#ojii-chan?

[cocotome]

Wahhh! A 14min video interview with Hirarin for hi character APPLe in Reverse:1999!!

In the beginning he mentions how he looked through images of the game and noticed there were a lot of cute girls. That made him wonder what type of character he'd be voicing. Then he was surprised when he saw it was an apple lol! He said he's voiced characters in games like this before but voicing an apple would be a first for him.

I love how even he was shocked that he'd be voicing a piece of fruit XD However, there are other inanimate objects that can speak like armor and radios so it's not so weird considering the game.

[mikuni14]

Vee being his flirty, smitten self 😍

Bonus: San's fantasy Vee:

[zeravmeta]

director...!

[tigresslanzhu]

At Every Hotel

Rosita: Clean up this mess, Johnny!

Johnny: What? Don’t we have hotel staff to do that for us?

Rosita: We can help them out wherever we can. There’s no excuse to decide that hotel time is lazy time, right, Meena?

Meena: Exactly! I don’t see a reason why we can’t clean up after ourselves.

Johnny: Meena! She’s brainwashed you!

Rosita: Uh, no! It’s called being a good girl and not giving people a hard time and behaving! You should try it sometime!

Johnny: I CAN’T BE A GIRL IN LESS THAN AN HOUR!

Rosita: Sheesh!

[tigresslanzhu]

No! The other guy was the pick-me in this situation!

Meena-Chan was just loving her grandpa!

Spot the difference (Impossible)

[fujoshirat]

When the Shouto Todoroki saves you and your kindergarten students at the aquarium during a villain attack, you can't seem to get him out of your head. Bonus: you're quirkless and he's a pro hero, so you live in two different worlds. The glue? His cute nephew that's obsessed with rocks and that just so happens to be in your kindergarten class.

In short: You've become obsessed, you suppose. But that's all right, you're not the only one that's obsessed.

WARNING: Todoroki family troubles (in the eyes of Kaoru); Kaoru's rock collection hyperfixation! Please note that this chapter is written in lovely, little, mature, and smart Kaoru Todoroki's POV ♡ (so the improper grammar is intentional I promise 😓😖)

Note! "Oji-san" refers to Shouto, Kaoru's uncle. "Ojii-san" refers to Enji, Kaoru's grandfather. "Baa-chan" refers to Rei, Kaoru's grandmother. "Oba-san" refers to Fuyumi, Kaoru's auntie.

Part 1! Part 2!

3 - Things That Kaoru Loves

Kaoru loves his oji-san. Oji-san was the most coolest, most specialist person he knows. He could make fire dance in his palms-so cool! And then FWOOSH-he can make ice appear too! Kaoru liked to pretend that he could do that. When he gained his quirk on his fifth birthday six months ago, he knew that he wanted to be just like his oji-san. He wanted to learn from his oji-san how to use his ice quirk. Sure, Kaoru loved his dad and wanted to learn how to control his ice from him too, but oji-san? Oji-san was ultra cool! Oji-san was friends with cool people too. He told Kaoru stories about Deku and Dynamite, about his ojii-san before he retired, about the super cool All Might!

Kaoru loves his teacher. Y/N-sensei always smiled at him in the morning and helped him tie his shoelaces. Y/N-sensei's voice was soft. She wasn't noisy like his teacher last year (so stinky and mean). Y/N-sensei smelled like the peaches (his favorite) at the store that his dad always takes him to so they have dinner. She didn't have a quirk, but Y/N-sensei was one of his heroes, too. When she would give him a piece of candy and a bright smile for completing his work correctly, Kaoru's tummy would feel warm and happy. Most of all, Y/N-sensei thought his rock collection was so cool. "Y/N-sensei, my oji-san got me a new rock." "Oh really? That's so cool! You should bring it for show and tell tomorrow!"

Kaoru loves his rock collection. On his fourth birthday, his dad gave him a little wooden box with a few shiny rocks inside. When he lightly shook the box, they made a clinking, rattling sound.

"Kaoru-kun, do you know what these are?"

"Rocks."

"Yes, but, their special rocks. Do you notice anything about them?"

Upon further inspection, the little boy noticed that they had swirls of color and shone like tiny treasure in the light. Each rock was different: some were smooth, some were jagged, some had multiple hues while others had only one vivid color. Since then, Kaoru's made it his mission to find more rocks. Anywhere he went->the grocery store, baa-chan's backyard, the beach->he would pick up a special-looking rock and add it to the little wooden box of treasures. He didn't care of some of the rocks he found were "dull" (that's what Taro-kun said, but he doesn't know anything about rocks). All of Kaoru's rocks had a story, just like how his oji-san always had a story to tell him whenever Kaoru saw him at his house. His oji-san sometimes brought him rocks too. He'd gift them to Kaoru for Christmas or after missions. Kaoru's collection had grown so big that his oba-san bought him a new box for his fifth birthday. Now, he could fit his newer rocks in plus his super cool new fossil that his oji-san got him when he went to America last month.

Kaoru doesn't understand grown-up stuff. He doesn't understand why baa-chan and ojii-san never hug like the grandparents on Bluey, or why he doesn't have a mom like Mio-san. He asked his dad once, when it was bring-your-kid-to-work-day at the clinic, but his father just smiled at him. "Papa's got his hands full with you and his clinic. Besides, you've got me and all of your family. Isn't that enough?" Kaoru thinks that it's enough, he loves his dad more than anything in the world. More than more than Y/N-sensei, more than his oji-san, more than his rock collection. However, that didn't quench his curiosity. He still occasionally wondered why he didn't have a nice mom to bring to the school play or put little notes in his lunchbox like his friends did. Dad was too busy to do that. He made yummy food and tucked Kaoru into bed and went to all of his school events, but his doctor job at the clinic sometimes took him away from Kaoru.

The thing that Kaoru doesn't understand the most is why his oji-san and L/N-sensei weren't together. They liked each other, right? Oji-san looked a little silly whenever he saw Y/N-sensei. His ears would turn red and he would stutter. Y/N-sensei would smile extra cheerfully and play with her skirt. That's how you knew that someone likes someone, right? Himari-chan taught him that when she was practicing her reading at school.

