bed clothes?” It was akin to a sneer. Or maybe it was.

The fact was, she did not give a fuck.

“What have you done to my sis–”

“Have you walked all the way here in this?”

She was wearing a thin camisole under a nightgown reaching beyond her knee. It was of satin material that was tightly knotted but had a plunging neckline she had never cared about.

She did not understand why this bothered him so much. She knew that he was twisted but this was madness.

“I want to see Chae! I have not even heard of her since I–you brought us here.”

Only she knew the anxiety clawing her from within

“She needs to take her medicines regularly Yoongi. She’s just eight, she is a child, an innocent child who needs me.”

Even when she would ask the guards, servants, or maids, they would not respond to her question– that was the only question they refrained from speaking about her sister, or even taking her name.

If Yoongi had the intention to break her down in a slow, painful way, he was on the right track.

He rose from the chair and walked to her “I assure you that she is safe and sound– she will take all her medicines on time, they will take good care of her.”

“Th-they?”

She did not even notice his other hand reaching for her until he wiped the single tear that had slipped from her eyes.

“The school staff. I have sent Chae to Rosenberg.”

“Indeed, you are.”

She felt his fingers slipping away before hearing the embarrassing squelching. Her eyes had closed without her notice, ready to fall into a blissful slumber. It was the second time he had pushed her over the edge of white pleasure.

But she was wrong to think that he was anywhere near done.

Feeling the tight knot snap, she withered under him, eyes still closed, mind still hazy.

Before the swing of the pleasurable high could slow down, she vaguely felt him putting her boneless legs over his shoulder before the ticking sensation between her thighs alerted her.

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped open, just in time when she felt something wet glide over her opening. The protest bubbling up to her tongue fizzled out like a burning matchstick against a storm and the only thing left for her was to moan instead– no matter how much she wished to resist it, she could not help the signs of pleasure tearing out of her mouth.

At first, she felt the odd but pleasurable sensation, almost flinching and jumping away. But under him, with his hands tight on her thighs, almost spilling the flesh between his fingers, it was difficult to even move. All she could do was to let her hands grip his hair. He did not seem to mind much.

His tongue focused on flicking her clit for a while, making her jolt each time with quivering gasps and moistening womanhood. This man surely knew how to overwhelm her own emotions.

“Ro-Rosember?”

“Rosenberg– Institut auf dem Rosenberg. It tops the list for a refined and elite schools, your sister will flourish there.”

He held an air of nonchalance around him as he refilled his glass. Yet Yoongi’s eyes never left her form.

(Y/N) licked her lips. Was it possible to get randomly admitted to any prestigious school so soon in the country?

“So, she will be going to a new school? I can meet her then, right?”

“I think you don’t understand Jagi. It is an elite boarding school, the best of the best. It’s in Switzerland. I sent her there yesterday.”

“You…You sent my Chae to…Switzerland?”

She had to repeat the words herself in order to fully grasp the situation. Yoongi sent her baby sister, who needed constant supervision and regular check-ups to another country-- to a boarding school she had never heard of.

“I have sent them the details and the list of precautions and medications. Besides that, I have connections, Jagi, she will be safe there.”

By the time he finished speaking, her legs turned lifeless and she found the floor. The warmth of the carpet could not subdue the sudden waves of chills and goosebumps enveloping her form.

“You sent her away from me…”

“I gave her a good life. Imagine if it were someone else in my place, Jagi…He would have gifted you your sister’s head first before taking yours.”

He bent down in smooth, silent motion before whispering to her with his arms holding her in faux reassurance.

Her eyes rolled back before the rawness of her throat was registered only after the rocking of her hips had slowed down. Her ears still echoed the short but sharp scream that had forced its way out of her throat like he had been forcing the pleasure out of her.

Her vision was blurry with the mix of tears and haze, but she could see him smirking– smug but somewhat unhinged.

Maybe he was indeed unhinged and cruel. He had punished her– not for her apparent betrayal. But for not loving him the way he had believed she would.

Min Yoongi had closed all doors for her, leaving her with no option but to hold on to the diamond wedding ring that now had its fangs buried on her ring finger– just as Min Yoongi had his claws buried in her life.

“Look at you~”

She heard him coo as her head fell back on the pillow, her movement growing slow and her eyes heavy.

“What has the child done to you? She needs me!” (Y/N) cried out in anguish.

Yet it did nothing to deter his cold gaze or falter the ghost of a smirk he sported with pride.

“Nothing Love, the child has done nothing. I am not her foe. I am giving her the life millions would die for– the best of the best. I would see to it all. But when would you see her again is in your hands Jagi.”

She frowned and blinked through her tears. Up close, his scar did manage to make him appear more sinister than anyone she had ever met before.

“What are you saying?”

“I love you Jagi, there is no limit, no boundary that I would not cross for you. You can meet her after we are married and you give birth to our first child. So it depends on you how soon you can do that.”

He sealed her fate with the offer. But she wondered, how could a confession of love make one’s heart quiver with fear?

“I love you, Jagi, you have no idea how much I do.”

She could smell the sweat and musk as he leaned down to kiss her forehead before guiding his manhood to enter her. Slow, but sure, a contrast of stiffness and tenderness that both frightened and baffled her.

“Oh—” (Y/N)’s voice quivered as she held onto Yoongi’s shoulders in order to keep herself grounded. It was devastating; it was delicious, it was almost divine.

But she knew that this was no more than a nefarious act of him sinking his sharp teeth into her– held down under his thumb forever. He had the advantage, the power and the last word. He was the lion, she was a helpless, powerless prey his claws dug into.

Min Yoongi was a man of his word.

He had told her once that he would marry her and live in his newly bought estate; they were indeed married, fucking on the bed that was flown all the way from a different country.

—---

The headlines flashed on the screen while wheels turned in her head. She sat stiffly without any movements as she watched the news.

“What are you watching?”

As if he were conjured, he walked into their room, some sandwiches on a plate, wearing the most innocuous-looking clothes. He had taken two months off from ‘work’, wishing to spend some quality time with his wife.

One week into the marriage, she was already wearing down. Both emotionally and physically. She doubted if there was any room in the mansion left where he had not taken her, or was there any corner of her mind where he had not wiggled his way into.

“Your company is taking responsibility for constructing new police quaters and renovating the old ones?”

“Yes, why are you so surprised?”

“There are others, older candidates. Why would they give the project to you?”

Yoongi smiled and sat down beside her.

“You are so smart, Jagi. It would be a sin to hide anything from my wife, would that not? Let's just say me and the Internal Affairs Ministry are friends now.”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek before handing her the sandwich he had put his time making.

“So, no one disrupts me now. For a long time.”

“You did this to make sure that no one comes searching for me, right?”

He grinned.

“I love you (Y/N). There is no limit that I would not cross for you. Eat up, I have a really good movie for us. You will love it. After that, we can have lunch, all your favourites.

