#light mention of Makima

[josiebobozie]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭- Makima x F!Reader who got badly injured after a mission, so Makima uncharacteristically decides to look after her (in hospital). When Reader is barely starting to wake up, Denji confronts her (agressively or not, up to you!) about her relationship with Makima (Reader and she are gfs but they keep it a secret). Makima shows up in time to tell him off and make him leave, out of genuine concern for Reader?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬- angst, reader is injured/in the hospital, brief description of gore, mention of daggers, fem pov, your relationship with makima is a little toxic, denji getting mad and makima putting him in his “place”, SLIGHT homophobia (the word ‘lesbos’ is used), mentions of being cheated on

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭- 1.8k

You had been sent on a mission to fight the Rat Devil. It sounded simple enough. Who was afraid of rats anyway? You had assumed that it wouldn’t be that strong. Unfortunately for you, that assumption had nearly cost you your life. You quickly learned that this devil had most likely had a chunk of the Gun Devil which had bolstered its strength more than you had anticipated.

Your screams echoed through the alleyway that you apprehended this devil in. The rat’s gnarly, gnashing teeth sinking into the flesh of your thigh. The sound of bone crunching easily under the force of its snaggled maw. It was almost as if it didn’t matter how skilled of a hunter you were.

In an attempt to get the devil off of you, you scrambled to grab the dagger that was holstered around your waist. A dreadful roar rang through your ears as your dagger sunk into the head of the rat. As soon as the blade had plunged in between its eyes, your body was thrown against a brick wall with enough force to knock the wind out of you. You wheezed as your limp body fell to the ground. Blood oozed out of your leg, pooling underneath you.

It felt like the fates were not in your favor. You had nearly began to accept the fact that this was the end for you.

‘I had a good run,’ you thought to yourself. ‘I protected enough people.’

For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating. You heard a sound that had become all too familiar to you.

The sounds of chainsaws ripped through the air and a sigh of relief left your lips as your vision became blurry from blood loss. The sound of your heartbeat pounded in your ears as your vision turned to black.

———

A haze of sterile white swam into focus. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent light, you became aware of a dull, persistent throb in your head. The world was a confusing jumble of beeping machines, the scent of antiseptic, and the rustle of unseen movement. Disoriented, you tried to sit up, a groan escaping your lips as a sharp pain lanced through your side. Your eyes, heavy and unfocused, darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings: the metal bed frame, the tubes snaking from your arm, the heart monitor rhythmically pulsing. Confusion gave way to a prickle of fear as the realization of your vulnerability sank in.

You couldn’t believe that you had almost lost your life. It would be a trauma that your line of work would never allow for you to fully process. But in these quiet, solitary moments, you were able to weep for yourself.

Now that your were coming to and becoming more aware of your surroundings, you saw a giant bouquet of flowers and a basket of fruit sitting on the side table of your hospital bed.

A note was nestled in the colorful petals of the flowers that just simply said ‘From Makima’. A weak smile spread across your lips as you sniffled and dried your tears.

It almost surprised you that Makima had sent you flowers as the two of you had secretly been in a relationship for a few months now. Makima had always quietly shown her affection for you, but never left you wondering how she felt. She had said it was because of her position as your superior. The love you shared was a compilation of stolen moments and secrecy.

This felt like almost a grand gesture coming from her. Almost a reminder that as her partner, that your life belonged to her.

The door to your hospital room opened, turning your attention to the visitor entering the room. It was Denji. The last thing you remembered was him saving your life.

“How ya doin’?” Denji asked as he plopped down in a seat next to your bed. His eyes lit up when he saw the basket of ripe fruit on the bedside table.

“Oh, you know. I almost became rat food,” you said, attempting to cope with humor. “Thank you for saving me.” Your words to the boy were genuine.

“I couldn’t let a babe like you get pulverized. Easy choice,” he said as a devilish grin spread across his face. He stood from his chair and walked over to the basket of fruit, getting ready to raid it. That was until he saw the note that was sticking out boldly in the flowers.

Denji’s face fell when he read the two words on the small piece of paper. His fists clenched at his sides. A lot of people liked to dismiss him as some dumb kid, but he picked up on a lot more than people would like to think. He tried to ignore it, but he knew Makima had favored you over him. Over all the other devil hunters. You got missions and privileges that he didn’t get.

“What the fuck is this?” Denji asked as he grit his teeth. His jealousy was starting to get the best of him. People didn’t just get flowers for a girl like this for no reason. Makima didn’t just get flowers for anyone.

In Denji’s head, he was working toward killing the Gun Devil to win Makima’s favor. She had even promised him that he could have anything he wanted in return for killing the Gun… even that. His blood was boiling at the thought of someone winning Makima’s heart before him.

You didn’t know what to say. You sat still in your hospital bed as you looked at Denji’s angered expression. “Denji, I���” you began, but your words were interrupted by someone else entering the room.

“Y/N, I am so happy to see you’re awake,” Makima said cheerfully as she stepped into the room. Her dominating presence filled the space.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” Denji nearly growled. His body was nearly vibrating with rage. He felt cheated. Lied to, even.

“Hm?” Makima asked as she looked over to Denji, unphased by his childish anger.

“You got Y/N flowers!” he snapped at the pink haired woman while you watched from your hospital bed in horror. Makima didn’t show kindness to anyone else like that for no reason.

“Not that I need to explain myself to you, Denji. But, Y/N nearly lost her life on a mission that I sent her on. It would be rude of me to not send her flowers while she’s regaining her strength,” Makima explained calmly, not giving into what she believed to be Denji’s childish nonsense.

“You promised me I could have anything if I wanted if I killed the Gun Devil. Even that!” Denji protested angrily. “But you’re out here playing lesbos with Y/N?!”

Your eyes widened as a quiet gasp left your lips. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Did Makima really promise Denji that if he killed the Gun Devil?

“Next time your girlfriend here is getting chewed up by a devil, don’t come and call me for help!” Denji snapped. Half of him wanted to take the vase of flowers and smash it on the floor. He wanted to scream. Wanted to cause a scene.

Makima glared at Denji. “I don’t like it when my dogs talk back to me. Or when they question me about what I do in private. So I suggest you leave before I lose my patience with you.”

You watched this scene unfold in front of you. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back. You couldn’t cry in front of Makima. You had to prove to her that you could be strong for her. But it felt nearly impossible. It seemed as if your world was crumbling around you. The love you had for Makima meant nothing if it meant she could get what she wanted.

Was Makima a bad person?

Denji opened his mouth to argue further, but his words failed him. He turned around and stormed out of the hospital room, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed throughout the room.

Now it was just you, Makima and the painfully awkward silence between the two of you. The whites of your eyes were bright red from the tears that were now spilling down your cheeks.

“What did Denji mean when he said that you promised him that?” you questioned. Most people would be terrified to question Makima and her choices, but she had always treated you as an equal. She had always given you the opportunity to challenge her.

“Denji is a little boy that believes what he wants to,” Makima said simply as she took the seat right next to your hospital bed. A sweet smile curled on the corners of her mouth as she reached over to pluck one of the flowers off its stem to place behind your ear. Her hand lingered on your cheek for a moment before falling into her lap. “I simply promised him he could have whatever he wanted in exchange for doing me a favor. He interpreted it how he wanted to.”

“And you’re letting him believe that you’re going to have sex with him?” you inquired, your voice raising a little bit. You grit your teeth as you felt a burning pain travel from your leg and up your side. Your pain meds were starting to wear off now.

“I want to assure the destruction of the Gun Devil. If Denji can get it done believing I will sleep with him, then let him. It’s nothing. It means nothing,” Makima explained as she took your hands in hers. “You don’t believe me?”

Your body fell back into the stiff mattress. You didn’t know what to believe. Is this why Makima insisted on keeping your relationship a secret? Who else had she made these promises to?

But the way she was looking at you… like you were the only thing that mattered. You had to believe her. You loved her. There was this unseen force that drew you into Makima. Like you had no control over yourself when it came to her.

“I do believe you,” you whispered. You felt like you had no choice in the matter.

“Good. Worrying about such foolishness isn’t going to help you heal. You are my most valuable asset. I can’t lose you now.”

Despite the pain. Despite the horrors you had faced … it was all worth it to hear those words come from Makima. To see that look in her eyes. You knew that at the end of the day, whatever false promises she made to other people to get what she wanted, that Makima was yours just as much as you were hers.

Maybe being her favorite was worth it.

[softlypaintedseafoam]

a blazing star sought refuge in my chest

synopsis. your contract was simple ー the control devil would not use her powers on you; you just needed to stay with her forever.

pairing. makima x f!reader (afab)

word count. 7.2k | masterlist

content warning. part 1 spoilers (manga spoilers), canon divergence (makima never meets denji), man is a blazing star (series), character death, reincarnation, "find me again" trope, use of y/n

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

and now part 2 of my beloved (to me) series is here! what's so funny to me is that i published this during the early days of part 2 and a day before nayuta made her reappearance in the manga! i always thought that was a fun coincidence!

i. ハッピーエンド

“So, how’s the married life treating you?” Himeno deviated completely from what you were initially discussing.

Perhaps ‘marriage’ wasn’t too far off from what your relationship actually was. A life-binding contract was marriage in its own right. Despite your musings, however, the truth of Makima’s identity as the Control Devil was a secret. Even if it was Himeno, you wouldn’t let that fact slip. “It’s not the married life,” you replied instead. “But yes, things are going great. Does everyone still hate me for taking away their queen?”

It was quite the uproar when you both announced your departure from the Devil Hunters. Makima received more flowers than you could carry on your last day. It had been several years since then and now you were nestled in Takamatsu in Kagawa Prefecture.

You managed to find work in translation, much to the joy of your family back home. “We have to meet this girl who got you to quit,” your mother insisted, she’d hear no objections. She might have wanted you to come home to your country in general, but she was happy nonetheless you were no longer hunting devils for a living.

Himeno’s snort told you as much. “I don’t think Nanaka will ever be over it.” Himeno snickered.

“I’m glad to hear she’s still alive and kicking regardless,” you replied honestly with a chuckle of your own. Even if you had never seen eye to eye, you wished the brunette the best as Himeno mentioned setting Nanaka up on a blind date. “How’s your new partner?”

Himeno’s voice was a mixture of satisfaction and melancholy. “Aki’s great, he’s still alive after all this time. I wish he’d just settle down now. I’m hoping this new division helps with that.”

Right, Himeno mentioned something about it before. A Division composed of tamed devils and fiends, though it would be terminated should there not be any good results. “Any new additions?”

“Since last time, the Blood Fiend actually. Other than that, there’s still just the Spider Devil with the Violence and Shark Fiends.”

“Any other blessings I should know about?” What about that Angel Devil you talked about? You still keeping his discovery secret?

“None for now.” Still my best kept secret in the village I found him in.

“I see.” Good for him.

It wasn’t too long ago Himeno had sent you a coded message detailing her orders. She requested that if things about him ever came to light, you and Makima would help somehow. The redhead didn’t seem too interested in this request, but she agreed when you asked. The Angel Devil is a peaceful one, Himeno detailed in her script. He doesn’t have what it takes to kill, so I just want him to stay with the humans that brought him up. The little guy even has a girlfriend. Humans and devils living in peace might be a reality one day, I’m just not naive enough to think that’ll happen overnight. Maybe that’s what won you over now that you thought about it.

“Well,” Himeno pulled you away from your thoughts and back into your conversation. “There is a Zombie Devil I’ll be snuffing out tomorrow morning, maybe that’ll be our new member.”

You grimaced at the thought of a zombifying-devil. “Even I think that’s a terrible idea and I’m the one who decided to become a devil hunter just so I could travel.”

“You think every idea I have is terrible.” Himeno whined.

“Not every idea,” you corrected with a teasing tone. “Only most of them.” Upon turning a corner, you viewed the welcoming sight of your apartment door. “But look, I’m just getting home so I’ll talk to you later. Try not to get yourself killed tomorrow.” 

“Say ‘hi’ to the missus for me.” Himeno drawled before hanging up.

Still a maelstrom. It would always be a relief to hear from the playful devil hunter in spite of that maelstrom though. You sighed in satisfaction, reaching for your keys when the door opened on its own. 

The breeze must have drifted your scent under the door, you figured, as you welcomed the comforting sight of your girlfriend. “Welcome home, [First].” Makima greeted you warmly as you walked into her embrace. “How was your day at work?”

“Peaceful,” you pecked her cheek before kissing her lips. “How about you? Busy day again?” You weren’t the only one to find new work after your resignation from the Devil Hunters. Makima took to working at a small but popular café in the neighborhood, preparing tea and crafting baked goods. She told you before baking was merely an activity she took up to alleviate her boredom, but it had since become something she enjoyed. It was beneficial to your being as well as you happily indulged in testing prospective new items on the menu for her.

“The choux crème has been a really popular item, more people are coming in for it.” Makima replied, satisfied. You blanched at the emphasis of the dessert name and the hounding sound of heavy paws heading your way. Your reaction, sadly, was too slow as Makima’s many dogs came to greet you like clockwork.

“Maki- nooo!” You sputtered as Makima laughed gleefully at the onslaught of wet tongues and wagging tails. “Tell them to get down!”

Makima’s expression was teasing, “but they’re so happy to see you come home, see?”

You dodged another lick from Macaron with expertise. “You’re not funny, I hope you know this,” yet the grin on your face said otherwise as Makima finally got her pups to relax. I guess I’ll be washing up sooner than expected.

“Someone looks like she’s in a good mood today,” you noted as you massaged lotion onto your freshly washed face. Bagheera and Tora welcomed you home, brushing against your legs now that their larger canid roommates finished their turn. Makima moved about the kitchen, making tea. “Did something good happen while you were out?”

“Your mother called today,” Makima answered with a small but satisfied smile. You couldn’t hold back a small grin of your own at those words. That action alone would probably give your girlfriend enough happiness to last several days. To earnestly earn the love of your family and feel as if she were part of it herself, it meant more to Makima than she could ever express. “She wanted to practice her Japanese before she came here.”

“My mom called and she just wanted to practice her Japanese with you?” You implored in disbelief once you settled on the couch, Makima sitting between your legs as she drank a hot cup of chai.

Your girlfriend’s smile was an uncanny replica of the Mona Lisa. “She asked why you haven’t proposed yet.”

“Now that sounds like my mother.”

Makima took a long sip of her tea before saying anything else.  “Maybe we should be married in the human sense as well.” She set her cup down on the coffee table. “It’s the ultimate contract for humans.”

Your expression was curious. “You like the idea of marriage?”

“The idea of weddings was something I was always drawn to.” Her golden eyes had a distant look in them, her mind far beyond your comfortable living room with your many pets. Makima never went into the specifics of her childhood, but she told you enough to get the picture. She was simply one of the best kept secrets of the government; a young devil whisked off the streets of Tokyo to become a necessary evil. Concepts such as love, family and friendship were ones she learned from film and books. “The idea of binding yourself to another person for an eternity, it’s a concept I’m fond of. I wanted a big wedding.”

“I’m not opposed to a wedding,” you smiled. Marriage hadn’t been something you thought about prior to Makima. Your contract with her practically was one, all a wedding would make Makima’s integration into your family official. “I’m not sure if we have enough people in our lives to have the wedding size you’re thinking of, though.”

“I have plenty of people at the headquarters in Tokyo that would come if I asked.” Makima’s lips curved into a smile primal in nature while amusement danced in the rings of her irises. “Nanaka would for certain, she wouldn’t want to do anything to make me sad. If she’s still alive, we could extend her a personal invitation. What do you think?” At your dry look in response, your girlfriend chuckled lightly before pressing herself against your chest. “It’s a joke, I’m joking.” You decided to take her word for it. You always wondered to what extent it would be possible for Makima’s view of those who had fallen victim to her abilities as her equal. Perhaps it was one of those questions best left unanswered. “Weddings are one of those things that feel best when those in attendance truly care about the couple. I only want those people to come to our wedding.”

There was a lot of moral ambiguity that came with dating the Control Devil. Any devil really. You wondered if you were the only person in the world to do so, but you wanted to believe in the one you fell in love with.

Makima no longer relied on the fake relationships she manufactured with her abilities since your move to Takamatsu. Not for the interpersonal parodies she made to fill the loneliness inside her. She wasn’t perfect. Her first few weeks of generating business at her café were completely reliant on absolute control’s influence to bring customers in directly and through word of mouth. You were quite sure that power was how she obtained her job in the first place. 

But you’re still trying your best. “There’ll be people like that,” you cradled Makima gently as you kissed her forehead. “My family loved you before even coming over to meet you properly. More of your regulars are just normal people you just happen to talk to daily. When the time comes, lots of people will be there just because they’re your friend.”

ii. 「純愛だよ」

There would be many people that would come to the wedding for Makima’s sake, that you were sure of. Kishibe of the Devil Hunters, however, would not be one of them. This you were certain of as you recalled the day you encountered him only a month after your resignation. If not for the way he intercepted you outside of your apartment building on your way home, definitely because of his cold but calculating stare.

When the man made no move to explain what he wanted, you decided to move your piece first. Nothing about the encounter felt coincidental as you were led to a place with as few people as possible. “So what do you want?” You had seen from the ground level that Makima had opened the window and you wondered if she knew of this sudden arrival. “I’ve been busy planning a move and I want to go home, it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight.” You dangled your small bag of groceries, a few ingredients required for the dish you planned to cook.

“You can’t spare a moment to talk to an old work buddy?” In spite of his words, there was no nostalgia or yearning in his tone. Kishibe held out his box of cigarettes to which you declined before he lit a cigarette of his own. “It’s been a while after all, we haven’t talked in so long.”

“We barely talked in the first place,” you replied tersely. Besides introducing you and Makima to one another, you seldom saw the man held as one of the strongest in the Bureau. He was an enigma, a drunk enigma who still managed to do his job well. You were doubtful you’d be able to hold your own against him for long. “Hit me with that line after it’s been a few years.”

“How is Makima?” Your eyes narrowed at the sudden question. “It was quite the surprise to everyone that she resigned. I’m surprised the higher ups weren’t more insistent that she stay.”

“Cut the crap and tell me why you’re here,” you crossed your arms and you shared a knowing look. Whatever it was, you were on the same pageー both of you knew more than what you initially assumed. “What is it that you need to know so you can get out of our hair?”

“I suppose we can drop the pleasantries then,” Kishibe put out his cigarette as quickly as he lit it. “I’ve never been fond of Makima, but I could always tolerate her. Whatever inhumane deeds she committed, as long as I knew she was on humanity’s side, I could always turn the other cheek.” Tired black eyes that knew too much glanced at you piercingly. “I just find it strange that she decided to leave the Bureau to play house with a new toy.”

Your eyebrow twitched, but you held back your anger. “Because she’s the Control Devil, you mean,” you chuckled humorlessly. “Were you the one that brought her to officials? You worried that your dog got off its leash? Or is it because that dog turned on its masters?”

Infuriatingly but unsurprisingly, the man didn’t answer any of your questions. “I was worried that the Control Devil forced you into making a contract with her.”

“Makima can’t force me to do anything,” you scowled.

“Did she make you make a contract with her?” Kishibe queried. 

“That’s none of your business.” After a strong silence between you both, sighed. “It’s part of our contract,” you answered begrudgingly. It would be better to cooperate lest he decide to take action due to your insubordination. “Makima can’t use her powers on me. She couldn’t force me to do anything before anyway. I’m not sure about the specifics, neither is she. We just know she hasn’t been able to order me successfully.”

“And what does she gain from a contract like that?”

“We stay together forever,” a soft voice cut through the conversation before you could answer. Makima stood behind you in an accompaniment of caws and frantic wingbeats as crows dispersed from where she stood. You sighed in relief at her appearance, at the very least Kishibe was the only devil hunter that had come to inspect the motivations of the Control Devil. “Hello, Kishibe,” a cold smile spread across her lips as she softly nuzzled the crow perched on her forearm. “had I known you were coming, I would have made tea.”

“You don’t need to keep up appearances on my account,” the older man insisted gruffly as Makima sent her corvid on its way. “You’ve been listening since we left the apartment. You left the window open.”

The redhead seemed to take a dark thrill in this moment, “yes I suppose we don’t have to keep up those things,” she agreed fluidly. “I wanted to keep a listen out for [First] so I could greet her at the door when she came home. Anyone would worry about their beloved when a strange man intercepts them.”

I do not need a fight breaking out. Makima versus Kishibe, you worried less about the physical outcome. No, you were fearful of what the long-term consequences of this fight would be. “Makima,” you stepped between the devil and the hunter. “we finished talking, let’s go home. He got the answers he was looking for.”

Makima’s smile shifted into one warmer for you, “yes, let’s go home.” You held her hand with the one not holding groceries and gave it a squeeze, Makima squeezed back.

You glanced at Kishibe over your shoulder, “you have the answers you’re looking for,” you repeated.

It’s-

iii. ごめんな

Your wet cough tore you away from your memories. It hurt, it hurt, everything hurt. It all hurt, yet you couldn’t react beyond a weak gasp as you laid on the ground, crushed under debris. Ah, this sucks.

You get off hours early from work, and a devil decides to attack. Perhaps it was muscle memory from your devil hunting days as you absently reached for a weapon that was no longer there. It had long since been confiscated after you resigned, civilians had no need for such weapons. Yet the horrifying realization that your sword was gone, was all the devil needed before gleefully thrusting its hand through your stomach. This all sucking was truly the understatement. Where were the devil hunters patrolling the area supposed to be, stopping to get lunch?

Today was supposed to be a good day, you lamented.

Your half-day at work aligned perfectly with Makima’s off-day. You were supposed to swing by and change into something comfortable, then you’d hit the town. You recalled the dress she said she would wear. It was gonna be that white sundress she got last year, she looks so good in that. 

She was waiting for you.

That was what hurt you the most. Makima and the makeshift home you made for yourself. The two cats that slept anywhere that inconvenienced you and the seven dogs that welcomed you home rambunctiously everyday yet you were somehow still surprised when it happened. Makimaー

Your phone rang in the distance for the fifth time in the past six minutes.

I’m a terrible girlfriend, you berated yourself. You couldn’t crawl to it and your arms refused to move no matter how much you willed for your adrenaline to make a miracle happen. I’m sorry, you weeped quietly as your phone fell silent before the sharp trill of your ringtone started all over again. I’m so sorry.

You weren’t particularly religious, nor were you sure if there was a god that they would stop to listen to hear prayers for the sake of a devil. Still, you prayed. please let her be okay. I’m okay with dying as long as she’ll be okay. Don’t let this be what makes her lose hope in everything. I want her to be loved for the rest of her life.

Whether it was by your family that survived you, whether it was by the friends, whether it was by someone else who loved her beyond the controls of her abilities. Anything would be better than her being alone again.

Please.

Please.

