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asxgard · 16 days ago

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Heartbeat | [1/3]

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x pregnant wife!doctor!f!reader

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Summary: You get called in to assist with the mass casualty event on your day off and you’re grateful to be there when your husband finally breaks.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: episode 13 hurt a lot so I wrote this to cope. Likely will write more specific stuff after I’ve fully processed.

Word Count: 4.4k+

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: age gap (16ish years, I have a problem okay? The age gap trope feeds me), established relationship/marriage, hospital/medical inaccuracies, hurt/comfort, panic attack, foul language, angst (it’s who I am), gore/gun violence (Pittfest), vague details from ep. 11-13, pet names (baby, my love), non-graphic shower scene, fluff at the end because we deserve it after that episode???

not beta read

You had met Dr. Robinavitch when you started in the ED as an attending. While your love blossomed slowly, it bloomed into so much more than you were expecting. It had been a bit of a whirlwind, from dating secretly to Dana and Jack finding out only a month after, to getting engaged just a year later.

You had done what you could to keep it from the hospital administration, but the time came where you got married and paperwork needed to be filed. You kept your maiden name to ensure there was no confusion, plus it added to your privacy. Everyone you worked with knew you were married, just not to each other, but it was more of an open secret to some of the nurses and other attendings.

Gloria nearly moved you to a different department. She tried separating you by shifts, maybe hoping you would leave and find work in a different hospital. Michael was technically your boss, after all. In her reports, however, she found that when you two were on shift together, it was seamless. Like you two operated on a frequency that no one else was even aware of.

Despite the bumps in the road, and Michael’s aversion for talking about his feelings, you made it work. Some shifts could be frustrating, and that sometimes got carried home, but you respected each other immensely. Michael was not keen on letting such a good thing in his life go that easily, and eventually opened up about Adamson and the toll the pandemic had taken on him.

After that hurdle, everything else was easy. Eventually, you decided to grow your family, and you got pregnant not even five months later.

—

On the fourth year anniversary of Adamson’s death, you were surprised to find Michael preparing for a shift.

“Didn’t you take off?” You asked, watching him dress into his scrubs.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at you. “Peterson had a family thing, and I know they’re short staffed.”

You frowned, “You could’ve asked me.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He said, turning to look at you and his heart swelled at the sight. “I don’t want you to cancel your appointment.”

You sat on that for a moment. For as busy as you both were, Michael had made time for every appointment you had after finding out you were pregnant.

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t miss the next one.”

That satisfied you. For all Michael was, someone to break his promise was not one of them.

“I was hoping to find out the gender today,” you said with a tiny smile. “But a little anticipation never hurt anyone.”

He looked grateful at your words, moving to kiss you. He tasted like mint, holding your head so gently in his hands. Your hands moved to his chest, wanting to hold him against you, but you released him.

“Jake know yet?”

He smiled, “Yeah. He asked to take his girlfriend instead.”

You raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Oh?”

You and Jake had gotten close slowly, him being like a step-son to Michael, but now you loved the kid.

“If you need anything, just call, alright?”

He nodded, grabbing his coffee, giving you one last lingering kiss before heading out the door.

—

Your day was mildly uneventful, taking your time with a handful of chores before sitting out on the balcony to have lunch. Your OB appointment had gone well, and you got a recording of the heartbeat, knowing Michael might need to hear it after his shift.

As time moved, you missed that Michael had not been able to be there with you. You missed his touch and his presence beside you. Dinner came with a takeout box of your latest craving, before your phone rang.

Jack Abbot’s name flashed on your screen. You still worked a few shifts with him from time-to-time, but Michael had you mostly scheduled for days, with him.

“Hey,” you said when you answered.

“Did you hear?”

“That’s so specific, Jack,” you said, opening the fridge to scan your snack options.

“There was a shooting at Pittfest, unknown number of casualties. Closest trauma center is PTMC.”

Your heart stuttered to a stop, “What?”

“Heard it on the scanner. You’ll likely get an alert that it’s all hands on deck, but I wanted to give you a heads up before traffic got too bad.”

Despite not being super close with Jack, you were still friends and you knew he had your back. While you hated being treated with careful hands at work now that you were pregnant, part of you still appreciated the gesture of it. It was like something unspoken had happened between Michael and Jack months ago, both of them moving to take the more combative patients whenever you were around.

“Shit, Jack.” You breathed out, rushing into your bedroom to grab your scrubs. “Fuck, Jake is at Pittfest. Let me try to reach him.” You fumbled through your drawers, taking a deep breath through your nose. “I’ll be in. See you soon.”

“Drive safe!” He said before the call disconnected.

After changing, you moved to grab a few odd snacks and water bottles, stuffing them into your lunch bag, along with your cell phone charger. Who knew how long this was going to take, or if Michael had had the chance at any point today to eat. He hadn’t texted or called, but that was not uncommon. The Pitt never made it easy, which was why you were grateful that you worked most of your shifts with your husband.

You tried reaching Jake, leaving a voicemail and a text message before reaching out to his mother. You briefly explained the situation and asked for an update as soon as she heard anything, before you promised the same.

When you got into your car, you took a deep breath to steady your heart before beginning your way to PTMC.

Michael called you, your phone ringing through the car’s Bluetooth.

“Hey, don’t have much time, but I need you.” He told you, his voice quiet but full of so much emotion.

“I’m already on my way. Abbot called ten minutes ago. Tried calling out to Jake, too, he didn’t answer. Told his mom to reach out to either of us if she heard anything.” You said in a rush, coming to a stop at a light. Almost there.

He let out a breath that almost sounded like relief.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The mass alert came through your phone as soon as he hung up. Thank fuck for Jack.

You made it into the parking garage, waving at the security guard now posted at the entrance. You sat in your car for just a minute to get your bearings, knowing tonight was going to be a shitshow.

As you entered the Emergency Department, you saw patients leaving, escorted by nurses and admin staff — and you moved quickly into the back. It was a circus, but you spotted Michael and Jack and beelined for them.

Michael’s brown eyes caught you as you approached and his face relaxed, though his shoulders were still tense. Dana was beside them, and her usual quip of “Oh I get Dr. R squared today?” did not fall from her lips, but she was sporting a black eye. You looked at her in alarm, but she waved it off.

“Just another happy customer.” She said, but you only frowned at her.

Michael spoke next, introducing you, and then quickly running down the new faces to you: Dr. Mel King, an R2, Dennis Whittaker, an M4, Victoria Javadi, an M3, and Dr. Trinity Santos, an intern. You tried to remember their names, but knew you would not likely remember them in the chaos.

You went to quickly put your stuff down, and when you turned around, Michael was standing there. To everyone else, he appeared neutral, controlled, normal. To you? He was wearing his shift all over his face and you could see plainly that it had not been a good one.

“This is going to be stressful, I should’ve let you stay home—”

While you appreciated his concern, you would have come anyway. “I promise, if I get too stressed out, I’ll let myself take a few minutes. But you have me. What can I do to help?”

“I need you in pink zone.” He told you, moving right back to business. “You’ll be with McKay and Javadi, and incoming night shift. But I need you at the head of it.”

“You got it.” You said, honored he was trusting you to run point on your zone.

—

While the victims did not stop coming, you found yourself moving mostly on instinct. Assessing, treating, moving along — trying to do your best to teach when you came across any of the new faces. You flitted into red zone when there was a particularly bad patient and then moved to triage so Dr. Shen could take a quick bathroom break.

When you assisted Michael, you moved together like a well oiled machine — and despite the tragedy, it came to you both naturally. You only barely registered the tension between Michael and Dr. Frank Langdon — a senior resident, and someone Michael had taken under his wing. You would have to remember to ask about it.

Time moved by in a blur, but you were painfully aware of every minute, every patient that came under your care. All the blood, all the death, all the tragedy.

It only got worse when Jake arrived, thought were thankful he was alive. He was asking about his girlfriend when you approached.

“Jake?” You got his attention as you began to take in his appearance. Jesus Christ, he was covered in blood.

“It’s mostly her blood,” he told you blankly, eyes moving around the room at the carnage. “It’s mostly her blood.”

You called for a wheelchair, your gaze searching for Michael. He was working on a patient, giving CPR from the look of it, the patient blocked from your view by the charge desk.

“Take a seat, Jake.” You told him softly, gently touching his shoulder. “Let me take a look at you, yeah?”

He sat down, his head swiveling around to locate his girlfriend. “I think—I think I got hit in the leg.”

You nodded, moving him into the yellow zone so you could bandage him up. You were not related and there were no official familial ties, so there were no problems of ethics — at least that was what you told yourself.

He moved to stand, and you pushed his shoulder back down.

“Let me assess you and then I promise I’ll go check on your girlfriend, okay?”

Jake nodded numbly and moved onto the gurney so you could look at his leg. His injury was not as bad as you had feared, and while you knew he would need stitches, you made do with some bandages for the time being.

“What’s her name?” You asked, trying to bring his attention back to you.

“Leah,” he told you, voice heavy with emotion. “I need to see her.”

While you did not understand the full panic he was experiencing, you knew Leah was in good hands.

“She’s with Robby, Jake. Leah is getting the best care.”

He was still not looking at you, and you got him set up with an IV antibiotic drip.

“Jake? Jake, can you call your mom for me? Cell service might not be great right now, but can you try? She’s worried about you.”

He took that information in slowly, before nodding.

The call did not go through, but you made him promise to keep trying while you assured him you were going to check on his girlfriend.

By the time you reached Michael, he was calling time of death and your heart constricted. You wanted to scream. By the look in his eyes, you can see he wanted to as well. You could feel Jack’s gaze on you and when you turned, he simply shook his head at you. You easily translated that to ‘your husband is not doing good’.

“I couldn’t save her.” Michael whispered, and only you caught it.

You gave his hand a subtle squeeze.

Jack was there then, reading the situation perfectly, “No one could have saved her. Maybe if this was a normal day, but it tore right through her heart. There was not much we could do.”

Fuck, you thought, she’s so young. You hoped she did not suffer.

Michael moved to find Jake and you followed him, but he stopped you.

“Can you take over for me in red so I can let Jake know?”

Every part of you screamed to go with him, but you nodded, turning to step back into pace with the work. You tried to push away your emotions, packaging them away to deal with later, but compartmentalizing was tough. You felt guilty for never meeting this girl, someone Jake had so obviously cared a lot about.

You attempted to get lost in the work, but you caught sight of Michael wheeling Jake out of Peds — the current place they have been putting the deceased — and the look on your husband’s face made your heart plummet. He had moved back into the room, leaving Jake just outside and you quickly gestured to a passing nurse to get him back to yellow.

The security guard did not make any comment when you walked into Peds, and you were devastated at what you found. Aside from the deceased, the number of them slowly ticking upwards, it was the sight of Michael on the floor in tears that truly struck you.

After ripping the curtain closed behind you, to block the view into the hall, and give you both just a small amount of privacy, you moved back toward Michael. It had been a long time since you had seen him like this. He had broken down when he told you about Adamson and the weight of his choice, and once he had even broken down after a particularly bad argument, but nothing like this.

“Baby, baby, hey,” you crouched down beside him, but you did not move to touch him.

His breath caught in his throat, but his sobs continued, hyperventilating with his arms pulled across his bent knees.

“Michael,” you tried, a name you had never called him when within the walls of the hospital.

His watery gaze met yours for just a moment, before his eyes were back in his lap, face scrunched. His ears were red, as well as his face, with red rimmed eyes that broke something in you.

“Michael.” You stressed again, moving so your hands hovered just above his arms. “Can you look at me?”

“I—I—I couldn’t—fuck—I didn’t save her.” His breaths came in short bursts, in in in out, in in out, tears coming down his face, his cheeks red.

You found yourself at a loss on how to help him — you knew none of his thoughts were rational at the moment, and anguish rushed through your veins, feeling so helpless. So useless.

An odd idea struck you, and you pulled out your phone before you could doubt yourself. You flipped through a few of your apps before settling on the one you had used to record your baby’s heartbeat.

“Can you take a deep breath with me?” You asked gently. You took a deep breath in through your nose and then out through your mouth.

You didn’t give him time to respond before you were pressing play on the recording. The sound of it filled the room with something other than Michael’s panic, and he quieted just enough to listen to it.

“That’s our baby.” You told him, though the sound of it was obvious enough, racing steadily like hoof beats.

His eyes found yours, and while he was still breathing quickly, he seemed to have returned to the reality around you, rather than stuck in his head. Relief took a bit of the weight from your shoulders.

“Can you breathe with me?” You asked again, finally touching his arm.

His hand found yours immediately and squeezed, but he nodded. You took a few more deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth, watching as he mirrored you.

Aside from the quick beats of your baby’s heart, the deep breaths you both took filled the room. You desperately tried to ignore the dead around you, trying to solely focus on the man in front of you. When the recording came to a stop, Michael’s hand twitched toward your phone.

“Can you play it again?”

You nodded, pressing play and handing him your phone. The fast heartbeat filled the space again, and he cradled your phone like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was.

“Very active today.” You told him. “Wouldn’t sit still.”

A ghost of a smile passed over his lips, but it was gone in a moment.

“I have a video file that they sent me from today, but I didn’t want to look at it without you. Figured if either of us looked long enough, we’d be able to tell the gender ourselves.”

“Can we?” He asked, looking at you with tears still in his eyes.

You smiled, moving to sit next to him. You did not know how long the moment was going to last — sooner or later, someone was going to come looking for either of you. You tried to ignore it, trying to center yourself in this moment with Michael, forgetting about the outside world for just a moment.

Clicking on the video you had saved, you both sat quietly watching your baby move. Michael grabbed your hand in his and held it close to his chest. This was only going to be a bandaid, but any distraction was a welcomed one in that moment.

“They’re healthy. Measured 6.6 inches, 11 ounces.” You rattled off, moving your other hand to his head and running your nails along his scalp and through his hair. Any time in the past that he had had a panic attack in your company, you found that at the tail end of it, he enjoyed the feeling of your hands on him. Like it was grounding.

Michael’s hyperventilating had fully stopped, though a handful of tears still slipped through. His face was still scrunched in pain, but he watched the video attentively.

“You did all you could, my love,” you whispered. “No one could have saved her. Not even if it was all of us and just her. I’m so sorry.”

“Jake—”

You hushed him, “Jake is still in shock. He’s grieving. Whatever he said to you, he didn't mean it.”

“No, no, he does. I didn’t save her. I told him I would. I told him.”

You brought your lips to his temple, closing your eyes and willing no tears to come. You couldn’t, not now.

Michael tapped on the video again, watching as your baby moved, kicking against your womb like it was their job.

“It’s not your fault.” You told him, moving across the floor until you met his gaze. “I would never lie to you, you know that. I promise. If anyone could have saved her, it would have been you.”

His face scrunched again like he was going to cry.

You held him in your arms, squeezing him tight to your chest, hoping perhaps the more you squeezed, the more he would believe you.

You held his face in your hands, and willed him to look at you. “I love you so much, Michael. This was not your fault. Blame the shooter, they caused this whole thing. Jake will see that eventually, you haven’t lost him.”

Brown eyes held steady on yours, searching them with a gaze that nearly made you shy away. But you hold strong, wiping away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Robby! Robby!” Dana’s voice came through the curtain, before it was pushed aside.

Dana only blinked at the sight of you, you knelt in front of your husband, both of your faces twisted and pained.

You found your voice, “Just two minutes, Dana. Please.”

She only nodded, closing the curtain again and disappearing.

“I can’t promise the rest of this is going to be any easier, but,” You paused. “Fuck it, if you want to leave, we can blame me right now. Say I have high blood pressure and you want to make sure I get home safe. I don’t care. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

You remembered all the times he covered for you when your morning sickness made you late, or when he had taken time away from the hectic flow to talk you through a bad case, or a death. When he shouldered the weight of an abrasive family member or aggressive patient, even before you were married. The times he let you leave early when you were having a bad day, or encouraged you to take breaks even when he didn’t.

“Let me try to take care of you right now. Please. Whatever you need.”

Michael took a long breath, rubbing his eyes. “Let me just splash some water on my face. After…stay by my side?”

“Done. If you need a minute, tell me to take a break and come with me. I can shoulder that right now.”

You did not say it because you thought he was weak, but simply because you felt you had the capacity to bear the brunt of the remainder of this shift. People knew he was going to worry about you regardless of the situation, so him ‘checking in’ would not phase them.

“Michael,” you started as you both moved to stand, him offering a hand to help you, “You’ve always been so great with Jake, just give him some time.” You paused, “You’re going to be an amazing father to our child.”

Tears flooded his eyes again and you felt like you had just made it worse while trying to make it better.

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. How on earth did I—”

You cupped his cheek and hushed him again, bringing his face to yours until your foreheads touched. “I’m the lucky one.”

He kissed you softly, before bringing you into a hug, careful of your growing bump.

When you parted, he took one last deep breath before facing the chaos that awaited you both out in the ED. You knew the heavier parts of your conversation were going to have to be shelved until you got home.

Michael moved toward the closest bathroom and you rushed back to red zone. There were no words to exchange with Jack, but with a knowing glance at him, he seemed to understand.

“Robby’s moving me to red. Bilal’s got pink covered.” You told him, referencing the night attending.

Abbot only nodded.

When Michael returned only a minute later, you watched him — had you not known him that well, you might not have been able to guess what had just transpired. You were thankful no one else in the hospital knew him as well as you did.

You got back to work, busying your hands to try to stop your mind from worrying too much. Whatever he had done in the bathroom, he had clearly thrown his panic attack into a bag and stuffed it deep inside his mind. It made your heart ache, but you would help him unpack it once you were both in the safety of your home.

Michael still made sound decisions, and not once did you feel the need to question his judgement. Jack was steadfast with you both, and you were grateful for him.

—

It was 10pm by the time the dust began to settle and the situation finally simmered to a more controllable level. You were beat and you had only been there a few hours, Michael encouraging you to take a seat and have some water while he checked on a handful of things. You took that moment to find Jake — who now had been stitched up and was with his mom.

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I really wish I could have met her.”

He nodded numbly, “You would’ve really liked her.”

A sad smile formed on your lips, “I’m sure I would have.”

You wanted to tell him to go easy on Robby, but the words did not form on your tongue. It was still too soon, and while you did not want Jake to blame him, you knew it wasn’t the time or place.

You parted from them sadly, before going to check on the med students and finally finding Michael with Jack.

It was a half hour later that you both finally left, Michael following you silently to your car. You were still digesting it all, wondering how the hell you were even going to begin processing it.

At home, you both quickly discarded your scrubs to the floor and made your way to the bathroom. It went unsaid that you both needed to wash this shift off, more so mentally than physically, but being clean would certainly make you feel better.

It was amazing how well you had learned to read each other, and you held onto him under the warm water for a long moment. He kissed the side of your head before grabbing the soap, sudsing up his hands and gently cleaning your skin. You relished in the feeling of him.

Once you rinsed off, you returned the favor. You moved your hands over his arms, his chest and then his back. You added a kiss here and there, knowing he enjoyed your touch just as much. He held your belly in his hands, eyes faraway again — but you brought your hand to his face to get his attention.

You kissed him, holding onto him and trying to translate all the things you felt into it. He returned the kiss and you felt yourself sigh in contentment.

It was quiet, but cathartic.

You both dried off, and changed before collapsing into your bed, Michael immediately pulling you close. You rested your head on his chest to listen to the calming sound of his heart.

Moving off his chest, you pulled him close to you and let him rest his head on you, his hand going to your belly. His breathing was slow and controlled, but you knew his mind was racing. You held him tight, your fingers going to his hair.

“I’d like to talk about today.” You said. “Not right now. Maybe not even tomorrow, or this week. But eventually.”

He was quiet, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes on your stomach. “We can do that.”

“I’m here when you’re ready.” You told him.

He moved to press his lips to yours, peppering your face with kisses, before bringing you back to his chest. He held you for a long time and you did not even dare let go.

“I saw what it was.” He said.

“Oh?” You questioned against his chest, leaning your head back to look at him.

“Our baby.”

“Well don’t leave me in suspense.”

He grinned and kissed you deeply. Truth was, it didn’t matter. And as you held each other, you knew it was all going to be okay.

[ Next ]

All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready

I need to give him a hug

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch x reader #pregnant reader #female reader #the pitt episode 13 #the pitt spoilers #the pitt x reader #asxgard writes #dr robby x reader

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milawritess · 3 months ago

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Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow — Gojo Satoru

pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: crushed by the pressure of his work, Satoru and the reader's relationship begins to spiral. You do everything you can to make him happy, but you fear it's not enough. Maybe it never was. After a miscalculation that could have resulted in innocent lives being lost, the situation takes a turn for the worse.

Word count: 17k+ (I'm sorry in advance)

genre: heavy angst with happy ending

warnings: heavy angst, swearing, reader is a motherly figure to Megumi but their relationship is a bit strained, mentions of depression and self-doubt, reader is a sorcerer, fighting, insecurity, arguments, and breakups (?), descriptions of gore, mentions of sexual intercourse (mdni), depictions of a complicated and untraditional relationship, reader gets hurt, hardly edited/proofread (oops), gojo is fed up and mean :(

a/n: this is the first and longest thing I've ever posted on here lol. I felt like there was a lack of sorcerer!reader, so I played around with that concept a little bit. other than potentially shitty writing (sorry for any typos or grammatical errors), I truly hope you enjoy <3

sequel & blurbs

“Get out.”

The hash sentiment lingers, hanging heavily in the air.

“Well, hello to you too.”

He hears your feet shuffle across the floor as you stumble to take your shoes and coat off. “I just came to check on you.”

“And I’m fine,” he responds without moving, one arm up, draping over his aching eyes. He lies on the living room couch, one lanky leg propped up at an angle.

“You’re clearly not fine,” you respond, seeming unphased. “Have you eaten anything?” You ask, waiting for a response that never comes. “Okay, I’ll make your favorite ramen.”

He feels the side of the couch dip, your hand settling on his chest. Your fingers were greedy like you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with the fabric or caressing his taut muscles. Your voice is gentler when you speak this time. “Do you want an ice pack? Some tea?”

You two have done this dance before. You come home to find him exhausted, overworked with a migraine that could tranquilize an elephant. And just like always, you carefully slip his shoes off and unbutton the sleek black jacket to his uniform. It’s hard for him to stay mad about anything when you’re this kind, this caring.

“Satoru, please say something.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Your voice was so gentle. So sweet, saccharine, and so fucking patient. A voice you only ever reserved for him and for his ears only. A gentle whisper carried in a gentle breeze. It was his favorite sound.

But not tonight.

So you try something else. Sweet kisses along the corner of his lips. You’re even bold enough to move his arm, the arm he was using to desperately block out any light or simulation. You kiss his eyelids, his forehead, and cheeks—feather-light. Your hand slides up his chest before reaching his face. You caress your thumb under his closed eyes, and your other hand finds his hair, gently massaging his temple. He has all of you. Every bit.

“Let me take care of you.” If it were any other night, your breath fanning his neck would have shattered him; goosebumps would have wrecked his body, he’d shiver, and everything in him would ease, and all of his stress would slip away into nothingness. He never had to be the strongest with you. You would render him down to nothing but a simple man with just a few words. “You don’t look too good, honey. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” For a woman so strong in your own right, a woman of unyielding dignity and poise and unwavering determination to succeed, this is his favorite side of you.