He went on, while she spiralled further. Any hope of getting out of there was crushed then and there.

He had not taken his time to track her down. He had taken his time to plan. And execute the plan thoroughly. Tracking her down was child’s play for him.

Min Yoongi was indeed a monster—a clever, stubborn and dangerous monster.

And she was in his realm, and she was there to stay. He would make sure of that.

***

The rest of the parts will be published shortly. I am facing problems in saving the draft.

A very Happy New Year to all of you!

Banner by @cafekitsune

#yandere bts #bts yandere #the taste of deceit #yandere jin #yandere yoongi #yandere mafia bts #the taste of deceit hyungline #yandere hyngline #yandere suga #yandere yoongi x reader #yandere jin x reader #yandere yoongi smut #yandere jin smut #yandere bts x reader

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scribble-dribble-writes · 1 year ago

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Plastic hearts - (9)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

But what would you do if I went to touch you now?What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

🤭👀🦋

---

You appointed your sous chef to run the restaurant while you wanted to work the first few months to get the school lunch system in order. The kitchen facility was much less advanced to what you had access to before and the menu needed a revamp. None of the kids were getting any nutritious meals in and upon further research it was easier to understand why not many students were willing to have their meals here. For the price they were paying, they did not receive food they liked.

The benefit of being from an established restaurant meant you got your own office within the school and it felt empowering. To have your own corner. It felt like as the days passed, your sleeplessness was getting worse and all you could think of was how hard it was to try and be anything else other than what this world expected women to be. You wanted to quit your job or resort to being comfortable with just being in the background.

It was like a new wave of bitterness and futility that had taken every woman by a storm. A few of them were like zombies, not lively as they had once been before. The hallway chatter had died down, a lot of companies began to struggle, all over the world it was becoming more apparent. That if women were taken out of the system, it began to fail on itself.

But through this you were facing another unique challenge on your own. You had asked for time with Ken, to contemplate on that friendship and process his return. You had at minimum expected him to have popped up into your life again to remind you he needed an answer, or buy his way in with treats and flamboyant gestures to convince you he was trying but none of that happened over the past week. He was firstly busy with his schedule but then he never went out of his way to find you. But even if he had done so you would know because you were avoiding him, only out of the need to observe him from afar.

Once the meals for the day and week were sorted all that you needed to do was oversee the execution and make sure the pantry was stocked with the required ingredients while managing the budget. Which gave you a little extra time to snoop around.

You opened up your phone to start the first step, to check if he had any social media presence and your search came up with nothing. He wasn’t anywhere online. He would turn up to school 10 mins early just to be there to welcome the kids who needed to come to library to study and some days would surprise them with a box of donuts.

When you walked down the corridors you would always here the sound of children laughing and him making jokes. The more you observed him to try to find a characteristic that could label him or show you that deep down he was just as bad as any other guy, you couldn’t. There was no flaw.

Come lunch time, he would sit alone to have his meal, his eyes occasionally catching yours when you stood behind the counter and before he could initiate a conversation you would leave, to hide inside the service area.

It was just that when you’ve wanted to be right so badly, admitting defeat to being proven wrong made you feel a lot more humiliated.

You were walking back to your office post the lunch rush when you could hear him down the hallway. His voice animated as he narrated a story and it drew you towards the library door. From the glass window in it, you could seen him, wearing a paper crown while all the other children were gathered around him wearing some form of character related clothing, all taking part in the story telling.

The smile on these toddler’s faces caused you to smile too. But there was one issue that you couldn’t resolve. How was it that he had brought forth a change in himself while you were struggling for it? even after having visited the real world before you did.

“God, he’s so good with kids. It’s unbelievable.”, someone slid up next to you. Turning to see who it was, you found yourself standing next to the school principal.

“He just turned up at my doorstep one day. I was skeptical cause he had no work experience but look at that face.”, she smirked.

You weren’t interested in listening to her take, it astonished you that most failed to value him for his character and only chose to exploit him for his physical beauty.

“Who can stay no to all of that?”, she gossiped but your eyes could only focus on him.

His sandy blonde hair turning golden as it caught the afternoon light, the pastel pink shirt he wore reminded you of where you had come from. It made you feel special, that wherever you were, you and him had that special connection to exist in a world of your own.

“He’s more than that.”, you said confidently to which she hummed half heartedly.

“But just between us girls though. I believe he already has a girlfriend. I tried to kiss him once and he let it slip.”, she shrugged her shoulders as if her comment was well intentioned but it was rather a way of letting you know that you didn’t have any more chance than she did.

“But hey, until I see a ring on that girl’s finger nothing is set in stone.”, she laughed as she patted your arm but you couldn’t find the humor in her statement.

Every day you learnt something new about this city and this place. But to take a step back from your own problems, you only found more. To understand that just as vulnerable as you were, he was too.

As you looked into the class again, his eyes were on you as he settled the kids into their nap time. He stood up, beginning to walk towards you. The hair on your arms stood up with the shameful feeling of having been caught. You weren’t brave enough to stay, to face him. So you bolted the other direction annoyed with yourself that you were behaving like a teenager.

The day was almost over and you were at ease knowing that since today was friday evening, if you snuck out without him knowing, then you had the whole weekend to yourself without this constant gnawing crush feasting on your mind. You couldn’t put yourself through it again, to have him infiltrate your mind. You knew how it went last time, so why try again. You just wanted to snuff before it consumed you whole.

You put away your folders and stepped out after making sure there was no one around. You locked your door and quickly began to walk towards the school entrance, throwing glances over your shoulder keeping a vigilant watch for Ken.

But suddenly you felt a warm hold around your wrist and then a firm tug, which altered your course of direction from the school's entrance to the Janitor’s closet. You were going to scream, absolutely convinced this was an abduction when a hand wrapped around your mouth. Your back rested on his chest as he shushed you, just by the softness of his touch you could tell it was the one man you were trying to hide from.

He watched the crack beneath to door, only to watch a passing shadow and the sound of clicking heels against the floor tiles. But all you could focus on was how his muscles were taut beneath his shirt, his warm breath slipping down the back of your neck and the rhythm of his rapid heart that beat in sync with yours. It was sureal, hearing his heart beat for the first time, it reminded you that he was real.

As the sound faded, he relaxed and let go of you. But you were grateful for the dark, he couldn’t see how deep your cheeks were flushed.

“What were you thinking?”, you whispered quickly.

“I wanted to talk to you.”, he responded.

“You don’t kidnap people for that.”, you gestured around you.

“No, I’ve made sure you don’t take off running again.”, he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Yeah, I see you and your little schemes.”, he continued knowing you remained silent.

“Schemes? What schemes?”, you mumbled as he drew closer, there was no where else to run now, because he had his arms on either side and a mischievous rumble in his voice.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Briella.”, he tilted his head so he could maintain eye contact.