The continuous trill of your cell phone accompanied you until your eyes closed, and your chest stopped heaving.

iv. 彦星と織姫の物語

At five years of age, you dreamed of a prince on a magnificent horse saving you from a life of despair. 

The world was unimaginable without your parents.

And you were sure you were born for a special purpose, a belief amplified by the strong feeling something was missing in your life and you needed to find it.

At thirteen years of age, you understood how the world truly  worked.

The world continued despite the loss of your parents.

There were no princes riding on magnificent horses and there wasn’t anybody who would save you from the despair-filled life you were living. 

And no one was born with a special purpose in life, not even you.

One… two… three… four… You held yourself tightly, forehead pressed against your knees as you waited for the sound of rushing footsteps to fade. It was just your luck that you ran into cops that found it more than a little suspicious that a preteen was wandering around instead of at school. They were unconvinced when you told them you were homeschooled and a kick to the shin later, you were hiding in an alley. Just a little while longer, you whispered, hugging yourself tighter. There was no prince that was going to come and save you, you realized this the moment your parents died and you were left alone in the streets of Beijing to fend for yourself. You became your own prince.

That was why you stole from merchants, that was why you picked pockets of anyone gullible enough to let their guard down.

You stood up from your crouch when you were sure the police officers were gone. You’d earned enough cash that day and something for dinner to boot. It was time to go home before you got too cocky and landed yourself in trouble. You patted your pocket with the squished meat buns in them. That would be enough to get through today.

You just needed to save. You were unsure of the amount you needed to save, but once you had enough, you would be able to get out of this place. That belief reassured you more than anything, it certainly reassured you more than the dead magpie your right foot nearly touched. Ew gross! You nearly touched another in your attempt to avoid the first. The cats would be in heaven later when they found this spot you grimly thought.

You glanced to your right, wondering if this would be a decent alley to leave into the main street when you saw a girl your age sitting with her knees bunched to her chest. You couldn’t see her face from how she was hunched over, nor did you trust her. It didn’t look like she was with anyone else, though it crossed your mind that maybe she was a decoy so you could get jumped.

You glanced over your shoulder without turning, relieved no one was standing behind you. You’d seen it happen more than once, you weren’t going to be another victim. Promptly, you turned around, more than willing to pretend you never saw the girl in the first place and exit in the opposite direction when-

Growl.

No, you told yourself sharply as you paused midstep. Giving someone else your food would be a terrible idea. She can find something for herself.

That was what you told yourself; it was what you told yourself and you still begrudgingly turned around, stomping your feet all the while when there was no one to be mad at but yourself.

“Here,” you grumbled without looking at the girl, holding your misshapen haul over her. “take it before I change my mind.” When she made no move to take the buns from your hand, you dropped them in front of her. The wrapping would keep the dirt off of them. “You’re welcome,” you sighed as you finally took your leave. Your only consolation was that she wasn’t a decoy that would lead to your ass getting kicked. There goes dinner.

When you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve, instinctively you jerked away.

You glared at the girl, ready for a fight. “Hey get off of m-,” You. Your words halted as soon as you saw her wide-eyed stare and tears. There was nothing familiar about this girl, you had never seen her before in your life. There was nothing familiar about her black hair, nor the mole under her left eye. You were sure you couldn’t say you’d ever met anyone with golden eyes with red rings in them either. There was no reason to feel like your senses had been set ablaze and the universe shifted.

You didn’t know this girl.

This girl was a stranger.

You knew this and yet you still fell to your knees as warm tears flooded your eyes without your permission. Your mind had gone blank, unable to conjure a single thought and even if you could, you doubted you would be able to voice them. So you followed instinct as it screamed at you to hold this stranger in your arms, welcomed the way she threw her arms over your shoulders in return.

An indeterminable amount of time passed while you cried in the arms of a stranger before you stood up again. 

As you wordlessly led her to your home, it vaguely crossed your mind how strange this was. It was strange that you held this girl’s hand while you crossed the street. It was strange that you led her into the abandoned apartment building you called home. It was even stranger that despite only meeting a few hours prior, you were laying with this girl on your tattered bed, holding each other like you were scared you’d disappear if you let go.

It was all strange, but something told you it would be even stranger had you ignored her in that alleyway. “By the way,” you yawned, as it dawned on you that you never once asked for your new companion’s name. “what’s your name?” 

When there was no immediate response, you thought the girl fell asleep. “Nayuta,” you finally heard the feathery light reply. Nayuta pressed herself closely to your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“I’m [First],” you squeezed.

Nayuta squeezed back.

v.「行かないで！行かないで！行かないで！どこにもいけないで！離れないで！あたしのそばに���っといて！」支配の悪魔が叫んだ。魂が叫んだ。

You discovered Nayuta was a devil less than a month after you started living together. She did a terrible job hiding it. Considering how airheaded she could be, though, you doubted Nayuta was truly trying to keep it a secret. Still, the truth of her nature eluded you for a few weeks as you initially accepted that perhaps these things were simple coincidences.

Her eyes were unlike anyone else’s eyes you’d ever seen. (You wondered for a while if they were special contacts, but if they were, they were beyond dried and damaged considering she never took them out.)

Animals listened to her way too easily. (There was no longer any need to fight off the crows when they got too close to your meal. A simple “go away” from your companion, and they would fly off just as she commanded.)

There was the time you bore witness to something you wouldn’t have believed had you not seen it yourself. Nayuta walked up to an older woman, held out her hand and plainly demanded, “give me all your money.” Promptly, all the yuan in the woman’s wallet was placed in Nayuta’s hand.

(“That old lady just gave you all her money?” You gawked in disbelief, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “How?!”

“I told her to give it to me,” Nayuta told you plainly, like she was telling you the sky was blue. Then she told you she wanted soup dumplings and jianbing for lunch.)

As such, it was no wonder why you found yourself thinking that she was a devil. It never crossed your mind that perhaps she had another sort of trick up her sleeve. Devil was the first thing that came to your mind and the only answer you felt was right.

“Hey, Nayuta,” you asked after much contemplation, watching as she drew a dog on the dirty hardwood floor of your home. Your belly was full from eating roujiamo and candied hawthorns, purchased with money Nayuta got from a mean teenager. “are you a devil?”

Nayuta paused her ministrations, staring at her rough sketch before she nodded, “yeah.” Her revelation wasn’t a surprise in the slightest. Gold eyes stared into yours as you thought over your next question. Were you scared of her now? No, you answered your internal pondering quickly. Being scared of Nayuta felt like an inherent rejection of what made you ‘you’. You’d never be scared of her, there was nothing intimidating about a devil who wanted a large dog so she could ride atop it like it was a horse. Instead you asked, “what kind of devil are you?”

“The Control Devil,” she answered truthfully.

“Have you ever used your powers on me?”

It was like a dam suddenly broke as Nayuta’s expression suddenly changed from blasé to fearful. “I haven’t!” When did she even get in front of you? It felt like you had only blinked once before she was standing right in front of you, grabbing your hands tightly as she shook her head frantically. “I haven’t!” She repeated desperately and you almost took a step back in bewilderment. You hadn’t seen Nayuta cry since the day you first met but you could tell these tears were different.

Her tears from your first meeting were inexplicable. A visceral reaction to whatever emotion took over the both of you that day. These tears were based on fright and distress.

“Na-,” you tried consoling the girl, but panic had overtaken her completely.

“I didn’t, [First], please believe me!” Nayuta begged hysterically, her grip on your hands somehow tighter. “Don’t leave me!”

“I believe you!” Your heart felt like it was beating a million kilometers a second, but you had to convey how you felt. Nayuta looked as if she was going to cry once more, scared but hopeful.“I believe you,” you repeated softly. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

vi. 誓いの言葉

Nayuta wasn’t much of a talker.

That wasn’t to say she was timid, nor was she diffident. It was more like she was an airhead who skipped to the beat of her own drum. She did as she pleased and she said what was on her mind as it came to her mind. That was how you often ended up spending hours of your day looking for her if she suddenly ran off to find something that piqued her interest or keen sense of smell.

This time thankfully, she’d only been drawn to the display TV in front of a store. That was leagues better than the time she’d wanted to see why two cats were fighting in an alley.

You shot the girl an incredulous look, hands on your hips. “I keep telling you not to let go of my hand when we walk, you always get lost,” you scolded, more concerned than annoyed. The last thing you wanted was for Nayuta to run into devil hunters while you were separated. It was your worst fear that she would be taken from you and killed. Despite your worries, however, it didn’t always prevent instances when something would catch Nayuta’s eye and she’d let go of your hand in favor of checking out.

“[First],” Nayuta pointed at the television, completely ignoring your worry. “[First], I want one of these.”

You pursed your lips in annoyance knowing Nayuta had moved well beyond the matter at hand. At the excited look in her ringed eyes, however, you felt your annoyance fading faster than you’d like. “You want what?” You looked at the TV, wondering what grabbed her attention so much. It was a wedding, you realized after a few seconds. The wedding was western style, the bride donning a beautiful white dress. “Do you want the dress?” There was absolutely no way you’d be able to finesse a wedding dress no matter how hard you tried.

“I want the wedding.” That made you look at her even more wide-eyed than before.

“We can’t afford something like that!” You held up your hand before she could make her ridiculous suggestion. “And they won’t let two kids get married anyway, we’d have to wait until…” you honestly weren’t sure, now that you thought about it. You shook your head and Nayuta’s brow furrowed with a disgruntled pout, “anyways, we can’t have a wedding like that, it costs too much money.” When Nayuta didn’t reply, you poked her cheek. “You okay?”

Nayuta’s following grunt was neither in agreement or disagreement. When she didn’t object to you holding her hand, you held back a snort of amusement as you led the way home. It became apparent later on, when Nayuta approached you with your off-white bed sheet, however, that she had not gotten over the topic of weddings.

“It’s my veil,” Nayuta said as much when you asked why she was wearing your sheet. “I want the wedding now.”

“If you don’t put the sheet back on the bed, it’s the only one we have!” Laughter slipped through your words at the ridiculous display. But she’s still really cute. A total dork, but cute. Your hands moved to adjust her ‘veil’ more evenly on her head. You wanted to marry Nayuta when you grew up; when you had your house and weren’t living off scraps. Then her veil wouldn’t be the dirty sheet you laid on and she could wear the princess-style gown that you saw in the movie, not the dirty clothes you wore everyday. That was a long day away, you knew. It was hard enough imagining that you’d ever be somewhere better than this. “Okay,” you said warmly. “let’s have a wedding.”

Nayuta beamed, holding her head high, before she noticed the sheet slipping. You couldn’t hold back another snicker at that, “we have to say the vows first,” you instructed. “It’s where we promise each other the things we’ll do for each other once we’re married.” Your mother was fond of movies where weddings were the center of the plot, but you couldn’t recall any of the vows expressed in them. “I promise…” you began, pondering what you would say. I promise that first, I’ll get you a big house. One that has lots of dogs, well, as long as they’re cats too. We’ll have food from all over the world because we’ll have some fancy butler make it for us, and when we feel like it, we’ll go to any amusement park we want. And I’ll protect you from any devil hunter we come across.”

“I promise that I’ll be with you forever,” Nayuta followed seamlessly in your exchanging of vows. “I won’t use my powers on you. I won’t let go of your hand when we go out, because you get upset when I get lost. And I promise I’ll protect you too.”

You grinned, content. “Now we have to kiss too.” It was a quick kiss, a simple peck on the lips before you rested your forehead on hers. “And I now pronounce us wife and wife.” The imaginary audience applauded, welcoming your union in open arms.

“The people in the movie were dancing too afterwards,” Nayuta chirped after a moment.

“That’s because we’re supposed to have our first dance as a married couple afterwards,” you replied. The sheet, unfortunately, could not keep up with your dancing even if it was a slow waltz to an unknown melody you made on the spot.

“I want a real wedding this time.”

I do too. “We can get married for real when we grow up,” you vowed once more as you clumsily led each other in your dance.

Nayuta’s smile was saccharin, “promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated joyously. “it’ll be in a fancy hall with lots of people.” Not that either of you knew enough people to have even a small number of guests at your wedding. But that could change by the time you are grownups. 

vii. 旧友

The day the devil hunters came was a blur.

You weren’t sure what it was that led to their discovery of Nayuta. You could only guess in the future that it was because of the trail of people who complained that their money had been stolen and they couldn’t remember how. At the time, guessing wasn’t going to get you out of the situation you landed yourselves in.

They didn’t buy your usual excuses.

There wasn’t anywhere to run in the corner they expertly trapped you in as you ran away, believing you had been making progress in losing the one following you.

You held your arms out between, knowing full well you were a flimsy shield to someone trained to kill devils.

Nayuta fingers dug into the back of your shirt, body tense. Her abilities required she believe one was lesser than her for her to order them, that was impossible when you were both scared out of your wits cornered with nowhere to go.

The woman kept an eye on you both, weapon drawn in one hand, phone in the other. “I found the C-” were the only words she managed to get out when she suddenly collapsed, revealing the scarred old man behind her. You learned later he called himself Kishibe.

You weren’t sure if you should have felt relieved when you saw the old man, suited up as any other devil hunter would be. You didn’t like him, that much you had decided in your silent stare down. 

He released a raspy sigh, humming thoughtfully as he crushed the unconscious woman’s phone. “I came here expecting to only find one of you,” the man scratched the side of his head sluggishly. He eyed you carefully with a sense of recognition you couldn’t quite place before his eyes drifted to Nayuta beside you. “The Control Devil really is a selfish one.”

viii. マキマとナユタ

“You’re starting to look like me, Himeno.” It had been years since he’d last seen the woman and she seemed tired beyond her years. If Life played favorites, it was more than apparent Himeno was not one of that group. Aki died, succumbing to his final two years to live. The Chainsaw kid took off before then in the aftermath of the brief but chaotic attack of the Bomb Devil. Perhaps she’d been driven mad, perhaps she craved being the country mouse of Aesop’s fable. It was all the woman could do to run off with sister and the Blood Fiend, nestled in the quiet coastal town of Shonai in Yamagata Prefecture.

“It’s rude to point out a lady’s age, sir.” Himeno accepted the cigarette regardless. A large portion of her bangs were white and gray, her eye showing signs of crow’s feet. “What are you doing in little ole Shonai?” Smoke wafted from her mouth with a soft exhale.

“I started my own delivery service,” Kishibe gestured his cigarette to his car. “and you’re my first and only customer.”

Himeno’s smile was amused, but her one visible eye was anything but. “Funny, I don’t recall me or my sister ordering anything.”

“Consider this your lucky day then, it’s the delivery of a lifetime.” Kishibe didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a two-for-one deal.”

“I’ve had enough once-in-a-lifetime deals.” Himeno crushed her cigarette on the bottom of her foot before flicking it to the wayside. With more than a hint of finality, she waved and walked in the opposite direction of his vehicle.  “Whatever it is, you should keep it to-”

“It’s the new Control Devil.” Those words made Himeno stop in her tracks. “They discovered her in China, but I managed to nick her.” Just in time to thwart disaster. Makima had been a ticking time bomb that had been staved off successfully when ー appeared in her life. That timer began once again when ー was killed in an attack by the Rat Devil. If the Chinese government had disposed of your current incarnation in front of the new Control Devil, Kishibe knew that there would have been no preventing the hell that would be unleashed upon the world.

Still, it would be best for the two of you to be protected til you could properly fend for yourselves.

Himeno’s shoulder shook for a few moments, it wasn’t hard to imagine the thoughts going through her head. I can keep on walking, she possibly thought. I can pretend I didn’t hear anything. Yet human nature got the better of her, Himeno sighing shakily, “why’d you bring her to me?”

“I’m not fit to raise children and out of all my old contacts, you’re the one I trust the most to do a good job handling her.” Kishibe answered truthfully. Not even Quanxi could be relied on for such a task. As much as he trusted his unrequited love, he knew the woman would have less of an interest in raising children than she did his old advances. 

“What’s the second part of the deal?”

“Take a look in the car.”

Warily, the former devil hunter turned around, taking slow steps towards the car and leaned close to the window.

Himeno said nothing for a while as Kishibe watched her back, knowing that she was likely experiencing a strong wave of emotion. Everything likely clicked the moment she saw you. The same skin tone, the same hair texture, everything exactly the same as she remembered. “ー always knew about Makima, didn’t she.” Despite her phrasing, it was not a question. It was a soft, emotional observation. 

“This new one shouldn’t have any of Makima’s old memories, but it seems this is one attachment she can’t shake.” Perhaps this was part of their contract. Leave it to Makima to make the implausible possible. The life of a devil may have been cyclical in nature, but reincarnation among humans was unproven. Yet here you were in all your similarities to ー. Kishibe didn’t ponder what this meant for humanity. If this meant his old buddies were somewhere walking around earth as new beings.  Perhaps you were simply an exception, a product of the contract ー made with Makima. Makima did say you’d stay together forever. 

Kishibe doubted he would ever receive an answer. All he was certain was that if you were the one thing keeping the Control Devil from wreaking havoc on the world, you were a necessary piece of the puzzle.

“This one isn’t ー either, she’s [First]. She doesn’t have any memories from before.” Kishibe warned, lightly tapping Himeno’s shoulder. He didn’t need the woman to get any false hopes. ー was dead, there was no doubt about it. The age separating Himeno and yourself was succinct proof. You weren’t the friend she lost more than a decade prior. “If you really can’t handle it, I’ll figure things out.” 

Himeno’s one blue eye shone with more fire he’d seen since the last time he’d seen her. “I’m glad you feel that way,” the man tipped his proverbial hat to her. “I’ll be back when they’re old enough for defense training.”

“Hey, Gramps, where are we?” You demanded once you had woken up, rubbing your eyes tiredly. He might have saved your life, but he had kept you in the dark long enough. 

Nayuta ungraciously yawned,“I have to pee.”

The wizened man took a hard look at the pack of cigarettes in his hand before shoving it in his pocket, sighing heavily. “We’re in Shonai over in Japan.” At last, he introduced the woman next to him. “This is Himeno, she’ll be taking care of you both from now on.”

You shared a look with Nayuta, wondering if this place would really be the best for you. It beats living where we were though, you were forced to admit. A part of you would miss the room you and Nayuta called home for the longest time, where you had your wedding and where you drew on the floor when you got bored. But you planned to leave that building someday, hoping you’d be leading a better life by then. ‘Someday’ simply came faster than you expected.

Thanks, old man, you doubted you would see much of him again though as you saw his car become smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Do either of you like cartoons?” Himeno asked when it was just the three of you. “What do you like watching?” When neither of you could come up with a response, Himeno cheerily made the decision for you. “We have the complete Ashita no Nadja set at home, we can watch that when we get there. But since we’re celebrating your arrival, you have to pick dinner.”

Nayuta wasted no time in answering that question, “I want pancakes.”

You rolled your eyes, bemused. “What if I want burgers though?”

Nayuta looked at you carefully, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility. “We want burgers and pancakes,” she told Himeno a second later.

translation notes:

i. happy end ii. it’s pure love iii. sorry iv. the story of hikoboshi and orihime v. “don’t go, don’t go, don’t go! don’t go anywhere! don’t go away! stay with me forever!” the control devil shouted. her soul shouted. vi. word of oath vii. old friend viii. makima and nayuta

<- part 1 | part 3 ->

[yan-rai]

Yandere! Aged up! Denji x reader x Yandere! Makima

Synopsis: Denji is quite a handful, after all, he grew up unfortunate. He's ecstatic at the smallest things, so imagine how he acts when you do the slightest gesture. Especially when he sees competition. The same could be said with Makima, she has a calm exterior, but, she hates having to share her property. So, why not settle this with a duel?

-Warning- SPOILERS FOR PART 1. This is a yandere work, it will include dark themes (however in this, I would say it is light). I do not control who reads this, however, this should not be romanticized and should stay in fiction. I do not condone this behavior. Light editing, Suggestive, cheating(?) reader, also in a way, manipulative. Aged up! Denji. Cannibalism(?), death, mentions of religious aspects (praying by Denji and reader) being called a wife by Makima (no gender associated though since she refers to herself as the husband). Implied that reader is not fully human, could be considered a fiend, devil or a hybrid.

Side Note!: I accidentally uploaded this without knowing so it had to be put on private since I don't know how to change it back to drafts 😭. This is my first published blog, so I'm still a newbie trying to figure things out. If you see any errors, whether it be typos or giving reader a gender, don't be afraid to tell me! I'll quickly fix it. These images are NOT mine, Denji chibi is made by JackGravitty, Makima chibi is made by Yknsugar. Other images are just manga panels.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You're aware of Makima's plan.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 After all, she considers you as family, why would she need to keep something from you?

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 When you meet Denji, you're in a way, disappointed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Makima gushes about Chainsaw man, but when you see the barely adult, you wonder if Chainsaw man was truly great as she painted him to be.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Not wanting the plan to fail, you treated Denji kindly.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Offering food, cleaning up after him, and giving praise.

"Ohhhh Yeahhhh!" Denji shouted as you handed him a plate full of meat. "Thank you for the food!" Denji clasped his hands together as he dug in, almost choking in the process. "Denji, you'll have to be more careful, can't have you dying without completing the contract now, hm?" You tilt your head, Deji coughed. "Y-Yeah! Sorry..." He drank water. "Uhm... (Y/N), what's your type?"

"My type?" You tilted your head, "Hmmm." You put a finger on your chin. Obviously it'd be Makima, and only her. However, perhaps him taking interest in you was the plan? You knew she'd be pissed if you ruined it, you smiled. "I think I'll be the most happy with you, Denji." "W-With me!?" He stuttered, checks flushed. "Yeah. You're cute, loyal, basically like a dog" you named off, leaning towards his face, "And most of all, you're Chainsaw man."

"You'll protect me, right?"

Denji nods frantically.

"What's your type?" You smiled.

"Y-You!" He blurted out.

"I'm glad."

You lean further, connecting your lips against his.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Denji would be lying if he said he *hadn't* gotten a boner right there and then.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 I mean? What reaction would he have gotten instead!?

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 A hot person kissing him as they confirmed their feelings!?

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Denji now believes you're in a relationship with him, he's yours and you're his, simple as that.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 While Makima did treat him well, you did it with wanting nothing in return, it was as if, you liked him for him. You saw him as Denji, not Chainsaw man.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 That's all it takes for him to fall head over heels for you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Denji would be far more clingy with you, annoying a certain boss.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Not like he cares, though.

"(Y/N)" She called out, no longer allowing you to daydream as stood near her door.

"I've heard you got into a relationship, hm?" Makima spoke, sitting at her desk as you stood. "Ah, you too?" You sighed, he was practically announcing it to the world with how he acted. "Congratulations." Makima continued her smile, however, with most of her smiles, it was fake. "It's not my fault." You furrowed your eyebrows, "You said you were going to take care of him! Why'd you toss it over to me?" "Why did you give the dog hope?" Makima responded, no longer smiling. "I didn't want to ruin your plans, so I assumed you'd want me to flirt with him so he doesn't run away." You huffed.

