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joemama-2 · 1 month ago

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a dead end | chap. 4

༺♰༻ gojo x fem reader

𓉸♱𓉸 synopsis: you were a star under stadium lights, gojo satoru a savior in sterile halls. now, the world rots, and survival is your only stage. amid the relentless dead and the horrors of the living, an unsteady bond forms—but trust is as fragile as life itself. in the shadows of ruin, love and death walk hand in hand. which will claim you first?

༺♰༻ wc: 7.8k

༺♰༻ tags/warnings: death, angst, violence, smut, cannibalism, murder, blood, gore, zombie apocalypse, crazy people, reader is a little bitchy at first, character development, torture, guns, weapons, alcohol, drugs, medical talk here and there, research talk, mentions of a leaked sextape, bullying, betrayal, lying, love, surgeon! satoru, cheerleader! reader, small age gap

༺♰༻ series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The drive to his place was nothing short of insufferable. Not only did you practically scream at him to avoid the bodies littering the pavement of what once was a road. And not only did you have to remind him to drive slowly and vigilantly, but also to stay on the lookout for those things. He listened—sort of.

Chatting your ear off about the most mundane, irrelevant things. You would’ve thought he’s just an insane man who finds normalcy in a now fucked up world. However, the way sweat subtly trickled down from his hairline to his eyebrows before being wiped off, the way his Adam’s apple bobs with what you can only assume is feigned nervousness, and the rhythmic tapping of his finger on the steering wheel told you otherwise. You didn’t voice any of this aloud. Why would you? You barely even know this man.

His residence isn’t very far from this hospital, probably due to his occupation and the need to be on call and ready for any unforeseen emergencies. It’s a nice place—nicer than yours at least. You keep your saltiness to yourself—a two-story house that blends beautifully with a traditional style Japanese home, but also hints of modernity.

The exterior is a perfect blend of old and new—dark wooden panels, clean white walls, and a gently sloped roof that gives it an almost temple-like serenity. A stone pathway leads up to the entrance, lined with carefully placed lanterns that would’ve looked beautiful at night—if the world wasn’t falling apart. The front yard is surprisingly well-kept, though some fallen leaves scatter across the stone tiles, a sign that he hasn’t been home for at least a day or two. Gojo parks in the driveway, killing the engine before leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “Ah, home sweet home,” he drawls, stretching his arms over his head. “Did you enjoy our little road trip?”

You unbuckle your seatbelt, unimpressed. “No.”

He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Brutal.”

Stepping out of the car, you take in the finer details of his home. The four-panel, glass front doors at the entrance slide rather than swing, framed by sleek black trim that complements the modern glass windows scattered across the façade. A small porch extends from the front, complete with a wooden bench and a wind chime that barely moves in the dead air. It’s the kind of house that exudes both quiet luxury and warmth—something you wouldn’t have expected from someone like him. You assumed big, loud—something that screams ‘I’m rich! Look at me!’. Well, maybe that all went to his personality.

You follow as Gojo unlocks the door and steps inside, flipping on the lights. “Welcome to Casa de Gojo,” he announces, kicking off his shoes.

The interior is just as polished as the exterior. Wide, open spaces with natural wood flooring and soft lighting. The living room is spacious, with a sunken seating area around a low, dark wood table. A modern sectional, black leather couch sits nearby, facing a flat-screen TV mounted above a fireplace that looks untouched. Built-in bookshelves line the walls, filled with a mix of medical texts, philosophy books, and an absurd number of manga volumes. Your eyes sweep across the space. The decor is minimal but intentional—warm-toned wood, neutral colors, and the occasional pop of blue that likely reflects his personal taste. There’s a quiet elegance to it all, but the subtle mess—an unfinished cup of coffee on the table, a jacket draped over the couch, a pair of house slippers kicked haphazardly near the entrance—suggests that while the house is expensive, Gojo himself isn’t overly meticulous.

He gestures grandly. “Make yourself at home. Just don’t go snooping in my room unless you wanna see something scandalous.”

You give him a flat look. “I doubt there’s anything in there worth seeing.”

Gojo gasps, clutching his chest as if you just stabbed him. “Ouch. Right in my fragile heart.”

You roll your eyes, stepping further inside. The house is nice—far nicer than yours—but right now, all you care about is whether it’s safe. The doors are locked, the windows are shut, and for now, it seems like you have a moment to breathe. But you both know that moment won’t last long. “Sliding front doors don’t seem very stable,” you comment.

“Stable enough, I’m still alive, right? No break-ins or bloody murders happening.”

Or maybe because you’re in a gated community. You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “What are you looking for again?”

“Gonna change, maybe shower and cook up a nice dinner.”

You whip your head to him. “No, we need to go to my place too.”

“We can,” he shrugs, walking to the kitchen. You’re right on his tail, annoyance slowly rising. Further inside, the kitchen is pristine—almost too pristine, as if it’s rarely used. Stainless steel appliances line the walls, a stark contrast to the wooden cabinets and open shelves that hold an impressive collection of tea sets and expensive liquor that looks like it’s just there for decoration. Another lone coffee mug sits by the sink, an abandoned stirrer inside, suggesting he hadn’t had the chance to finish it before everything went to hell. “Tomorrow morning.”

“No,” you’re quick to rebuttal, speeding up to stand in front of him, fixing him with a steely gaze. “I did not sign up for that. You said you’d do whatever you’d need to here, then we go to mine and then a gas station for your damn snacks. That was the plan, not you lounging around without a care in the world.”