But not tonight.

When his hand clasps your wrist, he feels your whole body freeze against his. Maybe you were surprised. Maybe you predicted this and were preparing yourself but-

The tongue-lashing dies in his throat when he opens his eyes. Just a peak to your face makes him falter. You were pouting. Worried. “I’m fine.” it’s harsher than you deserve but kinder than the thoughts swirling through his head a second ago.

He’s agitated. Stuck in the same old system that continues to fuck him over—his students over.

And yet, you just looked too beautiful.

You pull away, finally taking the hint. Then, you stand, fully removing yourself from him and stepping away. Your body heat quickly disappears from where you once sat, and he quivers. The room was quiet once again.

The room remained quiet even as you placed a hot bowl of ramen on the table beside him, a glass of water, and two pills.

You slept alone that night.

You remember when you first met Megumi.

“Who the hell are you?”

You never would have expected that to be the the words from a child you had just met. You raised a brow. “Well, aren’t you a fucking, brat?”

You were different back then—colder, angrier. You were similar in that sense.

Oddly enough, maybe that’s what gravitated him to you.

You’re not sure when it happened, but gradually, the harsh edges of you began to… change. Not entirely softened, as thorns remained, but you bloomed, red petals and all. You grew softer, kinder, more patient—and finally—your heart had made space for others. The fear of loss remained, but you had never cared for someone so fragile. No one had ever cried for you, reached for you with small chubby fingers, or depended on you as he once had. You never had someone in your life that needed to be nurtured, protected, and guided.

He was just a boy.

Over time, you realized that if you remained unchanged, perhaps he would never grow into the man he needed to be. You’re not sure why he picked you, why he looked up to you of all people, but he did. He found comfort in you and followed you like a little duckling with a little waddle and permanent scowl.

There wasn't a rhyme or reason. He chose you, and you chose him.

Soon enough, you were waking him up for school, running your hands through his messy, dark locks. You were making him bento boxes, running to parent-teacher conferences, and having hard but meaningful conversations with him in his room about his troubling behavior.

Then you were hugging him as he cried, as he revealed the same dark thoughts you once had about yourself.

You wished this world wasn’t so cruel, so dark. You hope that in a different life, he would have grown into a normal kid, with hopes and dreams and a list of things he wanted to do and go out and experience. You didn’t want him to be shackled to a world that’s left you so scarred.

You fought for any sense of normality you could give him. If that meant confronting the higher-ups, so be it. At times, you even confronted Satoru.

He was just a boy.

Fire never harmed you; it never dared to scorch your skin. You commanded and held domination over nearly every flicker of heat. He was so small when you met him; you remember the first time you saw his small form shiver in the cold. It made you anxious. Despite buying him the heaviest winter coat you could find, you were beside yourself, always wondering—is he warm enough?

But, long were the days of you bundling him up in his jacket, tying his shoes, and tugging beanies over his dark hair and red ears. Long were the days of you clasping his little hands in yours to bring them warmth when the air grew too bitter. He grew older, smarter, wiser, and stronger. The boy that used to cling to your skirt after a hard day at school now stood inches taller than you.

You knew that one day he’d leave you, and you were okay with that. Seeing him so ready for the world made you happy. You worried—of course you still worried—but you were so proud. He was hesitant, unsure at times, and sometimes even looked back to you for assurance.

You were always there, smiling, ushering him along.

You can do it. I believe in you.

You grew up together, you think. Sometimes, you wondered if he ever paid for your shortcomings, or if he remembered your failures as a caregiver, but just like you did him, he’d assure you with a soft nudge and a gentle smile.

He knows you did the best you could with what you had.

He was just a boy.

Your boy.

He wasn’t yours, but you loved him like he was. Only as he grew did you realize the lines you had crossed.

He doesn’t remember his mother, but you’re sure he remembered her smile, perhaps her touch, or the sound of her laughter. You never meant to impose on her memory.

When it happened, he had just gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu High, and Satoru took him on his first official mission. You no longer had the means of pushing this off; you couldn’t beg Satoru or the higher-ups for another month, another week, another day. Megumi wasn’t a normal kid. He was a sorcerer and needed to start fulfilling his duties and mastering his technique.

“You can’t avoid the inevitable. You can’t protect him forever,” Satoru had once told you.

You knew he was right.

You stayed home that day, anxious and worried, but you knew Megumi would be alright. Satoru was with him. Even if the tall man was a bit harder on Megumi than you, you knew he’d keep him safe.

However, your worst fears came to fruition. Megumi wasn’t the same after that mission.

You remember. Satoru’s eyes were stern that night while Megumi's eyes never left the floor as he made his way to his room.

You remember thinking—what could I do to make my boys happy again?

After all, they were your everything, the reason you stood here now with a full heart. Things were newer for you and Satoru then, but he kissed you that night, warm, large hands gently holding your cheeks. He missed you a little bit extra that day. You were nervous, hesitant to fall into the sanctuary of his embrace, but it was only a matter of time until you were fully, devotedly his.

“Are you okay?” You had asked, only for him to nod his head.

“Yeah. Of course, I am, angel. Megumi is shaken up, but he’ll be alright too.”

You made Megumi’s favorite dinner that night—the same beefsteak he’s raved about since he was only six. Well, he never raved, but you perfectly remember the first time you made it, which happened to be the first time he tried it. He could barely get his chin over the table to scope his food into his mouth. He wasn’t good with chopsticks yet, so he used a little fork, which he held in his tiny fist. His little eyebrows raised before dipping down, creasing at the inner corners as he concentrated on the flavor. He murmured it’s good, and you remember being so proud of yourself. That was one of the first times you felt that you were doing something right by him. You made the same dish on occasion, and time only helped you perfect the recipe.

Megumi never came out of his room that night. The lights were off when you knocked. Even after hearing no response, you had cracked open the door, poking your head inside.

“Gumiii,” you stepped into his room. He was on his bed, groaning as you flicked the light on. He turned his back to you. “I made your favoriteee.”

You had sat on the edge of his bed, a hot plate of food in your hands. “C’mon, it’s the beefsteak you like. Nice and warm.”

“‘m not hungry,” he had grumbled.

You sighed. “The mission must have been unpleasant.” He remained still. “I’m sorry, Gumi. Satoru said you did well! I’m proud of you—” he flinched from your touch, snapping his arm away from your reach. You froze, having felt the coldness of his rejection. “If you don’t want to talk about the mission, how was your first day at your new school?” You asked. “Do you have any classmates you like?”

“Just quit it already…” he had murmured. “I’m not in the mood.”

Your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. My first mission was tough too, and you already know I wasn’t great at making friends either–” you winced, biting your tongue. This was coming out all wrong. “… are you okay, Megumi?”

“I’m fine!” He clipped, pushing himself upright in bed. “Just leave me alone and stop acting like you’re my mom already!”

You remembered—and just the memory of that night shambled your heart. You could never forget the hurt those words caused and how you couldn’t show it.

You had smiled wearily. Then, you placed his dinner on his desk. “…you’re right,” you echoed. “I’m not her, never could be. I’m sorry if I imposed. I never meant to.”

You never spoke of the incident, but you remembered that things were tense between Satoru and Megumi for a short while after that. You told Satoru to drop it, but you had a feeling the poor boy received a tongue-lashing from Satoru. You were never sure, though, and you could never prove it.

You just remembered feeling cracks in the foundation of the home you never knew you had so carefully crafted, brick by brick. Some of the warmth was gone—a warmth you never knew was quite there until it wasn’t.

Little by little, you pulled back. Megumi moved into the student dorms shortly after, and he needed you less and less. You no longer made him bento boxes or his favorite beefsteak. You bit your tongue with the lectures: Megumi, that’s not nice, or Megumi, you need to have more faith in yourself. You can do it.

Though the bitter bite of cold never entirely touched you, heated by an unquenchable fame, you pulled back your hand when you reached for him. He left you seared—burned.

You still worried. You never knew if you were giving him too much or not enough. So, you left most of the mentoring to Satoru now. It’s been a few months since the incident, and now you only ever speak to him if he approached you first.

That's why you were happy when you spotted him in town. You offered him a small, shy wave. He unexpectedly approached you and asked how you were and what you’d been up to. However, the most unexpected part was when he asked if you were busy. You shook your head, and it was impossible to hide you beam when he offered to get you hot chocolate from the same coffee shop you used to take him to after school in the colder months.

However, it seemed you weren’t the only one confused by Satoru’s recent behavior.

“Huh?”

“Gojo didn’t want me going on my mission,” Megumi reiterated.

You blink a few times, tapping your fingers against the styrofoam cup in your hands. “Huh. He’s never done that before.”

“He doesn’t think I’m ready. He took the mission himself.”

“He said that? That he doesn’t think you’re ready?”

“Well… not exactly.” He scowls slightly, looking down at the cup of hot chocolate. “But he damn well implied it.”

“Gumi,” you frown at the boy. He doesn’t make eye contact with you; he looks forward now, gazing out the window and watching the fresh snow coat the ground.

He was upset.

“He could’ve at least taken me with him.”

For a moment, you see that same little boy you met over ten years ago and that same dejected look on his face after being let down one too many times. It breaks your heart.

“If Satoru took the mission and went alone, I’m sure it’s for a good reason.”

He wants to say more but opts for something quick and sweet. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You have to do something. Quick. Anything to make him a bit happier. “I have a mission later in Osaka. I’ll be catching the 2 pm train. Wanna come? I could use the extra help.”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, you presume, but he nods. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Great! And just so you know, we’ll probably be dealing with a grade one or two.”

He pauses momentarily before calmly asking, “And you need help with that?”

“Uh, yeah. Any help is much appreciated. Plus, I haven’t seen you much recently.” You smile brightly, and he turns his head, eyes finding the ground, looking a little bashful.

“About that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off. “You’ve been busy with school, and I know that.”

“But that’s not–”

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you smile again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and gently squeeze his hand. “I get it.”

He gives you a look, a small disgruntled scowl. He wanted to say more.

“Alrighty then.” You stand, stretching from sitting in the chair. “I’ll buy you another hot chocolate for the road. We should probably start getting ready to leave.”

The mission goes well. An abandoned warehouse in Osaka conjured up a nasty looking grade three, but Megumi held his own just fine—like you expected. He’s grown much stronger and more sure of himself. You’re proud. Seeing how far he’s come certainly puts a smile on your face. He’s not a little boy anymore, you realized. He’s growing into a fine young man.

Urg. Stop getting emotional.

However, after stopping for a later dinner, you both arrived home late, around nine or so.

“You did good tonight, Megumi,” you tell him for the nth time.

He rolls his eyes, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. “You’ve told me that already.”

“I know, I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of you. You’re getting so much stronger.”

Instead of brushing you off like all the other times, he sighs before offering a forced “thanks.”

“Alrighty then. Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you and the others sometime tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Get back home safe.”

You nod, smiling. You make sure to watch him as he goes, making sure he gets inside before turning around. He’s capable of taking care of himself, but some habits never grow old. Making sure he gets inside anywhere safely has always been something you’ve prioritized, whether he was going to a friend's house, school, or boarding the train.

You loved him like your own, but you knew he wasn't. After all, it was only a few months ago now that he reminded you that he wasn't yours.

You’re not my mom.

It hurt—it still does—but you never held it against him. You still loved him nevertheless. Your relationship might have shifted but it doesn’t negate the fact that you care for him and would gladly give your life if it meant keeping him safe.

Then, there was Kugisaki and Itadori—two others slowly weaseling their way into your heart. They’ve helped Megumi so much; he might be too proud to admit it, but they’ve helped him come out of his shell; they were his friends, and you knew they had each other backs.

You sigh, a translucent cloud of white floating up and above your head. Just like always, your thoughts shift to blue eyes. Satoru. You’ve missed him today. No calls or obnoxious spam texts. It’s not unusual per se, especially when he gets busy. Regardless, you missed him.

But, something is bothering you. He wasn't communicating with you and he usually tells you these things. Even if he didn't have the time to tell you something right away, he'd eventually find a moment to talk to you. This time around, he didn’t. He didn't tell you he was leaving or about the whole ordeal with Megumi.

He just got up and left. You woke to a cold bed and an empty house. No text message, no note with a silly doodle. When you called him in the morning, it went right to voicemail. Eventually, when you pull up your shared text messages to check for anything new, you only saw the message you sent him from the day before. At a loss, you type out a quick message. You didn't think it would make things better, but at least it was something.

I hope you have a good day today :)

It was all you could really muster up after last night. He seemed so agitated, and so fed up. You blamed it on stress; he isn’t usually like that. Usually, his touch was careful, calculated as if you were fixed of glass. You missed his lame jokes and mischievous grins when he was up to no good. You weren't offered any of that last night. Or the night before. Even the night before that.

You’re starting to worry.

He always bounces back so quickly. The only thing that typically gets him this mad are the higher-ups. Which, in Megumi's case, makes sense. You can see why Gojo would intervene if they gave him a dangerous mission.

But why didn’t he take Megumi with him, at least?

Hm.. maybe it was beyond Megumi's skill set. Would the elders be stupid enough to set him up? They did it to you long ago, but they wouldn’t be bold enough to do it to the boy with the ten shadows technique, would they?

Or maybe Satoru… just doesn’t want to be near you?

Urg. You roll your eyes at your own selfish thoughts. Satoru wouldn’t do something like that. He’s already overworked as it is. Maybe you should make him something. A nice dinner? Or maybe he needed a pick-me-up? Kikufuku? You’re sure you could find the recipe online.

You're torn, so you decide to make both. Maybe you'll even put on a nice dress.

You decide to call him, and after a few rings, he answers. “Hey, honey,” you say sweetly, happy he even bothered to answer your call. "I was wondering when you’d be home tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner.”

He’s quiet again—too quiet. “Dinner? Tonight?”

“Yeah, you’ve been so busy lately. I figured you’d like that.”

He hums into the phone, sounding a bit lighter. “Dinner does sound nice…”

Your smile widens. You could hear the underlying stress in his tone; it was flatter than usual, but at least he was trying. “... I’ll even put on your favorite dress?”

He chuckles a bit. “Tempting, but I’ll probably have to leave after dinner.”

“Oh,” you murmur, wincing slightly at the rejection. Maybe you’ve gotten too spoiled—too accustomed to him pushing off his responsibilities all for the sake of spending a few more moments with you. Were you being too greedy? “Are you okay? They’re not stretching you too thin, are they?”

He sighs in a carefree tone. “I'm doing fine. Same old thing, just a different day,” is all he offers, but you can tell he’s withholding.

“I can help, y’know,” you offer gently. “If you have too many missions, I can take a few off your plate.”

“Nah,” he tells you a bit arrogantly. “It’s better if I handle it.”

Now you’re really starting to feel the distance. He usually reserves the softer parts of him for you. You suppose he just didn’t have the patience to do so right now. “You, uh, got into it with the higher-ups I heard,” you mention, trying to keep the conversation going but approaching from a different angle. “Megumi was telling me you even took his mission. I think he was a bit upset you didn’t take him with you. How come you never told me?”

“How come you never told me you were going to Osaka? Or the fact that you took him with you?”

Your stomach twists, unease bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like where this was heading. “I– it’s never bothered you before,” you manage, though your voice falters, dying down into nothing but a whisper. “And it’s not like you’ve been… wanting to speak to me recently. I haven't had the time to tell you much of anything," your trail off, your voice slowly fading before you begin again. "Did I do something to make you mad?”

The silence that follows is unbearable—longer than you ever imagined it could be. “Satoru… Please just talk to me.”

“I gotta go,” his tone is cold, clipped, and final.

There’s a click as he hangs up, and the silence becomes deafening and threateningly absolute.

You realize you miss the way he used to look at you. Not the way he'd gaze at you, but in the way he would gaze into you, as though you were ever the only thing that ever really mattered.

After your last conversation with him, you were unsteady. You hated how you stayed in bed for hours, analyzing everything he's said to you recently, dissecting his every action. You hated how needy you suddenly felt, even while laying there, in his bed, in his clothes. He paused just a second too long before answering you now, as if he had to must up the courage and energy to do so. His laugh no longer came out easily. Others might miss it, but you never could. It was still rambunctious, taking up a whole room, but to you, it felt forced, brittle even. You've known Satoru at his best, and you've also known him at his worst.

When he looks at you now, you wonder if he's really seeing you. Painfully, you realize you haven't seen him; not without his eyeband on at least. Last night you did, for the first time in a while, but he seemed agitated.

The worst part was that you didn't know how to bring yourself to confront him. You struggled, unsure which pretty words and cadence would unluck the distance between you two.

Did something happen on one of his missions? Was he stressed? Had the higher-ups pushed him too far, testing his patience?

Or was it you? Was this somehow your fault?

Did you scare him away? Have you said too much, cared too deeply, loved too loudly?

You weren't sure, but you had to try something.

You were grateful you were cooking him dinner tonight on your day off. It was the least you could do, and you adored taking care of him. You choose hot pot, something you and Satoru have tried at home before. It took over a few hours to prepare, but it was worth it. You made two broths, you sliced up shabu-shabu and wagyu beef and even went to the extent of watching a video to make a dipping sauce. Unfortunately, you forgot one of the ingredients for the kikufuku mochi and didn’t want to risk making something he didn’t entirely like. Luckily, you had spare time to run down to the kikufuku store right before it closed. Of course, you grabbed all his favorite, two boxfuls, in fact. He was a big guy, so you hoped you had more than enough food for him to indulge.

You and Satoru were together. Though he never outright asked you to be his, you knew. It was an unspoken thing, and you were content with that. For as goofy and eccentric as that man could be, it was rather surprising how he was never outright with what he was actually feeling.

He was damn good at showing it, though. In more ways than one.

You feel it in the way he’d always reach for you after a nightmare. Shaking, needy hands tightly clasping at your waste, fearful of you disappearing and slipping to a place where he could not reach you. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow. Please. His face would nuzzle into your neck, sharply inhaling your scent. You’d hold him, whispering endless promises. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Or it's okay. Breathe, my love. I’m with you.

You feel it on the nights he’d pin you beneath him, his grunts and moans echoing in your ears as he fills you so completely. He’d beg, no demand you—tell me you’re mine. Only mine.

And, of course, you’d eagerly nod, overwhelmed with the pleasure only he could strum out of you so perfectly. ‘m yours. All of me—yours.

You feel it in his protective gaze, his eagerness to hold you in the life vest of his arms. You felt it late into the night, damp bodies pressed against one another; low lighting, quiet laughter, and secrets revealed. His dreams, his wishes, his what ifs—the parts of him that no one knew or considered. Or when he handed you a silver key with a handsome and cheshire grin. What do you say? He was lovely, every bit of him, especially his gentle and selfless heart that you would never take for granted like the rest of the world seemed to.

You feel it when he comes home from overseas and how his strong arms hold onto you just a bit longer, a bit tighter. You feel it with how he smiles into your neck or that one time at the airport when he lifted you up and spun you around, uncaring who saw.

You feel it in the way that it was unspoken. You feel it in his cursed energy and how it perfectly intertwined with yours, reaching for you, comforting you when his hands could not. You especially feel it in the necklace he gifted you—the one your fingers were playing with now: a silver chain with cerulean sapphires, the same breathtaking shade of his eyes. His cursed energy, carefully imbued into the stones, was like carrying a piece of him with you—always, wherever you may go, and it rests directly above your beating heart.

He might not voice it, but you feel it. He loved you. And you certainly loved him.

So when had it become so hard to reach him? Why does he seem so intangible all of a sudden? Something deep and unsettling blooms in your stomach.

And now that you think about it…

When was the last time you two did any of that? When was the last time his careful hands caressed you?

Only Satoru could make you this worried or make you feel this displaced. A sense of panic strikes you, and you pull out your phone to text him when you realize he’s thirty minutes late. Usually, that wouldn’t bother you, but–

After only three rings, you're sent to voicemail. When you check his location, he’s at the high school. Should you check on him? Or would that make him… mad?

He toru! Dinners ready. When do you think you’ll be home? Miss you.

You bite your lip. He quickly read your message, but those three little bubbles never show up.

Nothing. Just nothing.

Maybe he’s staying up late writing the report for his latest mission?

“eek!” Your phone pings, and after a round of hot potato, you see he’s texted you back.

Only to be met with more disappointment.

Dealing with something urgent. Don’t wait up.

You frown, knowing you should drop it, but you can’t.

Satoru…

He’s typing faster now. What?

You pause, thumbs hovering over letters you hesitate to type. What’s going on? You’ve been off lately.

I’m fine. Just busy.

Do you want me to bring you dinner to the High School?

Those three bubbles appear and disappear more times than you can count. No. I said don’t wait up.

You know I don't sleep well without you.

He responds in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Your patience is wearing thin for the first time since this ordeal started. Are you saying you won’t be coming home tonight?

You’re offered no response. He doesn’t even open your message. For the second night, you lay in a cold bed. Except, Satoru doesn’t come home.

Only he could fracture you so completely.

During your next mission, you brought the whole trio along. According to the report you were handed, you were only dealing with a grade three, but there was also an Infestation in the area. You could use the backup.

You had initially asked Megumi, but once Yuji caught wind, he was adamant that he tagged along, and, according to Nobara she had nothing else better to do.

“Are you guys sure? It’s your day off.”

Yuji shrugs, both arms up, hands up and behind his head. “Yeah, I’m game.”

“Me too,” Nobara voices with a small glint in her eyes. “I got something new I want to try out anyway. We didn’t get to go on a mission last week as it is.”

You paused. "Huh? Gojo didn’t take you on any?”

“Nah,” Yuji shakes his head. “I think he’s been busy or something.” He looks at Kugisaki. “Hasn’t Gojo-Sensei seemed a little… off?”

Nobara nods. “Uh yeah. He hasn’t been himself at all. We figured you’d know something,” Nobara says, curious eyes scanning you.

“Huh… I’m not sure. We haven’t gotten around to talking lately.”

Megumi hums, though it sounds more suspicious than his usual passive tone.

Though they weren’t necessarily your students, you figured there was no harm in taking them. You've done it before and having them around was always like a breath of fresh air—reminding you of why Satoru dedicates himself so fully to his cause and being a teacher. They give you a reason to get stronger and keep fighting. You loved these kids and all their bickering.

Except, this mission doesn’t go anything like you had expected. The report was wrong—a grade two was ambling through the abandoned schoolhouse. That was fine; the four of you were more than enough to kill it. The infestation was a bit overwhelming, but you had their backs, and they were nothing but pesky small curses lower than a grade four.

Everything went well when the ambush happens. You all saw it: right in front of your eyes, a grade one emerging from the shadows, born into something nasty. It's skin oozed a sickly black slime that clung to its misshapen body. Its face—or lack there of—was dark and amorphous, split by a jagged maw that stretched impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp serrated teeth, ready to cut and slash through flesh like a meat grinder. Other that is daunting appearance, the only other notable thing about it was its speed.

You told the kids to back down, but it was already too late. They were already involved, stuck in the heat of battle and fighting as a seamless unite. They were more than capable of standing on their own.

But you needed them out of here. Your obligation was to protect them no matter how eager they were to help. However, before you could think of your next move, the curse made one last self-preserving attack. It opened in wide jaws, releasing several red beamed energy blast aimed directly at stone pillars.