She stayed silent before tapping on her lap, reluctantly, you sat.

Putting her arms around you,

"I didn't know my wife cared about me so much. But, I'm sure you're aware, I don't like sharing."

Her lips trail down from your lips to your nape, she bites your collarbone.

"Stop it. We're at the office." You hitched, "Since when were you the husband?" She teased, licking the hickey she recently gave you. "You're aware that I don't like Denji, right? You don't have anything to worry about. I'd choose you over him, no matter what." You reassured, Makima hummed. "Makima, I love you. We'll get officially married, start a family," You rested on her shoulder, clasping your hands with hers, "and stay together for entirety." You whispered.

She paused. Her eyes trail up to your face, she fiddles with the buttons, hands slowly trailing to your tie. Pulling on it, she brings your face closer to hers, biting your bottom lip.

"You're mine and mine only, you belong to me."

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Normally, she doesn't care about the people around you, they're nothing but flies.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 She met you waaaaaayy before Denji even existed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 But Denji clearly was changing you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 She saw the way you looked at him, as if you *actually* liked him.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 She hated how a mere pet can change someone's feelings quickly.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 What did that dog have that she didn't?

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Nothing! She had everything, the will to change someone's memories, control anyone, hell she was unstoppable at this point!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 That's right.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He *had* nothing, but now, he's surrounded by people he loves.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Perhaps it's time for the dog to be put back on a leash?

"I apologize for the loss, Denji." Makima sipped her coffee, as the dogs played around both her and Denji. "We tried everything to make sure everyone came out alive, but, the gun devil, he's quite strong. However, we managed to defeat him." She smiled.

Denji, however, seemed to still be shaken up by Aki's death, as expected. After all, Aki took care of Denji, treating him as a little brother, someone who died because of him. "Makima..." He suddenly spoke. "You said, if we defeated the gun devil...I can make any wish, right?" Denji lifted his head, putting his fingers in his mouth. "Of course," Makima smiled as she put her coffee on her lips. "Then... Can I make a wish where (Y/N) will never leave me? If everything goes wrong, then, they'll be the only one who'll stay with me?"

Makima paused, no longer smiling, her eyes glaring daggers.

Tch.

Does this fucker really think he has a chance with you?

Makima sipped her coffee, regaining her smile.

"Is that what you wish for, Denji?"

"Yes...please. I-I... I can't afford to lose them."

""Denji, it's your birthday, correct?" Her head tilted.

"Huh? Oh, y-yeah!"

"Happy 19th birthday."

"Thank you, Makima." Denji blushed.

"Say, I actually invited someone over." Makima stood up, "Really? Who!?" Denji turned his body around as Makima neared the door.

Denji's smile never fell, he wondered who it could be. Perhaps (Y/N)? It'd be nice to hear a birthday saying from them. Perhaps it'd be one of her men, ready to give him the birthday boy treatment. Perhaps it'd be Power, who would jump to him ecstatically like a wild dog. Or better yet, even if he knows it might not be true, perhaps there would be a way, to bring back Aki, so they could once again be like a happy family.

Makima gently opened the door.

"Denji..."

Ah! He was right! It's Power!

"Power!" Denji ran to get up, almost tripping.

"No way! A cake!?" He cheered, it was the first time he'd received a cake for his birthday. Truly, his life was turning around, he loved becoming Chainsaw man.

"H-"

"Bang."

"Eh...?"

Blood splattered on his face, his eyes laying upon power, whose head fell near her legs. Her torso completely gone.

Denji's eyes slowly started to face Makima, who, only had a smile as her hand still had the pointing gesture.

"Your wish, (Y/N)... To be the *only one* to stay with you, right?" Makima spoke, facing him.

His smile falters.

No.

He didn't mean it like that.

Not at all!

Why.

Why did she do this to him!?

God damn it!

Why did he wish it like that in the first place!?

No... Nobody would think it like that!

It was her fault.

For everything.

"Why..." He lets out.

Makima only smiled.

"Do you hate me or something!?" Denji shouted, clenching his fist.

"Hate is... quite a strong wrong, though, I can't deny it. But, it's just a mere punishment for believing that (Y/N) would want to stay with you in the first place. Dogs need to be punished when doing things they aren't meant to." She laughed, except it wasn't the laugh she always presents herself with. It was a hollow laugh, something like it wouldn't come out of a human in the first place. "You're wrong! (Y/N) loves me! They...they presented me with such kindness, They protect me, feed me, kiss me...hold hands...they... They trust me to save them! Save them from *things* like you!"

Denji leads his hands near his cord.

"I'll fight with everything I got to defeat a monster like you." He spat.

"Denji, did you really think (Y/N) loved you?" Makima questioned, "Don't you ever stop to think? (Y/N) only loves you for Chainsaw Man, not Denji. Just like all the other people that came and went, they fought for Chainsaw Man."

"(Y/N)'s the same, except, they work for me. They *love* me. They offered to take the role of the person you'd fall in love with. That mouth that praises you, kisses you, calls out your name, it's done the same to me. Far more, and... It actually holds its meaning."

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 No.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 NO.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You... You weren't like them at all!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You loved him for him!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Those moments that you shared, the times where you would kiss him first, laugh at his jokes...

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Had they all been lies?

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 No! He refuses to believe it! Makima clearly was lying!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 She had to have been jealous!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It's okay! He'll make sure he defeats her! You two will be able to live together once and *without* meddling things.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 All of this will be for you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 She wanted to laugh again.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 The way he thinks he'd be able to defeat her was funny.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Sure Chainsaw Man was strong, but, she'd be fighting Denji, not him.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 If Denji knew better, he'd know that he should back off this instant.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 She smiles smugly.

"You're aware you'll end up dying, right?"

"I'll never let you have (Y/N)!"

Denji pulls on the cord, turning into chainsaw man.

"Grahahaha!" He laughed manically.

"May the best one win." Makima smiled, revealing chains as past encounters revived. Including Aki, Reze, Angel Devil, and so on.

MAKIMA'S WIN.

𐃬𐃬𐃬𐃬𐃬

Her feet echoed as she stepped on the rumble due to their aftermath.

She grabs Chainsaw Man by his head, whom, was ripped in half.

"Tch."

She rips out a heart.

It was oddly shaped, since it was the Chainsaw Devil, or as Denji called it, Pochita.

"What a waste." She sighs, remembering the battle. Power showed up out of nowhere, trying to defend Denji, and of course, still died. Frankly, Makima was quite annoyed, she spent years thinking she'll eventually fight *The* Chainsaw Devil. And yet, the devil didn't even come out to fight her, and she instead won against Denji.

Taking a cigarette from one of the corpses she used, she sat down.

Smoking for the first time.

She coughed.

"It doesn't matter now." She spoke with a hoarse voice.

She held Pochita close, "We'll get rid of the unnecessary together, that way, (Y/N) and I will be able to live in a world of peace. We'll start a family together, and perhaps you can be included too? You'll be like a child to us." She smiled.

"We'll have a happy life."

She paused, her smile widening.

"Ah. They arrived." She looks back, picking up your scent.

"W-What... Happened here?" You looked at the mess.

Makima called you in out of nowhere.

"There was quite a fight."

"I can guess, Makima." You remarked.

"Can you guess who won?" She tilted her head.

"What's that on your hand?" You peeked.

"The key to our ideal life." She showed, you paused.

"How did you obtain it?" You ask, sweating.

You knew the answer.

And yet, you still asked.

"He's dead."

"You... I thought we weren't actually going to kill him!" You gasped.

"Hahaha... How else would we obtain the heart?" She laughed, with her usual hollow laugh.

DENJI'S WIN.

𐃬𐃬𐃬𐃬𐃬

He panted.

He defeated Makima.

He was lucky Power managed to show up in time.

Though, he could praise himself for letting Makima's guard down, that required planning.

"Huh." Makima let out.

"Chainsaw Man didn't come to save me." She furrowed her eyebrows, looking down as her blood splattered. She wasn't even fully split, it just stopped at her torso.

"Guess (Y/N)'s all mine now, huh?" He smiled.

The life she wanted with you, crumbled before her eyes.

"This is hardly enough to..."

"I know."

His chainsaw rumbles.

˖⁺‧₊˚

"Thank you for inviting me to dinner." You smiled,

"Yeah.. I just wanted to prove that I'm getting better at cooking!" He smiled, walking towards you as he handed you your plate. "That way you can depend on your boyfriend a little more." He sat down.

You blush a bit.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't gained some form of love towards him.

You catch the smell of the food, your smile widening.

"This looks delicious, Denji!" You praised.

"After you, you're older than me after all."

"Thank you for the food," you quickly prayed, digging in.

The flavor was immaculate, the way everything was fried was to perfection.

"Where'd you get this meat from? It tastes better than the store I get it from." You spoke, taking another bite as Denji ate his.

He kept chewing, allowing a moment of silence, before he swallowed it.

"It's Makima." He spoke, taking another bite.

"Pardon?" You drop a piece of food from your chopsticks, your smile now fading.

To be honest,

Makima hasn't called you in for a while, you thought it was because she's been busy with work, you'd rather not bother her.

"You're eating Makima."

It finally dawned on you.

You were eating your once lover, prepared by your current lover.

You wanted to barf.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

How are you doing? I hope you are feeling well.

Is it possible for a teen power or denji like reader? And if you would like maybe the reader also has the same past as denji or power from chainsaw man. You can choose whoever you want to do. I also really enjoy your posts! Thank you! And reminder for you to not overwork yourself. Please take care of yourself and make sure to take breaks. Stay safe :)

I am doing well, thanks for asking. I am glad, that you liked my posts. Enjoy ☺️

Denji! Teen! Reader

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Characters x GN! Platonic! Denji! Teen! Reader

Description: There was something strange with Their Guiding Light.

Warning: OOC. Slight-Spoilers to Chainsaw Man (Denji's Past, Fate's of some Characters, Makima mentioned, No Nayuta). English is my second language.

_______

You put your finished homework in your bag, trying not to damage notebook pages. Your handwriting became better, your reading skills proved and, recently, your math teacher praised for all the progress you have made.

Life became... normal.

As normal as a devil hybrid's life could be. Especially, if said hybrid had to take care of a cat and seven dogs, go to school and safe people from devils at their spare time.

Your fingers brushed against a chainsaw cord.

Pochita... Aki... Power...

Would your life ever be normal again?

If someone asked you if you blamed your father, for what has happened, you would say "I dunno"

If it wasn't for his debt, you won't become Devil Hunter, worked with Yakuza, had your heart fused with Pochita... Won't meet your friends. And Makima...

This situation was complex.

Really complex.

And you didn't want to think about it.

Not now. Maybe, later.

For now, you have some reading exercises.

You stand up and took new Bungou stray dogs manga volume.

With your phone near (to look a meaning of words you don't know), you start reading it.

________

🐾Their Guiding Light was really emotional and kind. And each time Guiding Light decided to say something good about them...

"Kunikida is so serious! It's cool and funny at the same time. I wonder if he could help me with math homework." Little Light was practically vibrating, rubbing against Kunikida's cheek.

"I would like to make some bombs with Kajii! Sounds cool!" Little Light was purring, curled on Kajii's head.

"Oh! Fyodor is so smart! I wanna be as smart, as him, one day!" Everyone try to hold back their laughter, looking at Little Light, who were "hugging" Fyodor's face.

🐾 But there was something, that makes them worried. They guessed, that you were a teen. And, for some reason, you have some troubles with reading. You were slow, re-reading some words, and taking your time.

🐾 They were worried, because they were afraid, that Their Guiding Light were bullied because of their reading habits. It was another reason for them to get to the real world faster. To protect you from bullies.

______

You were having lunch on a school rooftop. It's not like you can't eat at the school's cafeteria.

But, if Chainsaw Devil Hunter are needed, you need an easy way to get to the battle. Without being noticed.

You were ready to take a first bite of your food, when the school building started to shake.

Another Devil (you really didn't care about what kind of devil it was), was on a run. You put your lunch box down. Time to get to business.

You didn't notice, how your phone screen became white.

You pull the chainsaw's cord and jumped.

---------

When you returned to the roof, you saw a group of shocked BSD Characters.

______

🐾 Yosano checked fifteen minutes, checking your face and arms, making sure, that you weren't hurt. During check-ups, BSD Cast explained everything to you.

🐾 Your life became even stranger.

_________

🐾 You have a huge family right now. And a protective one.

🐾 When you were moving into the new house, some Devil Hunters (who knew about your Chainsaws) tried to stop them. It took one "F*** off, they are my kid now" from Fukuchi to stop them.

🐾 Chuuya became a second owner for your dogs. Fukuzawa became a second owner of your cat.

🐾 Kunikida and Poe are tutoring you. You wanted to improve your math, writing and reading skills.

🐾 Mori and Yosano will always run a medical check-ups on you, after your transformations.

🐾 Fitzgerald bought every merch with your Devil Form he can find.

🐾 You told Ango, Ranpo and Ayatsuji and Power's last request. They try to help you find a new Incarnation of Blood Devil.

🐾 Kids now attending the same school as you. After you defend them from bullies, they created a fan club of you. Not to Chainsaw Devil Hunter. No, to [Y/N] [L/N].

🐾 Life didn't become less chaotic. But, it became warmer. And more homey.

[angsty-elf]

-Behind Closed Doors-

Chapter 1: Speculation

note: this was originally posted on AO3 last july as a 3-part fic under my other handle professor_freaksworth, linked here. figured I would add it here since we'll be getting the reze arc movie soon ✨

word count: 21.4k, including all 3 chapters

summary: you have been living with and working alongside aki for around a year now, mostly keeping things professional, until aki catches you in a lie. will his petty jealousy push you away, or ignite something inside of him he's been desperately trying to ignore?

content: very mild dub-con + drinking + smoking + pining + eventual smut + fem!reader + jealousy + angst + fluff + cunnilingus + blow jobs + ass play + unsafe sex + slight power dynamic/light dom/sub + unsafe sex + aki being a jealous baby + smut in the final chapter

characters: this fic centers around aki x reader, including some platonic denji x reader interactions + original male character mentioned(for the plot) + other csm characters are mentioned and are present mostly in the second chapter.

this took years off my life.

anyway, here's wonderwall

CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3(FINAL)

It’s quiet.

Aki blearily stared up at his ceiling for a few moments before turning his head to look at the clock on his nightstand. 9:47am. He sluggishly sat up in his bed. Running a hand through his loose hair, realization slowly dawned on him. That’s right, he thought. She’s not here.

He usually did his best to get out of bed at a decent time on Saturdays. He could get the chores he didn’t have time to do during the previous week out of the way before trying to relax and accomplish some kind of factory reset from whatever sort of stress or atrocities work had been inflicted on him. Today, however, he woke up later than usual.

Ever since Makima plopped you onto his lap a little over a year ago, he has been used to hearing you get up before him on the weekends. The music you played on your little Panasonic boombox when you got ready for the day always woke him up.

It was never loud enough that he felt he had the right to tell you to knock it off, but with him being a somewhat light sleeper, the noise was enough that he no longer needed to set an alarm. It actually used to piss him off a little, but over time he got used to it. Now he finds that he misses the noise. (And the sound of your slightly off-key singing, which you probably think he doesn’t hear, but he does.)

 After brushing his teeth and tossing a load of laundry in the wash, Aki made his way to the kitchen, letting out a quiet huff when he sees that Denji is still passed out on his futon on the living room floor. If it wasn’t for the faint snoring Aki heard coming from him, he might think he was dead, the way his face was planted in his pillow and his arms outstretched like someone kicked him to the ground.

If you were here like you usually were on Saturday mornings, Denji would already be awake and begging you to make him those fluffy pancakes with whipped cream and sliced strawberries he’s been obsessed with since you made them for him the morning after his first night in the apartment.

After a moment of staring with narrowed eyes, wondering how the hell he’s able to breathe like that, Aki decides to leave him be. With you not being here, there’s no buffer, and he’s not ready to deal with Denji’s dumbass yet. At least not before he’s had a smoke.

While Aki grinds his coffee beans, he catches himself glancing over in the direction of the front door. He knew that you went to help your aunt with something down in Yokohama yesterday and that you were planning on staying the night. That much was burned into his brain from the absurd number of times he overheard you reminding Denji, who kept asking if you would play NBA Jam or Super Mario with him Friday night after work.

He couldn’t remember when you said you would be back. You had a tendency to keep the details of your personal life to yourself, which Aki can’t blame you for, and out of respect for your privacy he tries not to pry too much.

On the other hand, Denji either doesn’t give a shit or has little to no concept of personal boundaries (something tells Aki it’s both).

In the past couple months of him living with the two of you, Aki has gotten to know more personal things about you than he has over the past year due to Denji’s incessant (and often brazen) questions. Denji’s brash attitude and non-existent filter seemed to give you room to let loose a little and come further out of your shell, so instead of brushing him off you almost always indulge him. Spoil him even. Like a new puppy.

A puppy who humps your leg, bites too hard, and wrecks your shit when you’re not looking.

Aki still feels like you let him get away too much, especially when it comes to invading your personal space. Denji often goes out of his way to touch you or be close to you, sitting next to you during every meal, ruffling your hair when you announce you’re going to bed at night. It takes an immense amount of self-control for Aki to bite his tongue.

He even once had the audacity to bring up the prospect of sharing your bedroom with him and Aki almost strangled him on the spot. All you did was laugh your ass off, letting him down with a gentle “no way in hell”. Denji sulked for like a half hour until you begged Aki in private to make him a consolatory plate of apple rabbits, insisting that you can’t make them as “cute” as he can.

Even though a large part of him would rather die than cut any sort of fruit for Denji, Aki couldn’t resist the sweet look on your face, or your flattery. (For the record, he thinks your apple rabbits are plenty cute, but you would never catch that coming out of his mouth.)

The twinge of jealousy Aki feels is omnipresent every time you’re able to let down your guard and act silly with the sharp-toothed nightmare, even going as far as punching him when he does something childish like cheating at a card game or unplugging your controller when your back is turned. Not that Aki wants to be punched, per say, but he’d much rather be the one on the receiving end of your playfulness.

Sometimes he considers the possibility that you’ll never be able to behave that way with him. Without having a copious amount of alcohol in your system, anyway.

It’s not that the two of you didn’t get along, there was just an ever-present modicum of professionalism under the surface of most of the interactions you have, making him wonder if he irreparably blew the chances of you organically showing him any sort of affection or playfulness by putting up such a harsh front when you first met.

Over the time that you have been both Aki’s roommate and subordinate, you have maintained a polite and professional demeanor (almost to an infuriating degree), and it was safe to say that you were the easiest junior Aki’s had to deal with. You never got in his way and you seemed to take your job seriously, which is why you’ve made it this far without serious injury or death considering you have yet to accept a long-term contract from a Devil.

When Makima placed you in Special Division 4 under Aki’s command, she didn’t speak too much on your reasons for getting into this line of work. From what he’s deciphered on his own, and the way Makima speaks to (and of you) like a rescued stray, it’s safe to assume you had a rough go of things and didn’t have many options.

To say that Aki was taken off-guard and a little hesitant when Makima asked (ordered) him to allow you to move into his spare room is an understatement. Apparently, your living situation was rocky. Makima had informed him you had been staying with Kishibe (why that salacious old boozehound of all people, he didn’t know and didn’t care to ask) but his apartment was too small to host you long-term. Makima drove home the idea that would be good opportunity to foster a sense of camaraderie and loyalty between the two of you.

Between Makima’s insistence and not having a good enough reason to outright refuse, he accepted. He had the space, and he had to admit to himself the idea of splitting rent costs wasn’t entirely unappealing.

He would just have to find a way to mentally move past the fact that you were a girl, and that you happened to be – to put it bluntly – distractingly beautiful.

Aki isn’t a fan of distractions, especially when it comes to work.

In an attempt to create a strictly professional rapport between the two of you, and making sure you were aware that you wouldn’t be getting any privileges or hand-outs just because you were boarded with your superior, he had made sure to maintain a cool and walled-off attitude. Often bordering on rude.

On the job, he corrected you frequently and insensitively. Even when it was well-deserved, he withheld any semblance of praise besides the occasional “congratulations on not dying”, and at home he barely acknowledged your presence outside of necessity.

His efforts of keeping you at arm’s-length worked well and fast. He should have felt relieved. In reality, his chest tightened every time he saw the barely perceptible waves of hurt cross your face when he indirectly shot down your attempts of bridging the gap, and (selfishly) it pained Aki even more when you stopped trying at all.

While you seemed dejected at first when it was clear the two of you wouldn’t be holding hands and singing ‘Kumbaya’, you never appeared to truly let his poor treatment as a supervisor get to you. Always quick to apologize, always receptive and eager to accept correction and harsh criticism. You never slipped out of your deferential bearing, no matter how much of an asshole he’d been.

After one of the rare missions that Aki sometimes had without you, Himeno knocked some sense into him, pinching his ear like he was a little kid and - in complete seriousness - insisted that he stop being such a shithead.

You don’t get to be a dick to someone just because you want to fuck them.

Himeno never failed to surprised him with how perceptive she actually was, despite her often-unserious front. His face had burned white hot with shame, and he denied her accusation vehemently. Under the surface though, the magnitude of his callous and unfair treatment towards you came crashing down on him.

He didn’t apologize to you outright, but he promptly adjusted his behavior. Since you’re a kind and forgiving person, his olive branches of gentle teasing and friendly inquiries were always met with a warm smile and a cordial response on your part. But it took a while for the very obvious and solid emotional wall you built to crumble, and it took even longer for you to begin extending olive branches yourself.

He feels heat creeping up his cheeks at memories of you tugging childishly on his pierced earlobes. So edgy, Hayakawa.

Memories of when he’s had to piggyback you home after having too much, feeling the warmth of your body and the soft feeling of your breasts pressed against his back, murmuring tiredly into his ear – Aki, can we watch a movie when we get home?

He always agrees, content to listen to you drone about whatever flick you’ve been wanting to watch, knowing you’ll be out cold before you return to the apartment, always business as usual the following day.

Aki actually isn’t sure if it’s that you don’t remember your behavior with him, or if you’re too embarrassed to bring it up.

He’s considered giving you shit about it before, but always decided against it out of a selfish fear that those little moments might stop. Worse even, he’s pretty sure his brain would explode if you decided to give Denji that treatment instead in place of him.

The gap being bridged (haphazardly), he couldn’t help but get hopelessly attached to you as time passed. He constantly discovered more reasons to admire and respect you, one of those reasons being your uncanny and almost irritating ability to stay calm and compassionate during stressful situations.