"Kaoru-kun! The book says that if someone likes someone, they turn red and stu-stu- uhm...How do I say this?" "Stutter?" "Yeah! And smile super bright!"

Kaoru's curious about the world around him, but it doesn't matter. As he takes a bite out of his strawberry ice cream, he looks up at his uncle, who's also holding strawberry ice cream. Oh well, he supposes, that's why he's only five.

.

.

.

But then, Kaoru gets the most coolest, genius idea ever for a five-and-a-half-year-old.

"Oji-san," he swallows some ice cream, "you should give Y/N-sensei a rock." The tall man's eyebrows lift slightly. "...A rock?"

"Mhm." lick. "Like the Adelie penguins." lick. "Adelie penguin boys give a girl penguin a rock because he loves her," he recites word-for-word, exactly what he remembers his teacher telling him. Shouto's cheeks flush red as he finishes his ice cream.

"How can you tell that I like her?"

Kaoru kicks at the concrete under his feet, continuing to eat his ice cream. "Your ears turn red and you start stuttering. And then when Y/N-sensei sees you, she starts smiling a lot and playing with her skirt, like oba-san does when she sees her boyfriend." The five-year-old can't help but grin when he sees his oji-san's jaw drop.

"You're... very observative."

"That's what Y/N-sensei says."

Shouto smiles at that. When he begins speaking again, his voice is gentle. "Kaoru-kun, it's more complicated than giving someone a rock."

The little boy finishes his ice cream, a small frown appearing on his face. "But why?" The pro hero hesitates for a second. His voice comes out softly, almost like a whisper. "It's not easy to tell someone how you feel, even if you really like them." 'But if Y/N-sensei sees a pretty rock, she'll be happy,' Kaoru thinks to himself. Scanning the few pebbles nearby, he absentmindedly picks up a smooth, speckled stone.

"Oji-san, what if someone else gives her a rock before you do?"

Kaoru's words seem to hit something in his uncle, because suddenly his eyes widen and his left side twitches. Shouto's nephew watches him take a breath before smiling again, reaching down to ruffle Kaoru's hair. He whines in protest: "Oji-san!" Shouto chuckles and crouches down to the little boy's level.

"You're smart, Kaoru-kun. You're a good kid. Don't ever change, okay?" The man's eyes wander to Kaoru's right hand, where the spotted stone rested. He quirks a brow at the sight.

"You should give her this rock, oji-san. She'll love it."

Shouto laughs warmly, eyes crinkling slightly and hand patting his nephew's shoulder. "Alright, I'll do it." Kaoru's eyes widen and sparkle, and he eagerly hands Shouto the rock. He jumps up and down excitedly, the most excitement he's ever shown in his life.

"Yes!"

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Shouto loves his nephew. He doesn't think that his rock collection obsession is weird, he thinks it's cute (it gives him nostalgia about Izuku's All Might hyperfixation). Shouto's frankly impressed by how smart and perceptive Kaoru is. He definitely did not expect Kaoru to pick up on his crush on L/N-san. 'Am I that obvious??' Kaoru's a smart boy too. According to to Natsuo and the beautiful L/N-san, Kaoru's top of his class even though he doesn't like talking much. Shouto doesn't understand kids, but he understands Kaoru. He understands how excited the little boy gets when he finds the perfect rock. Shouto thinks-no, knows-that you're the perfect gem. You're caring, sweet, attentive, bright, positive, everything he thinks he lacks.

And maybe Kaoru sees your real beauty, too, because here he is, telling Shouto to give the most perfect woman a rock.

To treasure the finest treasure that he's found: you.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: That's it for part 3! I hope you enjoyed it (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) Thank you so much for reading this part and the entire series so far!! I love love love the cutest little Kaoru Todoroki ToT It was a challenge writing the POV of a five-and-a-half-year-old, so I apologize for making him REALLY mature! I did envision him to be a mature and smart kid (like ShouShou <3), but I think I overdid it ><

Anyways! Thank you for your patience regarding this part and all of my works in general! I hope that the wait wasn't too long, and that this made up for it ♡\(´･ᴗ･`)

And finally: THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE FOR ALL OF THE LOVE AND SUPPORT! Parts 1 and 2 really blew up, Part 1 reaching over 300 likes! When I first made this account, I would have never expected to reach that many people. You all really make my days and I'm just so thankful for the positivity ദ്ദിദ്ദി(˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) If you couldn't already tell, I am an amateur writer. I've been in this fandom and Tumblr for a LONGGG time, but have never found the motivation to write until now. Receiving this much love and positivity is really amazing and I hope to continue making good works and content <3

Just like before, I hope you look forward to the next part! I'll try to get it done as soon as possible depending on my schedule. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!

TAGLIST: ♡♡ @roseapov @brittanylikesstuff @stanseventeen @qardasngan @jastoo46 @kysoshir0

[moontheoretist]

Fel Ojii-chan... <3

[wannabepoeticischiya]

Weak

[ 06 ] — the line of idiots

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A loud, obnoxious wail shattered the tranquility blanketing the Gojo Estate, waking the few people still held by the warm embrace of slumber. The sun had yet to pass the skyline, hues of blue and orange painted on the canvas overhead, morning dew shimmering like gemstones as the first rays of sunlight refracted against them. A lone morning breeze swayed against the figures in the courtyard, ruffling the snow-colored threads perched upon their heads, and the fine silks adorning their body.

"OJII-CHAN, WHY? TAKE IT BACK!"

How it came to this, Satoru did not know. A few moons ago, until the midnight sun was directly overhead, he kept his eyes peeled, wracking his brain trying to figure out why his friend (still self-proclaimed) had yet to make her appearance despite the many, many days that have passed them by. At first, Satoru tried to maintain a positive outlook about it, repeatedly chanting to himself that (Y/n) was busy, that she probably had other errands to run but... what exactly can a seven-year-old be assigned to that would take her this long to complete? And why didn't his grandfather tell him anything about it?

So, the young Gojo heir came to the conclusion that perhaps—this time around—he took some things too far or that he never exerted effort on something his grandfather had told him to do. And this was the old man's way of setting his punishment for slacking off... by taking his only company away.