You had no time to think, only react. In an instant, you surged forward towards the trio, faster than their eyes could react. Grunting, you knocked them back, glass shattering as you kicked them through a window. You felt the impact ripple through your body, fully knowing you knocked the wind out of Megumi and Yuji. However, they recovered quickly, their instincts sharp enough to catch Nobara–

Right in time before the building collapsed.

The building groaned like a wounded beast, its entire frame buckling from lack of support. Stone walls crumbled into clouds of dust and debris, windows shattered in explosive bursts, steel beams twisted and snaped with sickening shrieks. The ground trembled violently as the structure gave way, collapsing into a chaotic heap of concrete, rubble, and smoke, swallowing everything beneath. Including you.

You survived. Reinforcing your body with cursed energy made you strong enough to withstand the impact, and your heavenly restriction certainly helped. Nevertheless, you still took on quite a bit of damage from the tons of metal and concrete.

You woke up under the rubble with a startling gasp, choking on the dust. Were you out for a few seconds? Minutes? You were unsure, but the only thing pushing you to stand was the panic coated in Megumi’s voice. He was calling for you, and so were the others. You could hear the strain in their voices, the utter distraught. You healed your broken leg and the gash on the corner of your forehead, ceasing your gushing blood. You gathered yourself and your strength before pushing. They found you quickly after that, noticing a heap of rubble moving. They ran, rushing to help you push back concrete that threatened to suffocate you. You never did like tight spaces.

Thankfully, you were alright. The kids were safe as well.

However, the curse had escaped. Megumi was visibly shaken, his fingernail cracked, bruised, and bleeding from digging urgently through the rubble to find you.

Everyone was on edge. It wasn't their fault you didn't react quickly enough. You were more than capable; maybe that's why the failure stung so much.

You let yourself down. You let them down.

You were spiraling into a dark place quickly. The guilt threatened to swallow you whole. Gojo was still nowhere to be seen. You didn't have the strength to call him. You’re not sure what you could even say. You’ve fucked up before, but never to this extent. Not to where a whole building collapsed.

“Good morning. A tragic incident occurred last night when an abandoned school collapsed around 7 pm. Authorities are currently investigating the cause, and preliminary reports suggest that the collapse could have been due to a structural weakness—one of the many reasons why the school was abandoned in the first place. We will continue to monitor the situation as more information becomes available–"

Megumi gently grabs your phone and locks your screen. Wordlessly, he shakes his head before pocketing your device. You’re too exhausted to ask for it back.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sensei?” Yuji's voice was soft, the first voice to break the ice. You look up from your hands, unsure how long you’ve been lost in thought. You force a small smile as you gaze at the three kids. You were sitting across from them in the waiting area outside the council room.

“I’m alright. Are you guys?"

“We’re all fine,” Megumi cuts in quickly. “We’re– we’re more than okay.”

“That's good,” you trail off. “That's really good.”

Uncertainty hung dangerously in the air. What happened now? You were okay, but for how long?

You knew you were in for a lashing with all the collateral damage you caused. It was supposed to be a simple mission. This wasn't supposed to happen. You four were fine, but did anyone else get hurt?

You flinch at your own thought. You don't think you could live with yourself if innocent lives were lost.

“Sensei?” Yuji's soft, unsure voice cuts in once more. When your eyes make contact, he smiles brightly. You can tell it’s forced. “After this, wanna go get something to eat? There’s this great sandwich shop down the street!”

“Y–yeah!” Nobara sits up straight after being less than conspicuously nudged by Yuji. “It’s pretty good. We went the other day–”

The council room door creaked open. The higher-ups were waiting, shrouded in shadows and faces hidden. Even if you couldn't see them, the tension was palpable. Even without seeing them directly, you could sense their anger, smell it as it rolled off of them in a quiet, unspoken fury. You glance at the kids once more, this time with a gentle, reassuring smile curling at your lips.

Everything would be okay.

Everything was, in fact, not okay.

The air was heavy as you entered your office. Your limbs ached, your head throbbed, and every breath felt like dragging glass through your lungs. You had thought the worst of it was over, and slowly, you felt your body begin to shut down, but only when there were no prying eyes to see how you compensated for your injuries. Even after using RCT, you had a limp—your bones were mended but not quite right. Your head was no longer bleeding—but still, you weren't quite right.

You dismiss it as exhaustion; after all, you had just learned RCT not too long ago. Maybe you missed something. However, this wasn’t anything you couldn't handle on your own. You could see Shoko, but why bother her? You’ve endured far worse. Dealing with a sore body and a headache for the next few days wasn’t out of your jurisdiction.

When you open the door, a flickering lamplight reveals a tall frame standing by your desk. Even before your eyes dance upon his sharp and still silhouette, the air shifts—your soul already knows he is there. Satoru.

But, his eyes never meet yours; you weren’t blessed enough to see them, a bright blue illuminating in the absence of light. His eyes were covered with a familiar dark cloth. However, you didn’t need to see them to know that the usual warmth they held as he gazed upon you was gone. In its place was a coldness that turned your stomach.

“Satoru–”

“I know,” he says, voice clipped as he turns to face you. “I read the reports.” Your heart sinks as he haphazardly tosses the report down to your desk.

You’re exhausted, unsure of where to even begin. So many questions floated in your weary mind. Where were you? When did you get here? Please, don’t be mad at me.

It’s funny how all your dignity, poise, and strength to endure are gone with him. You already took one berating from the elders, and you’re not sure you could handle another.

Not from him.

“But, I want to hear it from you.” He stepped closer, his height making him all the more domineering. “What happened out there? And how the hell are my students caught up in all of this?”

“The report was wrong. It was a grade two, not three, but we handled that just fine. We cleared out the area and completed the mission, but we were ambushed. A grade one appeared, destroyed the pillars, and–” You hesitate, unable to form the words. “Well, you know what happened.” He’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. “I–I did everything I could, Satoru. The students were fine, but the curse got away.”

“Everything you could?" His voice echoes. "I don’t need excuses. Certainly not from you. You endangered them—all of them. They’re not even your students!” He snapped, his voice rising in a way you’ve never heard before.

You bite back the lump forming in your throat. “I thought you, out of anyone, would understand the circumstances.”

“...Understand?” He utters back, a quiet fury rolling off him in waves.

“I made sure that–”

“You failed,” he snaps, voice laced with malice. “Enough. Just stop it. You were reckless and went behind my back, and you let a pathetic grade one get the best of you.”

Your chest tightened, crumbling at the weight of his tone. “Went behind your back? I did no such thing.”

“They could have been hurt because of you!” You visibly flinch, his words carrying more weight than the debris that had buried you—broken bones and all.

“I’m recommending you be demoted to grade two.”

What?

“You can’t do that. Satoru, you can’t–”

“I can,” he said coldly. “and I will. You failed, and not only did you fail, you went behind my back and involved my students. Your recklessness caused this,” disdain coats his voice, and he sucks his teeth. “I was gone for two fucking seconds, and you damn near ruined everything. People could have died. My students could have been injured. So stop being a nuisance and just do as you're told from here on out.”

No.

No, no, no, no.

You fought for years to get to grade one. A woman with a name of no renown—this society was never in favor of you; the system was set up for you only to fail time and time again. For years, you were held at grade three, then grade two, all because of your name’s sake—all because you were a woman. You didn’t have the luxury of being as good as other sorcerers; you had the burden to be better.

Even now, at grade one, they continue to undermine you and undervalue you. You knew you didn’t have room to make mistakes, for they would tarnish every bit of good you have done. You thought Satoru understood that. You thought he viewed you as an equal, someone strong enough to stand by him. You thought he valued you, respected you.

You never thought a mistake, a stupid mistake, would lead to this.

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

“This has nothing to do with my rank. You don’t believe me. You don't trust me. After everything–”

Hearing his scornful laugh, your vision begins to blur. “Don’t make this personal. You fucked up, and now I have to clean up your mess.”

Your ears begin ringing. The pounding in your head becomes too much and threatens to crack your skull open once more.

“But it is, isn’t it?” You whisper. How could it not be personal with how he's been treating you for days? “You haven't been able to look at me in weeks. You speak to me as if I’ve become nothing but a burden to you—a nuisance. What did I do to deserve this?”

He remains silent, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he grits his teeth. Point proven.

Your heart painfully twists with each beat. “Do you even… care about me anymore?” You’re not sure why you say it, why the words slip past your lips, but they do.

He read the report and he hadn't even asked if you were okay. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but it makes your chest ache. You just wanted to go home, crawl in bed and hold him. However, you knew that wasn't in the cards right now.

“Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

Your voice finally wavers before him, cracking as you press on, desperate for him to understand—desperate to have him by your side as he has been for so many years.

“You’re casting me aside like I’m... worthless."

It was cruelty, a quiet and deafening insult for him to demote you of your status—but more specifically, your place beside him. That hurt runs deep, to the point that feelings of betrayal start seeping into your veins, poisoning you, antagonizing you. Belittling you. It was a sharp dagger you never expected—searing with a hatred that threatened to cripple you. This wasn’t just about your position. He was a man of unchallenged stature, of the highest status and regard, lowering you, demeaning you with his every word, every action.

When did things go so wrong?

Yet, even now, you question yourself. Were you being dramatic? Were you taking this too personally? Were you being selfish?

Because he was right. Every word he's said so far was right. You failed. You put them in danger.

You stand there, a hollow feeling growing in your chest. The sting of Satoru’s words cut deeper than any blade you’ve faced. His jaw tightened, his gaze hard as steel and cold as ice. “You gave me what I never asked for.”

“Don't you dare!” You snap, finger trembling as you point his way with an accusatory jab. “Don’t you dare pretend this is nothing. You know me better than anyone. How could I not take this personally? I’ve done nothing but stand by you, love you, trust you–”

“Like I said, I never asked for any of that,” he utters sharply, his carefully composed exterior shattering. “Whatever we were was nothing more than fucking convenience.”

Suddenly, he stops, freezing at the onslaught of his own lethal words. His next words seemed to die in his throat. The damage was done.

Exhausted, defeated, numb. His words hit you like a death blow. “... Convenience?” Echoing the very word that came from his lips—a sound you hardly recognize comes from your mouth, a small slip of the anguish tormenting and swelling in your body escapes.

The necklace around your neck, the very one he had given you, seemed to pulse against your skin, warm and alive. It carried a piece of him, a piece of you, a guiding hand in the absence of light: a thread, an anchor—a way home.

Suddenly, you hated it. Hated the way it sat so close to your heart, hated the warmth, his energy; you hated that, even now, his words cutting so deep, unraveling the fabric of your being, it comforted you, reaching for you.

You yanked it off, the chain snapping in two as you held it in your trembling hands.

He falters, his whole being frozen. “What are you doing?” he asked, quiet and tense, blanketed in uncertainty.

“I don’t want it,” you say, voice quivering, threatening to fail you at any moment. His energy—the only energy that blended so perfectly with yours—reached for you, and so did his trembling hands. Reflexively, you flinched away, retreating further into the room and further from him. “Don’t,” you shake your head. “Don’t touch me. Not with your hands, not with your energy. Don’t.”

Silent tears stream down your face. You are unable to look at him, and your breathing is shallow and unsteady. You open your hand, letting the necklace drop to the floor. The faint sound of metal hitting wood echoes in the suffocating silence of the room.

There’s a soft knock on the door. It creaks, slightly opening. “... Y/n sensei?” came an unsure voice.

You stiffen, and suddenly, you can sense them, three nervous students standing outside your door. Too caught up with Satoru, you had entirely missed them. You clear your throat and dry your cheeks with the back of your hand before turning to the door. You walk over, opening the door wide enough to see them.

“Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we just wanted to know if you still wanted to come out for dinner with us...”

Fuck. How much did they hear?

You take a breath, and it’s shakier than you anticipated. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. Let me grab my jacket, okay.”

Yuji only offers an unsure smile. Norbora has a hard time even looking at you, while Megumis's eyes are solid and unyielding, glaring right past you. His hands were in his pockets, balled into tight fists.

You don’t know what to do other than quickly turning. Within a few ushered strides, you were at your desk, grabbing your coat off your desk chair; you’re careful to avoid Gojo, who manages to plaster on that big fucking grin.

“Heard you guys were up to no good while I was away.”

“We were fine,” Megumi interjects before Yuji could open his mouth. “More than fine.”

“Y–yeah, everything ended up being just fine. Y/n-sensei made sure of that,” Nobara awkwardly adds, shifting her weight on her feet.

“Ah,” Gojo nods. “Well, make sure you get some rest tonight. We’ve got a long day tomorrow! You guys will be training with the second years!”

You hated how he could act as if everything was alright while you were fighting back tears. It was another jab, a suckerpunch to the gut.

You just needed to get out of there.

After dinner with the kids, you headed out on your own the following day. You went home, stuffing some clothes in a bag before spending the night at a cheap motel. Before getting with Satoru, you always floated from place to place, never truly settling. Those days, all you carried on you was your backpack. You didn’t have a home or many possessions you could call your own. You just had yourself.

I guess old habits die hard.

Megumi was the first to text you: I went to Gojo's house today and didn’t see you.

All good! I’ve been busy running errands.

Nobara text you sometime after.

Hey Sensei!! Let me know if you’re available today! Let’s go shopping!

You responded rather quickly. Sorry, I’m not around today. Maybe ask Maki? Or maybe Yuji and Megumi would like to tag along.

But guys suck :(

Then, there was Yuji: Hey, Sensei! Let me know if you want ramen! The gang and I got you since you covered for us the other night! I even got coupons!

You weren’t sure what to say. You always covered for their meals (no exceptions), but you knew they were just trying to be kind. You double-tapped and hearted the message.

You appreciated them more than anything, but frankly, it was a bit embarrassing. You never meant for them to overhear you and Satrou that night in your office, and you were never one for pity. If it were anyone else, you would have called them out and told them off. However, you wouldn’t dream of doing that to the kids. They were trying to support you in the only way they knew how, but it wasn’t their responsibility to worry about you.

Surprisingly, Shoko was the next person to contact you. You never stopped by my office. I’m assuming you’re alright?

Smiling gently, you responded. Yeah, no injuries to report.

A building collapsed on you.

You scoff, imagining her deadpan expression. Heavenly restriction, remember?

That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Yeesh. Just meet me at the bar you like downtown.

That’s where you are now, Shoko’s favorite bar, tossing back your third shot. ”Take it easy. I don’t feel like dragging you home tonight.”

“Ah. I’m alright, Shoko.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Neither do you with those bags under your eyes.”

She brings her drink to her lips, mumbling “touché” before taking a swig. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vivid memories pressed to the front of your mind of the building collapsing. “Satoru is demoting me. After the elders ripped into me, I found him waiting for me in my office.”

“He– what? Jeez,” she took another sip of sake. “Out of everything, I didn’t expect that.”

“I– we haven’t been doing too good. I’m not sure if there even is an us after last night.”

“Huh. He did seem a little out of it today.”

“Somehow, I kinda doubt that.” There’s a beat of silence, and you swirl the liquid in your cup.

“If it means anything, he asked me about you. Asked if you were alright.”

You smile a bit sardonically. If Satoru really wanted to find you, you knew he could, as he had the means to do so. From here, you were only about five miles away from his estate. It’s not like you were too for his eyes to see. Suddenly, that thought bothers you, and you find yourself almost subconsciously concealing your cursed energy.

“Is that why you texted me?”

She gives you a weird look. “Partially. I had my own concerns.”

“Like what?”

“If I’m being honest with you, you’re not great at RCT. I wanted to check and make sure everything was alright. It eventually catches up with you if you don’t do it correctly. I’ve seen it cause irreparable damage before.”

“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”

“You should come to my office tomorrow so I can check–”

“I think I’m gonna quit.”

“…what?”

“I mean, that’s what they really want, right?”

“If you do that, they’ll find the easiest excuse to label you as a traitor. A cursed user.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Since day one, they’ve been trying to paint me as a villain.”

“So don’t give them what they want,” Shoko bites back. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “Listen, I can’t stop you. You are going to do what you want to do at the end of the day, but you don’t need to do this. You made a mistake.”

“I’m just tired,” you tell her truthfully. “For months, I’ve been pretending, going through the motions. I've been miserable. Megumi hasn’t wanted me around much. He’s older now, and he doesn’t need me anymore–”

“Of course he does,” Shoko cuts you off. “He’s still a kid.”

“And I’m not his mother,” you retort bitterly. “Then, there’s Satoru. He’s been so distant. He used to always be in my corner and make everything better, but I don’t even have that now. Now, all of the jujutsu society thinks I’m a liability. He thinks I’m a liability. Maybe it’s why he’s grown to resent me so much.”

“Please. Just stop talking,” Shoko remarks, overwhelmed with how quickly you were talking. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of conversations like these, but at least she listened. “I’m here if you ever need anyone. And please, don’t let this fester. I would rather not lose another friend.” She takes a large gulp this time, finishing her drink before gesturing for a refill. “Tsk. Satoru is complicated—I get it—but he wouldn’t want you to leave. Neither would Megumi. That kid loves you. Maybe you and Gojo just need a break.”

A break? Ha. That was one way of putting it. However, it already felt much more like a breakup, and its permanence frightened you. Like many other things in your relationship, it was never voiced but certainly felt.

“Yeah,” you say softly, body buzzing as you down your fourth shot. “Maybe you’re right.”

You start walking home after having drinks with Shoko. It was a long walk, and you took your time. You weren’t in a rush to head home to potential chaos. The thought of staying at a hotel crossed your mind, but you had nothing to change into. Frankly, it didn’t matter where you went either. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep any better.

Though, it’s not like you were going back home to anything good. You were suspended without pay; you couldn’t go near the school grounds or exercise any curses—a stipulation you rolled your eyes at. If they thought just a few measly words would stop you from exercising a curse, they would be more idiotic than you thought.

Still, maybe it’s good to take some time off. Maybe you should stay at the hotel. If you were lucky, they’d have a washer and dryer.

Then, your phone starts to ring—a unique ringtone that a white-haired idiot assigned to his contact one day after you let him “borrow” your phone. He even changed his contact photo; years later, you never had the heart to change it.

Your heart aches when you see the contact photo of him, his goofy smile and gorgeous eyes peeking over his black shades. You answered hesitantly after a few rings.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy,” you hear, his voice light and cheery yet, lacking its usual spark. “Where are you? I know I missed dinner the other night so I picked up your favorite on my way home!”

Back to normal? Just like that?

You take a breath, reeling in your emotions. It wasn’t normal, per se, but you could tell he was trying, stepping cautiously over the ice he knew could shatter at any moment.

“I’m not home, right now.”

“Huuuh?” You can hear the slight whine in his voice, and you can imagine him pouting like a small child. You expect him to carry on with his theatrics, but he hesitates. “When do you think you’ll be home then?”

“Uh, I don’t really know,” you trail off, unable to keep up his faux mirth and bravado.

“Well, if you don’t want to sleep next to me tonight, I can just take the guest bedroom!” For a moment, he sounds hopeful.

Honestly, he’s just making your head spin.

“Honestly, I think it’s best if I stay out of the house for a little while, Gojo.”

There’s a beat of silence before you hear his nervous laughter. “Gojo?” he remarks dejectedly. “Can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

You were unsure what to say; you hadn’t even realized you initially referred to him by his last name until he pointed it out. You want to tell him sorry—for everything, but your tongue tenses in your mouth, and your throat threatens to close up. You hated it when he got like this, and typically, you’d do anything to make him smile again.

But you’re hurt, and he caused that hurt.

“I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” he adds quickly, unable to withstand your silence.

“What’s there to talk about?” You ask softly. “What done is done. I messed up.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It can’t be undone now. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your stomach drops your heart twists and aches. Was he going to officially end things with you? A bitter, more cruel half of you whispers—you weren’t even officially together to begin with. However, none of that even matters; he has too much of you, too many pieces of your frail heart in the palm of his hands. You were irrevocably his, but was he ever yours?

Just a few weeks ago, you thought you would have an entirely different answer than the one you have now. You're too afraid to face him or the truth. You were guilt-ridden, your pride and dignity torn to shreds. Hearing that he no longer wishes to be with you would be too much.

Honestly?

You’re not sure how you’d react. If you’d sob, if you’d remain stoic, or if you’d flip a table and trash every one of your possessions. You’re at wit's end, and the level of fallout threatening to break free from you was immeasurable.

So, you finalize what you had been contemplating just five minutes ago. “I think I’m going to stay at a hotel, Gojo. I need space. Time to think.”

“I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” he says lowly, his voice reverberating through the phone. You shiver. “It doesn’t feel right.”

You hated this. You fucking hated this.

Your chest tightens, and your knees weaken. You wanted to give in. He always had that power over you. He ruled your heart so effortlessly. You yearned for him, your heart singing a million love songs, beckoning him back to you.

But you couldn’t. You were too mad. You felt cast aside as if you were nothing but an afterthought—after all these years. Yet again, you feel the foundation of your home cracking, and your knees go weak yet again. You take a shuddering breath right before repeating the exact words he threw at you just a few nights prior—words that so effortlessly dismantled your spirit. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

You’ve always had a habit of running. It was easier for you than most. You figured you’d go back to that cheap motel in Tokyo, but you were too restless. Too angry. Feelings of betrayal ran deep, and the guilt nipped away at you until there was only a void.

Before you could leave, though, you call a number you knew by heart. Stepping onto the train and holding your phone to your ear, it rings. For a moment, you assume he’s asleep. It was getting late, but after the fifth ring, the line clicked. A groggy voice peaks through.

“Sensei? What’s going on?”

“Megumi,” you breathe out. “Hi. Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Nozomi 1, departing from Tokyo and heading to Kyoto, will depart shortly. Please be careful of your footing while boarding. Please refrain from using mobile phone inside the train–“

“You’re leaving?” The tiredness in his voice is replaced by something else you can’t quite place.

“Only for a short while. It’s not like I’ll be working anytime soon,” you chuckled nervously. “But I just wanted to let you know. It didn’t feel right leaving without speaking to you first.”

“Oh,” is all he can muster up at first. “I– when will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” you answer him honestly. “A few days, maybe.”

“Well… Can we visit you? I’d go alone, but I think Yuji and Nobara would kill me if I did.”

Oh. You hadn’t expected that. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Um, yeah. When I figure out where I’m staying, I’ll let you know.”

He sounds worried. “You don’t know where you’re staying yet?”

You snicker. “Ha, this is, uh, kinda an impromptu thing.”

“… and you’re sure alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I just wanted to tell you.”

You can tell he’s not exactly satisfied, but he isn’t one to stop you. “Well, text me where you’ll be staying in a few hours. You should probably hang up now, though, and figure it out.”

You smile softly to yourself. He always was a kind boy—kinder than he’d ever reveal. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, Megumi.”

“Night.. I’ll call you later. Be safe.”

When you hang up, you feel a bit better.

The first night was hard—really hard. Sleeping away from Satoru was incredibly difficult, but so were his sharp words that relentlessly bounced around in your mind. You found no peace by your window, watching the last of that day's sunlight slipping away behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the dead trees covered in snow.