Even at times when you’re actively shaking from exhaustion and a civilian is screaming in your face over shit you have no control over, and he knows you’re just trying to get a witness account so you can report to Makima and go the hell home. Or the times when you’ve come across a particularly harrowing scene (mostly the ones involving children), and although he doesn’t miss the way your lower lip trembles or the wavering of your voice, you always end up being the one to console your colleagues when all is said and done. He might think you were inhuman if it weren’t for the soft sounds of sniffling he’s heard coming from your bedroom late at night.

While you obviously have your faults like everyone else (one of them being you can’t handle your alcohol for shit), he would be genuinely surprised to hear about anyone having negative things to say about you. As stubborn as Aki is, he’s human, and it didn’t take long before he had to start consciously fighting against his feelings for you. Feelings that went past just having a hard time ignoring the way the Public Safety uniform hugged your frame, or the way your eyes glittered when you laugh.

Even the local police officers ask about you when Aki goes out for the occasional drink with them, always wondering when Aki will bring you along so they can get to know you better. He always dismisses these inquiries with a smile and a wave of his hand, insisting he’ll bring you along one of these times.

He never means it. Aki has seen the way some of the younger officers look at you, even the married ones, and he doesn’t think he could handle watching them flirt with you. Even the thought of it conjures a heavy, barbed mass of jealously in his chest.

You get hit on pretty frequently, and since the two of you spend so much time together outside the apartment, Aki is often an unfortunate and involuntary witness. While it’s sometimes confusing to him how you reject every single guy who expresses interest in you, even the ones who seem decent enough, he’s always selfishly relieved when you do.

A logical thinker, he certainly doesn’t have any grand fantasies of the two of you getting together and living “happily ever after”. He had never allowed himself even the hint of a fantasy involving having a serious girlfriend, let alone getting married or having children. Ever since what happened to his family, his life hasn’t belonged to him, nothing being more important than his work and ultimate goal of eradicating the Gun Devil.

It would be ridiculous of him to expect someone to blindly accept this fact and give themselves to him anyway.

Still, he can’t deny the way his heart skips a beat when you flash a smile in his direction, or the way his throat tightens when you sometimes brush against each other in the close quarters of your shared kitchen, or the way he can physically feel himself losing braincells when you walk around the apartment in your stupidly small shorts and your oversized shirts that you probably think hides the fact that you’re not wearing a bra underneath…

“Oi. How long are you gonna stare at those coffee grounds with that creepy look on your face?”

Aki’s blue eyes snap over to Denji, who is apparently awake now and standing in the kitchen. His scruffy, blond hair sticking up all over the place, a glazed-over look on his face.

Despite his slight embarrassment at getting called out for spacing out by Denji of all people, he maintains a stony expression. He ignores Denji’s question and turns to grab his old scratched up kettle, filling it with water before placing it on top of the stove. The burner clicks a couple times before igniting, and Aki watches silently as the flames aggressively lick at the base.

When it becomes glaringly obvious that Aki isn’t going to acknowledge him, Denji speaks again. “Where’s (y/n)? Is she back from wherever she went last night?”

Aki bites back an exasperated sigh. How the hell does he still not remember where you went?

“No, she’s not back yet.”

The kettle screams, and Aki takes it off of the heat. Pretending not to notice the childish pout on Denji’s face, he pours the boiling water slowly over the coffee grounds, and the rich smell permeates the kitchen as the umber liquid drips monotonously into the carafe.

“Well, aren’t you gonna call her or something? Don’t we have that thing later?”

Aki pours the contents of the carafe into a mug and fishes out his pack of Ravens, packing it before pulling out a cigarette and sliding it over the top of his ear.

“It’s just drinks with the Division, Denji. I’m sure she’ll be back before then. I’m gonna have a smoke, I’ll make you something once I’m done. Don’t even think about touching the stove.” He picks up his mug and brushes past Denji as he heads for the back porch, rolling his eyes when he hears Denji mutter some half-assed insult under his breath.

***

The weather is dismal and grey, dark clouds covering the sky. Aki had taken his time drinking the cup of coffee he brought out before lighting his cigarette, now it was starting to rain.

Smoke billows out of Aki’s mouth as he listens to the light drizzle hitting the overhang above him, the occasional pinging sound of a big drop hitting the metal railing echoing in his ears.

Did she bring an umbrella with her?

 He takes another long drag off of his cigarette, enjoying the slight burn in the back of his throat.

 His gaze flits over to the little strawberry plant you have growing in a ceramic pot you on top of the small patio table, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He remembers the offended look on your face a month ago when he had remarked that he’s never seen you be able to keep a plant alive as long as he’s known you (there has been multiple attempts), and the even more offended look you had when Denji volunteered to perform funeral rites after it’s inevitable demise.

After a moment, Aki’s smile falls. Why is he thinking about you so much today?

Out of sheer stubbornness he’s not sure he’s able to admit to himself that he misses you when it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you’ve been gone, but your absence is obvious, and it feels weird.

Now that he thinks about it, as pathetic as it sounds, this might be the longest amount of time he’s gone without seeing you since you moved in.

He dismisses the heavy feeling in his chest and takes a final pull off of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray, grabbing his empty mug before reentering the apartment.

***

Still deep in thought, Aki wordlessly passed by Denji (who was now playing some new fighting game on the Super Nintendo) and headed straight for the bathroom to put his hair up in a topknot and change into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt before returning to the kitchen to make breakfast like he had promised.

He didn’t bother with anything overly complicated; it didn’t take him long to whip up some rice and a few fried eggs with a side of sliced melon. When he sat the dishes down onto the small living room table, Aki shot Denji a warning look, not wanting to hear any complaints about it not being those fancy pancakes.

They ate together in silence for a while.

In between comically large bites of food, Denji kept looking at Aki with a weird, self-satisfied look. Like he was trying not to laugh about something. It was starting to piss him off, so he eventually took the bait. “For fuck’s sake, Denji. What is it?”

"Did you know that girls jack off? Like, in real life."

Denji's inquiry caught Aki off guard so much that he harshly inhaled a piece of egg, resulting in him coughing violently enough to bring tears to his eyes.

After catching his breath and wiping a stray tear from his cheek, he glowered at Denji, and asked him in a hoarse voice, "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Y'know, masturbating or whatever." Denji deadpans, completely unaffected by Aki's choking fit. "Like what girls do in AVs sometimes."

"I know what you mean, Denji. I'm asking why you're telling me this out of fucking nowhere."

"It's not outta nowhere," Denji grumbled, crossing his arms. "I heard some weird noises coming from (y/n)'s room the other night. It sounded like she was crying or something at first, but then I heard her saying stuff like oh fuck, oh god."

Aki scoffs, turning his focus back on his breakfast in an attempt to suppress the heat spreading across his face. "You're lying."

Denji leaned forward with an irritated look on his face, pressing his palms flat down onto the table. "Why the hell would I lie about that?"

"Because you're a stupid, horny kid. Stupid horny kids lie about dumb shit."

Denji narrowed his eyes, leaning back onto his cushion. "Oh yeah? I bet she has one of those vibrating-thingies in her dresser somewhere. You know, the things that look like microphones?” Denji’s eyes widen, like he’s had some sort of ground-breaking idea. ”She’s not here, we could look.”

Aki frowns, anger building in his chest, hot and constricting. “Absolutely not.”

A groan erupts from Denji’s throat, and he sulkily stabs at one of his eggs with his chopsticks, muttering just loud enough for Aki to hear. “Tight-ass. It's not like it matters if you believe me or not. She'd probably be grossed out if she found out you were going through her stuff, anyway."

Aki felt the muscles around his eye start to twitch. "And she wouldn't be grossed out if she found out you were going through her stuff?"

"I doubt it.” Denji shrugs. “Do you remember that one time I sneezed really hard and a piece of food flew out of my mouth and landed on her boob? She didn't even flinch, man. I could probably get away with anything."

Aki is silent for a moment, gently setting down his chopsticks, contemplating beating the absolute shit out of him. A crease forms between his brows as his mind wanders to how you might react, knowing the little asshole would probably complain to you about it. He can see the look on your face now, ‘not angry, just disappointed’, and he’s not sure it’s worth it.

Ultimately, he decides slamming Denji’s face into his bowl of rice is a fair alternative.

A few hours passed.

The sound of the vacuum fills the apartment. Dragging it back and forth, Aki tries to push Denji’s words out of his mind. There’s no way that little brat was being serious, wouldn’t he have heard something similar at least once since you’ve been living together?

Okay, sure. It’s not outlandish to assume you don’t have… needs. He just couldn’t imagine you being noisy about it.

That’s not entirely truthful. He could imagine it, but he was already half-hard just thinking about the vague idea of you touching yourself and he wasn’t willing to sport a full-on erection when you could be home at any minute.

After washing the breakfast dishes and listening to Denji whine about giving him a bloody nose, Aki had insisted he leave and wait for you with an umbrella at the station. The rain was still coming down steadily outside and he was 99% sure you had forgotten one - because you always forget - and thought it would be a good excuse to get Denji away from him and out of the apartment before he completely lost his mind or had a fucking aneurism.

Denji tried to act like it was a huge inconvenience, but Aki could see the way his eyes lit up a little bit, probably excited to get to be the “hero” who brought you an umbrella like one of those cheesy dramas.

Thankfully, thinking of Denji considering himself to be in any way some sort of hero managed to kill Aki’s semi, and he found himself standing in front of your closed bedroom door, vacuum roaring. Running a tongue over his blunt canine under his pursed lips, he hesitates. He normally vacuums your room for you, but he feels awkward about it all of a sudden.

“She'd probably be grossed out if she found out you were going through her stuff, anyway.”

Aki grits his teeth.

“Irritating little shit.”

***

“Denji?”

There’s a surprised lilt to you voice when you see the slightly disheveled blond-haired teenager waiting for you at the entrance of the Tokyo metro, lazily leaning against a wall.

You weave through the sea of pedestrians, apologizing profusely when you accidently bump into a salaryman who – after shooting a contemptuous look your way – promptly stepped around you and continued his phone conversation.

Denji’s eyes light up and a crooked grin spreads across his face when he sees you.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting here forever! I came to bring you an umbrella.”

It takes only about a second to survey him, a couple things sticking out right away. Not only is Denji not wearing any sort of jacket, he’s also completely soaked and empty handed. You cover your mouth, suppressing a snort, trying to keep your voice level. “Is that so?”

Denji’s cheeks flush and he palms the back of his neck, glancing away, thinking of the abandoned umbrella by the apartment doorway. “I mean, I kind of forgot it. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Not really,” you deadpan. Smiling to yourself when Deji groans and rubs his face.

While you definitely didn’t have an umbrella, you at least packed a rain jacket. Setting your small bag onto the floor, you dig through it. After a moment you pull out the shiny, waterproof material and offer it to Denji. “Put it on. Or at least cover your head.”

Denji opens his mouth to argue, but you quickly cut it off.

“It’s only sprinkling now-” you gesture your head to the exit, where you can see a light mist falling from the heather sky. “I’ll be fine. Besides, if you don’t take it, I’m not going to let you have the treat I got you.”

Denji narrows his eyes, roughly snatching the jacket out of your grasp and forcing the hood onto your head, ignoring your noisy protests.

“Are you nuts?” He grumbles, forcing one of your arms through a sleeve.

“Ow-”

“Can you imagine what that hard-ass would do to me if I brought you home totally drenched?” His face heats up fractionally at his words and he tries to force down a rubbery smile, clearing his throat. “He’d feed me to that fox. I already pissed him off today, I’m trying to stay alive. At least long enough to see Makima-san at drinks tonight. Keep your treat.”

You blink up at him, one arm in your jacket, hair frizzy and partially in your face from having the hood forced over your head. With an exasperated sigh, you slide your exposed arm into the empty remaining sleeve before attempting to fix your hair. “Fair enough. I was lying anyway; I don’t have a treat.”

Denji’s eyebrows knit together, his mouth falling open enough to catch a glimpse of sharp teeth. “What if I had agreed?”

You shrug. “I would’ve figured something out.”

“Messed up.” Shaking his head, he leans down to pick up your bag from the floor. “Let’s get out of here already, I don’t want to be caught in public with a scheming lady with fucked up hair.”

You scoff, shoving him lightly. “Fucked up because of you.”

***

It’s quiet as Aki sits on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped together in his lap. The only sound coming from the rain hitting his window, growing harder by the minute. He swallows. A moment of weakness, that’s all it was. A lapse of judgement.

Sighing, he rubs his face with the palms of his hands, the face that’s still the temperature of the goddamn sun.

Your top dresser drawer had been left cracked, enough for a glint of metal to capture his attention, curious fingers prying it open further and further until there was no going back.

What was he, a grade-schooler? Fuck, he’s no better than Denji, worse even.

He could care less about the ridiculous ecosystem of vibrators hiding underneath the unorganized pile of bras and panties. The glint that tempted him had come from a circular ring, attached to a worn black-leather collar. Aki isn’t dense enough to think for a second this was meant for any type of animal. The curved metal was wide enough he could easily fit two fingers inside, and he had felt his hard-on return full-force at the thought of tugging on it harshly, with your delicate neck at the receiving end.

He recalls times in the past when he’s seen a mysterious gleam flash in your eyes when he’s told you what to do on the job, the way your cheeks have darkened a few times when he’s been particularly hard on you. He had always assumed it was due to embarrassment or maybe even anger, but now he’s unsure. If you were really into that sort of thing, would proclivities like that bleed into more mundane aspects in your life?

Shaking his head, he decides to dismiss the thought, not wanting to assume anything. You had always been professional with him, and he already felt bad enough having discovered this without adding his own perverted (albeit hopeful) supposition to the mix.

Even though guilt and anxiety weigh like lead in his gut, he’s a guy, and he would absolutely be trying to crank a quick one out right now to the thought of you wearing that collar if it hadn’t been for the other unexpected item he found.

A scrap of paper, a familiar name scrawled on it, as well as a phone number. A transfer from Nagano, one of the newer detectives assigned to the MPD.

Hasegawa. Big guy, loud, confident.

This is definitely not the first scrap of paper with some guy’s phone number on it that he’s found lying around or in the trash, you’re too much of a pushover to tell someone to fuck off and he’s seen you accepted many. This one was different though, you had it tucked away, purposely out of sight.

Cold tendrils of envy snaked down his throat and squeezed his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Were you and him…?

No. You hardly leave the apartment. When you do it’s usually with himself, Denji, or both. In fact, you’re rarely out of Aki’s sight in general.

Except for last night.

Aki sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

Would you lie to him about something like that?

He shakes his head again, correcting himself, you wouldn’t have been lying to him. Denji’s the one who asked you a million times where you were going, Aki just happened to overhear. When you had told Aki you would be gone, he didn’t really think twice about it. He had simply nodded and reminded you about the drinking-party with the Division scheduled for the following night.

He could absolutely see a reason for lying to Denji. Especially if you were going out with a guy.

Going out overnight with a guy.

He probably would have had a field day with that information, or gotten butthurt, it’s hard to say for sure.

An intrusive thought floods Aki’s mind.

You, on your knees. A large frame leering over you, hands gripping your face, coaxing your mouth open-

Aki hears the front door open, and he abruptly snaps out of it. Trying to quell the surge of possessive bitterness spreading through his chest, listening to the muffled chatter between you and Denji.

***

Denji is soaked to the bone; the rain having gotten significantly worse the closer you got to the familiar apartment building. Water pools around his feet as he stands in the entryway, kicking his shoes off indiscriminately.

“An umbrella would’ve been nice, huh?”

“Don’t even.” Denji shakes his head like a dog, water spraying all over you.

“Denji!” A drop of water flies into your open mouth as you protest, quickly raising your hands to cover your face. “Gross…”

“Stop complaining. You’re perfectly dry besides your face, thanks to the jacket I let you wear.”

“This is my jacket, Denji.”

“That I refused to take when you offered it to me, you’re welcome.”

You laugh, a pleasant sound that echoes throughout the apartment. “Alright, sure. You’re a man among men.”

You miss the way Denji’s chest puffs out ever so slightly, a cocky smile briefly stretching his lips. He’s always proud of himself when he makes you laugh.

While you hang your jacket on the hook by the door, small water droplets falling to the floor, you glance over at him. His hair is wet and sticking to his face, the saturation coloring it much darker than normal, making the tawny hue of his eyes stand out.

You smile.

“Want to use my hair dryer? I’m assuming you don’t want Makima-san seeing you like this.”

“No way, that thing is loud as hell.” He huffs, brushing his wet bangs out of his face. “I’ll towel off.”

You quirk an eyebrow as Denji walks off, tracking water through the apartment on his way to the washroom.

It’s weirdly quiet as you slip into the kitchen, grabbing the nearest towel you see and crouching down onto the hard floor leading away from the entrance hall, soaking up the wet footprints.

Crawling on your hands and knees, you’ve almost made it to the washroom when a pair of sock-clad feet invade your vision. You look up to find Aki’s cobalt gaze staring down at you, his face void of any emotion besides the nearly imperceptible raising of his eyebrows.

You feel your throat constrict. That contrite, prickly feeling you get as a kid after being told-off by a teacher or upperclassmen. The energy around Aki is thick and heavy, palpable.

“Denji forgot the umbrella.”

Nothing.

Craning your neck to maintain eye contact, you feel your face heat up as the silence stretches, feeling smaller and smaller with each passing second.

“I didn’t want anyone to-“

“He’s almost eighteen, you shouldn’t be cleaning up after him like he’s a toddler.”

His words are cold, like icicles speared through your skull.

Yikes. Denji really must’ve pissed him off.

With a labored sigh you lift yourself off the floor, electing to remain silent, the soaked dish-towel heavy in your hands as you pad to the kitchen. You hear the sliding door of the patio open and close, the sound of the rain amplifying for a brief moment before becoming muffled again as you wring the dish-towel over the sink.

You try to stifle the twinge of disappointment you feel. You hadn’t been gone that long, but he could have at least welcomed you back or been a little nicer.

Suddenly, there’s a nagging sense of panic in the back of your mind.

Does he know?

You, in fact, were not out helping your aunt last night. Hell, you don’t even have an aunt.

The only family you’d truly known growing up was your grandmother who passed away when you were sixteen. She had raised you while your estranged father worked overseas, your mother having abandoned you and basically running away from any sort of responsibility shortly after your fourth birthday. (Call-girls with drug problems have a tendency to be kind of shitty partners and guardians, and that’s putting it nicely.)

You were in Yokohama, though. You hadn’t lied about that.

Just the company you were keeping.

A silver badge glinting underneath a midnight-blue blazer, the same kind, brown eyes you remembered on a head that now matched his body. A body that used to be gangly and thin, now broad and well-built.

Daichi Hasegawa.

The last time you had seen him was some time before your grandmother had died. You had gone to the same schools growing up in Nagano, he had been a couple years your senior, but you lived on the same street so you often walked to and from school together.

As kids you had sort of a love-hate relationship. He picked on you often for the cheap, worn uniform you wore and the dated haircut your grandmother always gave you at the start of every school year, but was quick to make it up to you whenever he had genuinely hurt your feelings.

He made you laugh often, and you thought he was handsome in a sort of endearing, unassuming way. He had confessed to you when you were fourteen, after he had grown into himself a little more and gained some confidence.

Your rejection was immediate.

It’s not that you never had any sort of feelings for him, you just didn’t want anything to do with that sort of thing. Being raised by a grandparent made you grow up quickly, often thinking more rationally than your peers.

Your father never had any love for your mother (obviously), and your mother’s love for him had been purchased (literally). Your grandmother had been cast aside for a mistress, her husband leaving her a single parent and social outcast, utterly humiliated.

Even at fourteen, you simply didn’t want to be another statistic. You would lie to yourself afterwards, insisting you felt nothing when his face fell and the glimmer of hope in his eyes was snuffed out.

His smile had a much cockier edge to it when he had approached you after a particularly nasty incident near the Port of Tokyo, his demeanor relaxed and sure of himself. You had actually blushed when he teased you – (y/n)! I could hardly recognize you without that bowl-cut. (For the record, it was not a bowl-cut. Maybe something similar, but…not a bowl-cut.)

You weren’t sure what to do when he handed you his phone number, scribbled on the back of a citation slip.

One night after a couple weeks had passed by, you had laid in bed, staring at his clumsy handwriting.

There was a strange sense of sadness, sticky and suffocating like taffy in the bottom of your throat, wondering if things might have been different for you. If you hadn’t been a shitty, angsty teenager and accepted his confession all those years ago.

Daichi’s voice was a mixture of surprise and excitement when you finally caved and dialed his number. You had both agreed to Yokohama, deciding it was far enough to avoid being seen by anyone in the Bureau or the MPD.

You didn’t want anyone assuming anything or jumping to conclusions.

It started out as just drinks, reminiscing on old times, giving each other shit. Maybe flirting a little bit. Flirting turning into light touches here and there, calloused fingertips grazing over the soft skin of your hand.

By the end of the night, you were sufficiently hammered, so when he whispered in your ear – I got a room not far from here, wanna go? You agreed.

Things happened so fast when you got to his room, it’s hard to remember exactly how things went down. You remember thinking your heart was going to beat out of your chest when he had you on the bed, his lips on yours. Gentle, bordering on chaste at first, but quickly turning into something hungry and desperate.

You remember trying to push away the faint feeling of wrongness in your gut when his mouth descended onto your neck, large, warm hands gripping at your waist, finding the hem of your shirt and sliding underneath.

Blue eyes and light reflecting off of black stud earrings invaded your mind like a parasite.

You couldn’t do it. You stopped him once he got to the waistband of your pleated skirt. Your incessant (slightly slurred) apologies were unnecessary. Daichi is a nice guy and he would never hold something like this against you. He even paid for the cab that took you back to your hotel.

When you collapsed onto the white comforter of your temporary bed, you had laughed at yourself.

How pathetic.

Pathetic for allowing the juvenile crush you have on your superior - a guy you’re pretty sure would sell you to Satan himself for a pack of smokes and a pint of Yebisu - to get in the way of some much-needed release.

"I’m pretty sure if you wring that towel any more it’s gonna rip in half, dude.”

You almost jumped out of your skin, dropping the towel into the sink, your eyes wide as plates when you whip your head over to see Denji leaning against the kitchen counter. You parted your lips to give him an earful about sneaking up on people, but your words died in your throat.

What the fuck did he do with his hair?

“Uh-uh. Nope.” You advance on him, sticking your fingers into his slicked-back hair. It’s texture solid and tacky. “You need to wash it out. Like, now. You look like a politician.” You lean forward, giving it a tentative sniff, grimacing at the strong smell. “Denji- did you use hairspray?”

He swats your hand away. “Himeno told me chicks like when guys do their hair like this. They think it’s ‘sexy’ or whatever.”

Shaking your head, you grab Denji’s wrist and drag him towards you, shoving his head down into the sink.