Your palms were sweating, your heart was beating faster than it should, your knees felt weak and some part of you wanted to pull him in closer.

You wanted to deny it so as you thought of an excuse, you opened your mouth to say it but he placed his hand over your lips again. Hearing the sound of the Principal’s heels coming closer again. This felt like a secret mission, that for the first time since setting foot here, you felt the rush of adrenaline. The space was getting a little stuffy as you breathed in sync with him. His eyes finding yours again as you both waited, afraid she was going to open the door and discover you two here, huddled together in a rather compromising exchange.

But the fear turned into a thrill as he grinned and you knew, that there was no use fighting this. He was going to take residence in your mind once again.

---

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#barbie movie 2023 #barbie movie #barbie #ken barbie #ken carson #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling #ken x y/n #ken x you #ken x reader #ken fluff #ken fic

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starmapz · 7 months ago

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shame on me || chapter five || departure

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 8.6k.

edited but not beta-read.

a/n || just want to give fair warning for this chapter that the warnings above apply quite heavily.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“Good morning, darling.”

Gentle words whispered softly against your skin had become your mantra. A reminder of not only what you had longed for for so long, but also that you no longer felt the need to face the world alone.

Of course, you weren’t exactly alone, but it often felt that way.

“Morning, Ken,” your voice is hoarse as you wake to strong arms enveloping you, kisses being peppered down your jaw and along your neck. You hum contentedly, tilting your head to allow Nanami access before his lips part from your collar bone. His deep mahogany gaze lifts to take in your smile, a sight mirrored on his own features. Propping himself up on his elbow, he leans down to kiss you, his lips softly moving against yours.

Waking up with your boyfriend was a treasure you never truly knew you were missing out on. The way he would wrap you up tightly in his embrace, his length pressing into your ass as he passionately nipped and licked the sensitive skin at the nape where your neck met your collar bone was a feeling you could never grow sick of.

Before you can indulge in such a feeling, Kento interrupts the sounds of shuffling and gentle moans that fill the room.

“Are you teaching today?” His voice is low and groggy, a timbre you’d grown accustomed to hearing over the past few weeks as Kento’s visits had become more and more frequent now that you were dating. Your calls and texts had grown so constant that it made more sense for him to come home to you every night. You had never imagined the cabin you had so begrudgingly agreed to live in could possibly become your home, but now it held such fond memories you couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“Mhm,” you hum in response to your boyfriend, who kisses your nose.

“Shame,” he says, “I was hoping to have you to myself.” His hands find your waist, brushing the bare skin of your stomach. You jump at the feeling of his thumbs tickling the sensitive skin, giggling at the sudden feeling of being awake. Kento’s chest rumbles as he appreciates your reaction, leaving a gentle kiss along the top of your spine.

“I wish,” you groan, turning your head to check the time. Slowly, you push yourself out of bed to get ready for the day. Kento isn’t far behind as he makes his way down the stairs to make coffee. It had become somewhat of a tradition to share coffee together before going separate ways and you treasured that moment each morning, ensuring you always had enough time to bask in one another’s company.

When you emerge from the bedroom dressed in a floral tank top and black skirt, Nanami’s gaze travels the length of your figure. A blush finds your cheeks as you smile sheepishly at him. He’s wearing a white button-up shirt, though it isn’t fully buttoned up or tucked in as it usually is, and a pair of gray sweatpants. You can’t help but adore the more disheveled look on him, something about it so painfully screamed “boyfriend” and it screamed of the adoration you two shared.

“You look beautiful,” he hums, clearing his throat of the obvious lust in his voice.

Grinning, you giggle as you take the coffee cup he’d prepared for you from his hands. “You look as handsome as ever.” Your cheeriness earns a warm smile from him. Taking your usual spot leaning against the counter beside him, you cozy up to the warmth of his side. Even in the warm summer heat, it was hard to tear either of you from the other.

Domestic moments like these, your heart soared at just how grateful you truly were. Never could you possibly have imagined a world where you would get to enjoy such slow and soft mornings filled with adoration.

A knock at your door earns a sigh from you and a knowing chuckle from Nanami, who sets his coffee down on the kitchen counter and runs a hand through his disheveled hair, answering the door.

As you finish up your coffee and throw on a petite red leather jacket, you can hear Nanami and Gojo sharing mild pleasantries, though Gojo’s version of pleasantries seemed to be aimed towards annoying your partner. Sliding up behind Nanami, you pull his attention back towards you and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” you tell him. He nods, wrapping a muscular arm around you to pull you in for one more chaste kiss before letting you go. You both choose to ignore Gojo’s noises of complaints as you kiss. When you part, you spot a frown pulling at Gojo’s lips, but had you blinked you would have missed it. He turns his attention back to you, hands in his pockets, as he turns to lead the way towards the clearing.

Bounding down the stairs after the sorcerer, you follow his pace as the sun warms your skin from between clouds. It’s the first overcast day in a while and although the sun peeks through the clouds on occasion, it’s a nice break from the blaring summer heat.

“I’m having one of the second-years join today,” Gojo comments, smirking your way.

“Okkotsu?” You recall your conversation with Yaga from over a month ago. Rolling his shoulders back, Gojo nods.

“He’s strong, I think it’d be valuable for him to learn a thing or two from you.”

Your steps almost falter as you tilt your head to look up at him. His head is tilted upwards with a smile, seemingly enjoying the break from the heat as he paid you no mind. In his own way, that was a compliment. Though you had grown more accustomed to Gojo, it didn’t mean either of you got along any better.

You had taken Yuji and Megumi out for lunch a couple of weeks back to discuss what Sukuna could want, insisting that they would be fine together while you were there though the conversation had ended up skewing more towards why Gojo acted the way he did towards you.

You weren’t sure of Megumi's relation to Gojo, though to your surprise he seemed to know him quite well and had chalked it up to him feeling some sort of disdain towards you. You had suggested that maybe he felt threatened but both Yuji and Megumi had insisted such a thing was impossible.

After all, Gojo was the strongest. Sure, you’d heard it from Gojo on more than one occasion and Miriko had her reservations on him as the user of the Six Eyes and Limitless techniques so you knew he was strong, but to hear both kids insist that he was the strongest and couldn’t possibly be threatened was strange, albeit a bit insulting with you sitting right in front of them.

Approaching the clearing, you shake your head of the memory. You notice Yuji sitting alongside a boy with jet black hair and sunken eyes, the poor boy looked rather tired. He was smiling and laughing while talking to Yuji, waving to Gojo as you approached. Gojo takes a seat beside Yuji and opposite you while Okkotsu stands to bow politely, although you insist it isn’t necessary as he introduces himself.

The lesson goes smoothly as it always does, both students are quick learners and eager to take in any information they can. You’re surprised to find that Yuta is another special grade sorcerer like you, one of very few.