Nonetheless, he was not delighted. Oh, not one bit.

As a way to get back at the one who caused his misery, he clung to the back of his grandfather's kimono, wiping his snot and tears on the newly commissioned garment. Satoru's weight was not necessarily a hindrance for the experienced sorcerer, what was a bother was his incessant wailing and ridiculous pleading.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME." He cried.

"As far as anybody is concerned, my dear grandson... yes, I actually can." The older man said, calmly. He was used to the young lad's tantrums, often just letting the boy tire himself out—which he would... eventually—but that didn't mean that it made dealing with the event itself a lot easier.

"NO! JUST TELL ME THAT YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE!"

"Child, you are being dramatic..."

Satoru's brain could not comprehend why this was happening. Still sagged against his grandfather's kimono and being dragged to the meeting hall, he tuned out all the tumult; pondering about the things he had done that just fell short of the Gojo Clan's expectations.

You're doing great, Gojo-sama!

What remarkable talent at such a young age!

Just a few more practices and you'll surpass even the greatest of masters! As expected of you, Satoru-sama.

He was doing just fine—excellent, even—according to the people around him. They smiled at him as though he would be the one to bring salvation into this monkey-infested world; praised him as someone would when met with an individual destined to be greater than everybody else. If they could, these people would have worshiped the ground he walked upon; built a temple in his honor.

Satoru bathed in their flowery sentiments. He reveled in the way they would grovel at his feet if he asked them to—and he did. The Gojo Heir would get a sick thrill out of others lowering themselves for him just so that he could step on them one by one. They would deem it a privilege—something to be grateful for even if it meant that they would lose their dignity and their entire identity altogether.

Still, no matter how much glory was served to him on a silver platter, it did not change the reality that they lacked sincerity.

Empty. That's what they were.

These people spoke words that he wanted to hear. Always the words of encouragement. Words that would get them to his good side. They were nothing but hilarious soliloquies sanctimoniously performed in front of the human they equated as a god but behind closed doors, wholeheartedly believed and made out to be a fool. All superficial flattery that hid their rotting desires inefficiently.

Idiot! You're doing it wrong.

That's what'll happen when you don't listen to instructions. Do it again!

Are you blind? It's right here. You see, this is what happens when you're so quick to use your mouth to complain instead of using your eyes to actually look!

The words of his one true friend (again, still self-proclaimed) were not any better. Most of the time they were insults, things uttered to purposely provoke him, declarations made in the heat of anger and annoyance. They cut deep, often leaving a trail of tears in their wake.

But they rang true.

Well, most of the time they did.

It was nice to be acknowledged for the things that you did, yes. To be praised for your accomplishments, no matter how menial or grand.

But over time, it does become overbearing.

To be free from flaws. For your actions to be compartmentalized as nothing less than righteous and just. To be so incandescently perfect, to be condemned to no more than a figure of false divinity.

Who could stand to bear such a fate?

Hypnotized to be kept in an endless cycle of perfection left him thinking he had no more room for growth.

If you get hurt, I'm not gonna help you.

Say it with me now, I did this to myself so I shouldn't complain.

Take my hand, stupid. On three, I'm going to pull you up.

But her words shattered the chains that bound him to the destiny he did not want to follow. All those tears he shed, the crevices scattered upon the meadows of his pride, forests of ideology burned to ash—even if he did not know the reasons for them at the moment, he would soon come to find that they happened because it would give way for a new him to come into being.

Even if (Y/n) would not admit it—which he doubts she ever would—but her declarations, no matter how much she coated them with anger and spite, to Satoru... they held more warmth and sincerity than what his entire clan could ever hope to gather beyond their lifetimes.

Satoru knew he could confide in them because (Y/n) did not want anything to do with him.

He knew that, of course.

Satoru would be an even bigger fool than what the elders believed he was if he tried to deny what was so painstakingly obvious...

That (Y/n) did not like him, and that she did not want to be his friend.

The Gojo Heir did not want to say that she was different because she wasn't. Naturally, no one wanted to be near him for fear of inferiority or endangerment, it was all a matter of what would come first, really. Even if it wasn't spelled out in big, bold letters, he knew that people only confided in him because they needed something. He knew that the only reason someone would approach him out of their own jurisdiction was because he was useful—because he had the six eyes, the limitless.

It never strayed far from that... and he doubts that it ever will.

(Y/n) did not want to be near him. So, regardless of her reasons... she was just like everyone else.

The only difference is that she stayed.

And that was more than enough for Satoru.

"OJII-CHAN!"

After that punishingly tedious task of walking to the meeting hall, Satoru had yet to cease his hold on his grandfather's robe; opting to bury his tear-stained face in them rather than to be continuously denied of a simple request.

Some would say Satoru got a little too comfortable with always getting what he wanted. His grandfather would agree, for he was facing the consequences of it first-hand. It was hard to say no to him.

"I PROMISE I'LL BE GOOD! I WON'T CAUSE YOU ANY TROUBLE FOR A WEEK—NO, A MONTH! PLEASE!"

The old sorcerer could do nothing but sigh for what seemed to be the hundredth time that morning at his grandson's relentless beseeching. He almost caved into that very tempting offer, almost. It seemed far too good to be true—too good to pass up. No crying house aids? No ridiculous stunts on the estate grounds? Peace and quiet not for a day, not for a week... but for a whole, entire month?

"Satoshi-sama," a call from opened shoji screens shattered the Gojo Head's impulse to agree, "they're waiting for you."

At the mention of other people's presence, Satoru's attention diverted from ruining his grandfather's clothes to trying to peek past the figure of the person standing in the middle of the way into the room.

"Wonderful."

The alternative meaning of Gojo Elder's statement was: Oh, thank the heavens! I didn't think I could stand another minute dealing with a whiny Satoru, not when he nearly caught me in that trap. He shuddered at that thought. His grandson could be devious if he wanted to be.

The servant moved away from the threshold, folding his knees, and bowing deeply to the prominent figures of the Gojo Clan.