“That’s cold!” He protests when you run the faucet over his head, your fingers working through his hair.

“Stop wiggling- you’ll thank me for this someday.”

Denji’s too strong, he wriggles out of your grasp and bolts out of the kitchen, water flicking everywhere.

In a flash you shut the water off and run after him, barely getting past the living room before your foot catches on a wet spot and you slip, falling backwards in half a second and smacking the back of your head against the floor. Son of a bitch.

This is why I don’t let water sit on the floor.

A bark of laughter can be heard from the hall. You don’t have it in you to say anything, still laying there, staring up at the ceiling.

“Fuck me.” You mutter, lifting your hands to cover your face. Your head is pounding.

Is this karmic retribution?

“That’s what you get for chasing me like a little kid.” Denji’s hands pry your fingers off of your face, crouching over you, water from his bangs dripping onto your cheek. “Gonna cry?”

“No.”

“Gonna lay there forever?”

“Yes.”

Denji snorts. “You can’t. I need you to show me how to use that stupid hair drying thing.”

“I thought it was ‘hella loud’.” You mumble, flinching when another cold drop lands on your forehead.

“It is.” He retorts, wiping the drop away with his thumb.

***

It’s Aki’s second cigarette since retreating to the patio, and it isn’t doing much to calm his nerves. He’s taking long drags, leaned against the railing in some sort of attempt to put as much distance between himself and the apartment without actually leaving.

He had felt the synapses in his brain short-circuit when he stepped out of his bedroom to find you on your knees, your face flushed from the cold outside, looking up at him with that meek expression that drives him crazy.

He didn’t know what to say.

An impulsive part of him wanted to ask if you had really gone to help your aunt, but the logical part of himself dutifully reminded him that it’s none of his business. You don’t owe him anything outside of work. He’s in no position to accuse you of anything or tell you what to do.

What (or who) you choose to devote your energy to in your spare time is your prerogative.

Even if the thought of it makes him want to slam someone through a wall.

An inkling of guilt settles at the base of his throat, and he takes another heavy drag in an attempt to snuff it out.

He probably shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. All of this could just be speculation, and even if it isn’t, he’s not willing to risk nullifying the progress he’s made with you over petty jealousy.

He tries to ignore the fact that you’ve never mentioned having an aunt before, and the even bigger fact that Makima had stated outright before you came to live with him that you had no immediate relatives residing in the country.

The drag he takes this time burns so much it hurts.

“Just speculation.” He murmurs to himself, smoke streaming out of his nostrils.

***

Aki doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid, so when he catches a glimpse of you drying Denji’s hair in the bathroom with a bag of frozen vegetables held against your head, he says nothing and moves along to his bedroom where he gets changed into his black Public Safety slacks and tie. He knows the gathering is technically off the clock, but he feels weird being around the rest of the Division without it on.

It’s already ten minutes past when the three of you should have left when you finally emerge from your bedroom. Aki almost groaned. Cherry lips, pantyhose-clad legs exposed under the short pencil skirt you’re wearing, the silk button-up you have on (unbuttoned just enough to where he felt like his tie was choking him.)

He had to look away from you. When he did, he noticed the way Denji was gawking and shot him a warning glare before shoulder-checking him on his way to the front door.

The umbrella was left behind; it stopped raining a while ago and Aki can see slivers of the night sky in-between the clouds as the three of you walk. The izakaya was only a few streets down, so there was no need to take the metro.

He’s silent as he walks, pulling out a cigarette as he listens to Denji talk your ear off about the fighting game he was playing earlier and how he was going to kick your ass the next time you played. Aki scoffs to himself, pausing his stride and patting his pockets in search of his lighter.

Shit.

“It’s okay, I brought a spare.”

He looks down at you, unsure of when you got so close to him.

The lighter in your hand sparks to life. The glow of the flame reflects in your eyes and dances across the red gloss on your lips, which are curled up into a sweet smile that makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He can’t decide whether or not you look like an angel, or a demon.

“I always do. Just in case.”

He’s glad that it’s dark out so you can’t see the microscopic tinge of pink dusting his cheeks as he leans forward, steadying the cigarette hanging between his lips before taking a drag, tiny embers flying as the tip meets the flame.

He mutters a thank-you, tendrils of smoke creeping out the corners of his mouth as he watches you shove the lighter back into your small handbag and turn around to catch up to Denji who’s been walking ahead.

It’s like you’re trying to torture him.

The way you’re dressed, the way you’re still so damn nice even though he’s basically ignored your existence since snapping at you this afternoon over something trivial and meaningless.

It makes his stomach twist with guilt, and his feet feel a little bit heavier when he steps forward again.

[cyllres]

Devil | JJK x Makima! Reader

Chapter 43

(note: never been in the United Kingdom, so expect some inaccuracies when I describe the place. Religion is also mentioned in this chapter. These are all entirely fictional obviously. Bold means the character is speaking another language.)

The drizzle that seemed to cling to Bedford turned everything into a cold, damp mess. Streets shimmered with water that never seemed to dry, pooling into stubborn puddles that reflected the town’s perpetually overcast skies. The scent of wet earth and decaying leaves hung in the air like an unwelcomed guest, mixing with the faint, metallic tang of rain-soaked concrete. Droplets clung to the drooping branches of the weary trees lining the road, their weight dragging them downward in a silent resignation to the relentless rain.

You heaved an annoyed sigh as you shoved your luggage into the trunk of the black taxi, its glossy, rain-slicked exterior blending seamlessly into the somber surroundings. The mud squelched underfoot as you glared at Satoru, who stood next to you, grinning mischievously under an umbrella he was supposedly holding over you. The occasional droplet still managed to land on your head, only fueling your frustration.

“I told you there’s no need to pack so much,” he teased for what felt like the hundredth time. “We’re rich. We can just buy whatever we need.”

“Say that again,” you snapped, slamming the trunk shut with more force than necessary. “I’ll go back to Tokyo right now.” marching to the back seat of the taxi and wrenching the door open. Satoru, still unfazed, trailed behind you, holding the umbrella to shield you from the light rain.

Satoru laughed, as you climbed into the backseat of the taxi. “Teenage angst or jet lag?” he mused, sliding in beside you with that infuriatingly casual tone.

You didn’t bother answering, scooting to the far side of the seat as you stared out the rain-streaked window.

The taxi driver, a middle-aged man with a cheery disposition that clashed starkly with the gloomy weather, turned to greet you both. His warm smile lit up his otherwise weathered face. “Ah, welcome, hello!” he said brightly.

Satoru returned the enthusiasm, his tone exaggerated and comically chipper. “Hello! Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

You watched the exchange in silence, catching only bits of the English words. Though you didn’t fully understand, you suspected Satoru was saying something stupid—his trademark. You crossed your arms, letting him take the lead in the conversation.

The driver chuckled, his laugh a stark contrast to the melancholy atmosphere. “If you like getting soaked to the bone, I suppose it is!” He started the engine, the low rumble breaking the stillness. “Are you here on holiday? Plenty of sights in this town if you know where to look.” The driver turned to look at Satoru again. “So, where can I take you?”

Satoru leaned forward, showing the driver a picture on his phone. “Actually, my daughter and I are here to visit this church. Can you take us there as quickly as possible?”

The driver’s eyes widened in surprise. “Daughter? You look like siblings! What’s your secret, mate? You look barely older than her!”

Satoru’s grin grew wider, his ego inflating with the compliment. “Adopted her when I was nineteen and she was five. Still, she’s mine. Aren’t you, kid?” He draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into an affectionate—but highly irritating—side hug.

You shoved him off, muttering, “What are you doing?” while glaring daggers at him.

“You two could've fooled me, you both look alike!” The driver laughed heartily before squinting his eyes on the phone, the driver suddenly got quiet as he looked in front, grabbing the steering wheel. “Are you sure about visiting that church? Not a good place to be honest, locals steer clear of it, and tourists rarely enjoy their visit there.” The driver asked seriously, his earlier enthusiasm gone, steering the taxi down the wet streets

“What are you talking about?” you whispered to Satoru, your curiosity piqued by the sudden change in tone.

“Nothing serious, I'll tell you later.” he replied nonchalantly, though the edge in his voice betrayed his interest. Switching back to English, he addressed the driver, “How long have people been avoiding the place?”

“Four and a half years, give or take.” The taxi driver sighed. “It's a shame, that church was lovely.”

“And why is that?” Satoru pressed on.

The driver hesitated, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. “Some say it’s haunted. Strange things happen there.” He turned onto a narrower road, the cobblestones giving way to gravel. The car came to a stop, the driver shifting in his seat nervously. “This is as far as I’ll go. You two be careful, alright?”

Satoru handed you the umbrella and paid the fare with his usual carefree demeanor. “Thank you, sir.” He stepped out into the drizzle, easily retrieving your luggage from the trunk. You followed, standing beside him as you took in the sight of the looming church ahead.

The church’s vibrant stone façade clashed with the ominous energy radiating from it. You could feel it, oppressive and heavy, curling around your senses like smoke. “Gojo-sensei, what’s in there?” you asked, your voice low, uneasy. Satoru however didn't answer you just yet, he walked to the church, reaching the arch entrance.

Satoru tilted his head, the perpetual grin on his face as irreverent as ever. His blindfold concealed his eyes, but you could still feel the teasing glint radiating from him. He gently placed your luggage before extending his arms as if addressing an adoring crowd. “Alright, class is in session! Let me enlighten you on a little history first.” His tone was theatrical, as though he were narrating an ancient epic.

You raised a brow, already regretting tagging along with him. “Gojo-sensei, we’re standing in front of a cursed site, not a lecture hall.”

“Ah, but education waits for no one!” he quipped, ignoring your deadpan expression. He gestured grandly toward the beautiful church looming over you both, its jagged silhouette against the dim sky looking more like a gaping maw than a sanctuary. “Once upon a time, in 1550, after some king kicked the bucket, his sister took over. The devout queen—let’s call her uhm, oh shit I forgot,” He muttered before continuing the story. “—decided England needed a spiritual rebrand. She dragged the kingdom back to her version of the ‘true faith,’ incense and all. Churches, my dear Y/n, were born of that fervor. And guess what? They named one of it after her.”

You crossed your arms, already growing weary of his roundabout storytelling. “How does this relate to our mission? Or are you just stalling to avoid actually working?”

“Patience, grasshopper,” he said, wagging a finger. “This gets better. Fast forward a few centuries, and the original church crumbled blah blah blah natural selection blah blah blah—too much negative energy, apparently. So they built this one a little closer to town. But here’s the kicker, for the past years—this shiny replacement turned out to be a real mood killer. People step inside, and they feel sick. You know, the usual getting cursed sick.” He ran his hand along the wooden door, pausing dramatically as if expecting applause for his exposition. “Ironic, right? A place meant to inspire divine comfort now makes people die.”

“Are you done?” you asked, your voice flat. “Or do I have to listen to you blab?”

“Rude. I’m building suspense!” He straightened his posture, dusting off his coat as if preparing for a show. His tone shifted, just slightly, to something more grounded. “Here’s where it gets juicy. Local sorcerers have been trying to fix this for years. Since obviously it's done by a cursed spirit. They poked around, found nothing, but then! One sorcerer decided to investigate the original church uphill, where the cursed spirit that plagued that place was sealed and guess what? Turns out, that spirit’s gone.” His voice dropped slightly, the faintest hint of seriousness bleeding through his usual nonchalance. “Which is bad. Because sealed curses don’t just leave unless someone lets them out—or according to their theory it's powerful enough to escape on its own.”

Satoru took a deep breath dramatically. “And my gut tells me this cursed spirit has been unsealed for decades but it stayed quiet, like a bacteriophage. Now it’s strong enough to cause this mess.” He sighed. “What irritates me even more is the local’s stubbornness in not letting us intervene. Now we're stuck with this.”

Your eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying this one escaped, hid for decades, and only decided after four years to act? It’s strong enough to the point it affects a church named after a church it resides at?”

His expression quickly changed, grinning, twirling a finger in the air. “Exactly! Imagine the patience. Makes me wonder if it was plotting its big debut. Anyway, it’s clearly been snacking, building strength. And now it’s our turn to clean up a centuries-old oopsie.”

He turned abruptly, his coat flaring dramatically as he started up the dirt path leading uphill, ignoring the ominous creak of tree branches in the wind. “Come on, my oh-so-grumpy student. Aren’t you thrilled to be part of history?”

You sighed, tightening your grip on the umbrella as droplets of rain began to patter around you. “I think you mean history’s cleanup crew,” you muttered, trudging after him.

The rain picked up slightly, the droplets pinging softly against your umbrella. Satoru, of course, didn’t bother with one. He walked ahead, hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture loose and carefree despite the oppressive atmosphere of the cursed site. His voice, however, was anything but subdued.

“You know,” he began again, his tone deceptively casual, you braced yourself for another yap session. “it’s hilarious how some of these local sorcerers operate. Four years—four years—of people randomly dying, weird incidents piling up, and what do they do? Stick their heads in the sand and pretend they’ve got it under control. It’s almost adorable how prideful they are.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure they loved it when you showed up and offered to help.”

“Oh, you have no idea, it wasn't me that offered my help, it was the higher-ups since they're cowards and this incident probably scared them too,” he said with a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at you. “But the looks on their faces! Like I just kicked their puppy. ‘Oh, no, not the great Satoru Gojo! We can handle this ourselves!’” His voice pitched up mockingly, mimicking their indignation. “Sure, guys, because you’ve done such a stellar job so far.”

“Maybe they just didn’t want to deal with your ego,” you muttered, earning a bark of laughter from him.

“Probably! But let’s be real, if they’d just swallowed their pride and called for backup, we wouldn’t even be here right now. This could’ve been wrapped up years ago. Instead, they let this thing fester, and now it’s grown into a much bigger problem. Classic.”

As the path steepened, the church began to loom larger ahead, its jagged spire piercing the gray sky. The air felt heavier with each step, the cursed energy pressing down like an invisible weight. Satoru seemed unbothered, though, continuing his tirade as if the oppressive atmosphere didn’t exist.

“And don’t even get me started on the fact that they sealed this thing instead of exorcising it. Like, what genius came up with that plan? ‘Oh, here’s a cursed spirit so dangerous but let's not kill it, let’s just shove it in a box and hope for the best!’ Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

You frowned. “Maybe they didn’t have a choice. If it was centuries ago—”

“Still stupid,” he interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “You don’t leave a ticking time bomb just sitting around for someone else to deal with. Seal it, forget about it, and hope the problem magically disappears? It’s the kind of thinking that lands people in messes like this.” He gestured broadly to the ominous structure ahead. “And guess who gets to clean it up?”

“Us,” you said dryly.

“No, me!” He spun on his heel to face you, walking backward up the hill now, his grin wide and infuriatingly smug. “Lucky for them, they’ve got me. The world’s strongest sorcerer, here to save the day. Again. I should start charging extra for cleaning up ancient screw-ups. Maybe make a whole separate business out of it—‘Gojo’s Curse Removal Services.’ Catchy, right?”

You resisted the urge to groan. “Sure, sensei. Very catchy.”

He turned back around, his voice taking on a singsong quality as he continued. “Honestly, the arrogance is what gets me. Like, come on, guys. If you’re going to seal something, at least make sure it stays sealed! But noooo, they had to leave it just unstable enough for some cursed user or the spirit itself to wiggle free. Now we’ve got this delightful little problem on our hands.”

“Does this mean you actually have a plan?” you asked, dodging a particularly slippery patch of mud as you climbed.

“Of course I have a plan!” he said, throwing his hands up. “It’s called ‘beat it up until it stops moving.’ Works every time.”

You sighed, your grip tightening on the umbrella as you followed him. “Sure, I believe you sensei.” You said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome!” he called back, his laughter echoing through the cursed air as the church loomed closer, its presence as foreboding as his attitude was irritating.

The old church loomed on the desolate hill like a graveyard of faith, its crumbling stones bearing the weight of countless forgotten prayers. The skeletal remains of its walls seemed to groan under the oppressive sky, where thunderclouds hung heavy and lifeless.

Vines slithered up the jagged tower like veins pumping poison into a long-dead heart, their grip relentless against the cold stone. Windows that once held vibrant stained glass now yawned as empty sockets, staring into the encroaching dusk with a hollow, unblinking gaze. The wind whistled through the broken archways, carrying with it an anguished moan that seemed neither entirely human nor entirely of this world.

You stepped into the desolate church, the oppressive weight of cursed energy pressing against you like a shroud. The light rain seeped through the fractured roof, adding to the decay around you, but you paid it no mind. Your grip on the umbrella was firm but unhurried, your steps measured and deliberate. The hollow echo of your footfalls seemed to ripple through the stagnant air, each sound a challenge to the malevolence surrounding you.

In the center of the church sat a large broken glass box, its edges jagged and gleaming faintly in the dim light.

“Damn, it’s hiding till now,” Satoru murmured, his voice muffled as he pulled on the veil, a rare sign that even he recognized the seriousness of the situation. He strolled around the church, unbothered by the oppressive energy that would send most sorcerers retreating. His fingers grazed the crumbling walls with an almost lazy curiosity, like a cat toying with its prey. “Come out, come out, wherever you are~” he called out playfully, his tone light enough to be infuriating.

“Hiding?” you murmured, your voice calm, sharp, and cutting through the oppressive air like a blade. Your eyes focused on the decaying altar. It was not a question but an accusation, your tone steady as though you were addressing an errant subordinate rather than the entity before you.

Atop the altar stood a figure that seemed torn between divinity and malevolence, an abomination draped in contradictions. Its porcelain face glowed with an unsettling serenity, ethereal and flawless, as if sculpted by a master. Yet, the twin voids of its eyes seemed to swallow all light, dragging your gaze into their endless depths.

Behind it, six pairs of iridescent wings shimmered, their divine luminescence marred by the black ichor that dripped from jagged feathers. Each drop sizzled upon contact with the stone floor, leaving behind scorch marks that pulsed faintly with cursed energy. Its robe, a tattered blend of gold and shadow, shifted like liquid smoke, revealing glimpses of grotesque forms beneath. Faces stretched against the fabric, mouthing silent prayers that seemed to scratch at the edges of your hearing.

Above its head spun a fractured halo of blackened iron, rotating with a disjointed rhythm. Within its broken arcs flickered distorted images of anguish—faces weeping, screaming, and contorting in eternal despair. Its claws, long and gleaming like polished obsidian, twitched with barely restrained energy, while its feet hovered inches above the ground, leaving a trail of cursed imprints that bled into the room’s atmosphere.

The entity was mesmerizing, a grotesque masterpiece of fear and reverence, and yet you remained entirely unmoved. Your expression remained composed, your calculating mind dissecting every detail, cataloging its movements, its energy, and its intent.

“I can feel its energy everywhere,” Satoru mused behind you, his tone almost cheerful despite the suffocating pressure in the room. He lazily glanced around the shadowed corners of the dilapidated church, his hands in his pockets. “But where’s the rest of it hiding? Feels like it’s trying way too hard to impress.”

You stepped forward, your gaze unwavering. The figure tilted its head slightly, as though acknowledging you, its lips parting to release a sound both melodic and haunting. “I… am Aghatiel. I am the god,” it intoned. Its voice was an enigma, both soothing and commanding, carrying an unnatural weight that made the air ripple.

“Aghatiel,” you repeated softly, letting the name settle in your mouth like a foreign object. Your tone was neutral but carried an undercurrent of sharpness, a quiet authority that dared the spirit to reveal more.

The cursed spirit’s hollow eyes locked onto you, its focus narrowing. The oppressive energy surged, thickening the air until it felt almost solid, but you didn’t flinch. Your presence remained steady, rooted like an immovable force, even as the pressure sought to crush weaker wills.

The spirit whispered something unintelligible before lunging at you with terrifying speed. Its corrupted wings flared, filling the room with blinding, warped light, and the fractured halo above it spun with violent intensity.

Your gaze sharpened, your body shifting slightly as you calculated its trajectory in an instant. Your calm was unnerving, your expression betraying nothing but a faint flicker of interest.

“Interesting,” you murmured, almost to yourself, as the cursed spirit closed in. A faint, imperceptible smile tugged at your lips, as though the entire situation amused you more than it concerned you.