Gojo tilts his head, lips curling into an easy smile. “I didn’t realize we had an itinerary. And technically? I never said when we’d leave for your place. Just that we would.”

Your fingers twitch at your sides, torn between wanting to smack that smirk off his face and wanting to drag him out the door yourself. “Don��t play semantics with me. You think it’s safe to just wait around here? The longer we stay, the worse things can get out there.”

He exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair. It’s slightly damp, strands clinging to his forehead from sweat. “Look, we just drove through what was essentially hell on earth. You’re on edge, I’m on edge, and neither of us knows what the hell is happening. So, we rest, get our shit together, and then we go. If you want to run off now, be my guest, but you won’t get far without a car, and I’m not giving you mine.”

Your jaw tightens. He has a point, and that pisses you off even more.

Gojo watches you, waiting for your response with that infuriatingly calm expression. It’s not that he doesn’t take the situation seriously—you saw the tension in his grip on the steering wheel earlier, the way his eyes constantly flicked to the mirrors, scanning for threats. But unlike you, he refuses to let the weight of it crush him.

You release a strained breath. “That’s not the point. My place has supplies I need. We don’t have time for you to play house.”

He exhales through his nose. “Relax, sweetheart. The sun will begin to go down in an hour and a half, give or take. And then what? Run around at night with no plan? Not exactly the best survival tactic.” He gestures vaguely toward the dimly lit window. “We stay here, get some rest, leave at sunrise. That way, neither of us end up dead before we even get there.”

You hate that he makes sense. You really, really do. But you also hate staying in an unfamiliar place, in a house that feels too open, too exposed, with a man you barely know. He reads the conflict on your face before you can mask it. “Tell you what,” he continues, crossing his arms. “We barricade the doors, make sure everything’s locked down. I stay far away from you when it’s time to hit the hay, and you do the same. If anything happens, we leave immediately. Deal?”

You exhale sharply through your nostrils, resisting the urge to curse him out. “...Fine,” you grumble. “But don’t get comfortable.”

Gojo grins, clapping his hands together. “Great! Now, dinner. Any dietary restrictions I should know about? Or do you just survive off anger and spite?”

You glare at him. He chuckles.

Yeah, this was going to be a long night.

Indeed it was. Hearing his grating voice sing in the shower was ruining your patience. You were this close to yelling at him to shut the hell up, but you held your tongue. Sitting stiffly on his couch, hands curled in your lap. Your eyes kept flickering to the doors that are now barricaded with a few chairs, a table from his study, and a piece of the sofa. He was in there for about twenty minutes already and you were starting to get restless. In order to keep your head, you stand up, deciding to get a good layout of the place you’ll unfortunately be camping out for the night. It’s good—you’ll know where the exits are in case something does happen.

The house is deceptively spacious, its traditional-meets-modern design making it feel both airy and structured. The polished wooden floors don’t creak under your weight as you move, a small mercy given the situation. You start with the first floor, sweeping through the open living room, past the neatly arranged bookshelves and minimalist furniture. A framed picture of Gojo with a few other people—colleagues, maybe?—sits on one of the shelves, but you don’t linger on it.

The kitchen, you’ve already seen, is borderline unused. A dining area extends beyond it, the sleek wooden table looking like it’s only been touched when necessary. The house doesn’t feel particularly lived-in. More like a place of convenience rather than a home. Must be the life of a surgeon. You move toward the hallway, finding a guest bathroom, his study, and what seems to be a spare bedroom, but the door is slightly ajar, and from what you can tell, it’s practically empty aside from a neatly made bed and a desk with a shut laptop. No personal touches, no real signs of frequent use. Then, there’s a staircase leading up to the second floor. You hesitate, ears straining. Gojo is still singing, oblivious to your slow exploration of his home. Rolling your eyes, you take the steps carefully, mapping out each one in your head.

The second floor is quieter, save for the sound of running water from the master bedroom’s en-suite bathroom. You glance down the hall—two more doors. One leads to what you assume is another office room, considering the slightly ajar door reveals stacked paperwork, books, and a white coat slung over the chair. The other…

You push it open slightly, peeking inside. A bedroom, obviously his. Larger than the guest room, but still frustratingly neat. The bed is king-sized, sheets dark and crisp, not a single wrinkle out of place. A dresser sits across from it, and to the side, a walk-in closet, the door left open just enough for you to see neatly arranged clothing—mostly work attire, some casual wear, and a few pairs of shoes lined up at the bottom.

Nothing about this place screams Gojo Satoru, the insufferable, obnoxious man currently singing off-key in the shower. It’s all calculated, controlled, sterile, even.

You don’t know why that unsettles you.

With a final glance around, you step back, deciding you’ve seen enough. Now all that’s left is waiting for Gojo to finish whatever the hell he’s doing so you can finally get some rest. However, just as you’re turning on your heel to walk back downstairs, something—or someone catches your eye.

A framed picture, all by its lonesome—rested atop his nightstand.

Your eyes squint and you pad closer. Satoru stands to the right, he looks younger. Wearing a cap and gown with a youthful smile. His arm is wrapped around the shoulders of a girl. You blink. She looks almost exactly like him. From the albino hair to the crystalline orbs, and even to the way both of their eyes crinkle when they smile. She seems younger—shorter. Your fingers hover over the frame, but you don’t touch it. There’s something oddly intimate about the way the photo sits there—deliberate, not thrown together like a forgotten memory. It stands alone, unlike the other, which was grouped with his colleagues.