“I need to get stronger,” Yuji hums, staring at a clenched fist. You’re pretty sure he’s talking to himself as the group was all getting ready to grab lunch, but you blink at him in surprise. He was always determined, but the way his brow was furrowed made you wonder where this was coming from. He seemed nervous.

“You are,” you insist to him quietly, watching his eyes rise to meet yours. Yuta and Gojo, noticing the conversation, both pause to listen.

“I know,” he sighs, shaking his head. “But I need to make sure that whatever Sukuna’s got planned, I’m strong enough to stop it. I need to get as strong as you and Gojo. You too, Yuta.”

You tilt your head sympathetically, a bittersweet smile pulling at the corners of your lips. Leaning forward over the table, your voice is quiet as you speak. Gentle, even. “I know you want to protect your friends but that’s a tall order,” you tell him, running a hand through your hair as the breeze blows a few strands into your vision. “Not because I don’t think you can do it,” you insist with a confident smile, “but because I don’t think you should aim for that.”

“Why not?”

You pause, quietly examining the grain of the wood beneath your hands. “It’s lonely,” you say quietly as an admittance of the error of your own ways, if you could even call it such a thing. “Being at the top with no one able to touch you.”

You glance between Yuta and Yuji, who are deep in thought, before locking eyes with Gojo. His lips part and though you can’t read his expression from behind the black fabric that covers most of his face, his contemplation is evident. You’re not sure what it is about your words that has him staring at you in such a way, but before you can question him, your thoughts are interrupted.

BAM.

You jump, twisting to stare behind you. You don’t see anything from where you’re sitting, but when the sound is followed by an ear-splitting crack, all four of you are on your feet in an instant. Birds fly out from the nearby trees in a panic at the sudden noises, their squawking filling the air around you.

Gojo teleports away as Yuta zips after him through the trees to see what was causing the disturbance. Yuji stays nearby to protect you but your mind is elsewhere as you take off through the trees without a second thought.

Kento.

Making your way through the forest, you take in the scene before you. There’s a fire raging in the trees near the front entrance and several grade two curses were attacking anything that dared to move.

“How is this possible?” You exchange an incredulous glance with Yuji, knowing there was a barrier protecting the school. Yuji doesn’t seem to have an answer either, though you had heard this wasn’t the first event of this happening.

“y/n, Yuji!” Kento’s voice is relieved as he sets a strong hand on either of your arms, his gaze taking in your appearance as he searches for injuries. He then repeats the process with Yuji, before turning to face the chaos before you, satisfied to find neither of you are injured.

Now that you know Kento is safe, you turn your attention to the curses moving wildly over the training grounds. They’re-

“They’re the same.” Yuji’s voice is equally as confused as you felt.

Each curse was a familiar green, decorated in the same strange red markings as the curses you had been ambushed by so long ago. Though, this time there seemed to be hundreds of them. It was a strange attack to launch, given that nothing seemed to be above grade one, and even then there were far too few of them for it to make sense.

Regardless, Nanami instructs you to stick by Yuji and keep one another safe as he makes easy work of the small and mid-size curses. You know you have no reason to be concerned for him, but regardless it’s hard not to worry, your eyes following his every movement.

He’s swift and elegant as he takes out smaller curses with one strike of his blunt blade, slicing off the appendages of any curse large enough to survive an attack before maiming them mercilessly. The way he dances across the landscape in a display of almost elegance makes your heart flip, but now isn’t the time for that.

“Something isn’t right,” Miriko’s voice sounds and both you and Yuji stare down at the toothed mouth on your hand. “If this same curse has returned, then the one we killed was not the main body.”

You nod in agreement. Was there a special grade curse lurking somewhere?

Nanami glances in your direction, panting heavily. A good portion of the training grounds were clear of curses and you could see a couple of the second years taking a moment’s break behind your boyfriend as well.

You motion for Yuji to follow you to where Nanami was standing at the treeline, bringing a hand up to check for any injuries, though the blonde seemed unharmed. Yuji dashes off to his friends, checking on them as you tell Nanami what Miriko had said.

Nodding in agreement, he grimaces. “There are too many spirits to pinpoint the location of the main body,” he hums. “It’s some sort of distraction.” But of course, without knowing who they were after, you couldn’t be sure where they would-

A strangled gasp leaves your lips. You stare down at the sharp appendage that shoots straight through your chest, blood spurting from your lips as your hands shake. Shock was keeping you from keeling over in pain, though it was also keeping you from making a movement. Your confused expression reaches Nanami, whose jaw is clenched as he lifts a hand in an attempt to- oh god. His chest had been pierced through by the same appendage, but there was a stark contrast between you and your boyfriend that was a grave reminder of the dire situation you were now in.

Nanami can’t use the reverse cursed technique.

A strangled cry of his name leaves your lips as you’re both yanked back painfully and enveloped in liquid. It stings and burns as it eats at your skin, your throat, your eyes, blinding you. Flailing around helplessly, you retreat to allow Miriko to take over. She’s calm as she works to heal you while what she can only assume is a strong curse’s stomach acid eats away at your form. Taking a moment to evaluate the situation, she finally grabs a hold of whatever appendage is pierced through you, sending death and decay through it without mercy. A shrieking noise meets the action as Miriko’s hands crack with the same decay.

The curse dissolves, dropping Miriko on the grass with a soft thud. She coughs the liquid up, working to heal your hands and eyes as the grass and earth below you crack and crumble. Her glowing gaze blinks once, twice, as she adjusts to the light, staring down at the hole in your chest as she focuses on healing it before turning her attention to Yuji.

“y/n- Miriko?”

“I’m okay,” she sputters, rolling her shoulders as she pushes herself up and brushes grass from her palms.

“Where’s-?” Yuji’s voice comes as a reminder of what had just happened as you physically rip control of your body back from Miriko, leaving you momentarily dazed. The moment the fog over your brain lifts, you frantically whip your head around.

“Kento? Kento?” Your heart is pounding as you search desperately for him. Whatever ate you was big, surely he was just in the treeline. He had to be.

“y/n,” Yuji’s voice breaks through to you. It’s broken, angry. It’s not the tone you want to hear. Not when you knew the bond he shared with Nanamin.

On the ground sits Nanami’s blunt blade. It looks rusted and the material usually wrapped around it is nearly fully dissolved. There’s no sign of your beloved sorcerer, but there doesn’t need to be to understand the scene laid out before you.

“No.” You can barely muster the word as you jog over to Yuji, who's doing everything in his power to keep his tears in. You, however, aren’t that strong. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes before falling freely down your cheeks. Your knees buckle beneath you, burning slightly from the acid that slowly dissipates on the grass. “No,” you choke out again.

Reaching out a shaky hand, you grip the handle of the blade as a sob wracks your body. Yuji’s hand is on your back, but his touch feels distant, everything feels distant. It’s as though you exist in a universe separate from your own, where this is all some sort of sick nightmare. But that’s never the case, is it? The world couldn’t let you have peace, not when you housed the symbol of death itself.