[oleicim]

i wanna be a hayakawa child too pls can u write gn reader living with aki denji and power (mainly focusing on aki being a dad cuz it's funny to me LMAOO) and if you feel like it can the reader be a bit younger than denji and power maybe 14-15? just some random kid they picked off the streets and who aspires to be a devil hunter like aki

PART OF THE FAMILY

PAIRS: p!denji hayakawa x reader ,, p!power hayakawa x reader ,, & p!aki hayakawa x reader

WARNINGS: mention of starvation and uncleanliness ,, angsty attributes overall. reference to suicide, but not detailed at all-no character death. poor self-esteem (aki)

CIELO'S NOTE: this is so over the place but i hope its still okay!! there is no makima in this okay so we are all happy and living together in #peace because thats what everyone deserves... i seriously need to start proofreading

ONE ASSUMPTION MANY SHARED ON WHAT TYPE OF PERSON AKI HAYAKAWA WAS THAT HE WAS HEARTLESS. he seemed so, with that stoic expression and nonchalance of his in many situations where he should’ve shown distraught. but aki was the direct opposite of everything that word conveyed, all the antonyms of it gathered because aki wasn’t heartless, he was compassionate, just discreetly so.

although when the rumors of aki being heartless were asked to him, he’d say he was. it was only because he truly dreamt of being that disconnected from the world so he could just feel the immense pain and sorrow that continuously flooded his veins every minute of the day just disperse just for a second. but even this plain out rejection of the true caring quality he had; it could never be erased. as much as he agreed to the rumors and attempted to force this indifference people assumed of him, he did a number of selfless actions in the shadows that would always prove that he just couldn’t be that person.

so, even as he tried to still yet again close himself off from being humane, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar quality of caring when he had saw your malnourished body shivering in the alleyway. you were just a kid, younger looking than the idiots he’s grown to love. your eyes gleaming still, and it guffawed him that you still had that light in your eyes.

seeing you also reminded him of himself, when the gun devil massacre occurred and had left him as lonely and shivering as you were now. that’s what ultimately led him to stretch out his hand towards you. he wouldn’t allow anyone suffer the same fate he had been bestowed of, not when he has the choice to prevent that. he took the part as your sort of saving angel, despite his personal belief that he was still more of a corrupted being.

he told you then that you could only stay with him till you could pick yourself up, ideally a week to get some food in you and hydrate as well as bathe. but that week ultimately turned into two weeks, then three to four until it turned into months and to the point where the days are still counting.

you’ve got a drawer of clothes in aki’s dresser now, pair of shoes fitted in-between the space of denji’s and aki’s at the front door. you even have your own home slippers, a different color from the rest of the residents in the hayakawa household.

you were part of the family.

now it wasn’t hard to warm up to power, and in a short time you both were so close she said you will be her right-hand when she becomes president, learning that the role she deemed for you is actually called vice-president from a tired aki during dinner.

she's certainly overwhelming, with her shameless antics and loud boasts, but you don’t mind. it's better than the loneliness the streets gave you.

she uses you as her alibi or brings you in when she gets a scolding from aki so you could defend her, and because aki blatantly has shown that he favors you more than others she always gets off the hook.

besides that, “abuse” which aki calls it, power has her own way of doting on you and showing she does truly care, such as throwing out your vegetables during meals, so you won't endure its “nastiness” (that's what she says.)

she lets you play with meowy, and there are times you two and the kitty fall asleep together on the sofa, which has become your favorite pastime. power is unbelievably warm, and oddly soft to the touch. she crawls and latches onto you like a koala, and cradles you like she’s protecting you from the outside world. she lets you in on pranks and dangerous activities that lead aki to give her another scolding, and a firm warning to you.

denji is different, but not in a bad way. he at first was annoying and rejected you, but that was till he learned why you live with them, and then he started to warm up because you also reminded him of himself. he treats you now like power, doting on you with a faux annoyance at first to the action. he bathes you if you're too tired, and lets you poke and prod him and gives you a goodnight kiss on the forehead before you slip in the sheets of aki’s bed for the night.

he honestly looks after you more than he does for himself, making sure you're fine and well before he thinks about what he needs to do for him. that ends in late nights where he comes back from a mission and is so exhausted and weak that you help him swallow down a meal aki cooked earlier, as he hadn't eaten in many hours but made sure he begged aki to make dinner your favorite meal before he left.

what he does for you makes you choke back a sob at night when you think about it and how truly kind he is at heart.

but neither the softhearted but unhinged siblings of yours could take the place of aki’s as your favorite out of everyone in the unofficial family. aki hayakawa gave you everything, the normalcy of a domestic life that you were sure you wouldn't have been able to gain back out in the dirty alleyways. no one can ever top the amount of gratitude and admiration you have for the stoic man.

there’s also something special about how aki treats you, it's a contrast from how he is perceived. he treats you softly. you at times have to pout and tell him you're not a toddler because of how gentle he is, which he always gives out a breath of a laugh and a ghost of a smile in response.

he buys you anything you see, within certain extents, when he brings you out with him for mundane things like grocery shopping. and even then, any expensive item you like will end up in a couple weeks' time in a gift bag by your side of the bed.

theres also the fact of when you first came to live with them, and when everyone, including yourself, warmed up, he learned how to braid your hair. he wanted to help you out, as your hair had grown out a lot from the amount of time of you were out there. he learned the simple braid and that was your hairstyle till he reluctantly picked up scissors and watched a video on the decided hairstyle you wanted, even buying other products to keep up the maintenance your hair needed.

he was ultimately the father figure you dreamt of on those cold nights on concrete, and you couldn't have asked for anyone better so that's why even with denji’s selfless acts and power’s constant love nagging he still remained your favorite. even with his grumpy and nonchalant attitude, you loved him.

and aki equally loved you, so hearing your new boasts of how you wanted to be just like him made his heart stop and his breathing hitch. it was quite clear that aki didn't have a great self-image of himself, he was a man previously living solely on avenging his family, he was rage and depression bottled up and living on the brink of breaking, until you and the others came along. but that inner turmoil still left its fragments inside of him, and aki didn't ever want you to feel or be the same way as him. he doesn't want you to endure the mornings where he has to remember he has people that truly care for him now, that he has people to live for, to protect, so he won’t make a life altering decision.

he knows your words come from a good heart, aki knows that you see him as your savior and he feels a little better at the thought of being a saint to someone such as you. but he still grimaces internally when you state you’ll be as great as him, he loves you so much that it hurts in good and bad ways when he hears your idolization. he’s not what you think, he tells himself, but you do. you’ve grown to know who he is underneath that tough facade and still continue to want to be like him.

you admire his strength for what he has endured, and want to be like him in that aspect. you want your compassionate quality to be as large as his so you could help people like he helped you. he’s your favorite, through in and out and you want to be everything he is.

this all brought you here, standing in front of the television and blocking the comedic show from your unofficial siblings and father figure. they all stared at you, denji’s brows furrowed with an open jaw that you guess is about to let out an annoyed question to what you're doing, whilst power just stared at you with the same intensity denji had, while aki just bored his attention onto you.

“hey! what are you-”

before he could finish the sentence, you had predicted to note, you looked straight at aki, a newfound determination set on your features as you clenched your fists.

“i wanna be a devil hunter jus’ like you!”

your words reverberated against the walls of the apartment, and you could see the eyes of aki and denji widen in reaction, but to your surprise you could see more shock coming from aki. you had thought about this decision for a while, your admiration blossoming for aki as each day passes and it's become so overwhelming that you couldn't just not take an actual step towards being just like him.

denji smirked, puffing his chest as he let out a sigh. “ah, i knew you’d want to be as good as me!” he exclaimed, and your own brows furrowed, and you drifted your attention from aki towards your brother who took the direction of your statement to himself. “what!? not you, idiot!!!!” you rebutted, which resulted in an obnoxious laugh from power, her body falling to the floor as she held her stomach and kicked her legs, spurting out words of insults to denji as he started to argue with power in frustrated embarrassment.

the bickering got louder as the two started to fight, and you chose to ignore them like always and looked back at the stunned aki. the man sat there still with crossed legs, but his gaze seems clouded as he was lost in thought.

“aki?” you said, moving to sit down on the floor next to him, his glossed over eyes moving with you as he kept his stare on you. the man then blinked, once, twice, before he seemed to snap out of his world.

aki knew you’d eventually start to take steps towards your admiration, but not this soon. it was endearing and scary and oh so overstimulating to think about your decision. but he knew you long enough that the determination of yours could never die out, the proof being the light that still gleamed in your eyes on that day he found you.

“really? are you sure?...” his words are soft but had a firm tone, and his seeming acceptance to your words throw you off a bit. you nod after a few beats of silence between you two, the bickers of your siblings drowning out in the background as you focused on the conversation with aki. “yes. i want to be jus’ like you aki.” you confirmed, and before he can refute that he isn't everything you say he is you speak again. “i wanna be able to be strong enough to protect people i love jus’ like you, to save others so they dont leave behind people who will be on the streets like me.” the explanation that falls off your lips made aki’s bustling mind quiet for seconds, your words being drunk in by him.

then, he nodded, slowly, then reached out, moving your body to rest against his side as your head found place in the crook of his neck and your body unconsciously melts into a cradle position beside him. his left hand stretches to rest on the arm that's tucked in front of your body, and the other is placed on top of your head. it was his last chance to properly shield you from the world before throwing you back in it.

“okay, we’ll start with basics, no devil contracts or actual battles just yet.”

CIELO'S SECRETS !!

aki legally adopted you so your last name is actually hayakawa! your siblings are still waiting to gain their actual hayakawa last name :P

i rewrote this 5 times and i still cant seem to like it >:( but this one was the best version! i liked writing about the siblings tee hee.

[mikanotes]

remains

denji x gn!reader — 1.7k words

genre: angst comfort, platonic (probably)

warnings: csm pt1 spoilers, mentions of death, grief, anxiety, not really canon compliant (written before pt2 came out), talks of marriage, suicidal ideation and depression.

synopsis: the aftermaths of denji’s time as a public safety devil hunter, and the pain that comes with.

author’s note: edited repost from an old sideblog of mine because it was too good. i wrote it before part two came out so obviously a lot might seem ooc bare with me please and thank you… that’s all actually. yay!

Denji steps out of his apartment, sighing and shaking his backpack on his back a little. He sighs and huffs and does all sorts of disgruntled expressions as he walks down the stairs.

“Nayuta, hurry up already.” he yells, jogging down. The girl sighs in annoyance as she closes the door to their apartment.

You laugh as you watch them bickering while they walk down. Once they reach the streetwalk, Denji’s face lights up.

“Finally!” he exclaims, smiling widely. He runs up to you with an exaggerated crying expression and open arms, before engulfing you into a suffocating hug. “I missed you!”

“It’s been two days.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He pulls away and smiles still. You chuckle and shake your head, before turning to his little sister. “Hi, Nayuta.”

“School.” she says, before walking away. You stare at her with furrowed eyebrows before turning to Denji.

“Uh?”

“Kobeni takes her to school now.” he says, blankly, “She needed a job. She’s still broke.”

“And you’re not?”

Denji makes an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders and begins walking away in the direction of the path to your high school. You shake your head to ignore the hundred questions you have to ask and run up to catch up to him.

For over five months now, Denji has been silent.

Sometimes, he’s overbearingly loud and present— Makes a show out of reminding everyone around him that he exists. He’s joyful, and acts like his stupid, idiot teenager boy self. It’s Denji. It’s him. But it’s different. He’s craving attention; he’s craving comfort, company. He was alone before and he was used to it, but then he got a family, love and company, and it was all ripped away from him— his life— so fast and easily, like it meant nothing. He needed someone. Something. To hold onto.

And so sometimes he’s dreadfully quiet. He doesn’t say a word and practically only replies to questions with nods, shakes of his head or hums. He mumbles his way through his sentences and walks to school like heavy chains are on his feet. He’s visibly unwell. He doesn’t really sleep. It shows on his face— and Nayuta told you.

He misses Aki and Power.

Makima, almost. In spite of everything.

He misses the daydream that his reality had become, for a while.

And he’s quiet when you walk to school. You know he’s glad to have you with him because you were part of the Public Safety Devil Hunters, but you attended high-school at the same time. That meant once he finally enrolled, he wasn’t alone. Yoshida Hirofumi was there, too, but he wasn’t in the same grade and he was also deemed “creepy” by Denji, which earned him a lighthearted hit to the back of his head. The point is that Denji is glad he isn’t alone, and that someone from what one could call his previous life is still there. Alive. Standing. Doing well. Someone who knows about everything, and who won’t ask about anything. Someone who understands him without needing him to talk.

You.

“You’re crying.” you say after a good fifteen minutes of silence and walking to school. Denji is looking ahead and only wipes his tears with the back of his hand.

“Not.”

“Sure are.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t mention it again. Not even when you hear him try to stifle his sobs during fifth period at school. Not when he spaces out and doesn’t eat his lunch to stare out the window without moving. You figure he needs time, still.

When the school day ends, he walks slowly as he exits the gates. You look at him from a few meters back and think for a moment, before jogging up to him.

“I’m staying over at your apartment today.” you say, walking ahead of him and skipping through your steps. You hear a familiar scoff and then him running up to catch up to you.

“No, you’re not.” he scoffs, walking next to you with his arms crossed. You look at him with raised eyebrows and he side-eyes you. He sighs quietly, pursing his lips. “… Will you help me cook? Nayuta keeps complaining.”

You scoff in victory and hold up your fist. He bumps his own into it.

“Deal.” “Deal.”

So you stay there the whole night.

You cook some instant ramen Denji has because you’re actually not much of a better cook than him, but it seems Nayuta prefers it when you’re the one who makes it. He sits on a chair next to you and dully watches you cook. You turn to look at him, “What’s up?” you ask, and he shrugs.

“Can we, like, get married, or something?“

“The hell?”

He shrugs again and closes his eyes, sinking down on his chair. “I dunno. I’m like, alone, y’know. I don’t know, I just think it’d be nice having you over more often. And the kid likes you. I just thought about it.”

You laugh because marriage is so far-fetched when he could just ask you to be roommates. You know marriage’s an oath— You’re supposed to be together forever, or something. Denji probably thinks it means security. To stay with you. To not be alone ever again, even if it wouldn’t change much from what you already have and you both know that. You know that what he’s trying to say is that it’s harder than he pretends to live alone. To live alone again. Nayuta isn’t enough to complete the hole that Aki and Power’s death left in his chest. And as innocent as she is, she reminds him of the nightmare that destroyed all of it. Makima. Sometimes, he purposefully takes too long to come back home after class so Kobeni takes care of her longer and he can spend longer without seeing those damned eyes, even if it means paying Kobeni double. You know because when he isn’t staying alone in some street, he’s with you in a park or at your place.

“We’re not getting married, you fucking idiot.” you mumble, laughing still as you pour the ramen into three bowls. You exhale and focus your gaze on the food, “I’ll just come over more often.”

“I don’t want you coming over more oftennnnn.” he damn-near whines, “You piss me off.”

“You said you wanna get married.”

“Yeah, but still.”

You scoff and bring the food on the counter. “Nayuta. The food’s ready.” you say, and the girl looks from her spot on the floor, where she lies down on her stomach while reading a manga magazine. The dogs seem to all wake up at the same time as she gets up. There’s sliced bread on the side of her bowl and she takes it with her teeth before walking off with the bowl in hands. The dogs follow her.

Denji turns on his chair and leans his arms on the counter before putting his head on them. He stares at the side of his bowl and you lean against the counter, taking your own. You mix the ramen with your chopsticks a bit and sigh.

“You should eat.” you say.

“I will.” he says.

“Before it gets cold. Or else you’ll complain.” you add. He sighs and gets up enough to spin his chair so it faces the counter and sits back down, before eating. He finishes the bowl pretty fast and then he’s back to leaning on the surface of the counter. You tilt your head. “The…” you hesitate, “The dogs should probably go out for a bit, right? Wanna go walk them together?”

He nods a bit.

Nayuta falls asleep. You head out with the dogs. Denji holds half of them, you the other. The night is cold. Denji doesn’t seem to mind, or to realize. You’re not sure.

You walk to a small bench next to a vending machine. You sit down and Denji buys drinks. He hands you your favorite and keeps his own in hand. The dogs are seemingly enjoying the night breeze much more than you are. You’re cold.

“You know.” Denji begins, “I came here after Aki died. This exact fuckin’ place. I ate ice cream. And Makima found me, somehow. And she brought me to her place. That’s where I met those dogs for the first time, too.”

You hum.

“Then she killed Power.” he says.

You nod slowly.

There’s silence and it isn’t uncomfortable but it’s heavy. If you couldn’t feel Denji’s grief before it was all you could feel now. Like it hung in the air, suffocating. You knew Aki, and you were acquainted with Power. But you didn’t know either of them half as much as Denji did.

It hurt when they died, but not half as much as it did for Denji.

You could feel his hurt now. It made you wonder how he kept living. It was grief so terribly painful and overwhelming that anyone would rather kill themselves than keep enduring it. But Denji was… Denji. You figured he was just different. Nothing really new.

“I thought to myself, I killed Aki.” he says, then sighs like it was hard to breathe properly, “So it was easy for me to think the same for Power, y’know? ‘It’s my fault. I killed them’.”

“I understand.”

“Mhm.”

He uncaps his can of soda and drinks around half of it in one go.

You two go back home.

The dogs went to sleep fast, Nayuta was still asleep, and Denji was worn out. So you cleaned up the place, put his coat on the coat hanger for him, and put his shoes properly at the entrance where he’d taken them off messily. You put a blanket on him and readjust the one on Nayuta. Then you lay down next to Denji.

He opens his eyes a bit and just looks at you. There’s silence. He hugs you and hides his face in the crook of your neck.

“We should really get married.”

“No.”

“Man. Fuck you.”

He holds you, still, and you hold him. He fell asleep before you did. You spent a while carding your fingers through his hair and rubbing his back, making sure he was really asleep. Making sure he wouldn’t suddenly jump because of a nightmare (it had happened before). And then you allowed yourself to fall asleep.

When the sun was up and you were all awake, Denji was back to being loud. You figured he was okay. It was enough for now. He was alright.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Sorry: I thought of another Makima comment/question. But before I bring that up, I am very excited to see that you are writing something for JJK!!!! I know it's going to be so perfect and give me all the feels!!!

Okay so I read your response to my question, (I'm the one who asked about character study), and I just wanted your thoughts/opinions on the jealously issue that arises with Himeno. I know you mentioned Makima being jealous of Himeno's relationship with reader, and I want to know how much of that you think is nature or nurture. It's obvious she is possessive of reader due to her nature as the Control Devil, but do you think that is equally due to nurture? i.e. what she has learned from movies or from other humans' interactions with their significant others? I love the moment when she catches Himeno with her arms around reader's shoulders. I cannot imagine the range of intense emotions and inner turmoil she felt seeing that!!! And do you think that was a recurring feeling she experienced when someone got a little too close to her beloved? I feel that is a trait that will carry on to Nayuta and all other reincarnations (as possessiveness does in the Canon!)

Thank you so much for your time once again!

Hi again, I love talking about character studies and motivations so keep 'em coming if you ever have another question \^o^/

(As for that JJK fic... it is certainly going to be a grand ride and it is going to be a bit of stray from what I typically write. I'm having fun working on the draft, it's going to come with a surprise I hope people appreciate when it's finally up and posted!)

I think that as far as Makima's jealousy though, it's a mixture of both. It's in her nature to be possessive as one who is the physical embodiment of the fear of being controlled but I attribute her behavior to nurture as well. If you're someone who has been deprived of affection your whole life, you're bound to be possessive of whatever affection you receive. That's essentially how Makima's jealousy works as far as my fics goes.

When she has a shift in how she views the reader and their relationship changes, that affection is something she prefers to have to herself. But Makima is someone very patient and we see in the canon, she has no problem playing the long game to get what she wants. She won't lash out out of her emotions even if she wants to. So during the moment where she saw the extent of the reader's friendship with Himeno, there were quite a bit of ideas she had concerning Himeno and making her disappear entirely.

But at that point in time, Makima views the reader a beacon of light for the sort of relationship she can hope to have with someone one day. The reader has, at this point, never succumbed to Makima's abilities. The reader has recognized Makima's loneliness and reached out to comfort her even though at that point, the reader's opinion of Makima was quite low. Add to the fact that Makima and Reader's relationship has improved exponentially by that point, it's something she doesn't want anyone impeding on. Not even someone who was there first as "your friend".

And yet, Makima doesn't lash out despite how much she would like to. Because the key thing Makima has always desired is being able to have a relationship with someone built on equity rather than fear and control. She doesn't want to mess that up having a jealous fit. She is afraid of losing that affection she receives from the reader, but she is more afraid of there being a day the reader succumbs to the influence of Makima's powers.

So she relies on intimidation in the moment Himeno encroaches on someone Makima claims as her own. And when she feels that is failing, she decides to rely on good old-fashioned communication when the reader prompts her to be honest as to why she is upset during their date.

But when their relationship is solidified as a couple, I see Makima making it more apparent when she is feeling jealous or needy. Lovers should be honest with one another, after all. Especially after she reveals her true identity and it didn't scare the reader off. They have their contract, marriage in Makima's eyes. It's the ultimate insurance of their relationship. So it does increase a bit from then on.

Kishibe encroaching on their peaceful life.

The reader's death at the hand of the Rat Devil, destroying precious life Makima held so dearly to her heart. It's an unforgivable crime to take that away from her.

I feel that jealousy would even extend to your family as well. Your family is her family now, something she's always desired. A family that she didn't need to make her own through force. So I feel if the reader has any siblings or close family childhood friends, Makima would feel some type of way about it.

It never makes it into the final draft, but there was a small joke in my outline about how Makima would view the reader making a contract with another devil as cheating. It was something I was only planning on being some sort of gag, but I don't think it would be too far from the truth. Makima would prefer to be the only devil the reader ever has a contract with.

And when it comes to her future incarnations, they definitely have varying degrees of possessiveness regardless of the quality of their lives. Nayuta doesn't showcase it during the sequel mostly due to the fact that for an indiscernible amount of time, it's only ever been just her and the reincarnated reader. So I imagine that when the two of them begin interacting with other people on the regular from schoolmates to even Power, it begins to come out more.

But Himeno, fun as she is, is strict about that. So Nayuta isn't allowed to let those feelings run rampant no matter how much she would like to.

[ember-owlet]

hi !! ive seen some of your csm stuff so i hope you still do stuff for it lol. would you be willing to perhaps do some regressor makima hcs? it has been on the mind lately....... thank you! -🫧

firelight anon i'm genuinely saying this in the most positive way i can but this is the most unique request i've gotten (so far you guys keep finding new ways to surprise me /lh) and i love it so much,, i had to take a second to giggle knowing there's someone out there who sees the incarnate of evil as a regressor,, you are awesome never change. this was definitely a fun challenge to write for and i appreciate your patience, and please be aware of manga spoilers! so as my last fulfilled request of the year, i hope you enjoy this anon! happy new year! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

art credit : @/kozzz_y 🧵

dynamic: regressor! makima

content warnings: heavy mentions of manipulation/grooming, light mention of violence towards the end

((stay safe little firelights, you can always come back to this when you're ready))

at first the concept of regression had felt beneath her, what was the purpose of regressing to a "weaker" mindset if not to be used as a tool to manipulate others? she knew that baby animals had their own forms of vocal/physical manipulation against their kin/species to achieve what they wanted, so that was counted as an advantage.

however, being a longtime admirer of Chainsaw Man, what better way to understand his vessel and control him than to completely immerse herself to the ins and outs of regression?

the first time that she had felt a touch of regression was after the events of the battle against the darkness devil, to have a creature match her power and make her feel out of control of the situation was an experience far and few for her, and had emphasized her longing for an equal and meaningful relationship that she herself realizes to be an impossible dream.

if she were to regress with anyone else, she would be extremely possesive and controlling of her carers/playmates. wants everything (regardless of headspace) to go her way. and even if she gave her caregiver/playmates free will don't even think of looking at her cg funny or believe that they'll watch you too. they're hers to shower her in attention and that's final.

LOVES dogs, and would want to surround herself with her orderly canine companions to unwind and relax.

a regressor that thrives on order and control, who, despite her regressed mindset likes to keep things in line and can not perceive something outside of that orderly line.

her apartment and space to regress is always simple and neat no matter her headspace. due to her strong sense of smell and need to control her surroundings, a messy or disorganized enviornment is a fast way to push the control devil out of her headspace.

no matter her headspace, gore and violence are never a problem to makima. she can and will eliminate/destroy those that she feels gets in the way of her plans. she could smile one minute and obliviate her playmate in the next if she so chooses.

overall there isn't much that changes from makima's regressed headspace to how she behaves on a normal basis, even a trained caregiver that had known her for years would barely be able to spot the difference as she'd like to stay in control in most if not all situations, but at times, though she'd never admit it, the smallest part of her wishes to be held and have a dynamic where she could be herself and not face the reality of her devil nature/powers.