Clothed feet thudded softly against the tatami flooring, sunlight streamed through the opened window panels, flooding the room with light dyed in a warm hue. The Gojo Elder stopped shortly in front of the two kowtowing figures awaiting his appearance, his grandson still absentmindedly tailing (dragging) behind him. The people who awaited his command wore the standardized hakama for household servants: a dull blue, loose top with sleeves that were held back by a white string, accompanied by gray ankle-length pants. They were simple clothing, really, every household aid wore them even...

"(Y/n)?"

And there she was, the person Satoru had been longing to see for the past two weeks, kneeling before him as though she was nothing but less than him. It seemed that Satoru would often forget that she was. But even so, he wanted to ask her so many things...

Are you alright?

Were you getting enough sleep?

Are you eating enough?

Where did you go?

Why did you take so long to come back?

Her hair, which was nearing the bottom of her spine when he last saw her, now only went a little past her shoulders; a little uneven. Anyone could tell it was done in haste. Clinging to the skin of her right cheek was a big, white plaster. At the littlest movements of her arms, Satoru caught a glimpse of a sliver of white cloth encasing her forearms. Bandages.

Did she get hurt... why?

Who... who would hurt you?

"Ah, I'm glad the two of you have made it." Satoru's grandfather seemed elated at the sight before him. As for why he was, the Gojo heir was yet to find out.

"Satoru, I'd like you to meet someone."

The older sorcerer ushered his grandson out of his hiding place, which proved to be a much harder task than what he initially thought would be just a simple nudge in the general direction of the newcomer, for the young boy stayed rooted to where he stood... which was directly on top of the hem of his grandfather's very stained, newly commissioned kimono.

Satoru's gaze remained on the apathetic expression painted on (Y/n)'s face, frozen. He wanted to ask her so many things, tell her all about the events that transpired during the time of her absence. 

But he just stood there like a statue.

"Satoru, this is Nagano Kiyu." The words his grandfather spoke fell deaf to his ears. It sounded as though he was submerged underwater, sinking deeper into the abyss as the breath in his lungs escaped him through the bubbles that would part from his lips. He had an inkling feeling of the next phrases that old man would say... and he was willing to use all his birthday wishes for his instinct to be proven untrue.

The young Gojo heir didn't think he was particularly indigent of (Y/n)'s companionship, he took what she gave him with open arms and had been grateful for every single one of them. So, right now... he didn't know what to make of it. Satoru, for once, did not know how to react.

"—this is Kiyu, Satoru's new... aide."

Not when her actions towards him breathed as though he was anything but himself like he was nothing more than a passing stranger.

(Y/n)... his friend, (Y/n)... was being replaced.

Why...?

The only one who's ever been true, (Y/n)... she was...

It was almost comical how every single person in the room took the news. Kiyu, the newcomer, had stars for eyes at the sight of the snow-haired boy. It didn't take a genius to tell that she had been dreaming of this moment for a long time. (Y/n), as per usual, looked as though she wanted to be anywhere but right here; the previously spotless bandage on her cheek now had little dots of red decorating it. Finally, Satoru, who was only informed of (Y/n)'s uh future short voyage just last night, had blanched at the change of plans; no one mentioned a replacement. All his begging to tag along with her had now looked as though it was all for naught.

The Gojo Head stood in the midst of it all, staring awkwardly at the outcome his information had brought.

Satoru tried to catch (Y/n)'s gaze. He wanted to see that familiar glint of haughtiness—even go as far as to make jokes of his own blind faith. He hoped that this was one of the lessons he needed to learn the hard way, you know... by shattering his hopes along with his heart completely. Anything but whatever it was that was approaching. But (Y/n), as she was, had found the floor a lot more worthy of her attention than him.

"Well? My boy, say hello to—"

The sound of his grandfather's sorry attempt at cutting through the tension snapped him back to retaliate.

"But Ojiichan, why?" Satoru's voice echoed within the four walls, loud enough that even if some of the screens were undone, his complaint hit the older sorcerer at full force. It was evident that the young lad didn't take the news all that well. And he was going to make sure that everyone else would suffer from it.

"Well, it's because (Y/n)-chan here—"

With her heart pounding desperately against the walls of her chest, (Y/n) darted her eyes to look at the Gojo Head, an impudent action for she was not given permission to raise her head, but the realization came a little too late.

A stinging feeling erupted from the base of her foot all the way to the back of her eyes, forcing her to keel over once more; reminding her of her place, where she stood amongst it all. (Y/n) wanted to protest. To have the Gojo Elder withhold just this fragment of information from his grandson—from Satoru. Yet her lips remained shut, bordered by the teeth she ground together.

"—has to go somewhere."

The young sorceress let her thoughts run freely. You didn't have to sugarcoat it. Tell him the truth. It didn't even register at first, the slip-up of the Gojo Elder, far too occupied with cursing everyone and everything that damned her to this fate. The news of her departure was not meant to be disclosed until the day after she actually leaves, for good reasons—and the mortified reaction of the white-haired creature a few paces from her had proven why.

"What...? Where?! Why?! OJIICHAN THIS IS UNFAIR!" He complained, a disbelieving tone at first before it transcended into frustrated, angry, accusatory yelling. "You told me it was only for a while! Why does (Y/n) need to be replaced when she'll only be gone for a while? Are you lying to me? Just—just tell me you don't care about me anymore!"

Why does he have to be so dramatic?

"Don't be sad, my boy... that is why I have arranged a temporary substitute for (Y/n)." The older sorcerer gestured to the new arrival, with half a mind berating his grandson for acting like a dimwitted fool who was heavily reliant on another.

Satoru took one look at the person now standing beside his grandfather, eyeing her from head to toe before saying a clear, hate-driven—

"No."

Stepping away from his grandfather and his stained garment, Satoru sat himself beside (Y/n), whose forehead still laid flat against the floors. He crossed his arms over his chest, superciliously craning his attention towards other mundane things.

Oh, he meant every bit of disrespect.

Satoru made it clear with his wordless response: either (Y/n) stays here, or he was going to make anything and everything harder than it had to be. He is a hard worker after all.

Deafening silence permeated the distance between the four people in the room, even the clamor of the workers preparing for the day did not pierce through the tension in the air.

"B-But Satoru-kun..."