You could almost feel his presence, like the cast of your shadow on a wall—following you, mirroring your every move. Your phone never rang with his ringtone, your phone never buzzed with a new text. Yet you stared at the shadows for a bit longer, a bit more intensely, waiting for two blue eyes to illuminate the space. They never did.

Kyoto's stillness seemed to reflect your own, waiting for something to change, waiting for something dead and wilted to bloom once more.

However, even all the way over in Kyoto, bad luck seems to follow you like the plague. You were walking to a small corner market to grab something to eat when you felt the disturbance in the air—tasted it on your tongue. You hoped that surge of cursed energy wasn’t what you thought it was. You would have loved to be proven wrong, but your instincts were keen like a hound trained to hunt.

A curse womb opened right above a Kyoto High school.

You were definitely getting fired after this.

You knew a cursed object was most likely responsible for this. Considering it happened at a school, you were more than willing to bet a strong cursed object was placed there, most likely intended to ward off any other strong curses that might otherwise appear in the area. You assumed the seal broke, probably after hundreds of years of suppressing the power of the object. You’ve dealt with a case like that before.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Three stupid students—ghost hunting of all things—removed the seal. The decorated white cloth tightly wrapped around a black skull was torn, and its viscous cursed energy soared, tinting the sky black.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you hissed under your breath when you slammed open the classroom door. “This way, c’mon!” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Book it, and you stay by their side for as long as you can. You had to put up your veil, but only after they were far enough.

You got impatient, however, especially towards the kid who had been recording everything up until now, where you crushed his phone in your hand.

“Wha– hey! You're gonna pay for that!”

“What the hell is more important? Recording or your fucking lives? Shut up and run!”

The air suddenly cracks with a tension that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s here. You could feel it—the dark, oppressive presence creeping across the courtyard, lurking. You yourself could see it with your eyes, but you felt it.

Your senses were better than most. It was partially why you and Yuji got along and trained together so well. You were just like him when you were younger. Granted, he wasn’t born with cursed energy like you were, but your heavenly restrictions were nearly identical.

You stop running when you reach the edge of the courtyard, but those three kids carry on in a scram. Holding the cursed object in your hands, you raise the skull in the air. It takes a considerable amount of force, but you crush the skull, black dust coating your hand. There’s a hollow screech, and you hope that’s the end of it.

Of course, your bad luck persists.

Typically, destroying the cursed object that’s created a cursed womb kills it or at least nullifies it. The exception is when the curse is an S-grade; those wombs are damn near impenetrable.

Destroying the object seemed only to irritate the curse as it began crawling out of a bloody sac.

You hold up your fist, index, and pointer finger together, pointing to the sky along with your thumb. A crimson veil pours down, covering the entirety of the school. However, you sense three others within your veil just as you seal off the area.

“Yo, Y/n sensei!! What the hell are you doing here, loca!” A deep laugh echoes across the courtyard.

Christ. You knew that voice from anywhere.

You glance over your shoulder and see a few unexpected faces. Utahime and two other students—Miwa and Todo who looks way happier than he should be, considering the circumstances.

The newly born curse loomed menacingly overhead, its red eyes gleaming like coals in a dying fire. It was tall, with protruding joints that snapped into place. Its black and sleek hair extended beyond its long, contorted body. Its face was painted white and cracked as if crafted of aged porcelain. Its kimono was white, stained with splashes of red and black goo. You stood firmly in place, fire crackling at your fingertips, your breath steady but sharp in the cold night air. Todo and Miwa joined your side quickly, and Utahime offered you a firm nod from the sidelines. She was entrusting you with her students.

Quickly, the courtyard became a battlefield, filled with the crackle of burning energy and the hum of raw power.

The curse lunged, zipping through the air. You were faster, your body twisting and moving with fluid grace. You raised your hand to strike, a jet of flame bursting forward, crackling against the air. The curse shrieked as the fire seared its back, black smoke rising from its melted skin.

It recovered too quickly for your liking. It rolled through the flames like water through a sieve, reforming and lunging again, its claws gleaming.

Your senses were on fire—every shift in the air, every sound, every movement was magnified. You could hear the heartbeat of the curse, the faintest tremor of its form as it coiled to strike. You could smell the thick, sour scent of decay that clung to it like an ancient smog. And you could feel it—the deep, heavy weight of power pressing down on you, making your muscles tighten and strain against the oncoming attack.

The curse moved to strike again, but you were already there, rolling beneath it, body twisting in a perfect arc, and feet hitting the ground in a spring-loaded motion that sent you leaping upward. Your fist, wreathed in fire, crashed into the creature’s chest.

The explosion of heat sent the curse reeling, but it was only a momentary distraction. It retaliated, slashing the air with a massive, clawed hand. Three energized strikes were headed your way. You reacted with seconds to spare, but Miwa stood directly in the line of fire. You knew her simple domain wouldn’t be summoned fast enough, but she didn’t. It would be a miscalculation that ended her life.

The claws tore through your side, then whipped down in a sickening arc, ripping clean through your arm. The pain came in an instant—a blinding, searing agony that burned through your body. You didn't even have time to scream.

You staggered back, a cry escaping Miwa’s lips as she looked at the bloody stump where your arm used to be. Blood poured and squirted from the wound, but there was no time for that.

"Get back!" you shouted to the blue-haired girl, voice raw. She wasn’t nearly ready for this; Utahime gravity overestimated her abilities or underestimated the cursed strength. Regardless, the girl was too distraught to do anything at this moment.

There’s a rush, and you suddenly realize you are outside the heat of battle. Todo went in, guns blazing, but you could only waste so much time. Todo was strong, way above his current ranking, in your opinion, but it was only a matter of time before that curse cut him down, too.

Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees. The pain was overwhelming, but you focused, drawing from the reserves settled deep within your core. Your energy surged, and tendrils of fire spiraled around the wound, filling the air with intense heat.

“Sensei! Are you alri–" Miwa gasped, her feet coming to a haunt as she watched in awe and terror as your arm began to regenerate—pulsing with energy. The flesh knitted itself together, bone and sinew reforming in a frenzy.

But the process wasn't easy and certainly didn’t come without a price to pay. Your body screamed, the regeneration draining your reserves. You were already weakened, and the battle had just begun. Tsk.

Todo found his way back over to you two, panting heavily. “How are you doing over there, Sensei?”

"Clap," you say, voice strained. "Now." He looked at you, bug-eyed, but he nodded. He didn't hesitate.

He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and everything shifted. “Alright! Let’s dance!”

In an instant, you found yourself on the other side of the curse. You inhaled deeply, heart pounding, immediately launching yourself back into the fight.

The curse roared in confusion, disoriented, but it was too late. You were already in motion. Your feet hit the ground in a fluid motion, and with a vicious snap of your wrist, fire erupted once again. This time, it formed into a massive whip of flame that lashed through the air.

The curse hissed as the whip wrapped around its neck, and you pulled with your whole body. Never losing your grip, muscles straining, you move forward, wrapping the flames over your arm again and again, pulling tighter and tighter until you smelt the pungent odor of the burning flesh around its neck. You wrapped the whip around your arm one last time before turning your body and pulling the whip from over your shoulder, viscously yanking and slamming the curse to the ground and into submission.

The curse struggled, its body writhing, but it was weakened. Miwa went for the opening, summoning her New Shadow Style: Simple domain. She’s gotten better since the tournament, and you acknowledge with a grave chuckle as she instantly draws her blade, slicing the curse directly across its chest cavity. She cost you an arm, but deep down, you knew she had the conviction to win and succeed.

Todo doesn’t wait. Another clap. Another shift. You and Todo swapped places with the curse itself this time, and the curse had no time to react. He goes for a punch, cracking the curse with a quick jab, followed by a right hook. He claps again. The moment the curse materialized in front of you, disoriented, you surged forward, throwing everything you had left into one final strike.

It twisted in anguish, its body crumbling to the ground before its remains turned into ash.

Then, there was nothing.

The air grew still. The ground beneath you is scorched but calm. You sucked your teeth, silently berating yourself.

You hated using your technique. Frankly, you opted not to unless you absolutely needed to, which was the main reason why people hardly knew about it. It wreaked havoc, leaving nothing but indomitable infernos that refused to be quenched like normal flames. They left nothing destruction in their wake—hungry to consume and spread. However, you’ve gotten better at controlling it—you’ll give yourself that. The only thing burned here today was the grass in the courtyard.

You stood there for a moment, panting, your body trembling with exhaustion as you collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. “Y–you did it!” Miwa cheered. “I had no idea you knew RCT. Thank you for helping me back there.”

“What the– Miwa, we won! Show some conviction!” Todo cut in, flexing his biceps.

“He’s right,” you managed a weak smile as you worked on catching your breath and easing your fast-beating heart. You collapse to the ground, still gaining your breath. "We did it."

You hear footsteps approaching from behind. Tilting your head, you see Utahime standing directly above you.

“Oh. Hi ‘hime.”

She smiles a bit, but her face remains hardened. You straighten up a bit, catching on to her attitude. Something wasn’t right.

“You guys did a good job. However, another problem has arisen across the city.”

“Huh? Another one?” Miwa asked, brows tugging inward. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other. “That's like the fifth one today...”

They continue on in their conversation as you drop your veil, sniff the air, and concentrate on your surroundings. A sense of foreboding strikes you under the dark ambiance of the sky. Even after killing that S-grade, things don’t feel right.

“Thanks for joining us,” Utahime says, drawing back your attention. “I nearly had to call for backup.”

You scoff, glancing up at her from the ground. “Something doesn't feel right, Utahime.” She nods, agreeing with your observation. “When did the reports come flooding in?”

“About an hour ago now.”

“Hm,” you wonder, thinking back to when you first found the cursed womb. “That’s about the same time I first sensed the presence of the cursed womb. They’re most likely connected.”

“That's what I thought. The presence of the cursed womb must have irritated some of the curses in the city, most likely because they were drawn to the energy fluctuations the cursed womb caused. It's good you were here. We're stretched thin right now. If you don’t mind staying, we could use your help. The other students are out on missions across the city, and things just keep getting worse.”

You smile up at her before pushing yourself back up on your two feet, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Sure, let’s get going–” but as you stand, it feels as if a bolt of lightning strikes you down or as if your chest has been cracked open by a sledgehammer. The agony was too great to even scream as you fell to your knees and crashed back into the ground.

It was lights out.

It was quiet. Dark—a vast, unending expanse of nothingness that swallowed you whole. An endless drift. It would have almost been peaceful if not for the faint pull at the edges of your awareness, like an anchor trying to tether to something you couldn’t see.

But then came the first sound.

You heard voices—muffled cries. Please wake up, said one voice. Please stay with me, came another.

Pain began to throb somewhere in the background, dull and distant. Disembodied as if it belonged to someone else.

Don’t you dare leave me. The voice was sharp, demanding, cracking under the weight of fear. You knew that voice and remembered all the sweet things it used to whisper to you. Your heart takes a painful lurch. You can hear its occasional beat in your ears. We need you. I need you.

Oddly, you were cold.

You were drifting again, further and further. The anchor was slipping. You were sinking, your head hardly above water, when another muffled voice broke through—whimpering, sobbing. Your heart lurches painfully.

Mom, please don’t go.

The words pierce through the nothingness, shattering it all to bits and pieces. The words pull at you, a lifeline you hadn’t known you clung to and needed. Images begin to flash, and suddenly, the voices are no longer just voices. Your heart suddenly burns as though the memory of life itself is fighting its way back into you.

Your eyelids were heavy, limbs weak, unresponsive—cold. You were so cold, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from crawling out of a black pit that threatened to swallow you whole. There’s a faint sensation of pressure, a hand tightly gripping yours.

Light begins bleeding into the edges of your awareness. You sucked in a deep breath, lungs empty and greedy.

Then, your eyes fluttered open.

You blinked a few times, realizing how hard it was to breathe. Breathing was supposed to be an automatic response, but you had to force it, each breath dragging along the back of your throat like sandpaper. You’re weak and shivering as you use most of your energy to sit up. You were in an empty room, you realized—the sharp smell of sanitizer permeating your nose.

You push yourself out of bed, knees buckling under your weight. You catch yourself, gathering whatever bits of strength you have left. Your teeth clattered. You were freezing. Shaking, you wrapped the white blanket over your shoulders, gripping it tight before you trudged towards the door.

The hall was mostly empty, all except for a sleeping boy slouched over in a chair beside your door. Your heart squeezes.

“Megumi,” you whispered his name. You stare at him for a moment, unable to bite back the tears that nip at your dry eyes.

You wrapped the blanket around him, tucking it gently around him. However, he flinches, jumping straight up in his chair. “S-Sorry,” you tell him quickly with a watery smile. “You looked cold.”

“You…” the word was a raw and weak whisper. His eyes widened. It took a moment for recognition to settle in, but once it did, he spoke again. “You’re awake.” He stood up from his chair, and you stepped back, offering him space. “You’re awake,” he repeated again.

Then, you start to wonder just how long you’ve been out of it. Days? Weeks? The thought of months terrifies you, but before you can even go down that loophole, he’s hugging you tightly. “You’re awake,” he says once more, his voice breaking.

However long it was, he’s right. You’re awake. You’re here, living and breathing. You wrap your arms around his torso, patting and rubbing his back soothingly. “Yup… I’m here. I’m awake.”

You let him be the one to pull away, letting him take however long he needs. You enjoyed it regardless. You couldn’t remember the last time you hugged him.

When he pulls away, his eyes are red. He sniffs a bit, backing up and taking the blanket off his shoulders. This time, he’s the one wrapping the fabric around you. He’s frowning a bit as he does. “... you’re the one that’s cold,” he notes quietly.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” He asks softly, brows furrowing.

You shook your head. No. Frankly, you didn’t remember much of anything right now. “I was on my way with Yuji and Nobara. We got on the train after you let me know where you were staying.” That’s right. You texted Megumi when you figured out where you’d be staying. You thought they’d come over sometime in the following days. You had no idea they were rushing to see you on the next available train.

He places his hands awkwardly on your shoulder before gently guiding you to the chair he was sitting in moments ago. As you go to sit, your body seems to forget how to move for a moment, and you lose your balance. He catches you quickly, carefully helping you down into the chair. “When we got to Kyoto, we realized quickly how bad things were over there. We started helping out at the Kyoto school, dealing with the curses that had been lingering in the area where the cursed womb opened up. Eventually, we ran into Todo and Miwa. They told us what happened.” He grunts, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with you.

You’re silent for a moment. “How long was I out for?”

“Pushing four days now.”

The memories strike you like a fright train. “Are you okay? Is everyone alright?” You hadn’t realized you had reached for his cheek.

He grabs your wrist, thumb gently caressing the back of your hand before pulling your hand away, guiding it back to your lap. He moves the blanket until it's covering you again. “We’re all fine. Everything’s been dealt with. Yuji and Nobara went down to the cafe to grab some lunch. They’ll be thrilled when they come back.”

You tilt your head. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

He smiles a bit. “I didn’t want to leave you unattended.”

You don’t know what to think. You’re just happy you’re back. Happy because he was happy. You always hated it when he worried about you. You never believed it was his job to do so. However, he stayed by your side and protected you when you couldn’t protect yourself.

You wiggle your toes and roll your shoulders before standing again. “You shouldn’t be standing–”

“I’m alright, I promise,” you tell him, dismissing his concern. “I just want to walk around, okay?”

He stares at you intently, unsure, but he seems to have no energy to argue with you. “... alright,” he relents.

He follows you closely as you drag your feet across the floor. You don’t know where you are walking, but you want to stretch your legs and regain a sense of your body. You are weak, but you need to move.

You ask the question you were too hesitant to ask: “What about Gojo?”

He huffs. “He left a little while ago. Said he’d be back shortly,” he scoffs. “Bullshit if you ask me.”

“Megumi,” you sigh his name with a soft reprimand.

“He should be here,” he responds disgruntledly. “He should be by your side, and he’s not."

You stay quiet. You’re not exactly sure what to say to him when you agree. Maybe Gojo was done. Whatever this was, whatever relationship you had—maybe he didn’t want you anymore. You look ahead, fighting your own body that threatened to collapse at any moment. You could feel Megumi’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the heart to look at him right now.

You were afraid you would sob if you did.

Though you had never walked these halls before, the hospital's layout was quite easy to catch on to. After taking a fourth right turn, you see your room in the distance. A stubborn part of you says to keep going and keep walking, but the exhaustion is catching up to you quickly. If Megumi hadn’t been by your side, cautious eyes scanning you, you might have kept going until you passed out. You realize that the strength you had was nearly depleted. Only trickles of your cursed energy remained, and it would be a long while before you gained it back.

You hear footsteps behind you. Quick and ushered. Megumi turns before you, his whole frame tensing. He sucks his teeth and clicks his tongue. “So he finally shows up.” He speaks in a sardonic tone, loud enough for anyone in the hallways to hear.

Satoru comes running from around the corner then, taking deep breaths. Your brows slightly pinch together in confusion. “S–Satoru,” you stutter, walking closer. “When did you get here?” He looks disheveled. Alarmed. Was he just running?

It was hard trying to figure out what he was feeling or experiencing when that black eyeband covered his eyes. However, you noticed the bouquet in his hands, a delicate combination of soft and tender hues: pale pink and roses, white peonies, deep pink lilies, and baby’s breath delicately wrapped along sprigs of greenery.

You place a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go eat with the others?”

“But–”

“I’ll be alright,” you explain to him in a soft tone.

He hesitates, torn between staying and leaving. He was unsure if he should leave you to handle this alone, but after a moment, he backed down, probably realizing he shouldn’t stand between the two of you and what needed to happen. With an irate glance shot at Gojo, he turns, pocketing his hands as he makes his way to the stairs.

Only when the door shuts do you look at Satoru again.

He stays unusually quiet, his face unreadable. Frankly, it was rather unsettling. You had no idea what was going through his mind. “I–I’m sorry!” you blurt out the first words that crash to the surface of your mind the moment you see him in his entirety. There was no hope of holding back. After days spent away from him, lost in his absence, and days dancing on the edge of death, the words tumble out of you before you can stop them—unbidden, unstoppable. “For everything. Y–You must have been stressed with work and other things. My fuck up only added to your plate. I get it, ya know? It's selfish of me, even now, to rely on you so much when there’s a whole world that needs you. They are not my students, and I put them in danger.” Quickly, the tears gather in your waterline again, but you blink them away. “I–I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll… I’ll go. I’ll get out of your way, and you won’t have to deal with me bothering you any longer–”

“Can I touch you?” The question comes suddenly, softly, and almost hesitantly.

You blink a few times, puzzled, but then, you unravel, folding inward under the weight of his voice. Your breath hitches in your throat. Was he still holding onto what you had said that night? Was he haunted by the barriers broken and the others so carelessly assembled?

He still wanted you?

You didn’t want him to let you go. Not yet. Not ever.

Like a dam breaking, you surged forward, closing the space between you two. Seconds later, you feel his resolve crumble. He crushes you to his chest, flowers falling to the floor. His arms enveloped you with a force that robbed you of breath, your feet nearly coming off the ground as you both stumble backward. Trembling, he clung to you as if you were an anchor in a world that threatened to tear him apart. There were no words—the unspoken agony and grief were far too overwhelming to put into words—if there even were words for it.

I’m sorry. I love you. I’m glad you’re okay. You felt it all with him. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, hear its frantic rhythm match your own.

His hands were shaking, one tangling in your hair, the other wrapping entirely around your frame and squeezing your hip. He buries his face into your neck, and his hot breath is ragged and uneven as he inhales your scent. “I thought–” he swallows, shaking his head. “I didn’t know where you were—for a second time.”

Your cursed energy was low, more depleted than it had ever been. It explains why you were so weak, so frail. When he saw your empty bed, he must’ve panicked. He ran to you, anxiously following the weak traces of your presence.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and the familiar silk of his eyeband rubs against your skin. You gently tug at the fabric with the tips of your fingers. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he stills as you slip the black band from his face. He lifts his head just enough to rest it against yours. They were that same stunning shade of azure—bright and impossibly vivid, glowing softly as if they carried the remnants of a forgotten star. Captivating, otherworldly, yet achingly human—something he’d often forget from time to time.

“You promised,” he murmurs, voice broken. “You promised.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask just as brokenly.

Suddenly, one of his hands grasps your neck, and you choke on your words. He doesn’t squeeze tight, but the look on his face is enough to make you gasp. “I couldn’t feel you. I couldn’t feel you anymore,” he says achingly.

Your chest tightens, nails slightly digging into his forearm. You open your mouth to speak, failing more times than succeeding. You wanted to speak, but the words lodged in your mouth.

“I–I don’t understand.”

“You’re not wearing it anymore,” he murmurs, his nose brushing softly against your cheek. The necklace you always wore—his gift to you, the one that held a part of him, a part of the two of you—was gone. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, an absence that gnawed at him like hunger, an emptiness he could never satisfy.

His voice wasn’t angry, far from it. It wasn’t even harsh, but something in it—a quiet desperation—made the air between the two of you quiver.

“You promised you’d never go where I couldn’t follow,” he whispers again. “Remember?”

You nod in his hold, tightly pursing your lips together when a few tears escape, dripping from your eyes. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours again, gazing deep and unwavering into your eyes. I remember. His grip on your neck loosens until he removes his hand from your throat completely, gentle fingers pushing down your shirt's fabric. His fingers trace your skin, the empty spot where your necklace once laid.

Then, it suddenly hits you. “Oh.”

He could feel you as much as you felt him. If you were ever too far from him—out of the range of his sight, out from where his hands could reach for you, that necklace was a beacon, a beckoning, a lighthouse in the storm that guided you home—guided him home.

You squeeze him tighter. You missed him. You really missed him.

“How did you find me?”

He takes a moment to breathe, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart. “Utahime.” He wheezes out a pained laugh. “She called me panicking once you collapsed. I got there as quickly as I could.”

You copy his laugh, albeit coughing a bit from the pain blooming in your ribs. You hated to admit it, but the longer you stood, the more your body began to hurt. “I should just heal myself and get this over with.”

“Don’t,” his grip tightens on you again. “you’re using it wrong. There’s damage, lots of it,” he tells you, wiping at the blood that had stained your skin at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Any more and–” his eyebrows furrowed deeply, the weight of grief and guilt tugging his features. The corner of his lips tightened. “Shoko operated on you for hours. You nearly died.”

He sees what others cannot, his gaze piercing the surface to something deeper, something raw. He sees the world through an entirely different lens, and right now, the sight of you seems to pain him dearly.

For a moment, you wonder just how much damage is hidden within you and how much it must weigh on him to see it. “Shoko might have gotten you out of the woods, but she told me you’d need a few more rounds to get you back to normal.”

“That makes sense,” you murmur, allowing your entire body weight to ease into him. He accepts you with open arms. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Or twenty.”

“I missed it,” he utters, voice thick with regret. “If I had just looked a bit closer, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I fucked up. I could’ve prevented this.” His careful grip on you tightens as if you’d slip away from him once more. “But,” his tone softens. “You did so well. You took care of that cursed womb before I could even get to the scene.” Even through his pain and wallowing, his heart swells. He was proud of you.

He bends down, grabbing the flowers he dropped before moving towards you again. “Oh gosh,” you hide your face into his neck as he reaches down, one arm hooking under your legs as he lifts you. You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m definitely fired, aren’t I?”