A sister? You assume as much. The resemblance is uncanny. But there’s something about the way she’s smiling—so full of light, unburdened. It’s different from Gojo’s usual smirks, the ones laced with amusement, arrogance, or mischief. This is pure. Unfiltered happiness. There’s a warmth in the way Gojo’s arm is wrapped around her, in the way they’re both looking at the camera, like they’re sharing some private joke just between the two of them. The background of the picture is a blur of other graduates and family members, but your focus remains on them. It’s… unexpected. You’ve known him for less than a day, and yet the thought of him having a family, of having someone important to him, is strange. You never considered the possibility.

You can’t help but begin to wonder where this girl is now. Is he worried about her safety? What about the rest of his family?

You glance around the nightstand, noticing that this is the only framed photo in his bedroom. No others litter the dresser, no scattered images of friends, no sign of parents or anyone else. Just this one. Your stomach twists slightly. You don’t know why.

A sudden shift in the air—maybe the water shutting off—snaps you out of your daze. You blink, as if breaking out of some spell, and quickly step away from the picture. You shouldn’t be snooping. You shouldn’t care.

You can hear him shuffling around in there and you’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you’re in his room. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself, gaining your bearings and quickly turning around to leave. But just as you do so, your toe collides right into the damned protruding, sharp corner of his wall. "Ah, damn it!" you curse under your breath, clutching your foot. The sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you hop a little, trying to regain balance. But that only makes it worse as you stumble back and bump into the dresser. A few items clatter to the floor, and you freeze, suddenly feeling the weight of your situation. Of course, this would happen.

A brief silence follows and you feel like slapping yourself.

The silence stretches on, each second feeling like an eternity. You wince, still holding your foot, and glance around the room in a slight panic. The last thing you want is for him to hear you making a fool of yourself, but it's too late now. You can hear him shuffling closer, the sound of his steps growing louder with each passing moment. Panic bubbles in your chest, and you quickly drop to your knees, trying to pick up the fallen items off the floor before he gets there. But with the way your foot throbs, it’s a slow, clumsy process. You curse under your breath again, wishing you could just disappear. Just as you're about to give up and admit defeat, the door creaks open behind you.

"Uhhh…everything okay in here?" His voice is light, like he's expecting something completely mundane.

You freeze for a moment, embarrassment creeping up your spine. "Yeah, just—" You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Just tripped. Foot’s fine. Nothing to worry about." You can hear your own voice crack as you say it.

Satoru steps into the room, pausing when he sees you crouched by the dresser, items scattered around you. His expression shifts for a brief moment, eyes narrowing slightly before he lets out a quiet sigh. "Careful there, you're gonna hurt yourself."

You glare back at him from your position on the floor, biting back a sharp retort and the urge to linger your eyes on certain areas that are concealed by a mere towel wrapped around his waist—broad, glistening, sexy chest on display. “You really need to renovate around here. It’s a hazard.”

He raises a brow, leaning against the doorframe, arms casually crossed. “Maybe you should stop snooping around my stuff and focus on not hurting yourself.”

His tone only irritates you further. “I wasn’t snooping,” you mutter, standing up slowly, trying not to favor your injured foot. “I was just—looking around.”

Satoru nods, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Well, looking around doesn’t usually lead to this,” he gestures to the scattered items, his voice now tinged with exasperation. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll survive. But next time, watch your step. Don’t want you getting all hurt before we even get out of here.”

You shoot him a glare, but decide it’s best to let it go. For now. The last thing you want is for him to think you’re making a bigger deal of this than it is. “Are you done now? I’d like to wash up too, if you don’t mind.”

He hums lightly, pushing off from the doorframe. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, I’m almost done here anyway." His eyes flicker down to your foot a hint of concern crossing his features. It’s brief—barely noticeable—but you catch it, and for a moment, you almost feel like you might not be completely annoying him.

Almost.

"Take it easy on that foot," he adds casually, shrugging his shoulders. "Wouldn't want to carry you to the hospital, would I?"

You snort, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "I’ll be fine. Not everyone needs a knight in shining armor." The words escape before you can stop them, and you feel a slight tinge of regret immediately after.

Gojo walks over to his dresser, passing you in the process. It takes everything in you not to sniff at the air like a dog at the scent of his…really good soap. "You sure about that? Because I'm really good at playing hero."

“Just…give me a towel, please? And some clothes, if you have it.”

“Towel, yes. Downstairs, a door next to the guest bathroom. However, clothes? I’m afraid I can only interest you in things left from my previous rendezvouses.”

You can’t help but scoff. “...you want me to wear clothes left behind by your hook-ups?”

The muscles in his back flex, arms lifting over his head as he puts on a basic, black tee.

He chuckles at your incredulity, the sound of fabric stretching as he pulls the shirt over his head, perfectly at ease. “Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he teases, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “Some of them have pretty good taste. You might get lucky.”

You purse your lips, trying not to let his cockiness get under your skin. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, clearly unbothered by your rejection. “Your loss.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment, eyes flickering down to your foot before snapping back up. "Alright, alright. Don’t worry, I’ll hook you up with something more... appropriate."

He starts rummaging through the drawers of his dresser, pulling out a pair of dark sweatpants and a plain hoodie, and tossing them to you. “These should fit. No promises on style, but they’re clean. Unless, of course, you want to try the hook-up clothes after all,” he adds with a smirk, tossing the clothes onto the bed.