Satoru whipped his head to face the one who had spoken, his sky-dyed eyes glared coldly and threateningly at the poor girl. "It's Gojo-sama to you." He snarled.

It didn't escape the young lad's eyes the way this Kiyu girl cowered away from him, he got that a lot, so it seemed. Satoru didn't mind. In fact, he was more than happy to put this servant back in her place, who did she think she was? Calling his name with so much unwelcome familiarity. However, what unnerved him so was the expression carved upon her face the moment her eyes strained to the floor.

What's there to smile about? Weirdo.

. . .

The sun began to hide behind the towering skyscrapers of Tokyo, painting the once azure sky with hues of pink and orange, dyeing the rest with shades of dark violet and ocean blue. A lone afternoon breeze swayed the trees to its melody, causing a few petals to drift toward the large estate bordered by well-kept gardens.

A thunder of footsteps echoed within the corridors of the Gojo estate accompanied by faint whispers of 'Go away' and 'Leave me alone'; answered by a very persistent 'No' and 'Let's have a sleepover'. (Y/n) ran through the hallways of the massive residence, careful not to break anything she could not afford to replace, chased down by what looked to be a bundle of blankets with feet and snowy-white hair.

"You two, please don't run in the halls!"

It baffled her so; how could that idiot even see? The sheets are practically taller than him!

Was the thought that raced through (Y/n)'s head as she turned the corner. She hurriedly slid her door open, eager to lose that demon-spawn hunting her down. Shutting it tightly, the young girl let herself fall to the floor... too tired to silence the incessant knocks on her doorway.

"(Y/n)?"

Silence.

"I know you're in there..."

(Y/n) deemed it futile to hide her snarl. After all, no one but herself could see that nearly unpaintable expression of annoyance plastered upon her face.

"You know I won't go away until you let me in!"

This idiot! Satoru could really be persistent if he wanted to.

"Oh~ is that Grandpa I see—"

And with that, the door opened with a bang. Satoru nearly jumped out of his wits as he heard a very noticeable crack come from the wood.

He stared as the girl looked from left to right, taking in the sight that the threat was empty and that if she were to put him in his place, she would not get in trouble right away. A wicked smile graced her face at the thought as she intimidatingly loomed over him.

Girls were normally taller than boys during this time of life but to Satoru, (Y/n) looked as though she would continue to tower over him like this for all eternity; like prey being stared down, ready to be killed at a moment's notice.

Satoru would've never admitted it out loud, but the sight of the older girl, up and ready to mutilate his body terrified him beyond existence.

"I—I'm—"

"You," she seethed, pointing a daunting finger down at the poor quivering boy, "I've had enough of you—don't make me peel off your face."

(Y/n) spread and hovered her fingers over Satoru's neck, all it took was a little more fire and the root of all her demise would be as good as memory. He did this. It was all his fault!

Looking at him had (Y/n)'s heart beating in an irregular manner, she felt the back of her eyes burn painfully at the sight of him, as though the scenery was being carved into them. The anger. At this moment, rang true for (Y/n).

This is exactly why you're being sent away, you ill-mannered brat.

How many more acts of disrespect did you think he was going to take from you?

This is what you deserve. Either you crawl out of there by the skin of your teeth... or die trying!

To her, he had no right to assert himself as a concerned friend when he—he was the one to—

"I just—I just wanted to spend time with you, (Y/n)! You're... you're leaving soon, aren't you? So, I—I just... wanted to..." Satoru found himself losing his script, the words flew out of his mouth so unceremoniously. He had it all planned out, what he was going to say, the right words that were sure to get him out of the gutter with this one but right now, it felt as though he was digging an even bigger hole for himself.

"I missed you, (Y/n)."

"And you're going away again when I only got to see you today so... I wanted to make up for all the time we spent apart... if you would let me."

It felt odd to ask for other people's agreement. Satoru was so used to taking what he wanted when he wanted, to be given something he wished for simply because he asked for it.

This time around, he didn't want to be like that. He feared that if he clung desperately to (Y/n), it would only push her away from him even more. So, he waited; told himself that no matter her answer, he would accept it. Satoru's eyes stared at the floor with such ferocity that he was sure he would burn through it if he kept at it for the rest of the night, which he silently hoped he wouldn't. No matter how many times the Gojo heir told himself that he would take any answer that (Y/n) would give him, the sorcerer in question, knew that Satoru did not want to be rejected. She could easily tell; it didn't take a genius to see that much. The way he braced himself as though he was going to get hurt, that alone gave it all away.

Because Gojo Satoru valued her thoughts of him more than anybody else's.

As (Y/n) took an intake of air to politely answer, her head craned to look at the person standing at the end of the hallway.

"Gojo-sama, supper is awaiting you in your sleeping quarters."

At the sound of that voice, the events that took place earlier today rushed back to (Y/n) at full force. It did not occur to the young sorcerer that she had been putting off thinking about it until she was left with no other choice but to confront the situation.

Much like the incident that transpired hours before, Satoru spared not a single breath towards Kiyu's direction, even after she closed the distance between them to a mere arm's length; preferring to keep his gaze settled on the person standing before him.

"You can have it. I'm not going there."

Satoru's short, seemingly sufficient answer was enough to snap her out of her momentary reverie.

(Y/n) didn't dislike her replacement. Nagano Kiyu's existence served as a constant reminder of her approaching departure, that she would be away from the creature before her even if she had to spend those moments walking between the borders of the living and the dead. Kiyu was tolerable—or so (Y/n) liked to tell herself—and her gratitude did extend itself to the person in question when in reality, it was only extensive enough to graze its recipient. (Y/n) was grateful that Nagano Kiyu would stand as that demon spawn's companion in her absence. However, what aggravated her was that look Nagano was giving her.

"Sa—Gojō-sama, you have to rest... we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow—"

The insolent expression painted on her face said it all: I'm going to take your job.

To be perfectly blunt, (Y/n) could care less. She'd be more than willing to hand over this horrifying task to Kiyu if she was so desperate for it. She was sure of it.

So why did her hand ache to crush that audacious hand valiantly reaching out to touch the Gojo Heir?