He carefully guides you back into your room. He manages to toss your flowers on the counter by the window. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll handle it. ‘Kay?” He places you down on your bed, but he hesitates, not wanting to fully pull away.

Your eyes flicker, recalling the night of your augment. You knew this was the reason behind his haunted expression. You recognized the torment because you, too, had felt it. “You’re mad,” he observes relatively quickly.

You didn’t want to bring it up. You weren't necessarily mad, not anymore, but even near death couldn’t make you forget the pain he had caused with words he so carelessly struck you down with.

“What you said… Hurt me, Gojo,” you look down at your hands, feeling selfish for even bringing this up after nearly dying. However, you knew this conversation was inevitable. “Even if you were right I felt cast aside. Useless. Why didn't you tell me you felt that way before?”

“No… don’t say that. I was being stupid. I over reacted. I know you'd always protect those kids and that's exactly what you did. You’re not weak or a nuisance, or... convenient.” you flinch at the word. “You’re far from that. I need you to know that.”

“...Then what am I?”

“Everything,” he shudders. “You’re everything.” His lips brush over your forehead, your cheeks, and eyelids, each kiss tender and lingering. But then he pauses, his smooth lips hovering just above yours. He’s always been so confident, so self-assured. You’re unsure how to react.

You were sitting on your bed, feet dangling just above the floor. He is leaning over you, one large and warm hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face gently. He was close, but not close enough. Even bent at the waist, his height keeps him just out of your reach unless he leans back down just a bit more…

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, giving him all the assurance you have to offer.

You were hurt, but you still wanted him.

You still loved him.

His mouth was warm and soft—testing the waters and treading carefully. His grip on your thigh tightens until–

He lets go. You feel the tension in his body dissipate, and finally, he allows himself to fully enjoy you—taste you. The kiss deepens, and you swear it brought life back into your frail body. He overwhelms you now in the most delicious way possible. Your toes curl, and your tight embrace eases. Your arms go weak, your hands moving to run down his chest, his taut muscles quivering in the wake of your touch. Every moment was a promise, every brush of skin a new vow. No words were spoken, but you both heard everything that had been held back, everything that had been left unsaid.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

He smiles against your lips, but you don’t stop or pull away, catching and nipping at his bottom lip. Then, you kiss him again, slotting his top lip between yours. “You really love me, huh? Hehe.”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said it—whimpered murmurs against his lips. No wonder why he looked all dopey and smiley.

“You’re not going to make me grovel for forgiveness?” He pecks your lips again. “This seems too easy. I know you’re still mad.”

You chase after his lips. “Of course, I’m still mad,” you mutter against him. “But I thought I would never see you again.” Even as he frowns, you pepper his lips with kisses. “Plus, it's not like you to grovel.”

“I would for. Only for you, of course.”

You giggle, nipping his lip a little harder. “Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “I’d like to see that.”

Oh no. You’ve made a grave mistake. You knew you messed up again the second the words fell from your lips. There’s a glint in his eyes now.

“Oh, my beautiful, angelic Queen! I know I have displeased you. Please accept my humble apologies!” You squeak at the suddenness of his actions. He sinks to his knees dramatically, and his palms meet the dirty floor, and so does his forehead. “I am at your mercy! I have failed you greatly, and I wish to make amends.”

You swat him on the back of his head, but it's not nearly enough to hurt him or deter him from whatever this is. “Gojo! Don’t bow like that! Get up!”

“But I can’t!” He whines. “You must forgive me! I will spend eternity on my knees if it means I can regain your favor, my perfect, beautiful, divine Queen. You alone rule this sinners heart!” He inches forward on his knees, squeezing himself between your legs. His hands find homage on your waist as he nudges his face into your stomach.

Your eyes roll skyward. “Only you could apologize and insult me at the same time, Satoru,” you grumble, looking down at him before running your fingers through white stands.

Suddenly, he looks up from this position, resting his chin right beneath your ribs, grinning ear to ear. “You called me Satoru~”

You feel your face flush, heat gushing to your cheeks and ears. “Shut up. You’re such an idiot. Can you get up now?”

“Nah,” he says lazily, burying his head into your stomach again. His voice comes out muffled. “I’m trying to make amends with my Queen. Let me, will ya?”

You ease, realizing you won't be able to stop him from doing what he wants. Even if it was a bit theatrical, he was doing his best—you know that because you know him. You let your nails gently graze his scalp as you continued to pat him. He hums, almost purrs, as your other hand finds his shoulder, squeezing him gently before running your fingers under his shirt, caressing his skull and the taut muscles in his back. A beat of silence passes, but you find yourself uncaring.

You had him back in your arms. That’s all that really mattered to you right now.

“Look, I know… I know I messed up,” he begins, voice so low, you nearly miss it. “I’m not great at this—saying the right things. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was stressed. I was fed up with the higher-ups and fed up with my missions, but that’s no excuse. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. You deserve better than what I was giving you. I’m gonna try to be better… for you. For us.” His words hang in the air a bit awkwardly, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. It couldn’t be missed. He shifts a bit, moving to kiss your belly. Then, his large hand wrap around yours, guiding your hand closer to his lips. He kisses the back of your knuckles tenderly as if the act of his apology could never be enough.

“You want me to stay?”

He squeezes you tighter. “Of course I do. What would I be without you?”

“Hm. You’d still be Gojo Satoru. Even without me.”

“I don’t want to imagine a life without you,” he mutters. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow. I've already told you that…”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper sweetly, patting his head. He nudges his head further into you. “The world will always need you.”

“I will always need you. So please… stop talking like this.” He pinches your side, making you squeak. Finally he looks up, an unimpressed expression gracing his features. “And don’t ever leave the city to get away from me. When you told me you were going to a hotel, I thought you meant in Tokyo.”

You chuckle nervously, looking elsewhere. “Yeah… Sorry about that.”

“Next time, take a walk or something. I dunno, go touch some grass if you get tired of me.”

A small smile escaped you, followed by a quiet laugh that shook your shoulders. You pat his back three times before kneading him softly. “Okay, humble peasant. You've groveled for long enough. Now lay with me,” you demand him. “I want you to lay with me. I’m so tired.”

“Psh. I’d hardly fit on this bed.”

“Whatever,” you tell him, scooting over. “I’ll make room. Get in, string bean.”

He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a bit awkward at first with his lanky form, but he makes it work. It was a tight fit, and his feet slightly dangled off the bed, but he made no objections. With your back to his chest, he held you against him securely.

“You’re cold,” he observes out loud when you start playing with his fingers. It’s a bitter realization, a deafening one on his part. You know it bothers him, especially as he wraps the blanket around you tighter.

He tries not to let it show. However, he quickly becomes restless and you know he isn’t sated. He begins to move. “Let me go get you another blanket.”

“Nooo. Stay here.”

“Huh? But you’re freezing! And you’re never cold!”

“I’m already warming up!” You intervene with a small giggle, tugging him by his jacket. “Just shut up and lay with me, already.” He hesitates before unbuttoning his black jacket. When he was determined, there wasn’t any stopping a man like him, and right now, he was determined to get you warm.

He lays his jacket over you, spreading the fabric out, smoothing away all the wrinkles, and making sure you're covered. It might as well be a blanket with how long it was over you. Bonus points because it still carried him warmth and smelled like his cologne. A blend of earth and wood with a hint of something darker—smokey and smooth. You always loved the scent. Whenever he walked by, it brushed past you like a gentle breeze over still water, warm and inviting, with subtle notes of leather, musk, and vanilla.

He grunts a bit before easing into the bed again. “My little icicle- ow,” you shot your elbow back, getting him right in the ribs. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He chuckles, before wrapping his arms over you one more. He brushes your hair from your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He kisses you there once, twice, three times before saying something familiar.

“I could sense when you left Tokyo. I didn’t know what to do. Even with my eyes, I couldn’t find you. You were just gone. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow." He kisses your neck. "Please.”

You turn around, searching for his lips. He melts into you once again, squeezing your side sweetly. “I promise,” you murmur. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow,” you say, voicing back the same promise he made you. He smiles faintly against your lips.

When you woke up the next morning, your necklace was there. It was back where it belonged, sapphires resting gently over your steady beating heart—carrying Satoru’s silent promise.

Wherever you go, that’s where I follow.

a/n: I honestly don't know how I feel about this but if you made it to the end I hope the nearly 18k was worth reading. If you couldn't tell its based off the song Die With A Smile. Honestly, I think I might have been happier by making this a bit longer and flushing out some of the scenes more, but I was trying new things and I was excited to post my first jjk post :) however its getting late now but if there's any typos or errors I notice later I'll edit as needed.

anyways, if you'd like to see more gojo x sorcerer!reader let me know! also I really hoped you liked the bits I added with Megumi (he's just a smol bean).

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! :p

#milawritess #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #fanfic #satoru gojo x reader #angst #jjk x you #happy ending #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fanfic

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chatsukimi · 11 months ago

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ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

featuring: protective!heian!sukuna, kindhearted!servant!reader. slight angst/hurt -> comfort. synopsis: you're sick. to your surprise, you're rescued by the man second closest to death himself. masterlist

you should've known he wouldn't come. sukuna has never set foot in the servant's headquarters in his life, let alone to chase after a sick servant. you lower your head, trying to ease the headache that has plagued you through the day.

sukuna loves his bloodshed and his gore. him and death would be good friends, you think to yourself. he wouldn't care if your body was burnt or buried, you think to yourself; wouldn't care if you died at all.

the room the others put you in is empty. ash spreads neatly over the cold floor. the scent of kibble haunts the atmosphere. it's where they put the dogs before sukuna killed them.

ever since you took care of the king of curses while he was sick, the other servants had been careful in keeping a distance from you. not in ill of heart; they're simply terrified at what you must've done to survive in your week long stay with the monster. honestly, you don't blame them.

but now when you're laying on the freezing ground, struggling to breathe, it's hard not to.

'this is where you live?'

your eyes look up. shock. then, with all the strength you can muster, you heave yourself one step away from the man at the doorway, which only serves to piss him off more.

sukuna ryomen, in all his glory, looks down at you. bending down to pick you up like a limp doll to be seated against the wall, he seems to revel in his regained strength. you can't help but feel happy for him, to have survived this fatal disease. not many men can attest to that...

then again, he is no ordinary man.

'i asked you a question.'

you nod, a small thing, barely a movement. he seems to clench his teeth.

he takes off his long white coat, flaunting a layer of dried blood, and drapes it over your shoulders.

yet it doesn't end there. he retrieves from his pocket a bottle of what looks to be a golden syrup.

you know exactly what it is.

he takes your hand and wraps it around the flask, making you hold it, sparing, not one, but two of his eyes, to stare at you, making sure you do as he commands.

'swallow.'

you shake your head. you know he's asking you to do. this is a medication is so rare for your disease that no sorcerer has found in over a hundred years. he's brought this thing of myth right to your very lips. now he's asking you to drink it, and thus take away any chance of it saving anyone else's life.

you scowl, but the tickling sensation in your throat grows stronger, eventually erupting out of your mouth in a harsh cough. you look away from sukuna.

'leave,' you whisper, weakly. 'don't wanna infect you.'

'i survived the illness already. i've developed an immunity.'

you shake your head again. you couldn't threaten your king's health with your own weakness. you just couldn't.

'i can't take this.'

he growls. without any notice, he swallows your lips in a kiss. in the momentary haze, you could hardly resist, fisting the front of his kimono to ground yourself. then, you feel something sweet, honey-ish, hit your tongue.

with his hand locked on your chin, it forces you to swallow.

you pull back, pushing him away. he groans.

he wipes his mouth, still with two eyes staring.

no... no, why did he do that?

'y-you- how? no... why did you waste it on me?' you whisper, desperately searching his face for an answer. 'i'm just a servant. you could've given it to a princess, or a scholar, or priest-'

he grabs you by the arm and forces you into his arms. its heat astounds you, and you find yourself crawling closer. a vague thumping sound seems to press against your ear-

oh. you calm your breathing.

it's his heartbeat.

alive.

'sleep in my room tonight,' he demands.

what did he say? you strain your mind, trying to replay what he said earlier. no... maybe you heard correctly.

'but i'm no concubine,' you respond, instantly.

his arm supports your waist, helping you up effortlessly to your feet. he then directs two of his eyes to the doorway, his cadence low and domineering.

'it doesn't matter.'

he leads you placidly through the servant's quarters. you notice all conversation cease at your entry, bodies dropping into a low bow. a small voice in you whispers that it's where you should be too. you tug at sukuna's arm.

'i'm only a servant, sukuna.'

you know what it looks like, a servant clutching onto a man, more god than human. a man who has slaughtered villages, blood staining the base of his kimono crimson, and turned half a province on its head, just to save you.

'whatever you are in my eyes is what you are to the world,' he states, his expression unchanging. 'if i deem you a queen, that is who you are.'

exiting the servant compound, you know you can't say no- not like you wanted to. the wide expanse of his chest is comforting.

yet however sweet this feeling remains, you can't help but gulp. perhaps this is the closest a human has ever come to courting death.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna angst

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thanosscross · 3 months ago

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HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@corrdelia

@ag022123

#t.o.p x reader #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #choi seunghyun #squid game thanos #top x reader #squid game #squidgame #thanos squid game #thanos x reader smut #choi seung hyun x reader #thanos/choi su bong #su bong x reader #t.o.p bigbang #bigbang

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darkbluekies · 8 months ago

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Intruder 2024 ver

Yandere!mafia OC x reader

Summary: finding a mystical USB in your bag leads to more danger you ever could have anticipated. It leads you straight into the arms of a well respected mob boss.

Warnings: gore, kidnapping, breaking in, chains, crime, yandere

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I thought it could be fun to remake my first one-shot almost 2 years later to see how I have improved! I hope you like the new version♡

Your hands tear through the bag, impatiently looking for the lip balm that is somewhere in the mess of papers, water bottles, wallets and receipts. Your head is pounding, your back is sore and your fucking lips are dry and you can’t think of anything else. You grab the backpack and turn it upside down, shaking it violently until every little thing has fallen out. Receipts dingle down like snowflakes. The lip balm falls out on the wooden floor and when you bend down to take it, you notice that it’s lying beside something that you can swear that you have never seen before. A white USB. Confused, you turn it around, looking for some kind of indication to remind you of what it contains. No tape, no pen, nothing. You sigh and stand up. Before walking over to your computer to figure out what contains on the USB, you smother your lips in lip balm. It gets in your mouth, tasting buttery and putting a greasy layer on your front teeth.

You sit down in front of your computer, boot it up and press the USB into the right port. If you see what is on it, maybe you’ll remember what you have used it for. It takes a few moments before a file pops up at the bottom of your screen. You press on it and are met by multiple folders, all having cryptic titles.

When have I ever done this?

Is this a Friday night drunk act? It would be an answer to why you don’t remember anything about it. You decide to press on one of the folders. Pictures and videos. Hundreds of them. You click on the first picture. What meets your eyes puzzle you. For a few seconds you can’t even process what you are looking at. A mushy red sponge-looking … something. When it hits you that what you are looking at is a dead, mangled body you gasp and shoot your chair away from your desk. A wave of mixed fear, disgust and disbelief washes over you as millions of questions bash into your head. Panicked worries about where the USB came from, who was in the picture, how many more there are like this, why you have the USB and if you would get in trouble and. If you give the USB to the police, would they find you suspicious? Would they think that you had anything to do with this? And will the ones who owns this USB kill you for it?

You find yourself pacing back and forth in your room as your heart beats in your ears. What are you going to do? You have to get rid of it. Quickly.

You turn back to the computer and pull the USB out as quickly as if it was on fire. The grotesque picture disappears. You drop the white stick into your pocket, as if it was really in flames. Just holding it made you feel dirty. You wipe your hands on your shirt, expecting it to smear blood. Nauseous, you run to the bathroom. Despite washing your hands in water and soap until your heads become gnarly and sore, you feel as if you have murdered that poor girl yourself and nothing will clear you of what you have witnessed.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom, how long you’ve tried to wash yourself of sin and guilt. Suddenly, the front door’s lock seems to click. You freeze, listen closely. Perhaps it isn’t your door? You quickly find that it is, indeed, your front door creaking open. Quickly, you get into the bathtub and hide behind the curtain. Your entire body trembled.

“Little thing”, a deep voice sing-songs in what can only be interpreted as amusement. “I see that you have something that belongs to me.”

The voice is unfamiliar, which is only for the best. You’re able to locate him in your bedroom.

The click of a gun snapping in place makes you flinch against the ceramic tub. If he finds you, you will die.

“Don’t try to hide from me.” You can hear the evident smile in his voice. “I know that you are here somewhere. I saw you on that low resonate web cam of yours just ten minutes ago! I don’t have time to play hide and seek with you. The longer I have to look for you, the less fun it’ll be for you when I find you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, praying that all of this is a horrible nightmare. Your chest is burning with fear. All you want is to scream and cry, plead and beg for your pitiful little life.

“Little thing, I know that you saw some gruesome stuff on that USB”, he says, his voice now drenched in false pity. “Don’t you want to get rid of that horrible filth, hm? I can take it off your hands. Just come out and give it to me and I will spare your life. What do you say?”

A silence follows. An excruciating silence that makes you want to claw out of your own skin. You prepare yourself to see him ripping the curtain away and putting a bullet through your skull.

“Oh, would you look at that?” His voice appears again, back to the amusement. “A call from your mother? Let’s answer, shall we?”

Panic goes through your entire body as you realize that he has your phone — and, indirectly, your mother, in his hands. You can’t let your family be involved in this! The more people who know, the more people will be in danger and the harder it will be to get out of this mess.

You hurry out of the bathtub, out of the bathroom. You make your way down the corridor and storm into your bedroom. The man is tall with hair as dark as night and when he looks over his shoulder you can tell that his eyes, as well, are as dark as his ruthless soul. He’s standing in front of the same computer you watched the picture on — the same computer he claims he saw you through. He smiles at you, a triumphed ‘i told you so’ smile.

“Please don’t”, you beg. “Don’t answer the call. Please.”

He clicks away the phone call before throwing the phone on the bed. He turns to you. He’s wearing a black suit.

“There you are”, he smirks and tilts his head. “You look much better in person.”

With trembling fingers you fish the USB out of your pocket and throw it at his feet. He looks at it for a few seconds, appearing clueless.

“Take it!” you shriek. “Take it and leave me alone!”

The man scoffs out a surprised laugh and lifts his eyebrows before slowly bending down and picking it up. He looks at it for a few seconds and then at you, meeting your eyes. They’re surprisingly calm.

“Please, just take it and go.” Your voice is barely audible.

The man stays silent for a few seconds before opening his mouth again. “I don’t think I can.”

“W-What? I haven’t done anything, I don’t know how it ended up in my bag, I didn’t steal it. I don’t even know when or how I got it.”

The man seems amused by your rambling. As if he’s hearing a little kid try to reassure their innocence in a sandbox fight.

“I know that you haven’t done anything”, the man calmly answers. “My man’s incompetence of carrying an USB is not your fault. But you have seen what’s on it. You know what it is, don’t you?”

“No”, you lie and shake your head.

He scoffs. “I saw you on your webcam. I know that you understood what was on it. Do you think I can just let you off the hook and walk straight to the police? Now that you’ve seen me too?”

You are going to die. Holy shit.

“I-I won’t tell anyone!” you stutter and start to back away from him. “I will pretend that I have never seen anything. No one will know. Please.”

Before you have time to run, he grabs your arm and pulls you back to him. You scream and try to fight back, but he’s bigger, stronger. He slams his hand over your mouth, forces your back against his chest. You sob and shake your head, your pleas getting muffled by his hand.

“Don’t cry, pretty thing”, he says. “It doesn't suit you.”

With that said, he pulls you out of the apartment. You can feel the gun in his pocket poking your back. You have never been this scared before, and have no idea what your body will do when it is this panicked. To your surprise, it decides to black out.

For a few seconds you're sure that you have dreamt the worst nightmare in your life, until you open your eyes and find that you aren't in your bed. You aren't even in your apartment. Quick eyes search around. A bunker or a basement. Those are your best guesses. Blood, both dried and fresh, covers the cement walls. You hurry to look around your body to make sure that none of the blood belongs to you. For the moment you seem to be unharmed. But for how long? You have chains around your wrists, ankles and throat to keep you in place. Like a dog. You repeat your name, your background and family in your head, just to not go completely insane. Will you ever see them again?

You damn that little piece of plastic and metal, wish that it would self-destruct and ruin that man's life. Such a little thing got you in such big trouble.

A door creaks open above you and your man starts to walk down the stairs to the basement. He's wearing a black buttoned shirt. He has something in his hands.

“Awake now?” he says.

You don't answer. He strolls over to where you're sitting and crouches down. He reaches out for you, removing some hair from your forehead. You will bite his fingers off if he doesn't keep them to himself.

You glare at him. You wish that your eyes could penetrate his skin and pierce his ice cold heart.

“What's your name?” he asks.

“Why do you want to know?” you ask carefully.

“It might be so that you'll have to stay here with me for a while. Telling me your name will make it easier for me to talk to you.”

“What's your name, then?” you ask.

He smiles, and the smile is almost soft. He seems amused by your counter question.

“Silas”, he says. “Achilleos.”

The name rings a bell in your brain. You've heard his name before. On the news. He's a mob boss. Your eyes widen. You really have screwed yourself beyond belief.

“My name won't hurt you”, he smiles.

“It's not the name I'm scared of”, you mutter.

“And your name?”

You hesitate. You know better than to give your name to a literal mob boss, but you also know better than to lie to one.

“Y/N”, you whisper, hoping that he won't hear and that you won't have to repeat yourself.

Silas makes himself more comfortable on the cold, hard floor. He leans on his arm.

“I have to say that I am genuinely sorry for this”, he says. “I don't like pulling innocent people into something they don't have anything to do with. Especially this kind of shit. I have more important things to do. My man stupidly dropped the USB into your bag and now that you have seen what's on it and know who I am, I can't let you go.”

Maybe you shouldn't have asked for his name.

“Normally, I would have killed you”, he says. “But I think that I'm going to keep you for a little while. You interest me.”

You lift your heavy, chained hands and cover your face. Sobbing. Silas removes your hands and lifts your chin up with his index finger.

“Let's make a deal, shall we?” he asks. “I will not hurt you … if you do as I say.”

“So I can't go home again?”

“No, because the second you put that USB in your computer, and I got the notification that someone had opened it, you’ve belonged to me.”

Beyond screwed isn't even enough to describe what you are.

“So?” Silas says. “Do we have a deal?”

What choice do you even have? You nod shortly.

“Good”, Silas says.

He reveals what he had in his hands when walking down the stairs. A small yogurt packet and a spoon. The text on the packet isn't in English.

“I used to eat this when I was a kid”, he says and opens the lid, giving it to you. “I guess that you're hungry.”

You shovel it into your mouth. It tastes like strawberry and is smooth in texture. It's first after eating it all that you remember who gave it to you and perhaps that you shouldn't have eaten it.

“No, I haven't poisoned it”, Silas scoffs. “Didn't I just tell you that I have planned to keep you alive?”

“You could have lied”, you whisper.