“Miriko,” you beg desperately, although you already know the answer to your pending question. “Please, bring him back.” Your voice is broken, your words hanging in the air unanswered. She has no reason to respond since you know she’s unable, but still you plead with her again. “Please,” you cry out, your knuckles white as you cling to the blade.

She answers from the back of your hand. “I cannot, y/n. There is nothing to bring back.”

He’s gone.

“His soul,” you sputter out. “Can- Can you- find it?” Your desperation claws at your throat, threatening to drown you in your pain. Miriko falls silent, her face disappearing. She knows there’s no arguing with you about being left defenseless, knowing that if she doesn’t comply you’ll use her abilities whether she likes it or not. Regardless, Yuji was still with you. You were safe.

After a moment of waiting, you feel a familiar pull. Low moans fill the air as your body sways with the movement of the ship below you.

You blink away your disorientation as the blade you were holding is no longer in your hands. You lift your head shakily, locking eyes with the serpentine curse that stares back at you. Your lips part as your eyes land on him.

He blinks once, twice, three times. Brown eyes take in the dragon, the slowly rocking ship, the echoes of spirits heaving the ship from side to side. Then, slowly, they land on you.

He’s wearing your favorite outfit on him, a gray jumper over beige slacks, green glasses you don’t recognize over his eyes. Both of them. Burn scars no longer cover his side, and he no longer has a need for the eyepatch he normally wore. His hair is combed back neatly and in spite of the situation, he seems calm.

He glances at Miriko as though he needs permission to approach you. When she nods, he takes a couple of steps towards you, kneeling before your hunched over figure. He reaches out softly, his hand ghosting over your cheek but the warmth of the touch never reaches you. Your lip trembles at the realization that never again would you feel his love against your skin, so warm and so real.

He bites down hard on his lip. You know that expression. He’s trying hard to be the strong one. Even in death, he was doing everything he could for you. You gasp for air as a sob wracks your body when you reach out and can’t feel him, shutting your eyes to try to stop the tears that stream endlessly down your cheeks.

When you open them again, your boyfriend’s soul is wrapped tightly around you. Physically you can’t hold him, but you can feel the moment burning itself into your soul like a photo. You tremble in his embrace, bringing a hand up to wipe your tears and take in the sight of two mahogany eyes observing you with all the care and adoration in the world.

You can see it in his eyes, the desperation and desolation that eat away at him in his final moments. Emotions he’s trying so hard to hide to stop you from crumbling in his arms. So many dates left undone, actions unfinished and things left unsaid.

Yuji’s words ring in your head. No sorcerer dies without regrets. Words imparted to him by Yaga.

Kento’s eyes hold his regrets, as well as his heart, as you stare up at your own reflection within the deep pools of sienna. A gaze that normally imparted comfort and happiness, now replaced with the claws of heartbreak that were beginning to tear through your walls.

Miriko shifts suddenly, her tail swaying in Nanami’s direction. You recognize this as a sign that she’s unable to keep his soul in place for much longer, your eyes wide with terror.

“Please no,” you beg, your voice strained. Kento’s lip trembles, his chest rising and falling as he takes a breath.

Though he can’t speak, you see his lips form the words be strong, but it has the opposite effect on you as your arms reach for a warmth that isn’t there. He stands tall above you, facing the terrifying reality of parting from his body, parting from the world, yet not once does he allow the facade of a tough exterior to break. You know he’s only doing it in hopes you’ll be able to hold yourself together, but the ease he hopes to leave with you never comes.

“It is time,” Miriko warns.

Your sobs choke you as you fall forward, your fingers splayed on the wood before you. Every breath is a struggle, as though your chest is being crushed by the loss. You drag your fingers over the chipped wood lining the ship, but the physical pain you’re hoping to focus on to ease your agony never comes. You can’t be hurt in Miriko’s domain.

You gasp as you manage to catch your breath for a moment, wide teary eyes locking on Kento one last time. The ship halts under a familiar light, one you’ve seen only once before. Your boyfriend turns to face you before allowing Miriko to usher him to the afterlife. His shoulders shift as he puts on a brave face, a sad smile forced to his lips as his mouth forms the words you never got to say.

I love you.

–

There’s no reason for Satoru Gojo to get involved in a fight against low level curses. He trusts his students to handle them. He had taken note of Nanami joining the fight as well, who was always one to hang on until the end. He had no reason to be concerned about the outcome of the fight, only the reasoning behind the attack.

Hanging silently in the air in search of the main body of whatever curse was toying with them, Gojo’s attention is pulled to Yuji as he cries out for help. Huh. Yuji isn’t one to ask for help. At least, not like this.

He drops down to where Yuji’s hand is flailing, flashing his student his reassuring smirk.

“It’s y/n.” He’s breathless, his eyes wide. Gojo grimaces. He’d prepared for the moment that Miriko would turn on him, turn on them all. He’d been sure to keep you and her at arms’ length for this moment. He’d known all along you couldn’t be trusted, but he had hoped to get more use out of you.

It was the cold reality of Gojo’s life, and he accepted it. There was no world where he could allow himself to get close to someone like you, so he would use you. After all, from the day he was born he was little more than a weapon. The strongest. So a weapon he shall be.

Still, it didn’t stop him from selfishly wishing for a different end when your words and actions would tug at him. It didn’t stop the guilt from seeping through the cracks as he angered and pushed you away when you showed him cordiality in spite of his actions.

Yuji leads Gojo to your side, but when you come into view, it isn’t Miriko at all. He takes a step forward to take in the sight of your shaking figure, hunched over Nanami’s blunt blade. His eyes widen in realization.

Loss is like an old friend to Gojo. He’s familiar with the way it crushes you, gripping at your throat and leaving you sputtering for air. He’s familiar with the feeling of drowning in agony. He knows what it means to lose the only person who understands you. The only person who grounds you.

He rounds your figure, realizing suddenly that much like the second time you two had met, you’re not conscious. You’re with Miriko, likely with Nanami.

It’s not the place of the snowy-haired sorcerer to interrupt. He frowns, a muscle in his jaw rolling as he exchanges a glance with his student. His eyes are wide with worry, so Gojo assures him you’re okay.

As if on queue, a sob wracks your body. Gojo waits patiently with crossed arms, prepared to take you off-site, somewhere safe, but that moment never comes as a strangled gasp escapes your lips, followed by a mumble about things not being fair.

The strongest can’t allow himself to react, not in front of his student, but guilt pools in his stomach at the realization that after all the arguments, all the frustration of working alongside one another, he had caused the exact pain you had been trying to avoid this whole time. Not only that, but the loss of Nanami hangs heavy in the air over him too.