You hesitate for a moment. There’s something almost absurd about the whole situation. Here you are, stuck in a post-apocalyptic mess, and you’re being offered clothes from his past lovers. “Keep your exes’ clothes, I’ll take these,” you mutter, gripping them closer with a small huff, still trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Satoru grins and pats you on the shoulder. “Suit yourself. But hey, if you ever change your mind, just let me know. I’m a man of... many connections.”

You can feel your eye twitch at his insistent teasing, but you bite back your frustration. The last thing you need is to lose your temper again. You just want to shower, change, and get some rest, not get wrapped up in his ridiculous antics. Turning on your heel, you head out of the room, back downstairs toward the bathroom, muttering under your breath. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

His laughter rings out behind you as you descend the steps, making your way into his guest bathroom and closing the door with a soft click. You exhale, finally feeling a sense of relief that you're alone, if only for a moment.

That night, dinner is nothing short of an awkward, silent meet-up between two strangers. You sit on the opposite end of the table, Satoru facing you from his end. He talks here and there, but he’s much more invested in chowing down the stir-fry. You’re grateful for that. And when you two do to sleep, you ignore his dramatic farewell about sleeping well and not letting the bedbugs bite. Barcading yourself in the guest bedroom, in fear of not just him probably coming in during the middle of the night because you still haven’t gaged if he’s a weirdo perv, or just…unlikeable. But also for the fact that there’s still chaos reaping the world just outside the confines of his home.

You get hardly any sleep.

As soon as the sun is shining, you change out of the clothes he gave you and back into the ones from yesterday. Satoru wakes up about thirty minutes later, coming downstairs with a long-sleeve on, paired with dark wash jeans that if you look closely enough, hug his ass quite well. He’s wearing his thin-rimmed glasses once more, but this time with a simple black baseball cap, the symbol of the Yomiuri Giants taunting you. There’s a backpack slung over his shoulder as he grabs his keys.

“What’s in there?” you ask him, ignoring the way the ‘G’ symbol twists at your stomach.

"Essentials," he replies nonchalantly, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. "Food, first aid, a few weapons—y'know, the usual end-of-the-world starter pack."

You arch a brow. "Weapons?"

He smirks, tossing his keys in the air and catching them with an effortless flick of his wrist. "A knife and a gun. Nothing too crazy."

Your eyes widen. “You…have a gun? How do you even have a license, it’s strict as hell.”

Satoru laughs, clearly reveling in your disbelief. "Who said anything about a license?" He winks, tucking the keys into his pocket before slinging the backpack over both shoulders.

You stare at him, unimpressed. "Great. So not only are you annoying, but you're also illegally armed."

He sighs playfully, shaking his head as he heads toward the front door. "Relax, sweetheart. It's not like I’m running around committing crimes. Just a little... precaution. You never know when you'll need protection these days."

You cross your arms, not entirely convinced. "You do realize that if you get caught with that, it won’t just be the zombies we have to worry about, right?"

Satoru waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, please. The world's gone to hell. The last thing on the government's mind is some guy with an unregistered gun." He gives you a look, one that almost feels too knowing. "Besides, it's not my first time handling one."

Something about the casual way he says it makes you uneasy. Part of you wants to question why a health care worker has illegal possession of a firearm, but you have bigger fish to fry. "Right," you mumble, shifting your weight onto your good foot. "You ready to go, or do you need another five minutes to admire yourself in the mirror?"

Satoru tilts his head. “Oh, you’re implying I take too long to get ready? This,” he swipes his hand up and down his body vaguely. “Effortless.”

You roll your eyes, already regretting asking. "Let’s just go."

He grins one last time and motions for you to follow him out the door. "After you, my dear reluctant partner-in-crime."

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you step outside, squinting against the morning light. The world beyond the safety of his house is eerily quiet, too still. A constant reminder that whatever life used to be, it’s long gone now. Satoru locks up behind you. You follow him to the BMW parked out front, getting into the passenger’s side. Once he’s seated behind the wheel, he does a quick look around of the interior, then outside, before he’s reversing. One hand placed to your headrest, his left palm guiding the car back and to the left. “Where do you live?”

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not you should even tell him. Does it really matter? Your apartment, your belongings—hell, even your bed—none of it means much in a world that’s already fallen apart. Still, old habits die hard, and there’s a part of you that clings to the remnants of what once was. You glance at him, noting the way his sharp profile remains focused on the road as he expertly maneuvers the car onto the empty streets. There’s something oddly reassuring about the way he drives, confident but not reckless. “The high-rise apartments in Shibuya,” you finally answer, shifting slightly in your seat. “Near the station.”

Satoru lets out a low whistle. “Damn, you really like to live dangerously, huh?”

You furrow your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Shibuya must’ve been hit hard, it’s a big metropolitan area, those places are always first to go. If you think we’re just gonna waltz in there and grab your stuff, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Your stomach sinks. You already knew it was bad—hell, you saw the state of things with your own eyes before finding temporary shelter—but hearing him say it out loud makes it feel more… final. “I have to at least try,” you say, voice quieter now. “There are things I need.”

Satoru hums in thought before making a sudden turn onto a different road. “Alright,” he says, as if he’s already made up his mind. “We’ll check it out. But the second things get dicey, we’re out. No hero shit.”

You roll your eyes but nod. “Fine.”