[iridescentscarecrow]

csm 168 thoughts:

1. presentation of physical intimacy

thinking about the rain as metaphorical device which triggers this aggressive perversion of asa's ideal romance (as seen in her poetry) by yoru is especially interesting in light of this chapter. its title "kiss, love, sperm" mimics earlier "rain, brothel, removal." the brothel's nature of indulging in physical intimacy as set outside the parameter of love (presented by katana's misogynistic figure) instead culminates in this act, framed by yoru as satisfying sex drive. meanwhile, the sperm around which 167 is made horror, the realisation of the entirety of the act, is washed away by yoru using the rain, the same rain that effectively created the setting scene in the alleyway prior to this encounter.

later, yoru only mentions the kiss to denji.

another way this framing operates, showcasing the changing nature of physical intimacy, is the meaning of [fish] within part 2. asa talks about hating fish, specifically raw fish. fumiko talks about wanting to eat sushi everyday. to asa, fish is something that her "principles" stop her from eating, similar to the "between cat and criminal" distinction she etches out for yoru: who she can turn into a weapon. fumiko's eating of fish can be //eld to her assault of denji & her enjoyment of power.

more on the fish analogy: interesting then that the sushi restaurant is where we see a mention of "fresh raw testes" on the sign // the dick denji blames in 165. the "raw fish" asa hates. the sushi denji asks for (reiterating what fumiko tells him).

denji reiterating people who otherwise harm him isn't new either. we know that his thoughts on physical intimacy echo what makima tells him in part one, he's internalised that, as he does her words on how he can't have a family. yoru too reiterates & changes the context of the residue of this, what denji tells asa about sex. it being given reason as "feel[ing] good" against asa's hatred of physical intimacy, of raw fish.

yoru tells denji she only kissed him because it felt good. the act that's *unspeakable* is not spoken of, having been washed up by the rain. you see denji horrified & traumatised in the wake of this reiteration [of him] while attention is diverted to the kiss by yoru. where it becomes about asa's romance, about whether she *likes* denji.

2. sex as a location of control

the structure of sexual abuse & violence perpetrated by adults onto children is something that has underlined part 2 since the very beginning: with asa's teacher as set up. this is later given nuance with the csm church's grooming of children specifically through marriage, the same marriage that is problematised through how the eyepatch PS worker talks about his wife, the misogyny there (& her murdering him).

the fish analogy, IMO, assumes new dimension here. in the same conversation that fumiko talks about fish, miri tries to sell the church as a place of sexual excess to denji: "you can have sex with all the women you want." it's an intriguing exercise to consider this with asa's mentioning of the *rawness* of fish, the church's affiliation with the fire devil & its significance: fire's use in cooking <fish>, a transformation of [control through sex] into marriage, its severe institutionalization.

asa's internalised misogyny here, in her use of the word "slut" problematises <transgressive> sexuality instead of the issue of its locus around control. it harkens back to her restraints on her "selfishness," & how barem speaks about asa at the church. she uses this misogynist word against yoru while simultaneously thinking of herself re: perception. her violence against yoru is an act of self harm, a reaction to both an assault neither of them are able to articulate & the brutality of the city structure she is caught within.

[koolaidoverliving]

Top 5 characters?

okokok i don't know if you mean creepypasta buuut . some faves from my interests (i dont have many i am sorry)

jason the toymaker, william afton, sou hiyori, light yagami, makima (my pfp!!!) i would say can go in the top 5

honourable mentions. shadow the hedgehog, ekko, kim wexler, princess carolyn

... i don't watch . or Read . or play a lot of things

[winxanity-ii]

hey! here to say i’m sorry for the hate and vitriol you received from people angry the character wasn’t white? it’s funny because most media and the world is made for them so to get angry at the few things that aren’t? very entitled but also very fitting for white people

okay, i've been waiting for another ask like this to be sent becasue i'm too shaky to go back to the ones i've had sitting in my inbox for weeks😭, this might be a bit long, but bear with me, i can't help but making sure all points are covered.

so please, welcome how one of my character development moments came to be.... (p.s, sorry for the meme reactions they help me cope/try to remember the entire thing in a more humorous light 🫶🏾)

so basically, the entire issue that pushed me to lashout/get defensive/etc, was because i naively assumed that my thought process would be understood by everyone that came across my book, but in truth, it was more of a miscommunication issue that was exasperated by my using of random signifiers/hair types.

the miscommunications was when some assumed that by me giving the Reader has red hair and yellow eyes, i was assigning characteristics/making an OC, when in reality, i just gave Reader the main characteristics makima—the character who the whole personality is based on—had, which is: red/aurburn hair and yellow eyes.

now, this is where everything went down hill...

see, i tried to do this thing where once in a while, the readers skin tone/hair type was mention/hinted in an insignificant way, like saying:

"You pulled your hair into a bun, the soft curls tangling around your fingers in almost playful resistance; with an annoyed huff, you gave up, letting it fall however it wanted to."

or

"He grabbed your hands, captivated by the way they seemed to fit perfectly in his, unable to stop the adoring comparison; they were smaller than his, the warmth of your sun-kissed skin contrasting softly against his paler shade."

at random, like one moment it'll be curls, the next, straight, etc. ya know? but i also was kinda (read: was in fact) practicing my writing skills overall.

i adore reading—it's one main hyperfixation—so i just wanted to create what i've never had. and my writing style allows me to share this with those who've always felt the same, yet never had the guts/confidence to do it themselves...

anyways, getting back on track, combining the two, i had NUMEROUS angry/upset comments on all the platforms i posted it claiming that i was fishing for reads with a 'fake Reader' and how i needed to put blatant disclaimers that this was a Black OC—yes, you read that right ALL: wattpad, ao3, here, and quotev (especially quotev and here👀).

now, i understand the first part about fishing for reads by using an OC—i've had my fair shares of reading and going "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT?!" when getting duped by a good ass fic—but what lost me was that there were more anger about it being a 'Black OC' instead of just being an OC at all 💀💀 like WHAT???

i was so confused (and a bit pissed) because there's no way someone the word 'tan' or 'brown' and automatically assume 'black reader' as if other racial minorities doesn't exist.

like, if i really wanted to make a black reader i would have done way more effort to showcase it, not use a flimsy word or two, but let me stop here before i make an entire essay 💀

also, i'd like to give a small apology first on behalf of not communicating better; like stated before, i'm new to the sudden boom off attention and did not know how to properly deal with an huge influx of commentary.

though i knew it shouldn't have bothered me, the more negative ones stuck out more, so i distanced myself from interacting in general so i wouldn't have to see them at all.

i'll still be distant, but i'll do better at showcasing my appreciation in other ways ❤️❤️

but yeah, that's what happened, but no worries, i just had to suck it up, take a lil break and get back on my writing shit 😎 bad days don't stop these 'tismic delusions ❤️ see you guys soon...

[musical-chick-13]

what are some of your favorite f/f ships?

YES. EXCELLENT QUESTION.

The™ f/f ship for me is, probably, Mireille/Silvana from Noir (2001). Which. Yeah, of course I would imprint on the unpopular extra-fucked-up dynamic that lasted for two episodes out of a total of 26. BUT THOSE TWO EPISODES GAVE ME EVERYTHING. You represent everything I'm afraid of. I know exactly how to fuck you up because I understand you. I betrayed and broke you once in your past and we both never, ever forgot about it. "REVENGE IS THE GREATEST ACT OF FORGIVENESS." I'M!!!!!

Another heavy hitter is Rita/Laura from Doom Patrol. They have the whole "friendship gone bad because of personal differences," "intensely drawn to each other in every situation," "please say you're like me so I don't have to feel alone" thing. They make me feral.

Hope/Lizzie from Legacies is also excellent. The development from rivals to frenemies to, and I quote, "bonded for life," complete with "who tf are you becoming" angst and a canonically mentally ill character being treated with genuine understanding and respect is TOP-TIER.

And the obligatory crackship deep-cut is Iris/Zenna from the Dutch opera Sunken Garden. They're implied to have known each other for a long time and they fight to the death :)

For less...uh. Tumultuous. F/F dynamics, there's Michiru/Nazuna from Brand New Animal, an example of friendship (albeit one with some complications) to possibly more that really works for me. As well as Meg/Joan from The March Family Letters who are really, really sweet.

And, of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention my first-ever f/f ship Olivia/Natalia from Guiding Light. They had...a long road getting there, but watching them get there was SO GOOD. THEY'RE SO GOOD. TENSION. EVENTUAL FRIENDSHIP. CONFLICT WITH CATHOLICISM. BEING TERRIFIED TO QUESTION THEIR IDENTITIES OR DESTABILIZE THEIR PLATONIC LOVE. AAAAHHH.

This is getting long, so speedrun of some other faves: Bubbline from Adventure Time. Rem/Misa from the stage musical version of Death Note (and me shipping Misa with just about every woman in the original series). Charlotte/Lizzie from Netflix's The Perfection. Eleanor/Drea from Do Revenge. Flor/Jazmín from Las Estrellas. Madlax/Limelda from Madlax. And most recent acquisition, exploring the really unhinged, unpopular idea of Himeno/Makima from CSM.

[angsty-elf]

-Behind Closed Doors-

Chapter 2: Selfishness

note: this was originally posted on AO3 last july as a 3-part fic under my other handle professor_freaksworth, figured I would add it here since we'll be getting the reze arc movie soon ✨

word count: 21.4k, including all 3 chapters

summary: you have been living with and working alongside aki for around a year now, mostly keeping things professional, until aki catches you in a lie. will his petty jealousy push you away, or ignite something inside of him he's been desperately trying to ignore?

content: very mild dub-con + drinking + smoking + pining + eventual smut + fem!reader + jealousy + angst + fluff + cunnilingus + blow jobs + ass play + unsafe sex + slight power dynamic/light dom/sub + unsafe sex + aki being a jealous baby + smut in the final chapter

characters: this fic centers around aki x reader, including some platonic denji x reader interactions + original male character mentioned(for the plot) + other csm characters are mentioned and are present mostly in the second chapter.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 3(FINAL)

tensai: genius

Upon entering the warmly lit izakaya the three of you are led to the far back corner, where Division 4 is sat. The long table littered with beer bottles and jockeys as well as yakitori, edamame, and various fried foods.

“There you are,” Makima’s silky, modulated tone cuts through the amalgamation of voices and laughter encompassing the modestly-sized space. She is sat in front of the two rookies. Kobeni, who is sweating bullets, seems grateful for the distraction and offers a shy wave. Hirokazu gives a polite nod, his eyes widening a minuscule amount at your appearance before clearing his throat and taking a drink out of his tankard.

“The team was getting restless, so I went ahead and let them start. Sorry.”

You raise your hands, parting your lips to apologize when Denji abruptly cuts you off.

“We’re late cause of her,” he blurts out a little too loudly. “Made us wait for her to put on all that makeup.”

Being thrown under the bus, your cheeks heat up and you find yourself resisting the urge to smack the back of his head while Aki lets out an exasperated sigh behind you.

Unfazed by Denji’s outburst, Makima calmly surveys the three of you. Her steady smile quirks up a bit more. “I see. Well, she does look very nice, doesn’t she?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pats an empty spot next to her on the bench. “Sit, Denji. Aren’t you hungry?”

Denji practically sprints to sit next to her, not bothering to hesitate before shoving two chicken skewers into his mouth. Makima’s eyes follow Aki as he wordlessly moved from behind you, heading towards the end of the table where Himeno and Fushi have saved him a spot in between them. You move to follow, but stop when you feel Makima’s hand rest gingerly on your forearm, feeling a shiver creep up the base of your skull when she softly utters your name.

Her xanthic gaze bores into you, and you feel needles in your brain, like it’s being dissected. The words she speaks are firm but faint, so no one overhears.

“Remember what I’ve said about cultivating loyalty, especially with people who we require unwavering trust from in order to function properly as a team.” Makima studies you for a moment, her careful smile never wavering. “Our whereabouts are no exception, on or off the clock.”

What the fuck? How did-

“You’ve come a long way since when we first met, I want you to continue to make me proud.” Noticing the bewildered look on your face, she pats your arm reassuringly. “Go relax and enjoy yourself. We’re celebrating after all.”

You nod dumbly and walk away, confusion and dread swirling in your gut.

Am I losing my mind?

Taking a seat next to Madoka, you note the way the scar on the bridge of his nose is accentuated by the flushed pink color from effects of the beer he’s nursing, his brown eyes somewhat glazed behind his glasses. You feel yourself relax a little at the sight of him having a good time, pushing the slightly terrifying one-sided conversation you just had out of your mind for now.

“Tied one on already, tensai?”

Pushing his glasses up, he mutters something about being a “fast drinker” and “how many times have I told you not to call me that.”

You liked Madoka, his overly-serious nature made him fun to tease.

You don’t catch the way his eyes flicker down to the buttons of your top and then back up to your face, the muted pink on his face turning a darker hue. He pushes a glass towards you, filled to the brim with an almost transparent citrine liquid. Tiny bubbles rise to the surface from the movement, ice cubes clinking against one another.

Taking the glass in your hand, you feel the coldness and the condensation seep into your palm. “That’s sweet of you, ordering me a drink.”

“I figured you’d want something a little stronger to catch up,” he says, clearing his throat and looking away from you. “You shouldn’t praise me, anyway. Everything’s on Makima tonight.”

Raising your eyebrows, you bring the highball up to your lips, taking a long drink. She did mention something about a celebration. “Any idea what that’s about?”

Madoka gives you a quizzical look, something akin to a laugh caught in his chest. He ignores your question, taking another pull from his beer instead.

Before you can bully the information out of him, the table goes silent as Makima stands. Her hands are clasped neatly behind her back, a warm smile on her face as she looks over the Division, her gaze eventually resting on you.

“Now that everyone is present, it’s time to give a toast and offer congratulations to a very valuable member of Special Division 4.”

As Makima leans to pick up and raise her half-full tankard, the rest of the table follows (minus Denji who unexcitedly raises a skewer).

Caught off-guard, you blink and scramble to raise your glass, a couple seconds behind everyone else.

“To (y/n), congratulations on your one-year anniversary working under the Public Safety Commission. We hope to have you for many more years to come.”

A ripple of “congratulations” spreads through the team, even some of the other drunk izakaya patrons who have no idea what’s going on let out whoops and whistles, excited by the commotion. Your eyebrows knit together for a moment before it clicks.

Oh shit. That’s right!

“So that’s why (y/n) looks so sexy tonight!” Himeno calls out loudly. Hirokazu promptly chokes on his drink near the head of the table and a curt, hushed scolding can be heard from Fushi.

Your cheeks burn, stammering a quick thanks before practically chugging your highball.

Makima’s smile almost reaches her eyes, saying nothing as she sits back down. She turns to murmur something to Denji who somehow has yakitori sauce on his forehead, and the noisy, alcohol-fueled conversations resume.

“Well. I might not be a genius, but you certainly just made me feel like one.” Madoka remarks, killing the rest of his beer, chuckling when you let out a defeated sigh.

***

“How much you wanna bet four-eyes is hard as a rock right now?”

Aki’s knuckles turn white as the already tight grip on his glass turns vice-like. He can feel his eye start to twitch, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He takes a breath like he’s going to say something, but Fushi beats him to it.

“Do you need to switch to water already, Himeno?” The brown-haired man asks wearily before popping an edamame bean into his mouth, not bothering to look over at her.

“I’m not that drunk yet,” Himeno complains, leaning against Aki who’s quickly finishing his third pint. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I’m just saying, I probably would be if I were him.”

As unpleasant as that is for Aki think about and as much as he would like to deny any ounce of that being a possibility, he wouldn’t be surprised.

The way you’re fully leaning on him, causing your arm to smash against your breast, the contour of your cleavage more obvious by the pressure. Aki can tell that Madoka is doing his best to be polite, but the usually-composed hunter is obviously flustered and having a hard time keeping his eyes anywhere else, while you’re blissfully unaware.

He’s been watching the two of you as the night progresses, with every drink you’ve put down, the closer you’ve gravitated towards Madoka. The two of you have been chatting back and forth all night, and every time Aki hears you laugh because of something Madoka says he feels his blood pressure spike.

Aki isn’t aware he’s glaring until Himeno elbows him. “You can’t blame him, Hayakawa, knowing how she gets when she’s trashed. He’s been pretty much pouring those drinks down her throat all night, too.” She tacks on in a conspiring tone. “Think he’s doing it on purpose?”

Aki shakes his head.

Knowing you, it’s far more likely you’ve been sweet-talking your way into getting more rounds and Madoka’s brain isn’t getting enough blood pumped into it to have the willpower to suggest otherwise. Aki should have intervened a couple rounds ago; fully aware you’ve been well past your limit for a while now.

He impatiently gnaws at the inside of his cheek.

It’s shameful and pathetic. There’s no justifying it - the shitty part of himself that wants you to need his help.

He wants it badly enough that he’s sat through the irritation of watching you give the attention he craves to someone else, desperately needing a reason to get close to you, not knowing how to make up for his asshole behavior without there being some sort of excuse.

If it means indirectly letting you get plastered, so be it.

“You shouldn’t make accusations like that about your team members,” Fushi grumbles.

Ignoring Fushi, Himeno waves her hand and continues. “Listen. My point is, someone’s gonna have to tap in soon. Madoka’s shitfaced enough that he might do something stupid like try and ask her out,” she pauses, getting lightly jostled by Aki shifting next to her, placing his now empty glass onto the table. “He might even try and take her home. Hell, if she was looking at me like that, I’d-”

Deciding he’s waited long enough; Aki is already up and walking before she finishes her sentence.

***

“Tensai, did I tell you I fell earlier today?”

“Yes, a few times.”

“Ahhhh… sorry. I keep forgetting.” Looking up at Madoka, your cheek is squished against his shoulder. At this distance you can see his face clearly, you raise a hand to poke at his cheek with your index finger. “Your face is so red. Like a tomato. Are you sensitive to alcohol?”

He looks at you incredulously, breathing out a laugh that almost sounds pained. “No. No, I don’t think that’s it.”

You seem genuinely perplexed by this, the longer you look at him the more difficult you find it to keep the image of him steady, like he’s wobbling around. You squeeze your eyes shut; your head feels so light you’re worried it might not even be there anymore.

Uh oh.

A voice comes from somewhere behind you, but it sounds muffled like you’re underwater. Your eyes remain closed, but you can sense when Madoka stands up, someone gently steadying you by putting their hands on your shoulders and taking his place. You don’t need to open your eyes to know it’s Aki, you can smell the cigarette smoke mixing with the detergent he uses. As soon as he sits down fully, you cling to his blazer, peeking your eyes open to see him gazing down at you.

“Overdid it, huh?”

You nod, a small pout forming on your stained lips. “Think so…”

“Want me to take you outside?”

“Like a dog?”

He huffs a laugh. “No. Like a drunk girl who looks like she’s about to puke all over me. Come on.”

When you agree, he helps you up from the table and leads you to the front of the izakaya and out the door. You stumbled immediately when he let you go out the threshold and he quickly caught you by the waist.

“Never know when to stop, do you.” He mutters rhetorically, leading you further to the side of the building so you can lean against the wall. The air is crisp and cold, the scent of rain lingering from earlier, imbedded in the concrete below you.

“Hey,” you complain, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s my anniversary or whatever, aren’t you supposed to praise me?”

Something indiscernible flashes across his face.

“Praise you?”

“Mhm.” You hum, leaning your head back against the cold wall. “Like, ‘good job not dying for a whole year.’”

Aki says nothing, appraising you with a mixture of amusement and something bordering on remorseful. A cloud moves to uncover the moon and he’s bathed in silver, turning the blue of his irises into a carbon shade.

You shift uncomfortably against the wall, suddenly feeling hot.

“You have done a good job of not dying,” he says softly. “You’re a quick leaner. Reliable, well liked. Not much to complain about, really.”

The sound of Aki’s footsteps is amplified by the silence outside as he moves closer to you. His gaze travels from your eyes, to your cheeks, down to your neck. He seems to linger on your pulse point, and you notice the way his jaw tenses momentarily before making eye contact again.

“You also do a good job of drinking too much.”

At some point your throat went completely dry, and you feel like you can’t get a good breath in the way it feels like your heart is lodged in your esophagus.

Shrugging, your eyes shoot to the ground, hating the way your cheeks are heating up. “You win some, you lose some.”

Aki moves to lean against the wall beside you, tilting his head up to look at the sky. “Feeling any better?”

“Not sure,” you reply, tugging idly at the hem of your skirt. “Maybe.”

“Mind if I smoke?”

When you shake your head, Aki digs his pack out of his blazer pocket, tapping it against his palm before pulling a cigarette out. His eyebrow quirks up when he sees you reach a hand down the front of your shirt, whipping out the lighter from earlier, your face void of any shame. “Grabbed it before we came out here.”

Saying nothing, he gently takes the lighter from your hand, depositing it into the front pocket of his slacks after lighting his cigarette.

You watch him quietly as he smokes, the way the cherry lights up in the dark, casting a pink glow across his face before dimming again.

“Can I try?”

Aki looks at you, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth so it doesn’t hit you in the face. “You won’t like it.”

You stick your hand out, making a grabby motion. Seeing the determined look on your face, he rolls his eyes and hands the cigarette to you.

Placing it in between your index and middle finger, you examine it with narrowed eyes before placing it to your lips and sucking.

“You don’t have to inhale it.”

Since he said that, you made sure to inhale it, and it was a mistake. You start coughing immediately, feeling like your throat’s been scorched.

“Oh my god-“ You whimper in between painful coughs, quickly giving the cigarette back to him. “No… Ew- why?” With both your hands free you place them on top of your head, feeling dizzy from the rush.

Aki snorts, taking another drag. “Told you.”

***

He barely got halfway through his smoke, you wouldn’t stop whining about how your fingers smell like tar and if you didn’t wash your hands right away you were going to ‘be sick.’ When he led you back inside and towards the bathroom, he fully planned on waiting outside the door, but you had looked at him as though he’d just kicked a dog when he didn’t follow you.

You’re not gonna come with me? What if I fall and crack my head open? I don’t wanna be one of those people that are found dead on a bathroom floor- you want me to die like that?

So, here he is.

Red-faced, lungs constricting. Caging you from behind so he can catch you if you lose your footing as you scrub your hands. You’re humming some song he’s heard you listen to before, like you have no care in the world. Completely oblivious to the way his gaze is traveling down your back, studying the smooth curves of your hips and the way the material of your skirt is spread tight over your ass.

Fuck.

Aki winces, feeling his cock twitch when you accidentally brush against him, swaying a little on your feet. Instinctively, he grabs your waist with both hands to ground you. At the feeling of his grasp, you seem to get startled, bumping against him again as you look back at him over your shoulder.

Quickly tearing his eyes away from your backside, he meets your gaze. Slightly nonplussed with a sprinkling of shyness, almost like you had forgotten he was even there in the first place. Clearing his throat, his grip tightens a bit. There’s a slight rasp to his voice when he speaks.

“You, uh, you good?”

You don’t say anything, peering at him curiously for a second before nodding and turning back to what you were doing.