For the first time in a long time, Satoru feels a weight tug deep within him at his heartstrings. He could admit he was at fault for much of your discontentment without much of a second thought, but this was a guilt so genuine that he found himself unable to watch as you gripped at Nanami’s blunt blade until blood began seeping from your palms where your nails dug into them. Not an easy sight to watch.

Gojo prepares to lean down and do what he can to console you before removing you from danger, when suddenly your body moves in an unsettling way. From behind his blindfold, his blue eyes widen, taking in the way you claw at the ground. A whimper escapes you as your hand turns gray and contorts suddenly.

His lips part in disbelief as the gray cracks spread up your body.

Were you dying?

The answer to his question comes in the form of a guttural growl. He grits his teeth, taking in a breath as he watches with disdain as your graying arm crumbles, giving way for a clawed arm to take its place.

Gojo raises a hand, launching Itadori away from you as your form crumbles, leaving in its wake a draconic figure that the sorcerer can only assume is Miriko. Guilt gnaws at his form as he realizes he likely drove Miriko to do this, but he has no choice. He prepared for this. He knew this day would come and he knew it would be his job to kill you both, even if the cost was another piece of his sanity.

Funny, the way you would bear witness to the way the strongest sorcerer would crumble on more than one occasion, but you would never know it.

Miriko towers over him, her massive form giving pause to the entire battle. She was unlike any other curse. She was somehow majestic, her pearlescent scales shining in the sun while her silver mane was ruffled gently by the breeze. Her tail flicks as she cries out and even in this form, Gojo recognizes the tone of her cry. Agony.

Gojo teleports a small distance away, pulling his blindfold down to rest on his shoulders as he watches Miriko’s movements. In any other situation, he would have, should have, killed you without a second thought, but as he brings his hand down from his blindfold to rest over his heart, he presses his lips into a thin line.

Why was his heart beating so fast?

Miriko takes a step forward, oddly unsteady as though she wasn’t used to the body, followed by another, and another. Gojo trails steadily after her, unable to raise a hand as he watches what she does. When she finally stops, her long neck lowers to face someone, something. Standing proud before her are two special grade humanoid curses, each one with a sinister grin. Their skin matches that of the lower level curses and clearly Miriko recognizes this. This is her revenge.

Gojo can only watch as the two parties stare at one another, before Miriko lets out a shrill cry and her chest seems to light up. Gojo’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s taken too long, hesitated too much.

Miriko bellows strange gray flames from deep within her, shocking the two special grades as they effortlessly crumble beneath her power. The flames lick and lap at the trees and woods, disappearing as fast as they appear. They were unlike real flames, leaving no heat in their wake, only an eerie graying decay that cracks and crushes everything it touches.

Yuta calls Gojo’s name, snapping him out of his trance. He shoots Yuta the familiar reassuring smirk he always bears, teleporting before Miriko’s form that had begun flailing around and billowing flames in every direction, crying out in pain and… fear? No matter, Gojo couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

He raises a hand as he faces Miriko, a hand sign familiar to anyone that knows him. This time, he wouldn’t hesitate.

Miriko’s head raises to meet her new assailant, locking eyes with the Six Eyes sorcerer.

He told himself he wouldn’t hesitate. He prepared himself for this moment. He kept you at arms’ length and angered you at every turn to keep himself from this exact moment, but as your crimson eyes lock with his, his smirk falters. His breathing quickens, eyes widening as he realizes that the eyes looking back at him aren’t glowing. They aren’t Miriko’s eyes, they’re yours. It’s your eyes looking back at him in unbearable distress. A silent plea for help.

Miriko hadn’t turned on them.

Gojo’s hand falls to his side and he can only watch as you snap your head forward, sharp teeth bared as you went for the kill. He should move, he should teleport away. He should defend himself.

But he can’t. He can’t even manage to protect himself with his Infinity.

Mere seconds from snapping around his body and devouring him, your form stops abruptly. You let out a wounded cry before beginning to collapse. Yuta pulls his katana from your head and Gojo feels something twist within him at the sight. He locks eyes with his student, whose sunken expression holds an understanding deeper than Gojo could ever know as Yuta hops to the ground beside your slumped body. Miriko’s form begins to decay and in its wake, your form collapses to the ground with blood pouring from your wound.

Whatever it was that twisted within Gojo digs further into him and he takes a deep breath, staring at the pooling blood from your wound. Had both you and Miriko passed out? Or were you dead? He’s not sure he can bear the weight of the answer.

Yuta stares at his superior again, pulling your form into his arms. The everlasting tired expression on his face doesn’t leave as he pauses to stare at Gojo, frozen in place. No words are exchanged as Yuta dashes off towards Shoko, leaving the strongest standing alone in the midst of the decay around him.

Blue eyes follow your limp form in Yuta’s arms as you’re carried off. The way your arm dangles from Yuta’s grip strikes him like a wound and he worries his lip between his teeth. He isn’t sure how long he stands staring after your body even once Yuta has disappeared into the building, but the taste of iron on his tongue pulls him from the trance.

When movement catches his eye, Gojo locks eyes with the real assailant behind this attack. His figure is an endless stain on Satoru’s own life. He carries a different face, but the stitches staring back at him haunt him while he wakes and sleeps. It was like the curse wanted nothing more than to taunt him. But the sorcerer had no interest in a chase, a grisly feeling of emptiness ripping at his ribs and threatening to burst at the seams.

He does nothing but watch as the man zips away, carrying in his arms a limp figure Gojo doesn't recognize. One of the special grades you had torched maybe? Whatever it is, it's disfigured beyond perception.

Gojo swallows hard as he takes in the scene before him. Blood stains and soaks the grass beneath his feet, a bitter scent of iron coating his every breath. Decay litters the horizon, fissures splitting the earth and splintering trees around him, spreading as far as the eye could see. All caused by your pain. All caused by Gojo’s ignorance.

He was meant to be the strongest. He knew his role and he could play it well. But today he tasted the bitter feeling of guilt he had longed to rid himself of. The taste of an old friend he loathed.

Satoru Gojo has only ever hesitated twice in his life before and he vowed he would never let it happen again.

Today, Satoru Gojo hesitated once more.

–

The first thing you became conscious of as you awoke was what felt like a weight on your chest, threatening to crush you. Then came blinding white lights, an incessant beeping, and steady exhales.

Your lashes flutter as your eyes adjust to the harsh light, your head pulsing with each blink. You groan, bringing a heavy and weak arm up to your head in an attempt to ease the horrible pulsing of the pain.

“Shit,” a feminine voice breathes, followed by the tapping of heels across the floor.

“Hm?” This time, a masculine voice.

Your arm falls to your side as you meekly begin to make sense of your surroundings. White walls cascade around where you’re laying, a hospital bed in the center of the room. You recognize the room, you’d chatted with Shoko here one or twice before.

“Hey, y/n,” her voice is soft as you squint up at her.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out, as though you haven't spoken in a long time. It’s almost as though your body was forgetting how to function. You try to clear your throat, letting out a breath at how oddly sore you feel.