For a brief moment, neither of you speak, the low hum of the car’s engine filling the silence. Your eyes are glued on the window, watching the decimated pieces of what used to be normality wizz past the car. Buildings stand in eerie stillness, some with shattered windows, others marked with the dark streaks of smoke and fire. Cars sit abandoned on the road, doors left wide open as if their owners had fled in a hurry. The further you drive, the more the devastation sinks in—the world you knew is truly gone. You wonder how many people survived the night, how many people didn’t.

Satoru drums his fingers on the steering wheel, gaze flickering between the road and the rearview mirror. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t miss the way his jaw tenses when he spots something in the distance.

“What is it?” you ask, already tensing up in your seat, looking back over your shoulder.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead making a sharp right into a side street, one that looks a little less exposed. “Nothing,” he finally says, though you don’t believe him for a second. “Just being cautious.”

You press your lips into a thin line, but let it go. If something was truly wrong, he’d say it… right?

Minutes pass, stretching into what feels like hours as the car winds through the remnants of civilization. You glance at him again, watching as he adjusts his cap, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. He looks far too composed for someone driving through the apocalypse. “You’ve done this before,” you muse, turning back to the window. It’s not a question.

Satoru chuckles, the sound low and knowing. “What, drive?”

You shoot him a look. “You know what I mean.”

There’s a pause, long enough that you almost think he won’t answer. But then—

“I’ve been in bad situations before, of course.” His voice is lighter than it should be, as if he’s trying to downplay something much heavier. “This? It’s just another shitty day in a long list of shitty days.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist. You don’t push for more, but you file it away, another mystery to add to the growing list of questions surrounding him. The car slows as you near Shibuya, the once-bustling city now nothing more than a graveyard of collapsed buildings and burned-out cars. Your fingers tighten into your palm.

Satoru exhales sharply, shifting the car into park. “Alright,” he says, stretching an arm over the back of your seat as he turns to face you. “Tell me exactly what we’re looking for.”

You look over. “I just need some stuff. Change, some clothes, weapons, I guess. Whatever will help me.”

He nods, eyes flickering to the windshield. Your apartment building still stands tall amongst the chaos. He juts his chin in the direction of them. “This it?”

“Yep.”

“What floor?”

“The highest one.”

“Damn,” he shakes his head, lifting his cap to push his hair back before setting it back down.

“What?” you grunt.

“You live on the top floor of one of the most expensive places to live. Impressive, what do you do?”

“Not up for discussion right now,” your fingers reach to open the door, but his hand on your other arm stops you. Slowly, you look back over at him and his features have settled into a serious expression.

“Listen,” he leans closer. “Game plan: stay quiet and close, we move quick. Like I said, if things turn awry, we’re out. At least I am.”

Your brows furrow, eyes narrowing at his emphasis on the word ‘I’. “Not exactly reassuring.”

Satoru merely smirks, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just being honest. No use making empty promises in a world like this.”

You study him for a moment, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you find is that same self-assured confidence that’s been there since you met him. He’s not lying—if things go south, he will leave. Whether or not he’ll leave you behind is another question entirely. With a slow exhale, you nod. “Fine. Got it.”

He releases your arm, and you step out of the car quietly, the weight of the city’s silence settling over you like a thick fog. The air is stagnant, carrying the faint scent of smoke and decay. Shibuya had always been loud, a place of endless movement and life, but now… now, it feels hollow, like the ghost of something that once thrived. Satoru joins you, shutting his door with a quiet click before adjusting the strap of his backpack. “Let’s move,” he murmurs, voice softer now, as if speaking too loudly might awaken something lurking in the ruins.

You weave through the wreckage together, careful to step over broken glass and twisted metal. The further you go, the more the damage becomes apparent—collapsed storefronts, overturned cars, belongings strewn across the pavement like remnants of a life abruptly abandoned. Some buildings are burned out husks, their insides blackened and exposed. Others remain eerily intact, but you know better than to assume they’re empty. Your apartment building looms ahead, standing tall amongst the destruction, its pristine facade marred only by a few shattered windows and scorch marks near the base. A miracle, considering the state of the rest of the city.

Satoru sighs lowly, tilting his head back to take it all in. “Damn. Guess even the apocalypse couldn’t knock this place down.”

You don’t respond, already stepping toward the entrance. The glass doors are cracked but still intact, and with a bit of force, you manage to push them open. Inside, the lobby is a mess—furniture overturned, decorative plants wilting, papers scattered across the marble floor. The scent of mildew lingers, mixed with something more acrid, something you don’t want to think too hard about.

Satoru steps in beside you, adjusting his glasses as he takes in the scene. “Cozy.”

You roll your eyes and make a beeline for the elevator, only to be met with an unlit panel and unresponsive buttons. Of course. Power’s out. “Stairs it is,” you mutter, turning toward the emergency exit.

Satoru groans dramatically behind you. “Top floor, huh? You couldn’t have lived on, like, the third floor? Maybe even the tenth? Something reasonable?”

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “Feel free to stay down here if you’d rather not make the trip.”

He gives you a shake his head as he follows you to the stairwell. “And leave you to get eaten by whatever’s lurking up there? What kind of man would that make me?”

You scoff, pushing the door open. “A smart one.”