He scoffs again as he starts to remove the chains. The weight drops off of you like angel light. Silas pulls you up on your feet, buy your knees buckle the second you try to put pressure on them. Silas catches you and lifts you up in his arms. He carries you up the stairs, to a hall, and then up another flight of stairs. Your body aches.

Silas walks into a bedroom, dressed in modern interior design. You're placed down on a king sized bed, tucked in under heavy blankets. The crinkle of chains makes you flinch. Silas lifts an identical cuff to the ones you wore five minutes ago.

“This is just to keep you here”, he explains and places it around your wrist. “Sleep now.”

With that said, he walks out and leaves you alone. The door closes. You tug at the chain, but it's obvious that you'll stay there. Too tired to cry, you sink down on the mattress. Too alert to fall asleep you stare up at the ceiling. A thought crosses your mind, quick and easy, buy loud enough for your heart to ache. You have to get out of here before it's too late.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere oneshot

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sanemisstalker · 2 years ago

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NSFW /// KNY characters who I think cum particularly hard/ a lot. This could have a part two, I'm eepy, srry.

CW/ Non specific gendered/genitalia reader / Cum... like an insane amount of cum / BDSM Dynamic (ENMU)/ Light Gore (ENMU)/ tbh, Enmu. / Cum-swapping (AKAZA)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

-Cums hards AND a lot.

-Sanemi isn't quite sure why is body is the way it is, maybe it's his breath control mixed with the insane amount of testosterone and panic pumping through his veins on the daily, but Sanemi doesn't struggle to get it up.

-he struggles to stay flaccid. He's far more likely to be hard at any given moment. Not that he's excited, his dick is just permanently stuck at half mast. It takes an insane, highly emotional amount to get him entirely flaccid.

-I think Sanemi's orgasm absolutely shreds him everytime, unanimously. Does that stop him from getting it up in another ten minutes? Absolutely not. I just truly think he's a medical anomaly.

-He cums prematurely, but what does it matter? It literally didn't go down, he's still fucking going, now he's just like, in tears about it.

-I think Sanemi's eyes get really wide and he gets lock jaw, and he seethes and he tries to hold back any noise, but it just shreds the poor guys throat, and now he's sore, and it hurts him to moan, but he just can't help it, you feel so fucking good- and all for him? It's all for him?

-Shakes. Sobs. Sounds incredibly desperate, don't let the facade fool you. If he loves you, he's a crier.

-Also physically cums a lot. Not just by how many orgasms, but by how much each time is. I think he's got an obnoxiously low set of balls. He's made to breed, the poor bastard. If he can't let go in you, both of you are covered in it by the end of the night.

-Sanemi has yet to tap out before you.

Kyōjurō Rengoku

-Cums a lot.

-Rengoku has good stamina, but once he cums, he's done for, no more. He can keep going if he really wants to, or if you look like you really need him, but chances are the first round wad more than enough.

-vocal, but in a fatherly way. Sex with Rengoku is probably very... comfortable.

-Until he cums and now you're sticky from your chest to your upper thigh. The range of his shot is insane. He cums buckets, and he barely blinks. His breathing gets a little ragged, and his chest a little shakey, but that's it.

-He needs to go night night after, though. Feeling any amount of joy that doesn't come from stuffing his face does a number on him emotionally and physically. He needs a cuddle and a conversation about... idk, taxes after.

-Won't beg to cum in you, but really, really wants to.

-He always pulls out like a gentleman (if you can be much of a gentleman when you're balls deep), but you can always tell that he wants to see your face so bad when he pumps you full.

-Will not ask. That'd be rude.

-Talks you through your orgasm, but that's another post for another day.

Enmu

-Fuck, I just know he's a screamer. He cums so hard.

-This guy's a fucking mess, but it takes work.

-Enmu is such a good submissive that you're always shocked when he decides to mouth off to you, or when he forgets a command. Not too shocked, though. It's very clearly intentional. It always is.

-He gives himself a bit in between each 'screw up' to make sure he's edged himself mentally properly (very hard, he's almost always some kind of aroused, and he's prone to cumming untouched, so that build up is a little diificult.)

-While he doesn't struggle to ask for things, and his dignity is subzero, Enmu still appreciates a stray chase here and there. After all, it's the only thing mentally stimulating enough for him to cum.

-In any normal dynamic with Enmu, he isn't often left using his dick. So when you've got a spear through his wrists, locking them behind his back, one hand pulling his hair, the other jerking his cock with thoughtless speed-

-Enmu can never cum harder than when he's recieving borderline abuse. His dick looks irritated, going untouched for months previous, and now it's receiving all this attention. Can you blame him for being this loud?

-His legs shake, his whole body recoils. He drools and screams- laughs and wails. He cries with the brightest smile you've ever seen. His hips buck up. You're not being gentle, and he's so, so happy. The orgasm is ripping through every nerve in his body.

-He feels like he's in the sun again.

-He's hoping Muzan can see him look so pathetic. You're just hoping the demon lord stays out of your man's head.

Akaza

-cums like a horse.

-a lover, truly. That's the only word encompassing enough to describe Akaza's efforts sexually. He's a fantastic lover.

-... who can go for hours... days even and never get tired. Every orgasm blows off his shoulders- It's all about you. It always has been, it always will be.

-You've made him cum hard before, it's a rarity, but it's possible... Its just nothing feels as good to him as watching you cum, so he'll do whatever must be done-

-and if that means pumping you full again and again, until you're leaking from every accessible orifice, so be it.

-He'll lick your hole clean, reveling in the way you twitch after your.... you lost count after the fifth one. That won't stop him from tongue fucking you.

-His cum tastes... shockingly good. You like to give him head, and then come up to give him a kiss. He'll pull your tongue down, wanting to see it in your mouth just before you swallow. You always look so proud of yourself. He can't help but reward you with a kiss before you even get it down.

-there's way to much for one swallow. You can barely manage to keep all of it in your mouth while showing him. Your effort is precious, though.

-Akaza looks really good with cum on his lips. It's one of the only times you see him really flustered.

#sanemi x you #sanemi x y/n #demon slayer x reader #sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #demon slayer smut #hashira x reader #rengoku smut #enmu x reader #enmu x y/n #enmu x you #enmu smut #akaza x reader #akaza smut #akaza x y/n #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #kny x reader #kny smut

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muletia · 3 months ago

Text

𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝 ₊ ⊹

obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader obsessed!megatron x human!reader obsessed!starscream x human!reader

summary: various mechs react to your injury. didn't specify what happened to reader in starscream' part so you can fill the gaps yourself

cw: angst, hurt, graphic injury (reader), blood and gore, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, very ooc starscream

word count: 2700

thank you!! <33

i may write the 'next part' for other bots too when mood for angst comes back...

He reacted too slowly, missing the leap by mere seconds. Didn’t make it in time to shield you from the stray projectile, which struck directly at your side, piercing the abdomen and immediately knocking you to the ground. He deals with the attacker without hesitation, taking down the Vehicon that had ambushed you during your ride. Quickly moves to your side, shielding from further threats. Something he should have done from the very beginning.

Your eyes are closed, and chest heaves rapidly, chasing after the blood slowly spilling from your wound. Optimus realizes he has never seen your equivalent of energon before. He’s seen bruises and scratches but never blood. Once, he was curious about what it might look like, how it would behave outside your body. Now, he would give everything to erase this image from memory.

He feels disgust—not with you, never with you—but with himself. Because he let this happen. Because your suffering and the scar that will forever remind you of his failure are his doing. He looked into your eyes and swore to protect you at all costs, even at the cost of his own life.

He failed. As always. But you should not bear the harvest of his incompetence.

And to think, he once desired to be your partner, to bear the title of conjunx. Now, as he considers it, the thought feels like a cruel joke.

He’s convinced his entire body is aflame, as though he’s sharing your pain. As if the projectile had torn through his own frame. You deserve this pain, he thinks. Should suffer more, take this burden from you and carry it himself, and preferably, bear it for the rest of his life—an echo of failure, a reminder to never let anything happen to you again.

“[Name]…” he tries, his voice unworthy of a Prime—weak, strained, fighting against his own voice box. “I beg you…” He wants to add more, but physically cannot.

No response. He clenches his servo so tightly that it begins to tremble, energon soon dripping from the stress. The vision of your death flashes through processor. Then remorse, fury, and grief. Days spent admiring you, fantasizing about the future twist into self-torment, revisiting the image of your lifeless body before him because he acted too late.

Cannot allow that future to come to pass. You will not give your life for his mistake. Even if his passion never bears fruit, even if your smile continues to haunt him in his dreams, even if your closeness is limited to shared rides, he will not let you go. He is willing to endure the worst tortures, walk through hell and back, starve and ruin himself just so you can see another sunrise.

“Ratchet, ground bridge. Immediately.” The true Prime emerges. Stern and decisive. “Bring surgical tools.”

The medic arrives swiftly. Unlike his leader, Ratchet doesn’t take an eternity to overcome the shock. He gently lifts you onto his servo and takes you to the base, directly to the operating table. Optimus follows closely behind, optics fixed on you, desperately searching for signs of life.

Optimus doesn’t leave your side, staying through the operation, watching as Ratchet stitches the wound with his trademark precision. The medic refrains from his usual muttering about caution. One look at Optimus’s empty faceplate, devoid of any visible emotion but still fiercely focused on you, reveals the terror within. The fear and guilt have burrowed so deeply that even after the procedure is finished, with you unconscious but stabilized and safe, hooked up to an IV, Optimus does not leave you.

Wants to etch this image into his memory, so it becomes his specter. A motivation to reflect on himself, on your relationship. He must become better, more attentive, and less distracted. Because he isn’t sure if another failure like this would break him. If you were to end up on the operating table again, would he join you in death? Even though he knows it’s a lie. No matter how battered life makes him, no matter how many heartaches you bring him, he is compelled to continue the fight.

He longs to take your pain away. To bear it himself, to atone for his sins. And so he does, staying by your side without pause. Doesn’t eat, doesn’t rest, merely existing and waiting for you to wake up, incapable of doing anything else. He knows the team is worried, that they check in on him, bringing energon, begging him to rest, offering to take over the vigil, but he refuses every time. This is his burden, his failure, and he will not place it on anyone else. He must atone.

Intends to suffer alongside you until you fully recover. He doesn’t expect you to forgive him; doesn’t even dare to hope for it. But will the horror fade into the fog of an unpleasant memory if, from time to time, you grant him the same look you once did?

You lie in his servo, small, trembling, barely alive. Your entire forearm is crushed, and the side of your torso bears claw marks—a result of your encounter with a Vehicon who wasn’t acquainted with human fragility. Megatron’s soldier only intended to carry the runaway back to his master, not realizing that grabbing you by the arm would cause such devastating harm. It wasn’t done on purpose, nor was there any intent to deliberately hurt the partner of the Decepticon leader. Well, it didn’t matter anymore, now that the Vehicon lay dead with several holes in their frame.

Despite the carnage, Megatron doesn’t seem fazed. He carries you to the medbay with his familiar proud stride, showing no signs of stress. Calm and cold-blooded, unnaturally so. Yet his optics remain fixed on you, monitoring you, searching for signs of agony.

"You will survive," he states firmly, words resolute.

This composure is a bluff, a rational decision to avoid spiraling into destruction and despair. You didn’t need his wrath right now, silently demanding rescue. There would be time later for him to unleash his fury, to drive the message into everyone’s heads that if a similar situation ever occurred again, it wouldn’t end with just one Vehicon. He wouldn’t be so composed next time.

"I do not permit you to die," he adds.

In the recess of his servo, blood pools—your reminder that you urgently need medical attention, but also his. Perhaps for the first time since you set foot on the Nemesis. He clings to that need, even though he wishes to experience it under different, more fitting circumstances.

The medic is already waiting in the medbay, preparing the operating table for a small human. Knockout straightens at the sight of his leader and gestures to the empty table, where you are carefully placed. The silver mech steps back but does not leave the room. He intends to witness the procedure, to maintain complete control over it, even if he isn’t the one holding the tools. Needs to be certain that the only thing you leave this room with is scars from the operation. He allows no thought of any other outcome.

"My liege," Knockout begins, but Megatron’s optics remain locked on you. "I must inform you that I’m not yet fully versed in human anatomy."

Fury begins to seep through in the form of bared dentas.

"Well, I trust you are versed enough to save their life."

"Yes, I will do my best, but I must emphasize that the likelihood—"

"Knockout. You have exactly three nanokliks to make a decision. Your life or theirs. What is your choice?"

The medic bows submissively and picks up his tools. "Understood, my lord."

Megatron stays present throughout the entire procedure, closely observing as the bleeding gradually subsides and your body begins to regain its shape. He should be pleased that you’ll survive and soon be able to sit in his servo again—this time not bleeding out. Perhaps you’ll even look at him a bit more kindly when you learn that he personally carried you to the medic and dealt with the wretch who spilled your blood.

Yet his mind keeps returning to the feeling of utter panic he experienced when he saw you barely alive, with a cascade of crimson flowing from your wounds. He hadn’t expected anyone to provoke such a reaction in him—a sensation of dread, of helplessness. It lasted only a moment, swiftly transforming into rage, but it was enough to take him by surprise. Normally, he considers hypotheticals a complete waste of time, but he can’t stop wondering: what if you had died? He knows you won’t, because you belong to him. But if you had truly left him, struck him in his most vulnerable spot by taking yourself away—would anyone have been able to stop him? To halt the devastation before it consumed even him?

"There’s a strong chance they’ll survive," Knockout reports, wiping his servos clean of the unpleasant, human blood.

"I cannot rely on a ‘strong chance,’ Knockout. I need certainty," he growls. "So… is everything fine with [Name]?"

"Yes, my lord. However, they must rest extensively, preferably under the close supervision of a me—"

He doesn’t finish the sentence, as Megatron has already lifted you back into his servo. "I will decide that," he interrupts. "Expect frequent visits. Be prepared." With that, he leaves the medbay.

A claw gently strokes your head, tousling your tangled hair. You’ve already spent too much time in the company of the narcissistic medic—as if he would ever allow you to remain there without his constant vigilance. No, he had sworn to care for you, and not even death could meddle with that vow.

At first, he thinks it’s a weak start to a joke. You like to tell him jokes, maybe that’s how you got to his spark and shaped it into your likeness. He never considered them exceptional, and they were rarely funny, not measuring up to the quality of those from his home planet. But sometimes, they made life more bearable than he’d ever admit because they were yours, and then they became private, reserved just for the two of you.

But the closer he gets, and the larger your figure becomes, the prologue turns cruelly engaging. Because you’re lying motionless on the ground with your eyes closed, and blood seeping from your side. You show no signs of life.

He mass-shifts even before transforming, landing sharply on the ground, pedes digging into the surface.

"[Name]!" he yells. Kneeling beside you, knees sink into the soft earth, staining them with dirt. But his focus remains entirely on your small, unmoving body. "Would you be so kind as to stop joking? Get up!"

Because if this is a joke, it’s exceptionally cruel.

His claws tremble as he brings them closer to you, gently brushing your cheek, trying to rouse you. To make you show him any sign that everything is okay, even though he knows it’s not. As always, he tries to deceive himself, convince himself that you’ll come out of this unscathed, and that the horror before him won’t leave a mental burden behind.

"You fool," he hisses. "This isn’t funny, not even a little, do you hear me? Get up!" Voice cracks, and his strokes quicken. "Ha ha, you got me. Congratulations, one of your pathetic jokes finally caught me off guard. You can stop now..." He’s no longer stating; now, he’s pleading — for mercy, for another dose of humanity that you had mercifully bestowed upon him, even though he never truly deserved it.

With uncharacteristic tenderness, he pulls you into his arms, yearning to feel some sign of life against his body—proof that this isn’t the end. Your heart beats rapidly; feels it drumming against his chassis, granting him temporary peace. But it’s fleeting, as panic swiftly regains control. He doesn’t let it show, the terror boiling inside. He holds you tighter. Optics stare into nothingness as he tries not to think about the implications of your condition and what consequences it might lead to.

"Wake up, do you hear me? Now!" he screams desperately "[Name], please, I feel like I’m losing my mind."

No, you won’t leave him. You can’t do this. You mustn’t.

A faint groan catches his attention, and he gently pulls you away from his chassis to inspect your face. Apparently, you heard his plea, because a grimace appears on your pale face. Starscream can’t discern what it signifies. Pain? Despair? Confusion? Whatever it is, it softens his features, revealing hope that this is, in fact, a poor joke.

You blink rapidly, revealing bloodshot, unfocused eyes that lock onto him. Your chest begins to rise and fall more quickly. And even despite the horror you must feel, the pain burrowing deep into your body, the confusion and exhaustion, you manage to smile for him. As if you had a reason to.

"Star..." you whisper.

"Yes, yes, I’m here! You’re never to scare me like this again, do you understand? Never." His last word is a growl, though his servos remain gentle.

Hearing your voice anchors his thoughts, letting him focus on the possibility that things will be alright. That you’ll both come out of this unscathed, because this entire farce was driving him to madness. But he realizes he doesn’t want to hear you say his name as though it were for the last time. As if it were a farewell. No. You promised him eternity. You broke him, reprogrammed his processor to think only of you, infected his body to make it weep when he hadn’t seen you for too long, and now you intended to leave him? No. He won’t allow it. You swore eternity, and you will keep that promise. Otherwise, it would prove he truly didn’t deserve softness. That he was never meant to know comfort.

"Frag," he curses, lowering his helm because, for some reason, he can’t bear to look at you. Instead, he notices the crimson stain on your side growing, overtaking your shirt and slowly reaching your pants. His olfactory senses are assaulted by the metallic, unpleasant smell, and he concludes that this must be the scent of human death. "Did he do this to you? Hurt you? Violate you?"

Did Megatron finally find out about your relationship? Recognized you as a weak point, a tactic to get to him in the most devastating and cruel way? He searches his memories for provocation, an act of defiance, another attempt to seize power, though he’d recently tried to keep his head down, to behave. For you, so this would never happen. But Megatron needed no particular reason to strike. Especially not him.

Vents a sigh of relief when you weakly shake your head, but it’s not enough to restore calm. You’re still suffering, still bleeding out, and he is powerless. Usually, such powerlessness was closely tied to irritation when he lost control over his own fate. Now, he feels only a chilling terror in his lines at the thought of losing you. Of losing the love you gave him.

"Good... That’s good." It’s not good. Nothing is fragging good.

Your eyelids begin to flutter again, as if you’re fighting with yourself to stay conscious. You try to focus on him, keep your gaze fixed on a single point, but your eyes refuse to cooperate, rolling back.

"[Name]?" your chest rises and falls rapidly. "You must hold on, do you hear me?! Hey, hey! Focus!"

"S-Star..." you try, even quieter than before. "It hurts... help..."

"Stay with me, now. Please," his voice cracks. "You won’t leave me alone, will you? You promised..."

"It hurts..."

"I know, I know, hold on." He repeats himself. Knows how to get out of this situation, to use the last resort. It involves enormous risk and danger, especially for you, but he can’t hesitate any longer. Can’t wait. Can’t lose you.

He sends a message to Ratchet.

"Just a little longer, [Name]." He soothes, though he no longer knows who needs reassurance more. "Don’t make me die with you."

#transformers x reader #optimus x reader #obsessed!optimus #optimus prime x reader #megatron x reader #obsessed!megatron #starscream x reader #obsessed!starscream

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yanderenightmare · 7 months ago

Note

Have you ever wrote something like

Detective reader x criminal yandere or vice versa

♡ TW: yandere, kidnapping, serial killer, mutilation, blood and gore, amatuer amputation

♡ gn reader

It’s so sweet of you to be so obsessed with him. Following his every track—of the tracks he decides to leave behind for you, of course. But in this game the two of you play it’s clear who’s the better player. But then again, it’s not exactly a fair fight. You have to follow the law, after all, and he doesn’t. It’s way easier for him when he can watch you through any means he deems necessary—while you have to go through your boss each and every time you wish to follow up on any simple lead.

Oh, but you’re so cute—with your little crimeboard. “Is all that red string for little old me?” he’ll chuckle under his breath, sipping his coffee as he stares at your busy body from across the room. It’s too bad it’s all a waste. You’ll never find him, even though he’s right under your nose as a fellow detective.

In a way, he wishes you could play cat and mouse forever, constantly switching the roles. Though he salutes you for getting this far—there have been times when you’ve made him have to work twice as diligently—but in the end, it’s far too easy to stop you.

“I’m sorry about this—I wish I could do it differently, but you, of all people, know my M.O. better than anyone,” he apologizes, kneeling before the spot he has you strapped to a chair in his living room—a plastic sheet beneath you with your wrist neatly fixed to the armrest as he holds a heated knife to your pinky.

The gag between your teeth soaks with your spit and screams as he expertly snips the little finger clean off.

“There we go, all done!” he cheers, smiling at you gently, then putting your lopped-off digit into a plastic container filled with ice. “I’ll make sure our respected coworkers find this tomorrow.”

You shiver, screams turning to sobs and gasps. He places the box and knife onto the floor, then proceeds to cup your face in both blood-wet hands.

“Don’t worry,” he ushers. “I’m not gonna kill you like I did all the others.”

He gets in close. Thumbs stroking your tear-soaked cheeks, painting them red. His eyes seem black—eclipsed with something inhuman as he skitters across your face from your glassy doll eyes all swollen and glittery to your sniffling nose and your plumped lips sucking the cloth he’d tied around the back of your head.

Even closer now, he continues with a rasp, “No—just for you—I’ll break my ritual and keep you safe and sound with me as a living trophy,” he laughs then, breathily with elation, placing his forehead upon your sweat-pilled one. “You’ll be my audience while I continue my work,” he muses while smiling giddily up at you. “My sweetest and prettiest little fan.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Hawks, ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo ♡ HQ – Tendou, Atsumu ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Kiryu, Umemiya, Togame ♡ AOT – Armin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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callmeagardengnome · 3 months ago

Text

✗ sugar and sin ✗ | PARK SEONGHWA

pairings ✃ mafia! seonghwa x fem! reader

genre ✃ mafia au, non-idol au, SLOW BURNN

synopsis ✃

seonghwa goes above and beyond to eliminate his targets: going undercover in places they go to most. when you happen to spend your time in a secluded bakery, seonghwa decides to bake your treats with doses of poison - yet somehow, you keep surviving.

in which you thought you made a new friend in your local bakery, when in reality - your ‘baker’ keeps mistaking laxatives for poison.

w.c ✃ 9.1k

c.w ✃ dark themes, some desc of gore, poison, drink-spiking, kiss scene but no smut, very very slight yandere behaviour, cursing, reader + seonghwa are in their 20s (not too relevant to plot), reader wants to be an architect.

author’s note: ngl, this story ended up a little more wholesome than i anticipated but oh well. remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, any and all feedback helps!

not proofread!

masterlist

it was official. you were a walking, unkillable creature sent to test seonghwa’s patience.

you had to be at this point. that was the sixth poisoned-cream puff he’d given you this week and you were still talking on the phone about some guy you met at work.

seonghwa’s fingers curled around the register, his knuckles turning white. when was the last time it took him this long to kill someone? five years ago?

time flies by fast - and yet it’s going painfully slow to take. you. out.