“Take your time, Hun.”

You take a few breaths before managing a weak sentence as Shoko listens to your breathing through a stethoscope, cold against the skin of your chest.

“Where’s Ken?” Your voice is barely a whisper. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. Shoko swallows hard and glances to the side. You follow her gaze, expecting your boyfriend but the black shades that you find at the end of her gaze don’t instill comfort in you. “Gojo?” Your mind is hazy as you question him, hoping he’ll answer.

“y/n…” Gojo’s voice is eerily gentle, as though you would break should he speak up.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Shoko interrupts with an uncertain smile, lifting her stethoscope and laying it over her shoulders. She exhales quietly, writing something down before taking a flashlight and shining it at your eyes. “What do you remember?”

You hum in thought, struggling to keep your eyes open as Shoko continues her examination. “I don’t know, I had a lesson and…” You trail off, narrowing your eyes in thought. Shoko sits down as she turns the light off, nodding. She checks your blood pressure as you stare down at your hands, trying to recall the last memory you had.

“Take your time,” she smiles, finally sitting to give you her full attention.

“Do you remember meeting Yuta?” Your head rolls to the side slowly, vision focusing on Gojo. He wasn’t wearing his usual teaching uniform, but rather a white t-shirt and black joggers. Though his eyes were covered by his black shades, you recognize the gaunt look he wore. He was exhausted.

Your head feels heavy as you lift it up to look between Gojo and Shoko.

“Okkotsu?” You ask, bringing a hand up to rub your eyes.

“Good,” Shoko smiles, writing something down again.

“Where’s Ken?” You ask again meekly.

Shoko and Gojo exchange a look. “We can talk about him lat-”

“Where is he?” Weariness drips from your words as you turn from Shoko to Gojo. Gojo being the more blunt of the two, you could only hope you had a better shot of squeezing the truth out of him.

“y/n…” It’s still the only thing he’s said since you’ve woken up, but this time his voice is cautionary. Like you were pushing for answers you wouldn’t want. A warning.

“Gojo.”

“He’s gone, y/n.”

Air leaves your lungs as though it’s physically stolen from you, pain searing through your chest. The feeling is familiar as suddenly a painful memory plays itself out in your mind.

I love you.

You never got to tell him you love him too. That you still do.

“I didn’t-” your words die on your tongue, choking on a sob. Clutching your chest, you weakly pull your knees to your chest, something that takes a surprising amount of effort in your weakened state.

The silence surrounding you feels loud as your sobs cut through the sterile air with the grace of a jagged knife. Shoko’s hand reaches out to squeeze your arm but it offers no comfort. You never allowed her the chance to get close to you and now you never would. You couldn’t. Not when the risks were so great.

You aren’t sure how long you sit and sob to yourself, embarrassed to be seen in such a manner, especially by Gojo who now stood at the side of your bed. Your breathing begins to regulate finally although all your senses feel dull, as though you can’t feed them the oxygen they need to function. Tired eyes lift quietly to glance at Shoko. She’s rubbing small circles into your arm, though she can’t seem to bear to meet your eyes.

When your sunken expression meets Gojo’s, you barely notice the way his arm falls to his side. He’s frowning and you almost wonder if for once he feels guilt, anger bubbling in your chest. You could only hope he did, hope he understood exactly what his cocky and overconfidence caused.

“I took care of your dog,” he sputters as though the silence was unbearable. Your eyes widen suddenly, mustering the strength to wipe your tears. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“He shouldn’t,” you tell him with the faintest hint of a smirk. “He’s trained to tell me when you’re near.”

Gojo’s expression is somewhere between snide and disgruntled. “Right,” he avoids your crimson eyes, lips pressed into a line. “That explains a lot.”

“I want to go home,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. You didn’t mean your cabin but it would have to do for now. You shudder at the realization of how empty it would feel. How Kento’s toothbrush would never again move, his phone charger laying under a sheen of dust for eternity. His coffee cup that you had so carefully chosen for him never to house his favorite blend with milk and sugar again.

“I’d like to keep you for monitoring at least until-” Shoko tries to stop you as you slowly move your feet off the bed, but you had no intention of letting her do so.

Your knees, on the other hand, they might stop you.

Legs shaky beneath you, your chest rises and falls with urgency as you try to hold yourself up. Why in the hell did you feel so weak? How long had you been out?

Gojo hesitantly reaches out to attempt to allow you to steady yourself on him, but you swat him away with a blazing hot fury. “Do not touch me,” you hiss vehemently with an anger that has even him recoiling. Your vexation bled through your every action and word at him, fading to a more mild neutrality with Shoko.

“y/n, just let me help,” he insists, reaching out again.

“No, you’ve helped enough, Satoru Gojo.”

Had you blinked, you might have missed the way he flinched. He rolls his shoulders, stepping back with his lower lip worried between his teeth. You observe him carefully before addressing Miriko. Surely she wouldn’t have let you get this weak.

Miriko, can you heal me?

…

Miriko?

Reaching out, you realize her presence feels oddly shallow. Your grip on the edge of the hospital bed tightens as you suddenly feel like you’re about to collapse. Had your whole world fallen apart? Your chest constricts against you, the lights flashing as the edges of your vision begin to darken.

“Gojo-!” Shoko warns, recognizing the telltale signs of your desperate gasps for air, shaking figure and blank expression.

A strong pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against a warm chest. It’s not the familiar warmth of your boyfriend, it’s foreign with a woodsy scent you don’t recognize. Your head begins pounding as you gasp for air.

“Bed, now.”

The warm chest parts from you as you’re moved in a blur. A light is shone in your eyes before Shoko comes into view, talking you down from your panic attack.

There’s no comfort in the way she talks you down, through a medical step-by-step list. Say what you can feel, what you can see, what you can smell, hear. The grip of panic releases slowly as she walks you coldly through the steps of your anxiety.

Your heart is pounding fast, beating against your chest as you dig your nails into your palms in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain that’s too much. It’s all too much.

“Miriko?” Barely audible, your voice doesn’t reach Shoko. But Gojo, who you hadn’t realized was gently brushing your arm in an attempt at comfort, answers quietly.

“She’s okay. You drained her cursed energy. She’s recovering.”

“I did?” You question.

His lips press into a thin line as he contemplates his next words carefully. To your surprise, he turns away, grabbing a chair to sit next to the hospital bed as he walks you through the destruction you caused, making sure to detail that no students, faculty, or bystanders were injured. It’s uncharacteristically gentle of him and you find your anger towards him quelling, if only for a moment.

“Did you talk to her?”

“I did,” he tells you, leaning forward on his knees as he links his hands in his lap. “She healed you but you’re on your own to recover until she can too.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster, as much to Shoko’s dismay, you swing your legs over the side of the hospital bed again.