The stairwell is dimly lit by the weak morning light filtering through a few narrow windows. The air is thick, stale, carrying a heaviness that sets your nerves on edge. You grip the railing tightly as you begin your ascent, ears straining for any sound beyond the echo of your own footsteps. Satoru trails behind, his presence an oddly steadying force despite his usual antics. He’s quiet now, focused, movements careful but purposeful. It’s a reminder that beneath all his smug remarks and easygoing attitude, there’s someone who knows how to survive. Floor after floor, the silence persists, save for the occasional distant creak of settling debris. Your legs burn by the time you reach the highest level, breath slightly uneven. Satoru, of course, doesn’t look winded in the slightest.

“Not bad,” he muses, peering down the empty hallway. “You kept up.”

If you could, you’d give him another death glare. Insetad, stepping past him out the door and down the familiar hall, toward your apartment door. It’s a sharp right and a few hundred feet away. The number staring back at you, familiar yet foreign—like something out of a past life. With a steadying breath, you reach for the doorknob—only to find it slightly ajar.

Your stomach drops.

Satoru notices immediately, his posture shifting, hand moving to the knife at his belt. His voice is lower now, serious. “That how you left it?”

You shake your head, pulse quickening.

Someone’s been here. Maybe still is.

And you have no idea what you’re about to walk into.

Satoru steadily positions himself in front of you, carefully opening your door and being the first to step inside. You follow, holding your breath like you’re waiting for someone to pop out—human or not. As you both slowly enter, you’re looking around. However much your dismay, things look exactly how you left them yesterday morning. That feels almost more alarming than finding your place askew. Satoru’s eyes dart around the room, scanning for any signs of movement or disturbance. His posture remains poised, like a predator stalking its prey. He’s already in full survival mode, but there’s an odd tension about him. The room is eerily quiet, and as your gaze sweeps over the familiar space, the silence grows louder.

You take a step forward, heart racing as you absorb every detail. Your apartment, for all its remnants of normalcy, feels strangely hollow now. The sunlight filtering through the blinds feels too bright, too exposed, and every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet sounds amplified. The once-comforting space is now just another shell of what it used to be.

Satoru motions for you to stay back as he moves deeper into the living room. His steps are slow, measured, and almost soundless despite the creaking wood beneath him. He pauses for a moment by the kitchen area, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the state of your belongings. Everything seems untouched—your furniture, your personal items—everything as it was, but the feeling in the air is different. "Nothing's been disturbed," Satoru mutters, his voice low and almost to himself. He turns to face you, the serious look in his eyes replaced with something unreadable. "You sure you didn’t leave the door like that?"

You shake your head quickly, a chill running down your spine. "I locked it when I left, I always do." The words feel flimsy, even to you. They don't sound like they carry much weight anymore.

His eyes flicker to the hallway, then to the bedroom door, which stands slightly ajar, though just enough to seem unnatural. His hand moves to the small gun at his side, fingers brushing the handle as he starts toward it with slow, deliberate steps. “Stay close, hurry and get your stuff.” he mutters.

With a quick nod, you make your way to your bedroom with him right behind you. A small look around and you deem it okay to breathe normally for a bit. “Don’t touch anything.”

Satoru doesn’t say anything in response, but you can feel his eyes on you as you rummage through your closet. His presence is imposing, as if he's waiting for something to go wrong, and it only adds to the heaviness in the air. The subtle rustle of clothing is the only sound that fills the room as you work quickly, pulling down one of the black backpacks you use for hiking trips. It’s sturdy, and practical—just what you need right now. You swing the bag over your shoulder, quickly scanning your closet for what you need. A few changes of clothes, nothing too fancy—just some comfortable jeans, shirts, a few pairs of underwear and socks, and a spare jacket you can throw on if things get worse. You shove them into the backpack, careful to make sure you don’t take too much, just the essentials.

You urge him to turn around, changing out of the filthy clothes from yesterday and into a nice, clean set. A simple t-shirt, one you used regularly for the gym or practices, a thin, but offering enough jacket. Finally, your running shoes and comfortable yoga pants. If you’re truly in the apocalypse now, you’d be damned if you’re caught dead wearing something that doesn’t hug your ass right. You walk back into the main room and into the en-suite bathroom, rummaging around for products you know you’ll need. Feminine care products, a hair brush, a couple hair ties, some wet wipes, a new travel-sized toothbrush with paste, along with travel-sized shampoo and conditioner. You’ve never been more grateful to be an avid traveler than you are now.

“Hey,” he calls out, causing you to turn your head over your shoulder. His back is turned to you, but when he faces you, your eyes practically bulge out of your skull. “Is this yours?”

You quickly stomp over and snatch the pink vibrator out of his hand. “What did I say?! No snooping!”

“What?” he shrugs nonchalantly, watching you hide your stash back into the not-so-secret drawer anymore.

“I said to not touch anything, you pervert!” Your hand makes connection with his arm, giving it a good few whacks.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, unfazed by your outburst, and shifts his weight back slightly, clearly amused. His expression is almost too casual, but there’s a glimmer of mischief behind those sharp eyes. “Hey, I didn’t know you were into toys.” His smirk deepens as he watches you practically shove everything back into the drawer with the kind of force that could make even the most nonchalant person flinch.

You glare at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and cross your arms tightly across your chest. “I told you not to touch anything. Is that really so hard to understand?” Your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but the irritation bubbling up in your chest refuses to be contained. It’s the last thing you want to deal with right now—Satoru playing the role of the curious, annoying asshole.

“Look, no need to get all defensive.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, the teasing smile never leaving his face. “I was just checking if you were fully prepared for the end of the world, that’s all.” His gaze flickers to the bathroom counter where you’ve left a few items, eyes darting over the travel-sized toiletries. He walks over, brushing past you with a little too much proximity for comfort. “You’ve got everything packed up, but don’t forget about the essentials.”