“oh my god, no way-“ you laughed suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

seonghwa sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. he turned around and headed for the kitchen. if you weren’t going to die quickly, the least he could do was distract himself.

“back to baking,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

1 MONTH AGO - SIGHTSEEING

the early morning was cool, damp and filled with the scent of rain. the light drizzle from the grey sky above pattered against the balcony railing as birds chirped louder than the traffic below.

seonghwa sat on the metal chair, placing his steaming cup of tea onto the small table next to him.

the balcony door slid open.

a yawn was heard from behind him. “are you people-watching again?” hongjoong asked, rubbing his eyes.

seonghwa didn’t look back, only nodding in response.

“you’re on food duty now, remember?” hongjoong stepped onto the balcony, sitting on the chair beside his friend. “you don’t need to look for targets..”

seonghwa leaned forward, mumbling, “is it wrong to have hobbies?”

the morning rush was in full swing - people running with umbrellas over their heads, cars splashing through puddles and delivery workers speeding on bikes. it was oddly satisfying to watch, especially when you weren’t a part of any of it.

hongjoong rested his chin on his hand. “i don’t pay you to kill anymore. i hope you know this.”

“yeah, yeah,” seonghwa said absentmindedly, like he’d done many times before - though something caught his attention.

his eyes narrowed, focusing on a girl - must be in her early 20s, hurrying down the sidewalk with a large stack of papers in her arms. her steps were rushed, nearly bumping into the people ahead of her.

and then it happened.

she tripped over her own foot, causing her to stumble forward. the papers flew out of her grasp, scattering onto the crowded pavement. she dropped to her knees, scurrying to gather them.

but before she could, a gust of wind swept most of them down the street.

seonghwa got up from his chair abruptly, his tea long forgotten.

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “did you see something?”

seonghwa didn’t answer. his attention was fixed on you, your hands moving as fast as possible to salvage the remaining papers. just as you managed to grab a few, a van sped through a nearby puddle, splashing you from head to toe.

you froze, shivering. and to make things worse, the light rain turned into a heavy downpour. “...fuck!”

seonghwa’s eyes lit up in fascination.

he’d never seen someone as unlucky, unfortunate and pathetic as you in all of his years.

you were perfect.

“seonghwa-?”

a slow, almost predatory smirk spread across seonghwa’s lips. he couldn’t take his eyes off of you - the defeated and helpless girl that stood frozen on the pavement, completely drenched.

“i found my target.”

2 WEEKS AGO - IT’S CALLED EMPLOYMENT

the smell of fresh bread and melted butter greeted you as you pushed the bakery door open, the small bell jingling.

“ah ‘____’!” the old baker, mrs earl, said with a smile. “it’s good to see you again.”

you gave her a bright grin. “i brought you the new crossword,” you placed a folded newspaper on the counter.

“oh honey, you’re an angel,” she thanked.

you waved off the praise, already making your way to the display case. you grabbed your free muffin (it wasn’t technically free, but mrs earl adored you enough to turn a blind eye) and took a bite.

as you ate, she wiped her hands with a dishcloth. “you know, a boy came in today. said he wanted a job.”

you raised an eyebrow. “someone applied?”

“mhm,” she nodded, her smile widening. “i was quite shocked, he’s very young- around your age.”

“..huh,” you said, unsure of how to respond. it was hard to imagine someone else your age showing interest in such a bakery.

mrs earl’s eyes twinkled as she giggled, “he was such a gentleman, too. handsome, if i may add.”

you grinned. “mrs earl, are you into him?”

she laughed heartily. “of course not! i still have my boys at the country club..”

“..anyways,” she continued, slightly softer. “with him around, i don’t need to come in anymore.”

“...really?”

she nodded firmly. “why not? i think he’s capable enough to manage things while i go on vacation.”

“..if you say so,” you replied, a little doubtful.

you’ve grown so attached to mrs earl that the idea of someone else stepping in felt.. strange. even then, you quickly pushed those thoughts away. you weren’t going to stop her from having her well-deserved break.

but little did you know - across the street, seonghwa sat on a weathered bench, his eyes following you.

you were an open book, he realised. your patterns were consistent, your routine almost boring in its predictability. lunch breaks at the bakery. post-work visits for a chat and a muffin. your world revolved around this tiny little bakery that it made you so so easy to track.

it was perfect.

and now all he had to do was wait.

1 WEEK AGO - HEY I JUST MET YOU, AND THIS IS CRAZY

holy shit.

mrs earl wasn’t kidding when she said the new hire was handsome.

a man stood behind the counter, arranging pastries with meticulous care. his hair fell perfectly, right out of a shampoo commercial, while his skin looked impossibly flawless and clean.

“...wow,” you breathed out before you could stop yourself.

the man turned, his sharp features softened by a slight tilt of his head.

you blinked rapidly, scrambling to recover. “i mean- hi!” you blurted with a nervous laugh. “i’m ‘____’, i’m a regular here,” you stuck your hand out.

it took a second before he shook your hand, giving you a small, polite smile. “mrs earl told me about you.”

your rubbed the back of your neck. “good things i hope..” you chuckled, earning a nod.

“you’re..” you looked down, squinting to read the name tag pinned neatly to his apron. “seonghwa..?”

“correct.”

as seonghwa moved to the display case, you couldn’t help but watch him. everything about him was so polished, so graceful - it was like he belonged in the movies.

when you saw the row of pastries he was arranging, you raised an eyebrow. that’s different.

he glanced at you. “sorry, i don’t make muffins as good as mrs earl,” he admitted sheepishly. “but i think my cream puffs are up there.”

you stared at the tray of golden, perfectly piped pastries, your mouth watering. “c-can i take one?”

his lips curled into a faint smirk, his eyes darkening slightly. “of course.”

PRESENT - PLOT ARMOUR GOES CRAZYY

outside, the world bustled with its usual chaos, but inside the bakery? everything felt calm - too calm for seonghwa, whose patience was wearing dangerously thin.

from behind the counter, he had an excellent view of you. you chatted animatedly on the phone, the sunlight streaming in making you look annoyingly serene for someone who shouldn’t be here.

“girl- the guy at my office is cutee,” you said as you stirred the remnants of your coffee.

seonghwa’s jaw tightened. the coffee you were sipping had enough poison to kill a sumo wrestler. you should’ve been dead on the floor by now.

so how the hell were you still alive?

blissfully unaware of his glare, you laughed at something your friend said. “are you crazy? why should i make the first move?”

when he first saw you, seonghwa thought you’d be his easiest target yet. he almost pitied you. your sheer unluckiness practically screamed death.

yet here you were, as if life itself decided to mock him.

as you hung up the call, you stood up and strolled to the counter, rummaging through your bag. “how much do i owe you?”

seonghwa shook his head, sighing. “it’s on the house,” he said.

you paused, slipping your phone into your pocket. “seonghwa, you really need to stop giving me free food,” you pulled out a ten-dollar bill.

“but i want to,” he shrugged.

you studied him for a moment, tilting your head. “then can i get another coffee to-go, please?”

his eye twitched.

it was such an harmless request, something seemingly so simple. yet it felt like an insult to his entire career.

still, seonghwa forced a smile, taking the cash. “of course.”

turning to the coffee pot, he poured another cup. when you looked away to check your phone, he sprinkled a little extra poison into the drink - just to be sure.

“thank you so much,” your face lit up as you took the cup from him. “you’re a lifesaver.”

the irony hit him like a truck, but he simply nodded.

as you turned to leave, he stared at the coffee pot, his mind spinning.

how? how?

you were unkillable. immune. an anomaly wrapped in plot armour so thick and absurd it made his chest ache with something he couldn’t name.

obsession, frustration, fascination - it all blurred together into one singular thought:

he needed stronger poison.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“..helloo?” a hand waved in front of seonghwa, snapping him out of his thoughts.

seonghwa blinked, turning to find wooyoung standing beside him, wooden spoon in hand, his apron splattered in sauces.

“you’re sanding the plate,” wooyoung smirked before turning back to the bubbling pot on the stove.

the sound of running water filled the hideout’s small kitchen, together with the clanging of pots and pans. seonghwa stood over the sink, yellow rubber gloves on his hands as he washed the dishes.

seonghwa looked down - and to his horror, he’d been scrubbing the same spot on the plate for who knows how long. a noticeable mark formed, the glaze nearly wearing off.

wooyoung glanced over his shoulder. “you okay?”

“yeah,” seonghwa replied.

a short silence followed before wooyoung spoke up again. “…you still haven’t killed that girl.”

seonghwa rolled his eyes, nearly breaking the ceramic in his hands. “don’t remind me. she’s invincible.”

“invincible?” wooyoung barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “to you?”

seonghwa’s lips pressed into a thin line, sighing. the memory of the coffee earlier was still fresh in his mind. “my poison doesn’t work on her.”

wooyoung paused. “we have poison?”

“yeah,” seonghwa muttered, rinsing the plate and setting it on the drying rack. “the blue ones in the cupboard.”

wooyoung’s face shifted slowly from confusion, to realisation, to then poorly concealed amusement.

“seonghwa..” he began carefully, facing him. “you know those are laxatives, right..?”

the sponge in seonghwa’s hand nearly slipped into the soapy water. “..what?”

“they’re laxatives,” wooyoung repeated. “i mean, they do look the same, but they’re laxatives.”

seonghwa stared at him. “those are the only ones left- what happened to my poison?”

“we uh-” wooyoung hesitated, shifting on his feet. “we crushed it up and made paint..”

the air in the kitchen turned deathly still.

“you what?”

“i thought no one used it-!”

“i use it-! who makes paint with pills?” seonghwa snapped, his hands gripping the edges of the sink. he exhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm. “now i have to get more from that dealer.”

“uhh..” wooyoung cringed.

seonghwa turned to him, narrowing his eyes. “don’t tell me..”

wooyoung gulped, nodding slowly. “...san killed him.”

WEEK 3 - TOUCH GRASS

the sound of your best friend’s voice echoed from your phone as you sat by the window, nibbling on the cream puff seonghwa gave you - again.

“i know this is TMI,” you said quietly. “but i’ve been shitting a lot lately. i don’t know if it's my period or lactose intolerance acting up.”

as you took another bite, the cream puff melted in your mouth, its sweetness making you temporarily forget about your bowel issues.

rejecting it felt stupid - it was free. sure, it was weird that seonghwa kept giving you free food, but mrs earl trusted him, so why shouldn’t you?

still, you couldn’t quite figure him out. the man had a habit of glaring at you from across the bakery. were you that pretty? yes. but his glares didn’t feel like he was admiring you. they leaned more towards… anger.

your friend on the other end of the call burst out laughing - and you joined her for a moment. but before your friend could reply, your phone screen went black.

“ugh, seriously?” you grumbled, tapping the screen repeatedly. with an annoyed sigh, you stuffed the dead phone into your bag.

with nothing else to do, your attention shifted. your eyes eventually landed on seonghwa, who was watching you with a blank face.

it wouldn’t hurt to get to know him, right? after all, you see him everyday - and since your phone died, maybe it’s finally time to get some real human interaction in.

you gave him a wide smile. “hey, seonghwa.”

he blinked, visibly startled. “i uh-”

“-why don’t you sit with me?” you asked. “you’re not busy, are you?”

for a moment, he seemed frozen. but somehow, you managed to convince him to sit across from you.

“so...” you began. “how are you?”

“good.”

you blinked. this wasn’t the riveting conversation you were hoping for.

unfazed, you continued. “how’s work been? stressful?”

he exhaled softly, shaking his head. “it’s fine. how about you? how’s work?”

“it’s alright,” you shrugged. “it’s gotten better since i started coming here. the vending machines at work are always broken.”

he nodded, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “yeah- it’s even more convenient since it’s walking distance, right?”

you paused.

“...how do you know that?”

seonghwa’s fingers froze mid-tap.

“mrs earl,” he said finally. “she said a lot of her regulars work in the area.”

“oh, that makes sense,” you said, your suspicions fading quickly. you glanced out the window, your face softening. “i miss her..”

seonghwa let out a quiet sigh of relief, nodding as though he agreed with you.

but inside, his mind was screaming. that was way too close.

focus.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you kicked your shoes and slumped onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. the day had been.. something. your chat with seonghwa was pretty awkward, but more than anything, it made you miss mrs earl.

reaching for your phone, you dialed her number.

“‘____’! my favourite customer,” she greeted cheerfully, the background noise filled with chatter and clinking glasses.

“mrs earl!” you replied. “how are you? are the boys at your country club treating you well?”

“oh, you know how they are,” she giggled. “trying to impress me with golf and fancy dinners. it’s nice to relax for a change.”

you chuckled, sinking deeper into the couch. “that sounds perfect. you deserve it.”

the conversation flowed easily unlike the one earlier. you updated her on the usual - work and office gossip. but eventually, the topic drifted to the bakery.

“i hope the new boy hasn’t burned the place down,” mrs earl began.

“he’s actually a pretty good baker,” you said. “his cream puffs are unreal-”

you paused for a moment before you added. “though i have to say, they make my stomach hurt whenever i eat them.”

the line went quiet.

“...please elaborate,” mrs earl chuckled softly.

“i mean- i don’t know,” you shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “after i eat his pastries, my trips to the toilet are… traumatic.” you let out a small laugh. “but they’re so tasty, it’s worth the lactose intolerance.”

another silence followed, longer this time. you frowned slightly, shifting on the couch.

“mrs earl?”

her voice finally came through, slower this time. “that’s.. impossible, my dear.”

“what do you mean?” you asked, sitting a little straighter.

“well,” she began carefully. “the bakery strictly uses oat milk. we don’t use any dairy products in our pastries.”

“...what?”

“the cream, the milk- everything is plant-based,” she continued. “it’s been that way for years. didn’t i tell you that when you first came in?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

mrs earl’s voice broke the silence again. “it could be something else. you’ve been stressed, haven’t you?”

“yeah..” you replied automatically, though your thoughts were far from the conversation.

“take care of yourself, honey,” she said gently. “i have to go, but call me again soon, okay?”

you nodded. “okay.. bye, mrs earl.”

“stay well, ‘____’.”

the call ended, leaving you sitting on the couch, phone in hand. for a long moment, you stared at the screen, her voice echoing in your head.

the bakery strictly uses oat milk.

MONTH 1 - I WAS SPACING OUT

you sat at your regular table by the window, flipping through your notebook while sipping on your coffee.

you tapped your pencil against the table. yes, ‘traumatic’ was probably an exaggeration for your bathroom trips - but if there was no dairy in seonghwa’s cream puffs, then what was messing with your stomach?

you quickly shook your head, a sigh escaping your lips. ‘too weird to think about,’ you thought to yourself. whatever it was, the food was worth it.

you returned back to sketching, taking out your ruler to make straight lines. but as you drew, you couldn’t help but feel a certain someone’s eyes on you.

“you’re staring again,” you said without looking up.

a long pause settled over the bakery before you heard a, “..no, i wasn’t.”

you glanced up, a smile tugging at your lips. “wanna see what i’m working on?”

and that was how seonghwa found himself unusually close to you, sitting beside you as you showed him your sketches - clean lines forming buildings, bridges and intricate floor plans.

“you like drawing?” he asked.

“yeah,” you nodded, flipping to another page. “i wanted to be an architect.”

seonghwa’s brow furrowed slightly. “then why aren’t you doing it?”

you let out a laugh. “because i’m broke,” you said simply. “i’d rather work in an office than take out student loans.”

you flipped through more sketches - some labelled with small notes in the margins while others had more detailed calculations. “it’s just a little hobby of mine.”

seonghwa’s eyes darted between you and the notebook. “this doesn’t look like a hobby,” he muttered.

you raised an eyebrow. “what does it look like then?”

“it looks like something you’re serious about.”

you paused, blinking at him before leaning closer. “i’m serious about a lot of things, seonghwa- but that doesn’t mean i make a career out of them.”

the silence between you stretched as you flipped through the pages. the energy shifted to something you couldn’t quite explain - and as you tilted the notebook to show him a certain sketch, you realised that his eyes weren’t even on the paper anymore, they were on you.

you sighed, closing the notebook. as you slipped it into your bag, you noticed how his eyes were still following you, sharp yet strangely soft with concern.

“don’t worry-” you said, smoothing out your clothes. “i’m perfectly content with where i am now.”

“are you?” he asked.

you met his eyes for a moment longer than usual. “yep,” you finished the last sip of your coffee. “how could i not be? free cream puffs and all, right?”

seonghwa didn’t respond.

“thanks for looking at my sketches,” you smiled, turning away. “hope i didn’t bother you.”

as he watched you walk out the door, he let out a slow sigh he didn’t realise he was holding, running a hand through his hair.

he stared up at the ceiling, leaning back into the chair. and for the first time in a long time, seonghwa felt sympathy.

MONTH 2 - FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

over the past few weeks, you developed the habit of waving seonghwa over to join you whenever you stopped by the bakery. what started as polite small talk turned into embarrassing work stories you had.

this afternoon was no different. you sat across from him, coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cookie in the other, complaining about your friends’ latest questionable decision.

“yeah, she doesn’t listen to me,” you took a bite out of the cookie. “like- why fuck him if you hate him, y’know?”

behind his usual composed self, you caught the faintest twitch of seonghwa’s lips, followed by a sound so soft you almost missed it - a low chuckle.

you froze mid-bite. “did you just.. laugh?”

seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “yeah..?”

you leaned forward, eyes wide with excitement. “i’ve never seen you laugh before.”

“i’m sure you have,” he blinked.

“no, i would’ve remembered it,” you shook your head, grinning. “i like it.”

seonghwa choked, caught off guard. before he could even respond or process what you said, his phone buzzed in his apron pocket. he glanced at the screen and frowned.

“excuse me,” he said, heading to the small kitchen in the bakery, leaving you slightly confused.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

seonghwa pressed the phone to his ear. “what?” he asked.

“i got your poison ready,” san’s voice came through.

seonghwa nearly dropped his phone, swallowing the lump in his throat. “...really?”

“yeah- you wanted it extra strong, right?” san continued. “it took some tweaking, but it’s ready to go.”

the baker’s eyes darted to the half-open kitchen door. he could almost picture you sitting on the other side of it. “right… good.”

this was it. no more laxatives, no more delays.

it’s real now.

the thought of finishing the job left a strange knot in his chest - not dread exactly, but something close to it.

he wasn’t supposed to feel this way - no, he’s never felt this way. his work had always been detached. he never tried to make connections outside of the world of crime, didn’t deal with people who weren’t tied to his web of blood.

not until you came along.

you talked to him like he was.. normal. like he was a regular guy in a regular bakery.

he was finally seen as a person, not a killer.

it was refreshing.

“hello?” san’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“i uh-“ seonghwa cleared his throat, realising that he was silent for too long. “just leave the poison on my desk. i’ll get it later.

“sure,” san replied before adding, “but don’t overthink it, okay? just get it done.”

seonghwa hung up, staring at his phone for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket.

just get it done.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

from your seat, you only caught bits and pieces of seonghwa’s call. you didn’t mean to listen in, but your ears got carried away.

his voice was low and hard to hear, muffled by the thin walls of the bakery - but one word stood out: poison.

your brows furrowed as you leaned back into your chair, the word echoing in your mind. poison? like food poisoning? did he get it? was that what you had?

you pushed those thoughts out of your mind. after all, what were the odds that your new friend seonghwa said something like ‘poison’ in a bakery of all places? you must’ve misheard.

the door creaked open as seonghwa stepped out, dusting his apron off as he walked back to the table.

“sorry about that,” he said, sitting across from you.

you tilted your head. “everything okay?”

“yeah,” he replied - but you swear you caught a hint of guilt in his eyes. “where were we?”

MONTH 3 - THIS ISN’T FUN ANYMORE

you wandered through the aisles that had shelves lined with tools, appliances and decorations. mrs earl invited you out for a little shopping spree, wanting to pick out a few things for her house.

as she inspected a stack of plates, something caught your attention - a small set of colourful forks, each with cute designs of fruits and animals.

“these are adorable,” you muttered as you picked it up.

mrs earl looked over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you liked these things.”

you shook your head, laughing softly. “oh- i do, but this is for seonghwa.”

“for seonghwa?” she raised an eyebrow.

“yeah,” you nodded. “he’s always giving me free food. i just thought it’d be nice to get him something.”

mrs earl’s lips curved into a knowing smile, though she said nothing. instead, she patted your shoulder and moved to examine another shelf.

over the past few weeks, seonghwa had become quite a good friend of yours. after all, you saw him everyday and you started to look forward to his presence whenever you stopped by.

and honestly? you’ve been wanting to pay him back for ages. all the free pastries, coffees and times he let you ramble on about work without looking annoyed. he needed.. compensation, if that was what it was called.

you sighed. what if he thought you were weird? well, it didn’t really matter - you wanted to do this.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the bakery was quiet and empty. seonghwa stood at the counter, his fingers gripping a small packet of crushed pills in one hand and the coffee you ordered in the other.

the poison felt heavier that it should, sinking into his palm as a reminder of what he was about to do. his mind spun, his thoughts fuzzy.

was this really happening?

he stared at the packet, his breathing shallow. it took him longer than usual to go near the wretched thing, let alone hold it. now, standing with the poison scarily close to your coffee, the reality set in.

your life was in his hands.

seonghwa’s chest tightened. he could just stop, throw the poison away, pour the coffee down the sink and pretend that none of this happened. after all, no one was forcing him to do this - except himself.

he sighed shakily, his fingers trembling as he began to shove the poison into his pocket.

but then the door swung open. you weren’t supposed to be back yet.

“hey seonghwa-!”

your voice startled him. his eyes snapped to the door as you walked in with paper bags, followed by mrs earl.

“i got you something-“ you said before your smile faltered, your eyes landing on the packet in his hand. “is that.. wait- is that drugs?”

seonghwa coughed, fully shoving it into his pocket quickly. “no- it’s not-”

your eyes narrowed - and before seonghwa could react, you went behind the counter and reached into his pocket, pulling out the packet.

“wait-”

your lips parted as you read the label. “...poison?” you breathed out.

the words hung in the air.

your eyes darted to the coffee cup still clutched in his other hand. it was unmistakably yours, your drink order obvious. and it didn’t take long for the pieces to click.

“are you-“ you gulped. “...are you trying to kill me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

seonghwa stood frozen, unable to respond.

mrs earl, who was trailing behind, looked at the packet in your hand, then at seonghwa.

“what is the meaning of this?” she demanded. she stormed over to him, grabbing a nearby towel and smacking it across his shoulder. “i trusted you with my food! my bakery! and this is what you do?!”

seonghwa flinched but didn’t resist. his eyes, however, weren’t on mrs earl - they were on you.

you were completely still, the poison clutched in your hands.

seonghwa opened his mouth to say something - anything, but the words died before they could form. you couldn’t even look at him, your eyes wide and unfocused.

ignoring how his chest tightened, he turned and dashed - leaving nothing but silence in the bakery.

mrs earl paced angrily, muttering curses under her breath. but you didn’t hear her - you couldn’t. your eyes remained fixed on the packet, your breathing heavy.

you sat down, throwing the poison far away from you. your heart pounded in your chest, each beat louder than the last.

holy shit.

he was going to kill you.