"Who said that I was going to spend tomorrow with you?" His head titled sideways, for the second time that day, looking to the servant who had so brazenly declared such sentiments. Satoru sneered at her in such a way that it almost looked as if he was daring Kiyu to finish her interrupted assertion.

"You low-class scum."

It felt as though the three of them starred in a theatrical performance where the world is the stage; left to be puppets tied to the script, actions controlled by a director they could no longer reach.

"You're just a liability. Taken in by my grandfather because you couldn't give anything for the world—who would ever want you? Filthy monkey."

Gojo's words echoed throughout the halls, ringing in the ears of the two servants. He forgets sometimes... that when he utters words to degrade Kiyu, they come right back to push his one true friend to the ground.

And for a pause not longer than a blink of an eye, (Y/n)'s heart breaks a little more.

To hear the words come right out of his mouth—from Satoru who had so boisterously declared to the world that they were friends. To see the mirror of herself in the person he was reducing to something less than human—to be reminded that during once upon a time, it was her who was at the receiving end of those harsh remarks.

(Y/n) didn't want to hear any more of Satoru's insults towards the innocent replacement. The older girl might as well stand in the shoes of Kiyu if she had to hear another insult come from Satoru; be the one whose eyes brimmed with a silver lining, the one whose cheeks were reddened, hair tangled from all the pulling and dragging, thrown across the floor from a hit so strong it would leave your face bruised for a long time. Might as well go back to that place, stay in the presence of that man.

There was no denying that Kiyo was bitter and held all sorts of envy towards her—that Kiyo was quick to anger, to covet the things (Y/n) had, to assume that she would be the villain standing in her way to greatness.

But was that truly a reason worthy enough to hold against the younger girl?

It wasn't.

Because Kiyu was mistaken—and because just like Kiyu, (Y/n) had once longed to find her purpose... to find something meaningful to do with the life she was allowed to keep.

And for a while, she thought she was lucky to have been given one.

After all, (Y/n) and Kiyu were on the same boat.

Just like Kiyu, (Y/n) was taken in by the Head of the household. And just as (Y/n) once was, Kiyu longed to find something precious to hold onto—to serve as an anchor in a world so tumultuous.

If Satoru deemed Kiyo worthless, nothing more than another burden for the Gojō clan to shelter... how would (Y/n) be any different?

So, she walked away.

Failing to lull the tremble in her breath or hide the shudder of her hands... leaving the pieces of her battered heart scattered across the floor, dying just a little more at the echo of his words, at the stain of tears on the mahogany ground.

. . .

Moonlight flowed like silver water through the opened window, shining down on the figure of a girl lying on a futon in the middle of the small room. A lone evening breeze waltzed in between the curtains, making them flow like waves crashing on shore. (Y/n) snuggled further into the warmth of her covers, recalling a faint, albeit unfamiliar voice, whispering in a soft, kind manner. Words that she could never quite hear nor understand.

(Y/n) didn't bother looking up or retaliating when she heard her door open for the millionth time that day.

The intruder was probably far too daft to notice that she wasn't even asleep anyway.

As much as (Y/n) wanted to crawl away when she felt something lay near her space, she couldn't... not even when she heard him whisper into the stillness of the night.

"... please stay a little longer."

⟵ prev | master list | next ⟶

Satoru's grandfather, or any relative aside from Yuuta has no name so I'm just gonna make one up for the sake of the story. Also, hair length in this chapter may sorta be sometimes set... I hope you don't mind.

[askaceattorney]

Dear Anonymous,

As my Ojii-chan always tells me, never slam the desk with your leg.

Especially so if thou werest not taught by the Reaper himself.

- Phoenix Wright

[dollfishu]

Best Ojii-chan ❤️❤️❤️

My Rough Translation:

Iruma: ...Huh...Grandpa....

Sullivan: Did I wake you up? Did I shake you too much, is it uncomfortable?

[cyllres]

Devil | JJK x Makima! Reader

Chapter 07

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing off the cold night air. The dim light of the hallway barely touched the edges of the deepening shadows inside the house. As you stepped into the warmth of your home, the stillness was interrupted by the urgent sound of Yuuji's voice.

"Imouto-chan," he called out, his tone sharp with anxiety. You saw him rush towards you, his face etched with worry. "I'm glad you're home."

His words were a rapid blur, each sentence a jumbled rush as he explained the situation. "Ojii-chan was rushed to the hospital, and I couldn't stay with him because I didn't want you to come back to an empty house. So our neighbors went with him." His eyes were wide, his expression torn between concern for your grandfather and the immediate need to convey this information to you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. The overwhelming sensation that had plagued you in the park was still there, pressing down on you like an invisible weight. Your breath hitched, and you felt a sudden sting in your eyes. It was only then that you noticed the wetness on your cheeks, the unmistakable evidence of tears.

“N/n… Were you crying?” Yuuji's voice softened, his eyes searching your face for an answer. His question hung in the air, cutting through the noise of his earlier explanation.

You turned to him slowly, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of the tears trailing down your face. The shock of it rooted you to the spot, and you brought a hand up to your cheek, fingertips brushing against the dampness. You had always prided yourself on your detachment, your ability to remain untouched by the storms of emotion that raged within others. But now, here you are, standing in your own home, crying.

Horrified, you recoiled from the sensation, as if the tears were something foreign and dangerous. This was a breach in the carefully maintained fortress of your control, a crack in the armor you had always worn so confidently. You couldn't understand it, couldn't grasp why your body had betrayed you in this way. The tears felt like a tangible sign of weakness, a loss of control that you couldn't afford.

"I…" you started, but the words failed you. How could you explain something you didn't even understand yourself? Your mind raced, trying to find a rational explanation, a way to regain your composure. But all you could feel was the raw, unchecked surge of emotions that had broken free from their confines.

Yuuji reached out, his concern deepening as he saw your distress. "Imouto-chan, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle and filled with worry. "What happened?"

You shook your head, stepping back from him. The distance felt necessary, a barrier to keep the chaos within you from spilling over. "It's nothing," you said quickly, your voice tight and strained. "I'm fine."

But the lie was obvious, even to you. The tears, the trembling in your voice, the way your body seemed to rebel against you—all of it betrayed the truth you were trying so desperately to hide. You felt exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never been before.