She mutters something to herself before trying to insist that you stay for her to keep an eye on you, but your mind was made up.

“If um- Miriko- can’t heal you, then I need to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m fine, Shoko.” You insist, standing on shaky legs. Gojo remains seated, watching your movements. It isn’t until your legs begin to buckle that he finally stands up and ducks under your arm, holding you up. Begrudgingly, you realize you’re in no place to deny his help.

“You can stay with me.”

Shooting him a bewildered sneer, you shake your head. “No, absolutely not.”

He sighs. “Look, your dog is already at my place and our cabins are the same.”

“The cabin isn’t the problem, Gojo.”

“Can you cooperate for one second? I’m trying to help-”

“Like all the other times you helped me?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Guys!” Shoko closes her eyes, patience tested. Her hand drops from the bridge of her nose as she stares between the two of you. “y/n, I’m sorry but someone needs to keep an eye on you. You either stay here with me, or you can go with Gojo back to his cabin.”

Your head pulses in pain at the thought of either option, but the bright lights of the sterile room threaten to drive you mad even before Gojo could, as infuriating as he could be.

“Fine,” you give in, still hanging off of Gojo’s shoulder. “I’ll go with you,” you mutter almost incomprehensibly, shifting on your feet to try to relieve some of your weight from hanging off of the white-haired sorcerer, though it didn’t seem to bother him.

“At least I’m better than the hospital,” Gojo’s grunt has you nearly changing your mind as you shoot him a warning glance.

“Just take it easy for a few days, y/n,” Shoko insists, turning to her clipboard. “We’ll do rehab once you’re feeling better.” You nod at the school’s resident doctor. “I’ll report that she’s awake.”

“No,” Gojo pauses midway through a step. “Let her recover first.”

Shoko hums as she eyes Gojo, recognizing that in doing so, they were keeping information from the higher-ups. Regardless, she turns away as Gojo leads you out the door.

You hate the feeling of being weak. The feeling of needing to rely on someone. More so now than ever before. Each step feels like a walk of shame hanging onto Gojo in order to stay upright. The idea of being seen in such a way is humiliating.

“How long was I out?”

“Uh, two weeks I think.”

You stare at the ground, each step is an effort as you slowly make your way down the long hall. When you reach the door, your steps stop. You find yourself needing to grip Gojo’s shoulder hard in order to hold yourself up at the sight before you. He doesn’t complain, adjusting his grip on your waist in order to keep you upright.

You would recognize the sight anywhere. Gray fissures splinter in every direction towards the entrance, the telltale sign of Miriko’s ability, only on a scale of grandeur you had never seen before. The entire left side of the campus looked like a different world, ravaged by a monster.

Yuji had mentioned that the campus had been destroyed once not too long ago by Gojo and that it had been fixed relatively quickly all things considered, but this… there was nothing to fix. At the end of the day, the buildings were intact and there was simply no time to worry about the plants.

“I did this?”

Gojo’s fingers curl slightly against your waist before he takes a step towards his cabin, urging you forward. He knows you don’t need an answer.

Rustling through his pocket, he pulls out a key and unlocks the door to his cabin. When you make your way inside, you’re immediately met with warning barks.

“See, this is what I’ve been dealing with,” he sighs.

“Taro!” You let out a relieved sigh, slipping out of Gojo’s grasp down to the floor with arms outstretched. Taro’s barks cease and turn to happy whines as he throws himself at you, his entire body wagging with the motion of his tail. “I’m so sorry, baby boy.” You hug him as tightly as you can muster, tears rolling quietly down your cheeks. He really was all you had left now.

When Taro finally relaxes a bit, his tongue lolling out happily with his belly up before you, your eyes search the cabin.

Its layout was the exact same as yours, though his was slightly bigger with a guest room tucked into a nook behind the living room. Thank god. Apart from that difference, you can’t help but notice how oddly barren it is. Almost as though he doesn’t live in it. No curtains or decorations, no blankets or flowers. The only noticeable item that showed any sign of use was Taro’s bed, which he must have grabbed when he took Taro in.

As you look slowly around the room, your eyes eventually find their way to Gojo, who’s bent over searching for something in the fridge. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair before turning to face you with a can of soda in his hands. It looks sugary.

His sunglasses are laid on the counter, the gaunt and pale appearance you had noticed before now more apparent than ever. His eyes were sunken and he didn’t have the usual attitude you had come to expect from him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

He raises an eyebrow questioningly, hand on his hip.

“For- watching Taro,” you start, eyes flickering uncomfortably down to your dog as you busy yourself with petting him. “And for stopping me.”

He hums, turning to his table to sit down as he pulls out a chair. “Wasn’t me.”

“Who-?”

“Okkotsu,” it comes out strained as he refuses to look at you, his normally bright blue eyes dull and glued to his phone as he types out a message. Seeing Gojo so somber was oddly off putting. Between the sunken look he’d carried since you woke up and the way he was being agreeable, his behavior was already throwing you off. The way he was refusing to look at you now, though? Was it shame, embarrassment? Anger? You had no way of knowing.

“Oh.” It’s all you can manage as a response. You aren’t sure how to act around this version of Gojo, it’s like he’s a different person. When he leans forward and rubs his face, you can only stare. You want to ask him to help you to your room, but the words feel foreign around this person.

After an extended silence, you clear your throat. Gojo’s head spins to stare at you, his hair falling into his sight from where he’s leaning on the ball of his palm.

“Do you have a shower I can use?”

He nods, pushing himself up from the table as his chair scrapes the wooden floor. He throws his sunglasses back on before leaning down towards you. He offers his shoulder and hauls you upright, leading you to the guest bathroom beneath the stairs. You let go when you’re holding yourself up against the doorframe.

“Do you, uhhhh, need help?”

Your face contorts. “Don’t even suggest that.”

To your surprise, Gojo cracks the smallest of smirks at your retort.

“I’ll grab some stuff from your place and leave it outside the door?” It’s a statement phrased more as a question and you nod. “I need to steal some mugs ‘n things from your place anyway,” he says as he glances back at the kitchen, scratching the back of his head. “Shoko took all of mine to stock yours.”

“Oh, sorry.”

He shakes his head, putting on a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

As you sit in the shower, you thank the gods that Gojo left as the tears finally overflow. Pain wracks your body, wrenching through your gut with each sob that parts your lips. Not even the sounds of the shower could have masked your grief.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take Gojo nearly as long as you had hoped to gather what he figured you would need as he sets the clothing outside your door.

He stands unmoving for a moment at the door, the familiar jaws of guilt entrenching him within them as he hears your sobs.

There was nothing he could do to subdue your pain, and so he would force his usual smile onto his lips and play the role he was meant to play.

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a/n || i'm so sorry, please don't hate me 😭 Believe me when I say this hurt to write, I adore Nanami with my whole heart and he deserves the best in every universe.

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