Aki swears he can see the faint hint of a blush creep up the nape of your neck where a sliver of skin is exposed between strands of hair, the sound of the running water drowned out by the way his heartbeat is thrumming loudly in his ears.

It would be so easy, he thinks.

To slide his thumbs under the hem of your skirt, push it all the way up to your hips. Tear through the thin material at the crotch of your pantyhose. It wouldn’t matter if you told him off for it. He could buy a new pair; he knows the kind you like.

Aki snaps out of it when he hears the water shut off, glancing up to look at your reflection in the modest-sized mirror hanging above the sink. You appear to be studying your reflection, critically, raising a hand to push your hair out of your face.

Unexpectedly, you spin around, and Aki’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest. Instantly, he adjusts the clutch he has on your waist to accommodate for the abrupt change in position, worried you might tip over.

Blinking down at you, he’s met with a sulky glower.

“Be honest, do I look super fucked up?”

He almost laughs. “What?”

“I’m being serious,” you whine, gripping onto his sleeves.

The corner of his mouth twitches at the way you’re looking at him. Your mascara is smudged at the corners from laughing all night, and there’s a pink glow spreading across your cheeks and the bridge of your nose. The red stain of your lips has held up decently, but he can see evidence of wear on your bottom lip, where you’ve probably been chewing at it. A nervous habit of yours.

You’re so close, he can see the way your pupils have grown in size, threatening to swallow your irises whole. The faint rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the way your throat bobs when you swallow. There’s an almost feline quality to it, your countenance, and he wonders if you might pounce on him, snapping his neck in your jaws.

Definitely a demon.

Idly, his hands slide down from your waist to the swell of your hips, squeezing lightly.

You’re so beautiful, it physically hurts.

He doesn’t care if you met up with that cop last night, and even if his hunch was wrong and it was truly paranoid speculation, he wants to shatter the possibility of anyone else putting their hands on you the way he wants to right now.

The churning maelstrom of selfishness and desperation building in his abdomen drives him to wrap him arms around you, pulling you flush against him as he leans down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His words are quiet and muffled against your skin. “You look fine.”

He can feel your heart slamming against your ribcage and the quickening of your breath. When you take too long to reply, seemingly frozen in shock, he loosens his embrace.

Before he starts to lightly pull away, the feeling seems to spark you to life, and you promptly wrap your arms over his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him down so he’s even closer to you.

“W-wait…” you stammer, holding him hostage. “Not yet.”

He fights back a staggered smile at the needy tone in your voice, certain you must feel the heat radiating off of his face as he presses even further against the side of your neck. His right hand trails up your spine, resting when his palm finds the occipital curve of your skull. “Not yet?” He murmurs, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You shake your head slowly, and he instinctively squeezes you tighter. His left hand exploring the slope of your waist as the grip in your hair tightens, just barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch and a soft noise to leave your lips.

As faint as it was, Aki practically salivates from the sound, and he can’t stop himself from placing a slow, gentle kiss underneath the corner of your jaw, a sudden rush of blood flowing straight to his cock at the taste of your exposed skin. When you gasp, he greedily goes for it again, high off the feeling of you trembling against him and the way your hands slide down to dig into his shoulders.

His mouth remains on your neck, his kisses growing clumsier and sloppy as he releases his hold on your hair, both of his hands latching onto your hips. Possessively, his thumbs press into the flesh of your pelvis, just inside the dip of your hip bones, and you bite back a moan.

The heavy sound of both of your breathing almost cancels out the soft knocking Aki hears at the bathroom door. His body tenses, eyes widening when the reality of the situation hits him.

He’s in the fucking girl’s bathroom, so hard his dick is straining against his underwear and slacks, essentially devouring the neck of his very drunk subordinate while the other Division members are likely wondering where the hell the two of you went.

A barely audible voice speaks from the other side of the door.

“Um, excuse me, there’s only really supposed to be one customer in the bathroom at a time…”

Jesus fucking Christ.

As he pulls away from you, the usually calm look on Aki’s face is replaced by a slightly panicked one as he studies your appearance. You look absolutely fucked-out and mortified, your lips parted and your eyes as wide as dinner plates, glowing bright red like a lantern.

“Oh shit…” You cover your mouth with the tips of your fingers, looking at him worriedly.

Straightening his tie, he tries to pull himself together, but he can feel the tips of his ears burning. “It’s fine- we’re fine,” he says, placating you with his calm tone. “Come on, let’s go back and join the others.”

When you both exit the bathroom, Aki stammers an apology to the annoyed staff member, uttering a half-baked excuse about you needing help with something before ushering you back to the table. The incident seems to have sobered you up somewhat, and although your gaze is glued to the floor, you’re able to walk without stumbling.

***

The rest of the night is a blur, feeling like you were in some sort of dreamlike state after what happened in the bathroom, not snapping out of it until you realize you’re outside.

It’s drizzling, so light it’s almost mist, and Denji is leaning tiredly against you while Makima tells you something about needing to consider contracting with a Devil soon. You agree mindlessly, and she squeezes your shoulder, casting Denji a serene smile before sliding into the backseat of a black sedan and being driven off.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Denji grouses when the car disappears down the road, nudging you with his shoulder. “You’ve been acting weird as hell since you and ponytail came back from your little ‘trip.’”

You blink up at him, trying to keep a poker face as thoughts of Aki’s hands and mouth on you shove their way to the front of your mind, hazy and rose-tinted, like a fever dream. “Not sure what you mean.”

He frowns, clearly unconvinced. “Bullshit. Are you still drunk?”

You shrug, looking down at your feet. Denji clicks his tongue.

“Must be. You always act like a brat when you’re drunk.”

His words are harsh, but his tone is strangely gentle. You smile despite yourself.

“That’s not very nice to say.”

“Well, Makima-san says we should be honest, right?” He mumbles, throwing an arm around your shoulders, putting more of his weight on you.

“Are you trying to knock me over?” You grumble, struggling to stand upright. “As the ‘drunk’ one- I should be leaning on you.”

Denji yawns. “’M too tired. It’s boring watching people get shitfaced.”

You let out a noise of protest, and Denji smirks.

“Denji, get off of her. It’s time to go.”

Glancing over, you see Aki stepping out of the izakaya, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The two of you had kept your distance from each other the rest of the night, hardly exchanging glances. He must have been saying goodbye to the members who weren’t done tying one on, you can’t remember who decided to stay.

When Denji reluctantly lifts his weight from you, Aki’s gaze flits over to you. His face is neutral as he lights his cigarette and tucks the lighter back into its rightful place in your purse (which Denji has for some reason.)

“Are you gonna be able to walk?” He asks, smoke billowing out of mouth.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer, a little more quietly than intended. Aki nods and starts walking down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment building, not bothering to look behind him to make sure you and Denji are following.

“I can carry you if you get tired,” Denji offers, a hint of pink sprouting on his cheeks. “Shit, I could probably even throw you there if I tried. Probably wouldn’t survive though.”

You don’t doubt that at all.

“I’m good on being thrown, I think.”

“Suit yourself.”

[cyllres]

hi pookies 🫶

Devil | JJK x Makima! Reader

Chapter 31

As you walked into the room where Satoru usually lounged, the familiar sight of him reclining in his favorite chair greeted you. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor, and the air felt heavy. This wasn’t just a casual meeting—he had called for you, and you knew it wasn’t for something trivial.

“Gojo-sensei,” you called out, your voice carrying a slight edge of uncertainty as you approached him. He was reading a manga, seemingly lost in his own world, but as soon as he heard your voice, he closed the book with a soft thud and stood up, his usually relaxed demeanor shifting to something more serious.

“Y/n,” Satoru greeted, his voice warm but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. Normally, you would’ve taken the opportunity to steal his seat, claiming his spot as your own, but today, you stood rooted in place, nerves creeping up on you. There was an unusual tension in the air, a stark contrast to his usual playful manner, and it made you uneasy.

“You called?” you asked, forcing a steady tone as you tried to read his expression. He was difficult to read, even more so when he was serious, and you hated not knowing what was coming.

“I did,” Satoru confirmed, his voice smooth as he watched you intently. “Why were you ignoring my messages?” he asked, the question seemingly innocent but carrying an undercurrent that made your pulse quicken.

“I don’t know how to use my phone,” you answered quickly, a practiced excuse, though it felt flimsy under his gaze. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you maintained a calm exterior, your mask of indifference firmly in place.

“Of course you don’t,” he replied, his tone still calm, but there was a noticeable shift as he began to pace around the room. The usual lightness in his voice was gone, replaced by something far more intense. “What happened?” he asked, his tone laced with something that almost sounded like concern. “What were you thinking?”

“What do you mean—?” you started, but you were quickly cut off by Satoru’s sharp interruption.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he said, his voice firmer now, making you stiffen under the weight of his gaze. His eyes, hidden behind his blindfold, seemed to pierce right through you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt genuinely nervous.

“I mistook the scent for someone else,” you lied smoothly, though your heart pounded in your chest. You tried to maintain your composure, but his intensity was unsettling, making it harder to keep your usual calm facade. “Apparently, it was the patchwork curse that tricked me.” You lied.

“And you followed it?” Satoru’s voice was incredulous, tinged with a frustration he rarely showed. He stopped pacing and turned to face you, his full attention now on you. “I told you to wait for Nanami, didn’t I? Y/n, what were you thinking?”

His words hung in the air, heavy with disappointment and concern. For a moment, you struggled to find a response, your usual confidence faltering under his scrutiny.

“I handled it,” you insisted, your voice firmer than you felt. The words sounded convincing, even to you, but they were hollow, a brittle shield against the reality of the situation.

“Handled it?” Satoru’s tone was sharp now, cutting through your defenses with a precision that only he could manage. His normally laid-back demeanor had shifted, replaced by something far more intense. “Shoko said you were brought to her office bruised, with severely damaged vocal cords from choking. Even Pochita was heavily injured.”

The mention of Pochita sent a pang through your chest, a reminder of how close you had come to losing it. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to maintain your composure.

“I handled it,” you repeated, the words coming out more as a defense than a statement of fact. The repetition felt almost like a mantra, something to convince yourself as much as him. But even you could hear the wavering edge in your voice, the slight tremor that betrayed how rattled you really were.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. He didn’t say anything immediately, letting the silence stretch between you, thick with unspoken words. It was as if he was waiting, waiting for you to drop the act, to admit what you both knew to be true.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit that maybe, just maybe, you had been wrong. That maybe you had been reckless, that your insistence on handling things alone had nearly cost you more than you were willing to lose. The thought of admitting weakness, of admitting that you needed help, was suffocating. Most importantly— you can't just tell him what happened, especially with your brother’s life on the line.

Satoru sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. “Y/n,” he began, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to reach through the walls you had built up around yourself. “This isn’t about whether you handled it. It’s about the fact that you put yourself in unnecessary danger. You can’t keep doing this.”

The words struck a chord, one you didn’t want to acknowledge. You had always prided yourself on being able to control any situation, on being the one to dictate the terms. But this… this wasn’t something you could just brush off. The consequences were real, and they were staring you in the face.

But instead of acknowledging it, you doubled down. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice steadier now, but there was a tightness in your chest that wouldn’t go away. “Pochita’s fine. We did what needed to be done.”

Satoru's expression softened, a rare occurrence that made the knot in your chest tighten even further. “Y/n, you don’t have to do everything alone. You have people around you for a reason. Don’t push them away just because you think you can handle it all on your own.”

His words struck deeper than you wanted them to. They echoed in your mind, challenging the rigid independence you had always relied on. But admitting that… admitting that you might need help, that you weren’t invincible, felt like admitting defeat. And that was something you weren’t ready to do.

You stood there, rigid and unyielding, desperately clinging to the remnants of your pride. The room felt smaller, suffocating almost, as Satoru’s eyes softened with something you couldn't quite place—pity, perhaps, or understanding. You hated both possibilities. His words cut through the tension like a knife, yet they hung in the air with a weight you couldn't ignore.

"Just... think about it," he said finally, his tone shifting from authoritative to something more gentle, almost like he was trying to reach the part of you that still resisted, that still believed you could shoulder everything alone. There was a firmness there, too, a warning embedded in the kindness. “You’re not as alone as you think you are.”

But you gave him nothing, your expression locked in a mask of stubborn defiance. No flicker of acknowledgment, no sign that his words had hit their mark, even though deep down, you felt them reverberate like a distant echo.

Satoru sighed, the sound heavy with both exasperation and acceptance. He knew you too well to expect immediate surrender. Still, he wasn't done with you yet. He moved back to his chair, sinking into it with a casual grace that belied the seriousness of the situation. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, a sign that you’d worn down his patience for the day.

"Give me my card back," he said, his voice steady but leaving no room for argument. "I'm taking away your card privileges for a while."

“What?” The shock in your voice was unmistakable. You hadn’t expected him to go there. “But I don’t like the cafeteria food,” you protested, your voice slipping into something that sounded almost like a whine. “I don’t like the way they cook vegetables.”

Your objection was weak, more out of habit than anything. You hated the cafeteria food, sure, but you also hated being punished like a child.

Satoru’s expression remained unyielding, the softness from earlier gone. “Every action has consequences, Y/n,” he replied, his tone firm but not unkind. “Especially when it involves not listening to me.”

The reality of the situation started to sink in. He wasn’t just talking about the card, and you both knew it. This was about more than just the card; it was about trust, about respect, and about the responsibility that came with the power you wielded. You were used to manipulating situations to your advantage, to bending people to your will, but Satoru was a different case entirely. He wasn’t someone you could easily control, and that made him both frustrating and… oddly comforting.

He held out his hand, palm up, waiting. The gesture was simple, but it carried the weight of authority, the kind that made it clear there was no room for negotiation. You hesitated for a split second, your fingers twitching slightly, before you reluctantly reached into your pocket and pulled out the sleek black card.

As you handed it over, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. The loss of the card wasn’t just about the inconvenience—it was about the principle of it. But the look in Satoru’s eyes told you that this was as much about teaching you a lesson as it was about anything else.

“You’ll survive,” he said with a smirk as he pocketed the card, the usual playfulness returning to his demeanor, though the undertone of seriousness still lingered. “Consider it a reminder that you’re part of a team, whether you like it or not.”

The words dug at you, chipping away at the walls you’d so carefully constructed around yourself. You felt a surge of defiance rise up, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“I don't like you,” you muttered, the sharpness of your tone more pronounced than you intended. It wasn’t entirely true, of course—if anything, your feelings toward Satoru were far more complex than mere dislike. But in that moment, the sting of his reprimand, of being reminded of your limits, made it the easiest response.

He chuckled, unaffected by your harsh tone, as if he’d expected nothing less from you. “You’d miss me if I were gone,” he replied, the usual playful lilt to his voice, but with a hint of something deeper. It was like he was saying he knew the real you, the one beneath the mask, and that knowledge was both comforting and infuriating.

You didn’t dignify his comment with a response. Instead, you turned away, your steps measured and deliberate as you left the room. You couldn’t let him see how much his words had dug under your skin, how much the loss of control bothered you. As the door clicked shut behind you, you could feel the tension still hanging in the air, unresolved, just the way you hated it. You walked away, the irritation simmering beneath your calm exterior. Yet, despite yourself, a small part of you knew he was right. But admitting that, even to yourself, was something you weren’t ready for. Not yet.

-

As you stood there, your eyes scanned the serene view of the forest that surrounded Jujutsu Tech. The beauty of nature was a rare solace amidst the chaos of curses and constant battle. It was a brief respite, a moment where you could pretend, if only for a second, that your life wasn’t an endless series of uncertainties. Standing beside you was Megumi and the second years, your mind remains focused. Your facade of ease barely concealed the anticipation brewing beneath the surface as you waited for the Kyoto students to arrive.

Your attention was drawn to Nobara, who dropped her magazine with an exaggerated huff. “Why are you all empty-handed?” she asked, looking at your group as if you had committed a great offense.

You exchanged glances with Megumi and the others. Panda was the first to speak, his paw gesturing toward the absurd amount of luggage Nobara had with her. “What are you doing with all that stuff?”

“What do you mean? We're going to Kyoto, right?” she replied, clearly confused.

“It's an exchange event with our sister school in Kyoto.” Panda corrected her, his tone dry. “Held in Tokyo.”

Nobara’s face twisted into an expression of pure frustration as she grabbed her head. “You’re kidding me! What did I make all those preparations for?!”

You couldn’t help but smile at her reaction, the corner of your lips curling upward in amusement. It was typical of her, to throw herself fully into something without bothering to confirm the details.

“No wonder our conversations have been a bit off lately,” Maki commented dryly.

“Shake,” Inumaki added, nodding in agreement.

“It’s held at the school that won last year,” Panda added, which only made Nobara grab his fur, tugging it as though it was his collar.

“Then don’t go winning, you blockheads!” she shouted, making you chuckle softly under your breath.

“We weren’t even in it last year!” Panda defended himself. “Only Yuuta participated to make the numbers match up!”

“And Rika was still around,” Maki chimed in. “Apparently, it was an overwhelming win.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t in Kyoto, so I didn’t get to see it.”

Nobara fumed, her frustration bubbling over. “I’ll never forgive you, Okkotsu Yuuta!” she yelled to no one in particular, rolling up her magazine like she was ready to strike someone. “I don’t care if we’ve never met!”

You smirked, amusement lacing your tone as you muttered, “Misdirected anger.”

“Shake,” Inumaki agreed again, his expression as neutral as ever.

Suddenly, your senses shifted, catching something on the breeze. The familiar scent you picked up made your eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of anticipation crossing your face.

“They’re here,” you thought, hearing the footsteps as Maki quickly turned to the stairs.

“They’re here,” Maki announced, her sharp eyes catching movement from the stairs.

As the Kyoto students made their way toward your group, Mai’s mocking voice echoed ahead of them. “Oh my, is this the welcome party? How disgusting.”

Your eyes met hers, and your smile turned into something more— amused. “Mai, it's nice to see you here, I'm glad you still look lovely.” you said with faux sweetness, knowing exactly how to push her buttons.

Mai’s expression soured instantly, her scowl deepening. She didn’t bother responding to your comment, but you could feel the irritation radiating from her. It was almost too easy to get under her skin.

“I don’t see Okkotsu here,” Todo murmured, his sharp eyes scanning the group before landing on you. His usual overconfidence was palpable as he grinned. “Hi, Y/n-chan. We finally have a chance to get to know each other. How about we hang out after this?”

You gave him a cold, dismissive glance, but Maki stepped in front of you, her body a clear barrier. “She refuses,” Maki said bluntly, cutting off any further attempts from Todo.

“Shut it!” Nobara interrupted, redirecting the conversation to what she cared about most. “Hurry up and hand over the souvenirs. All the sweets, noodles, and cookies from Kyoto.”

The shorter girl from the Kyoto group, broom in hand, eyed Nobara nervously. “What’s up with that girl? She’s scary.”

Ignoring the exchange, your eyes flicked to the large, robotic figure beside her. Its mechanical voice buzzed with amusement. “Never mind Okkotsu being absent. Isn't having two first-years a major handicap?”

You stared at him, amused by the Kyoto students’ constant underestimations.

Before you could respond, the tall man with perpetually closed eyes cut in, his voice calm but pointed. “Age is irrelevant with Jujutsu Sorcerers. Especially with Fushiguro-kun. He’s a Zenin, after all. I’d say he’s more reliable than the head of the clan.”

The comment hit its mark, and you noticed the subtle twitch in Mai’s expression. She clicked her tongue, clearly irritated.

“Got something to say?” the tall man asked, turning his attention fully to Mai.

“Nope,” Mai replied sarcastically, but the tension between them was palpable.

Just then, the sound of footsteps caught your attention, and a woman with long, blackish-purple hair, a scar crossing the bridge of her nose, appeared. “Okay, now,” she said, her voice authoritative. “Let’s not fight amongst ourselves. My goodness, these children. So, where’s that idiot?”

“Gojo-sensei’s running late,” Panda informed her, earning a scowl from the woman.

“As if that idiot would ever show up on time,” Maki muttered.

“She didn’t even mention his name,” Megumi deadpanned.

Suddenly, the sound of a cart being pushed caught your attention, and Satoru finally arrived, a smirk plastered on his face. “Sorry for the wait!” he said, pushing a large box toward the group. Your face soured at the sight of him, still annoyed with him from the recent scolding, though there was something else stirring in you—something unexplainable.

“I see everyone’s here!” Satoru’s voice was unnaturally cheerful as he pushed a box cart. “I was on a business trip overseas,” Satoru continued, as if to explain his absence. “And I’ve got souvenirs for everyone!”

“Are you sure it's not just jet lag?” Nobara asked, unused to Satoru’s behavior.

“Okay, everyone from Kyoto gets this tribal charm.” Satoru handed out pink voodoo dolls to the Kyoto students, earning different reactions. “None for you, Utahime,” he added with a smirk.

“I don’t need one!” Utahime snapped, clearly frustrated by his antics.

As Satoru turned his attention to the Tokyo students, he was practically bouncing with excitement. “And for everyone from Tokyo, we have this!”

“Overly excited adults are creepy,” Nobara deadpanned.

Then, with a flourish, Satoru opened the box, revealing Yuuji inside. He quickly stood up to struck a silly pose.

“Hey! OPP!” Yuuji called out enthusiastically, but Nobara and Megumi’s expressions turning even more sour.

Noticing this, Yuuji stiffened, clearly not expecting such a cold reception. Even you were looking away, though for entirely different reasons. (Yes, salty yn because she got the black cards confiscated)

Before anyone could speak, the voice of Kyoto’s principal, Gakuganji, boomed through the courtyard. “Sukuna’s vessel?!” His outrage was clear, demanding an explanation.

“Principal Gakuganji!” Satoru, unfazed by the elderly man's anger, waved him off with a casual smile. “Oh thank goodness. I was worried you might just die from the shock.” He added with a hint of sarcasm as he approached Gakuganji.

“You impudent brat!” Gakuganji grumbled, making Satoru chuckle.

Nobara and Megumi, meanwhile, marched up to Yuuji, with Nobara kicking the cart he stood on. “Hey,” she said, her voice trembling with barely concealed frustration.

Yuuji, looking down at her with wide eyes, stuttered. “Uh, yes?”

“You got something to say?” she demanded, her voice wavering slightly.

Yuuji sighed. “Sorry I didn’t tell you I was alive.”

You finally approached them, a faint smile curling your lips as you took in the scene. “He had to hide himself for a while,” you explained, your tone gentle but laced with a subtle edge. “It would’ve been unfair to reveal himself so soon, especially when so many people want him dead.”

Your words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, the tension simmered, you're fully aware of the many people who saw your brother as nothing more than a vessel to be destroyed. You help your brother down the cart as Yaga-sensei starts the welcoming remarks and the explanation of the mechanics of the first event.

You just couldn't help but be so impatient to destroy whoever wants to harm your brother.

—

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