The dim light cast long shadows as you stood there, caught between the urgent news of your grandfather and the unfamiliar, terrifying sensation of tears. The silence stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the soft sound of your own breathing and the faint rustle of Yuuji shifting nervously in front of you.

Yuuji’s eyes were filled with concern, searching your face for answers you weren’t ready to give. "N/n… Were you crying?" he repeated, his voice softer, as if he was afraid of pushing too hard.

You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to regain control. The wetness on your cheeks felt foreign and wrong, a betrayal of the ironclad control you prided yourself on. In the back of your mind, you scrambled for a plausible explanation, something that could deflect his worry and give you the space you needed to collect yourself.

"Dust," you said abruptly, the word coming out harsher than you intended. You blinked again, rubbing your eyes for emphasis. "It must have been dust. The wind was strong outside, and it got in my eyes."

Yuuji frowned, his gaze skeptical. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he nodded slowly, though his concern didn’t diminish. "Alright," he said quietly, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so."

You forced a smile, hoping it would reassure him. "It's nothing to worry about," you added, trying to infuse your voice with a semblance of calm. "Let’s go see Ojii-san. We can’t leave him alone in the hospital."

Yuuji hesitated for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for some hidden truth. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. We should go."

You turned away quickly, grateful for the excuse to escape his probing gaze. "I'll just get ready," you said over your shoulder, your voice steadying as you moved down the hallway towards your room. "Give me a minute."

-

As the door to Y/n's room closed behind her, Yuuji stood in the hallway, the faint click of the latch echoing in his ears. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly as he processed what he had just seen. His twin sister—always so composed, always so in control—had been crying.

Yuuji stared at the closed door, his thoughts racing. The explanation she had given, about dust getting into her eyes, seemed flimsy, almost laughable. He knew her too well; they had grown up side by side, sharing every moment and secret. He had seen her face danger without flinching, had watched her navigate the every moment with an unshakable calm. To see her break down, even for a moment, was something he never expected. It was like watching a statue crack and reveal something fragile beneath.

He paced the hallway, his mind replaying the scene over and over. The redness around her eyes, the faint tracks of tears on her cheeks—it was all so out of character for her. Yuuji couldn’t shake the image of her standing there, trying to cover up her distress with a hurried excuse. The sight of her like that gnawed at him, stirring a deep, unsettled worry in his chest.

Yuuji leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving the door. He knew that Y/n was different, that she often seemed detached from the world around her. It was something he had always accepted about her, even if he didn’t fully understand it. But this…this was something else entirely. This was his strong, unflappable sister showing a side of herself that he had never seen before—a side that scared him.

“She’s lying,” he muttered to himself, the words hanging in the stillness of the hallway. “It wasn’t just dust.”

Yuuji could feel the knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. If she was lying about this, what else was she hiding? And why did she feel the need to hide it from him, her own twin? They had always been each other’s confidants, always able to rely on one another. The thought that she was keeping something from him was like a small, sharp pain in his heart.

As the minutes passed, he realized that pushing her for answers wouldn't help. They had to go to the hospital for their grandfather, and he trusted that Y/n would come to him when she was ready.

With a heavy heart and a lingering sense of unease, Yuuji turned away from the door and headed towards the living room to wait for you, leaving the questions unanswered for now. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

-

(endnotes: I'm really fucking sorry that this chapter was just based around yn just crying, originally this was part of chapter 06 but it for too long so i had to half it. Teehee. Anyways what do y'all think of yn? Comment down below or I would stop updating. (Jk) But so yeah, y'all ready for the canon? :333. if I ever see comments about 'bUt oH mAkImA iS nOt lIkE tHat, sHe'S emOtiOnLesS, cUnNiNg blah blah blah, sHe dOes nOt gEt aTtAcHeD' I'm gonna look for you and piss on you. Keep in mind that yn is in her puberty stage and her emotions are probably all over the place, plus I'm writing her in a way where she'd get emotions because emotionless characters are boring. :3333 plus, I want her to have a shit tons of flaw, aside from her attachment issues , she's gonna have control issues and W E A K N E S S , if y'all see any errors please oiint it out, its currently a one man show and i might be blind)

Kape?

[miano-oscarwilde]

Grandpaaaaa ❤️ now I'm really looking forward to seeing what happens in the Deviculum. I was waiting for the right emotion that will enchant me. Grandpa is beside Irubaby 🥺💕 family 💗 THEIR MASKS MATCH NOW!

"Yeah that's right he's my grandson and we'll wear matching features". Especially the big bird skull grandpa always wears around his neck became the inspiration for his mask and he also made his grandson wear it because whatever grandpa's family name is, Iruma will inherit it too?(please)

This was totally unexpected and I LOVE it.

Can't wait to see the part Where grandpa asks "how did you like the Deviculum iiiiiruma kun?" And Iruma is excited and says something "I have so many things to tell you ojii chan"

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

☆Bragging rights☆

The first time

It was a normal meeting amongst the three greats. Well, as normal as any meeting between the could be Levi and Belial shoving pictures into each other's faces or pulling up videos on their Hellphones.

"Ha! Your brat ain't got nothing on mine! Look at those muscles! Their gonna win the heavy weight title for the Hell wide tail wrestling tournament next season!" Belial cried out, shoving a poster in Levi's face.

Scoffing Levi pulled out a magazine. "Your child has no brains to speak of whatsoever. Mine, however, has made yet another scientific discovery. Just yesterday, they were interviewed on the shadow times!"

Both growled at each other before turning to scream. "SU-CHAN!! YOU PICK WHOSE IS BETTER??" The great lord Sullivan's shoulders started shaking. "Su-chan?" Levi asked.

A loud cackle escaped the slim demon. "I think he's finally cracked." Belial murmered. "Oh ho, I'm sorry you two, it's just..." wiping a tear from his eye, he smiled brightly at the pair. "I can't be your tie bracker any longer."

"Wha-" Sullivan turned to withdraw a large portrait from out of nowhere. "BEHOLD!!!! I have a precious child of my own to brag about!" He gleefully shouted as his comrades could only stare in shock.