Your eyes narrow, watching as he picks up the small bottle of hand sanitizer you’d almost missed. His fingers are carelessly grazing over the edge of the bottle, clearly ignoring the growing discomfort in the air.

“Essentials?” you ask, crossing your arms even tighter. " If you’re implying I need to carry more weapons—"

"No," he cuts you off, his voice smooth and disarmingly calm. "I mean things like this." His hand flips the sanitizer bottle between his fingers, inspecting it before setting it into his pocket. "Hygiene is important, even if we’re fighting to survive." You blink, momentarily thrown off guard by his sudden seriousness. His eyes meet yours, no longer teasing, but steady. “You’ll need to keep your wits about you,” he says, “and hygiene matters. You’ll want to be able to think clearly. So don’t let anything slide.”

You don’t say anything at first. You’re not sure if it’s because of his bluntness or the strange sincerity in his voice, but for a split second, the world outside his apartment—the wreckage, the violence—feels distant. Almost like a dream. You don’t have much time to contemplate it, though, before Satoru turns to face you with that same playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, I think we’re all set then. But I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to have… this kind of ‘emergency kit’.” He gestures vaguely.

Your face burns again. “That’s none of your business and I won’t ever forget or forgive you for being a perverted snoop,” you snap. He’s already back to being a nuisance, and you can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, tapping his finger against the counter. “So, what’s next? You wanna grab your weapons, or are we heading out with just your stylish gear?”

You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll keep the weapons to myself for now,” you mutter, feeling the weight of your bag on your shoulder and the growing tension of needing to leave. There’s no room to play around. No time to be embarrassed. “Let’s just get moving before things get any worse.”

“After you, princess,” Satoru teases, stepping aside and giving you space to pass.

Finding your way back into the kitchen, you grab the only weapon that could be found in your home, unlike others—a simple kitchen knife. You keep it’s guard on as you lodge it into the thigh pocket of your pants, where cellphones would usually go.

“You know,” his annoying voice perks up again. You groan and are ready to hurdle a ‘shut the hell up’ at him when you realize what he’s staring at. A team picture of you and all the girls hung up on your wall near the TV. For a moment, you feel yourself stiffen, fingers clenching by your sides. The face of Yui and Sayo feels like a cold smack to the face. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere, explains how you can afford to live here.” He turns back to you, eyebrows raised. There’s a silence few seconds, like he’s waiting for you to speak or confirm everything.

You don’t.

And he sighs dramatically. “Right, you’re probably humble.” The sarcasm doesn’t stream past you. “I’ve heard a loooot about you, I guess yesterday I just didn’t really have the time to connect the dots. My junior, Ino, he’s—” he cuts himself off, blinking like he has a sudden epiphany. It confuses you, but you allow him to reign in on whatever the fuck is going through his mind right now. A shaky exhale leaves his lips, an attempt at what must be a chuckle, lifting his cap off his head and repeating the same antsy actions you’ve already picked up on. “Anywho, you’re…yeah. Seems fitting.”

Instantly, your lips downturn into a scowl, jaw clenching so hard you can hear your teeth creak. “He told me he wasn’t mar—”

“Not that,” he smoothly cuts you off, waving his hand and walking leisurely to the front door.

You bite back the impulse to snap at him, fingers twitching towards the handle of your knife. He’s baiting you, prodding at your past, and you refuse to let him get any satisfaction. But the urge to respond is there, burning beneath the surface, tangled with the memory of friends' faces, the weight of the team, and everything you’ve lost so quickly. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, hanging between you both. You could ask him what he’s really getting at, could demand answers, but the room feels smaller with every passing second. You just want to get out of here. You just want to leave this place, put the past behind you for once.

Satoru notices your discomfort, his expression shifting just enough for you to see it. A flicker of understanding, or maybe just amusement, passes across his face. Then, he turns back toward the door, breaking the tension with the simple act of opening it. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice softening just a little. “We’re wasting daylight. Got a lot to do, right?”

You don’t respond, but you’re aware of the tiny crack in his facade, the hint of something unspoken between you both. It’s not sympathy, it’s not pity—it’s something else. Something too complex to put into words. Instead, you focus on the door, taking a deep breath, pushing the overwhelming emotions aside. You can’t afford to be distracted now. Not by him. Not by your past. The world outside is still waiting, and you don’t have time for whatever games he’s playing. You don’t have time for anything except survival. With one final look back at your home, your solitude, you life, everything you hold close and dear to your heart, you follow him outside and back into the stillness of the hallway.

Without a word, you two make your way back to the stairs. It feels slightly more awkward now, maybe even tense. You’re used to people recognizing your face and name, but now that he has, you feel a sick, twisted bundle of emotions rise in your gut. And the all point back to the main eruptor: infuriation. He doesn’t look it, but he’s not doubt judging you in his head, they always do now. He’s probably regretting the fact that he saved you yesterday, because you’re probably the last person who deserves it.

That fucking asshole.