MONTH 4 - ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

you leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms above your head. you powered down your computer, your office building quiet - working overtime seemed more tiring than usual.

you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder when your eyes landed on a small box tucked into the corner of your desk.

the fork set.

for weeks, you avoided looking at it. the sight of it was a reminder of the bakery - your now-dead friendship with seonghwa and the moment you realised he tried to kill you.

why did you even keep this?

you didn’t want to bring it home. you didn’t want to keep it at all. maybe it was time to throw it away and be done with it.

you stepped out of your office building, the streets eerily silent. the only source of light you had were the streetlights that shined yellow light onto the pavement.

you clenched the fork set in your hands.

poison.

the word did circles around your mind, sending an uncomfortable feeling throughout your body. was that why your stomach always hurt after eating his pastries? was he actually trying to poison you the whole time?

the idea of it stung. you thought back to all the times you trusted him, to all the times you talked.

was any of it even real?

your thoughts were interrupted by the faint sight of movement you caught from the corner of your eye.

you stopped, glancing to the alley to your left. at first, it was hard to make out what you were seeing, the shadows dark. but then you froze.

a man stood there, holding a gun.

and someone else was infront of him, pinned against the wall.

your breath hitched when you realised who it was.

seonghwa.

his eyes locked onto yours, wide with fear as the gunman barked something you couldn’t hear. his face was bruised, blood smeared along his jaw and soaking his shirt.

you gulped.

this man tried to kill you. you could just.. walk away, pretend this didn’t happen.

you took a step back, everything in your body telling you to leave. but then, seonghwa’s trembling hand reached toward you, his fingers shaking as he silently pleaded.

shit.

you don’t know what compelled you - pity or something else entirely, but your grip tightened on the box in your hand. quickly, you opened it, grabbing the first fork you saw.

without thinking, you chucked it at the gunman.

the fork struck his shoulder with a dull thud, making him whip around in shock, pointing the gun at you.

your heart stopped. this was it.

but seonghwa worked fast.

grabbing the fork, he lunged forward with all the strength he had, driving it into the gunman’s neck.

the man stumbled, choking as he clawed at his throat, slumping to the ground.

seonghwa collapsed to his knees, panting heavily as the fork clattered from his hand to the pavement. blood dripped from his fingertips, pooling around him as he pressed a hand to his side, trying to stop his wound from bleeding.

“...thank you,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse.

you stared at him, your chest heaving. you stepped closer, looking down at his bloodied state. “damn it.”

seonghwa glanced up at you, his eyes filled with… gratitude? sincerity? relief? or was that desperation?

you sighed, shaking your head. “you’re lucky i’m a nice person.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“i’m sorry-”

“don’t talk to me,” you cut him off, shoving a cold can of soda into his hand.

you brought seonghwa to your office, the only place you could think of where he wouldn’t be found - or bleed out. he sat in your coworker’s chair, guilt written all over his face.

with a heavy sigh, you sank into your own chair across from him, leaning back as you tried to catch your breath.

for what felt like an eternity, the two of you sat in silence, your eyes locked in an unspoken fight. dark red tissues piled up beside seonghwa as he pressed another one to the cut on his cheek, wincing.

you didn’t want to feel sorry for him. you didn’t want to care. but seeing him like this - injured, his clothes stained with the horrid look of blood, made it impossible to ignore the way your stomach twisted.

“...how did you end up like this?”

your words cracked, betraying the hurt and confusion you tried so so hard to bottle up.

“i-” began before stopping himself, his voice faltering. he pressed his lips into a thin line, looking away from you.

EARLIER THAT DAY

“wha-? you can’t say no, seonghwa,” hongjoong snapped. “this is your job.”

seonghwa slouched deeper into the couch, arms crossed over his chest. his eyes followed his boss as he paced around the room. “i don’t want to go.”

“‘i don’t want to go’,” hongjoong mocked, stopping mid-step to glare at him. “i’m not asking you to go, i’m telling you.”

seonghwa stayed silent.

“come on,” hoongjoong ran a hand through his hair. “we got a tip they’re loitering around these streets. the least you could do is check it out.”

‘they’.

aka the drug cartel that had been bothering hongjoong and the group for months. even then, seonghwa shook his head, refusing his boss’s orders.

hongjoong let out a frustrated sigh. “you’ve been like this ever since you failed to kill that girl. you’re depressed- go outside.”

seonghwa’s head snapped up. “i’m not depressed,” he glared.

“right,” hongjoong chuckled dryly. “because moping and lazing around is normal behavior for you. wake up.”

seonghwa bit back a retort, his nails biting into his palms. he wasn’t depressed. he wasn’t.

was he?

a heavy silence settled over the room. sure, the last few weeks have been.. off. he hadn’t been sleeping well. his appetite was nonexistent. and everytime he thought about you, he felt an ache in his heart that he couldn’t quite shake.

it wasn’t depression. it was just a.. slump.

he was not depressed.

seonghwa sighed, rolling his eyes. “whatever,” he muttered finally. he pushed himself up. “i better be paid good for this.”

PRESENT

seonghwa gulped, staring at the bruises on his arms. finally, he met your eyes, shifting uncomfortably. “...it’s just my job.”

you crossed your arms. “your job?”

he said nothing.

“seonghwa-” you began, leaning forward. “what kind of job leaves you looking like this?”

his shoulders stiffened, and for a moment - you thought he wouldn’t answer. but then he sighed, wiping his bloody hands on his shirt.

“if i tell you,” he said. “you need to promise me something.”

you raised an eyebrow. “promise what?”

“that you won’t tell anyone.”

a dry laugh escaped your lips. “i’m not promising anything. spit it out.”

“...i’m in a gang.”

“wha-” you stared at him, your face blank for a second before you let out a snort and cackle. “you’re joking, right?”

but when he didn’t laugh, you froze.

“wait- you’re not joking?” you asked, your voice quieter.

he shook his head.

his words hit you like a wave. your mind spun, connecting the dots - the poison, his sketchy behaviour, the guilty look in his eyes - it all fell into place.

“...is that why you tried to kill me?” you asked after a long pause. “what did i do?”

“that’s..” seonghwa trailed off, looking away. “unrelated.”

you rolled your eyes. “of course it is.”

his face softened into something almost remorseful. “i don’t really know how to talk about this,” he said. “but i know i’m sorry.”

“you didn’t have to save me, but you did,” he leaned forward. “and i keep wondering why- because if it was the other way around, i don’t think i would’ve done the same.”

you raised your eyebrow.

“i’m sorry, really,” he said, quieter now. “i don’t know what else i can say, but i just.. i don’t want you to think i’m taking any of it lightly.”

you stared at him, surprised by how sincere he was. “seonghwa..”

“i know an apology won’t fix anything,” he said. “but i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

“whatever it takes?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

he nodded quickly.

you scoffed, leaning in closer, your eyes piercing his. “if you really mean that, prove it.”

“i will,’ he said immediately.

“…uhuh,” you looked him up and down before standing, grabbing your bag. “you can start by cleaning the blood off of my coworker’s chair.”

he let out a faint chuckle, though it was more self-deprecating than anything. before you walked away, you paused, turning back to him.

“seonghwa?”

“yeah?”

you stepped closer, grabbing his collar and pulling him towards you. “before you try anything stupid, remember this: i still have that poison of yours.”

MONTH 5 - WALK HIM LIKE A DOG

you had to admit - it was convenient having your own personal assistant, even if the circumstances were… complicated.

it wasn’t like you asked for this arrangement. seonghwa brought it upon himself, showing up whenever you called.

printer jammed? he’d be there in ten minutes. out of pens? he’d have a pack delivered to your desk. of course you didn’t trust him with tasks involving your drinks or food, but even then - he made himself useful with other things.

over time, you got used to calling him for simple errands - and he never complained.

it was most definitely awkward though, especially when he tried to make small talk with you.

“..your hair looks nice,” he said once as he stood by your desk.

“thanks,” you replied, not looking up from your screen.

a moment passed. you glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow when you noticed he was still standing there. “...do you need something?”

he quickly shook his head, turning away as he muttered an apology.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it amusing. as much as you hated to admit it, having him around wasn’t unbearable.

as days turned into weeks, the distrust you held so tightly began to loosen its grip. it wasn’t like you forgot what he did, there were just moments when he seemed normal.

“you’re terrible at this,” you smirked, watching him struggle to assemble the new office chair you ordered.

he looked up at you. “i might be terrible, but at least i can read the instructions.”

you laughed.

but then you’d remember.

you’d remember the poison, the fact that this man tried to kill you for what seemed like no reason.

and everything goes back to square one.

MONTH 5.5 - T.G.I.F BY KATY PERRY

that friday, your coworkers insisted on dragging you out for a night at the club.

“let’s get wasted!” they said. “it’ll be fun!” they said.

that was probably a lie, but you gave in, changing your clothes before heading out.

neon lights shined erratically, painting the crowd in shifting shades of red, blue and green. bass-heavy music filled the club, so loud that it felt like waves went through your body. it was chaotic and packed to the brim with bodies swaying and stumbling.

it’d only been ten minutes and you already lost sight of your coworkers in the sea of people.

“shit,” you muttered under your breath, trying to find the exit.

you pushed through drunk, clumsy dancers, finally spotting the door. but as you approached it, two towering men stepped infront of it, their shoulders forming an impenetrable wall.

“wha-?” you frowned, stopping. “i can’t leave?”

they didn’t respond.

“fine, whatever,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. if you were going to be stuck here, might as well grab a drink.

you made your way to the bar, squeezing between a group of rowdy patrons to get the bartender’s attention. but just as you opened your mouth to order, you heard a voice behind you.

“hey, angel.”

you paused, glancing behind to see a man standing way too close. he was quite well-dressed, but an unsettling smirk settled on his face.

“excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“can i buy you a drink?” he purred, leaning closer. “i think i’ll regret it if i don’t.”

you blinked. “no, it’s okay-“

“-two shots of tequila,” he called out to the bartender, cutting you off.

you stared at him, barely processing his words before a shot glass was placed infront of you, the clear liquid weirdly fizzing.

“thank you, but i don’t-“

“drink.”

before you could react, his hand was at the back of your head, tilting it back as he pressed the shot glass to your lips. the liquid burned as it slid down your throat - making you cough violently while the heat seared your chest.

“wha- what is happening?” you mumbled. your limbs felt heavy and your head was spinning as your vision blurred.

the man’s smirk deepened, his face inches from yours as he gripped your wrist. “let me ask you something, angel.”

you blinked, your thoughts sluggish and messy.

“what do you know about a man named park seonghwa?”

the name hit you in the face, your breath hitching. “i-”

his grip on your wrist tightened painfully. “answer.”

“he’s just a baker,” you said quickly.

the man chuckled darkly, the sound sending a chill down your spine. “are you sure?”

you nodded, unable to form a response.

he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “then why did he poison my boss a few months ago?”

poison.

that stupid stupid word haunting you again.

the man laughed again, low and ominous. “you had a reaction there- you know something i don’t?”

you shook your head weakly, the motion making your dizziness worse. your knees buckled slightly, making you grip the edge of the sticky counter to steady yourself.

suddenly, the man’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, still holding you firmly in place.

“yeah,” he said after a moment. “i got his girlfriend right here.”

your eyes widened. “i’m not his girlfri-”

before you could finish, his hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your words.

“sleep,” he whispered, your world fading to black.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

seonghwa laid in bed, staring at the ceiling where his fan spun. with a sigh, he shifted under the covers, letting sleep take over him.

but just as he closed his eyes, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. his brows furrowed as he reached for it.

he swiped to answer it, not looking at the screen. “yes?”

“hey seonghwa,” a low, gruff voice was heard on the other end.

instantly, he was wide awake, sitting upright in the bed. his grip on the phone tightened. “...who is this?”

the voice chuckled. “i got your pretty little girlfriend right here- knocked out like a light.”

seonghwa paused. “...girlfriend?”

“yeah,” the man replied. “the chick you’re always hanging around. surprised you weren’t with her, thought i’d have to put up a fight.”

seonghwa’s blood turned cold as the realisation hit.

you.

he didn’t waste another second. he hung up immediately, throwing off the covers as he leapt out of bed, grabbing his jacket.

his footsteps echoed through the hideout as he stormed toward jongho’s room. he barged through the door without knocking, startling jongho who was hunched over his gaming setup.

jongho spun around in his chair. “what the hell-?”

“trace this number. now,” seonghwa shoved the phone into jongho’s hands.

jongho blinked. “i’m in the middle of a game.”

“i don’t care.”

jongho groaned, taking his headset off as he tapped the phone screen. “fine.”

seonghwa paced around the room like a caged animal - his fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to calm himself down. if they’d taken you, it was most definitely his fault.

“got it,” jongho said after a while, typing something into his laptop. “you want me to track the phone too?”

“yes-” seonghwa snapped. “hurry.”

jongho glanced up at him, his brows furrowed. “what’s going on?”

“someone has her,” seonghwa muttered.

jongho’s eyes widened slightly, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “i thought you were over her?”

“wha- no,” seonghwa glared at him. “just find her.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you slowly woke up, your head throbbing. your first attempt to open your eyes was met with darkness. no - something pressed against your face. a blindfold.

your body felt stiff, the coarse bite of rope digging into your wrists and ankles. inhaling shakily, you realised something else: your mouth was muffled by a towel, trapping your cries before they could escape.

panic ran around your mind as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. the surface beneath you swayed gently - and you could hear the occasional creak of metal together with muffled voices. a vehicle. you were in a moving vehicle.

but out of nowhere, you heard a shout.

“shit!”

the vehicle swerved violently, the tires screeching against the asphalt with a sound sharp enough to make you wince. your body jerked with the motion, the restraints keeping you in place. tears spilled beneath your blindfold, your breaths shallow and rapid against the towel.

the screeching came to an abrupt stop, followed by the jarring slam of a door.

what came next was a symphony of screams and the sickening, wet sounds of a blade piercing flesh, bodies hitting the ground. you clenched your fists, trembling.

the next door opened.

another scream.

another stab.

then silence.

your chest heaved, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. was this it? were you next?

then your blindfold slipped away.

your eyes fluttered open, the tears caught in your lashes making your eyelids feel heavy. when your vision eventually cleared, the first thing you saw was him.

seonghwa. his face splattered with blood, his dark eyes wide as he searched yours. his chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath.

“are you okay?” he asked, removing the towel from your mouth.

tears spilled down your cheeks faster now, your emotions overwhelming you in a way you’ve never felt before.

seonghwa’s face softened as he wiped your tears with his thumb, the blood on his hands smearing across your skin.

he moved to the ropes binding your wrists and ankles, his hands working quickly.

“i’m sorry,” he said softly. “i’m so sorry- shit. i should’ve stayed away from you.”

the moment you were free, you threw your arms around him. he stiffened at first, caught off guard, but then his hands moved to your back.

your body shook against his as you cried. over his shoulder, you saw the man at the bar - his lifeless body crumpled on the ground, stab wounds dotting him.

“i’m so sorry,” seonghwa whispered again, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “this is all my fault.”

you pulled back slightly, your face still wet with tears. his hands stayed on your shoulders. “did they hurt you?” he asked softly.

you shook your head.

the vehicle fell into a heavy silence, the only sounds being your sniffling.

seonghwa gulped. “i’m sorry-”

“-thank you,” you said at the same time.

both of you froze, your words overlapping.

you chuckled, tears still clinging to your lashes.

“i’m really sorry,” he said once more, his voice cracking.

you studied him for a moment, taking in his disheveled hair, the blood on his skin and the exhaustion in his eyes.

“...were you sleeping?” you asked, noticing the pajama shirt peeking out from under his jacket.

“yeah, i was about to.”

your eyes widened. “you saved me even though you were about to sleep?”

he raised an eyebrow. “was i not supposed to?”

you stared at him, stunned. “...thank you.”

MONTH 6 - JUST DO IT

you’ve been staring at the text for hours, the words glowing on your phone screen.

let’s meet up.

seonghwa sent it to you that morning. no follow-up, no explanation, just those three words. and yet, they felt more heavy than you could even imagine.

what could you even say?

you tried to distract yourself, grabbing your laptop and scrolling through social media, but nothing held your attention for more than a second. your mind kept drifting back to the message.

your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with another notification. not him. but you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at the text again.

let’s meet up.

‘he saved you-’ you reminded yourself. ‘-but he also tried to kill you.’

it should’ve been simple. black and white. a clear boundary between trust and mistrust. but nothing about seonghwa was simple.

when you thought about him, the first thing that came to mind wasn’t the poison or the lies.

it was his hands, trembling as he untied you.

it was his voice, breaking with regret as he apologised.

it was the way he looked at you, like he didn’t deserve your forgiveness but was desperate for it anyway.

you hated it.

you hated that he saved you. hated how jumbled your feelings were.

and most of all, you hated how much time you spent thinking about him and his stupidly flawless face.

you groaned, tossing your phone onto the couch. “this is ridiculous.”

this wasn’t what you needed right now. you grabbed your bag and went out the door. maybe grocery shopping would clear your head.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the store was crowded, filled with after-work shoppers. you walked aimlessly, picking up a few essentials here and there, but your mind was still on that text.

you stopped at the fridges, grabbing a drink. but as you turned to place it in your basket, you collided with someone. “watch it-” you began.

your words fell short when you realised you bumped into seonghwa, his phone in one hand and an awkward expression on his face. his eyes widened - and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“hey,” he said finally.

you blinked, letting out a nervous chuckle. “hey,” you raised your free hand in a small wave.

“...can we talk?”

you nodded slowly. “yeah,” you put your drink into your basket. “what’s up?”

seonghwa glanced around, looking at the other shoppers nearby. “maybe not here.”

you nodded, heading to the checkout line without another word.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you sat beside seonghwa on a wooden bench, your grocery bag resting at your feet. the both of you settled down in a park, a quieter and less busy place where you could actually breathe.

you reached for your drink, opening it. “thirsty?” you asked, holding it out to him.

he shook his head.

“i didn’t poison it,” you smirked.

seonghwa gave you a look, his ears turning pink. “you know i feel bad about that,” he muttered.

you chuckled softly, taking a sip. “sorry, sorry,” you said, turning to face him fully. “what did you want to talk about?”

he paused, hesitating as he fiddled with the edge of his jacket. “i just wanted to apologise,” he said finally.

you sighed setting the drink aside. “seonghwa- this is the hundredth time you’ve said that.”

“i know but-”

“i forgive you,” you said, your mouth moving faster than your mind.

his head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “what?”

“i forgive you,” you repeated, more confidently this time.

“...really?” he asked, completely shocked.

“yeah,” you shrugged. “you saved me. and it’s not like i can stay mad at you forever.”

seonghwa blinked. “you definitely can,” he said. “i wouldn’t blame you for it.”

silence fell between you, heavy but not uncomfortable.

his fingers brushed against yours accidentally - and he instantly pulled his hand back, his face turning a shade of red. “oh my god- i’m so sorry-”

“seonghwa,” you interrupted, reaching for his hand and holding it gently - his fingers slightly calloused. “stop apologising.”

“i can’t help it,” he admitted quietly.

everything seemed to come to a standstill.

the distant sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling faded into the background. your eyes locked, time pausing.

neither of you spoke.

slowly, almost unconsciously, you both leaned closer. the faint warmth of his breath brushed against your lips, uneven and nervous, mirroring your own.

you blinked, your breath caught in your throat when you realised just how close his face was to yours. “woah..” you whispered.

seonghwa immediately leaned back, clearing his throat. “sorry-”

before he could retreat any further, you reached out instinctively, your fingers curling around his jaw - his skin hot under your touch. “stop saying that,” you mumbled, your thumb brushing lightly against his cheek.

he froze, his eyes searching yours for something - permission, reassurance or maybe a blend of both.

you saw how he looked down at your lips for a split second, his adam’s apple bobbing. “...is this okay?” seonghwa breathed out shakily.

you smiled softly, your thumb tracing slow circles on his jaw. “of course.”

the moment his lips pressed against yours, the world disappeared.

his shoulders relaxed as he leaned into you, his hand rising to cup your cheek. his touch was careful, as if he was afraid of hurting you in some way.

your lips moved together in a soft, slow rhythm, the warmth of him spreading through you like a comforting fire.

the sensation was intoxicating - and you found yourselves melting into each other’s touch.

seonghwa’s breath hitched as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. his heart pounded against yours, a blush creeping up his neck, leaving him lightheaded.

when you finally pulled back, your lips were tingling. and before you could say anything, seonghwa leaned forward again, leaving a trail of kisses along your jawline.

“hey!”

a voice broke the moment like a needle popping a balloon. both of you jumped, your heads snapping toward the sound.

a parent stood not too far away, their hands clamped over their child’s eyes. “please do this at home or something,” they said, glaring at the two of you before walking away quickly.

you and seonghwa exchanged a look, your cheeks flushing as you tried to stifle your laughter.

“yeah,” he said, looking into your eyes, then at your lips. “let’s do this somewhere else.”

series taglist [OPEN] - @hanoishere @scuzmunkie @sinfullygay @arusio @midnightrebel1028 @neemaxx @seungminsrighthand @arilevenatz @ateezswonderland @beabatiny @lemirabitur @sunnyhokyu @frzzenfrxg @cylovesmg @txtsoobean @seonghwasslytherin @sundaybossanova @sweetinsaniiity @cybrnaya @choisanchwego @mrskill2 @devilzliaison @scary-thingz @gaonashi @jonghosbrainrot @mintchocoyum

BONUS SCENE - CUE THE MARIACHI BAND

you stirred awake to the faint aroma of something tasty wafting through the air. groggily, you rubbed your eyes open, only to find seonghwa standing by the bed, a tray in his hands.

“happy anniversary,” he said softly, his lips curving into a smile.

you pushed yourself up on the pillows, your eyes wide with surprise as you took in the tray - a plate of freshly baked bread and scrambled eggs.

“thank you..” you mumbled, half-asleep but touched by the gesture.

seonghwa stepped closer, carefully placing the tray on your lap. he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “eat quickly,” he said with a hint of excitement. “i got you something.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i thought we said no gifts this year.”

he shrugged, smirking. “i lied.”

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop a smile from forming on your lips. you grabbed a piece of bread and started eating. it was perfect, just like everything he made.

when you were finished, you slid out of bed, wrapping your cardigan tighter around yourself. you walked to where seonghwa was, sitting next to him.

“seonghwa,” you began. “we agreed- no gifts.”

“i know,” he said, reaching for something on the coffee table. “but i changed my mind.”

your eyes landed on the envelope in his hands. you stared at it as he handed it to you, your brows furrowing slightly. “what’s this?” you asked, taking it hesitantly.

“open it.”

sliding your finger under the seal, you pulled out a letter. as your eyes skimmed the words, your jaw dropped.

“...is this-?”

“yeah.”

“you paid for my school?!” you exclaimed in disbelief.

he nodded. “you wanted to be an architect, right?”

“i do but..” you looked at him in shock, the letter trembling in your hands. “isn’t it expensive?”

“so?” he leaned closer to you, pulling you gently towards him.

your lips parted, trying to form words. “but you paid in full-”

“it doesn’t matter,” he cut you off softly, pecking your cheek. “i wanted to do it. for you.”

you searched his eyes, completely stunned. he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

when you eventually pulled away, he didn’t let you go fully. instead, he smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “happy anniversary.”

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