There in the frame sat a small individual on a throne like chair drapped in the finest silks and a beautiful array of well placed fine gems and pearls decorated your neck and hair. Your eyes were half closed as you stared out at the artist in what seemed to be amusement from the hint of a smile dancing across your lips.

"WHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTT" Twin screams echoed throughout the tower as both tried to push each other out of the way to get a closer look. "Yes! Aren't they just adorable?!" Sullivan looked pleased if the blissful face he held was anything to go by.

"How did you get a kid???? You don't even have a wife!!!" Levi snapped. "They don't look a thing like you!" Belial accused, pointing a cracked finger at Sullivan. "Well, of course they do see they have my adorable charisma! And what does a wife have yo do with having a child?"

Both fell out of their chairs at this point. Unsure of what was happening at this point. Su-chan with a child? That didn't make any sense!

Nowadays

Both Levi and Belial thought they got one over on Sullivan today. Both had brought absolutely adorable pictures of their children when they were younger. Sullivan did agree that they were cute but....

Not as cute as you holding a baby Iruma and Jazz on your hips. (All due to a magic potion gone wrong) standing next to Balam, who had a tiny Clara trying to escape his arms and a small alice peaking out from behind his legs.

The two demons were blinded by the unholy cuteness bestowed upon them in this moment. "Isn't my family adorable? You know, you two should also get some more grandchildren if you want to keep up with me!"

Finally, Sullivan's ultimate victory against both of his colleges came! He excitedly skipped all the way home. More egar than ever to spend time with his cute and growing family. "Ojii-chan is home!" He called out happily.

Tiny squeals and rushing footsteps sounded as little Iruma rounded the corner, jumping into his grandpa's arms. You followed quickly behind while holding a very glittery little Clara. "She found glitter. I don't know how, but she found glitter." The chairdemon cooed and took several pictures of you both.

"Dali-san says they should be back to their normal age come morning." Sullivan wilted a little when he heard that. "But can't we ju-" "absolutely not regardless of how cute they are." Your firm tone leaving no room for arguments.

[tetrix-anime]

Jii-san Baa-san Wakagaeru (Grandpa and Grandma Turn Young Again) - Creditless Opening "Kimi ga Ojii-chan Atashi ga Obaa-chan" by Koresawa. Anime Premiere: 7 April 2024

[tigresslanzhu]

Not Entirely With It

Artica: Moon-Kun has too many bees in his bonnet!

Porsha: But think of the benefits! He looks cute in headwear and he’d get free honey!

[chaoticallyfragmentary]

Isagi Yoichi x reporter Reader

Don’t do this in reality people, you’ll get arrested. Includes reader attempting to follow Isagi into their locker room and them getting handsy-? kinda with each other. Don’t do this please. Consent is a wonderful thing that exists.

Doesn’t contain any mentions of kissing. Just kinda horny thoughts ig. All the characters mentioned are in their twenties. Timeskip bllk. 

“You really want an interview?” Isagi asks, brow raised. He’s seen you around for a couple of matches, wearing his number, cheering the loudest when he scored. He examines you closely, eager and overwhelmed with delight, clutching your notepad and pen to your chest. You nod vigorously, eyes all wide. The high after a match suits him well.

“Heh,” he steps closer, placing one hand on the wall by your head, looking like sin personified and you squeak. Isagi looks at you, an intake of breath, dilation of pupils and an unconscious wetting of lips. He observed the rest too, the determined posture, the challenge in your stare. “Ask away,” he smiles— smiles!! It is a nice smile, bearing a kind of infectious, carefree quality that crackles like cozy embers in the pit of your stomach. You mentally berate yourself… Focus! Now is not the time to be waxing poetic about his smile, lovely as it may be.

“Why do you think Kaiser was able to outwit you in the first half of the match?” A loaded pause followed.

Isagi’s grin was sly, shadowed in the dim lighting. “He might’ve outwitted me but I won the match. So,” his devilish grin only grew as he leans in to whisper against your ear, “It makes no difference, I will win again and again and again.” So close, he could feel your ragged breathing. He lets his teeth gently graze your throat, “Stop following us to the locker rooms princess. Next time I’ll call the cops on you.”

Your jaw opened and closed, hinging in an unbecoming manner. “That’s so mean” you huff, hoping it sounded annoyed, above his little game. He starts walking away and you feel a momentary surge of disappointment.

You scurry after him, “Itoshi Sae asked to play another match against the Blue Lock 11, is it true?”

He gave you a look over his shoulder, “you really don’t wanna be going further than that princess,” he sneered all sharp and impersonal, verging on deadly.

“Do you think he will manage to outplay his brother this time around?”

“Go home kid. We’re done.”

“I’m not a kid, ojii-chan” you snap.

He whips around, just as you collide into him and promptly squeak, again. Abs! your brain mentally chants.

“This is harassment,” he says, voice pitched low.

“I prefer calling it grit and determination” you retort, grip tightening on his shirt. He couldn’t help but snort, endeared by your constant babble, wanting to twist his fingers in your curls. Were they as soft as they looked?

“Just give me something, won’t you? I’ll be fired otherwise” you whine. “I—mmph!” you glare, indignant as he presses a strong hand against your mouth, pushing you against the wall. The smirk was necessary, absolutely essential in the moment, though it didn’t seem to help as you seethe, trying to lick and bite his palm. He takes your notepad with the other hand, scribbling something down on it.

“Oya oya?” Bachira walks by.

“What’s going on, Isagi?”

“Nothing” he shrugs, casual, unaffected.

Bachira looks at the both of you, you struggling like a rabid racoon and Isagi, once, twice before deciding sleep was more important. “Ego is waiting for us, finish it quickly” he warns and leaves.

His gaze rakes a blazing trail across your body as he shoves the notepad back into your hands, a broad smile on his face “Your tendencies towards violence are a tad alarming princess.”

You suck in a huge breath, eyes narrowed as he steps back.

“You,”

“Me?”

“UGH!” you stomp and walk away without looking back as Isagi’s laughter brushes up against you, your skin still tingling from where he touched you.

It is only later, much later after your annoyance has calmed down that you realize, you walked home with his number and a note that said, ”Let me take you out on a date, princess.”