You linger behind him, burning holes into the back of his head. You take another step. And another, then another, and another. You two are just about to make it back to the stairwell when—

“Y/N?”

a/n: jk, out today instead of Wednesday :p

(if i forgot to tag you, pls let me know) taglist: @sukuxna0 @heartsteelkaynconsumer @myahfig4 @kirachuyuu @sypnasis

@ducky1232 @oromanticism @2late4breakfast @beabamboo @dickktektive

@sleepyyammy @tbzzluvr @beabamboo @lovely-maryj @n1vi

@ojdubije @reixtsu @istha5 @ritsatoru @sadmonke

@zoeyflower @topmeyelena @sourairi @jlandersen01 @vamppirez

@ac27dj @aquariusscollection @itzkawaiix

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miirohs · 2 years ago

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he looks up, grinnin' like a devil [r.n.z]

pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Fem!Reader wc: 0.5k cw: minor spoilers an: i feel like this man needs a fic from my bc he lives in my head rent free. anyways dont get mad at me if this isnt accurate lol i did everything based off the live action n i plan on reading the manga (eventually)

"Zoro?" You huffed, laying still on the floor of the quarterdeck, eyes shut as you bathed in the sunlight.

There was no response and you frowned, calling again.

"Zoroooo."

A few beats of silence, followed by clunking on wood and and a grunt as shade was cast over your closed eyes. There was a thump and you grinned.

"What?"

You cracked open an eye lazily, staring at Zoros' face as he bent over you, watching you closely.

"Are you mad at me for yelling for you?" You muttered, head bumping against his leg, crossed under the other that his arm rested on.

"Maybe. I was trying to take a nap. Didn't work anyways. What are you doing up here?" You simply turned your head towards him, eyes flitting over his face for what seemed like the thousandth time.

No matter how many times you saw him, you could never seem to get over his profile.

"I was helping Sanji with the tangerines. He needed my help picking the fruit and watering the plants." You sighed, turning on your side.

He made a face, somewhere between disbelief and what looked like jealousy, but you couldn't tell. Not as the sun glared at you from behind him.

"He promised me food if i helped him," you protested at his look, rolling your eyes, "Don't look at me like that."

"How does that pertain to me? I never said anything." He shot back, failing to hide the flustered look at his eyes as he realized you'd caught him. "Zoroooo- you're making the face again," You giggled, rolling onto your stomach to stare at him.

He pretended to look confused, but you knew him like the back of your hand, thinly veiled distress underlying his features.

"Give it up Zo, you're jealous!" You teased, running a finger along the hemming of his pants. "Am not," he said plainly, averting your eyes.

"Am too-" You hummed.

"Am. not." He leaned down, baring his teeth slightly. His earrings jingled in the wind, gently swayed by the breeze.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed his face, fingers grazed barely by the golden earrings.

There were freckles littered all over his face, barely noticeable unless you looked close enough.

You hadn't realized they were there until after the fight with Mihawk, when you stayed at his side, leaning over him hoping he would wake up. They were like little mini constellations, a galaxy you could kiss, although you had never said that to his face.

"Have i ever told you how pretty you look?" You left kiss after kiss on his cheeks, skin burning despite how stoic he looked on the outside. "You've got a grin like the devil yet the aura of an angel."

"Shouldn't i be saying that to you?" He huffed, pulling you closer. He obviously didn't want to let you go.

"You should. I want to hear it more from you," you said, expectant for the tiniest bit more you could milk from this, "tell me how much you love me."

Zoro's gruff exterior softened slightly as he looked into your eyes, whispering under bated breath, "You're as beautiful as always, Y/n."

"Well, in that case," you said playfully, "you're incredibly handsome, Zoro. My one and only."

A rare smile played on his face, and you looked around quickly, leaning in to give him a soft kiss. The breeze seemed to pick up, salty sea air filling your lungs.

As you broke the kiss, you let out a laugh, "I think we both needed that."

Zoro nodded in agreement. "Yeah, maybe I'm a bit jealous, but I can't stand the thought of you spending too much time with that damn cook."

You chuckled, running your fingers through his green hair. "Don't worry, Roronoa. You're the only one I want."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you. "Good," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. "Because you're the only one i need."

#opla #opla spoilers #one piece live action spoilers #opla x reader #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader #one piece netflix #op live action #one piece live action #netflix one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader

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thequeenofcurses · 4 months ago

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A Love Beyond Death

summary: f!Reader x Gojo. Reader visits her husband!Gojo’s grave one year after his death and something magical spicy happens. mdni. word count: 3k. beware manga spoilers

December 24th, today

One year. It’s been a whole 365 days since the world was destroyed. Your world. Forever ruining the Christmas season.

The early morning snow lightly covered the cemetery. The Gojo clan had reorganized a lot since Yuta Okkostu took over as clan leader. Knowing how much you meant to him, Yuta always allowed you to visit Satoru’s grave privately whenever you needed to.

You told that idiot to let you help him fight Sukuna. Every day since, you regret not being there. Maybe your technique could’ve helped him survive. Maybe you could’ve distracted Sukuna and given Satoru an opening. Maybe you could’ve sacrificed yourself for him. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe…

December 24th, 2018

“Babe, I know you’re a great sorcerer, but we both know I can’t go all out if you’re there” you remembered your husband’s voice to you as he was getting dressed. “I can’t risk you getting hurt. I need you to stay here. Stay safe.”

You pouted sadly, but nodded your understanding. “You better come back to me,” you demanded. “Satoru, I swear to God if you die…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” the tall white haired man pulled you into his chest and placed his head atop yours whilst rubbing your back. “Don’t worry about me, ‘kay? I’ll win. I always do.”

Even though you believed him, your eyes continued to flow with salty tears full of worry. “Satoru,” you whisper with a shaky breath. “I love you.”

He stands back a few inches, taking off his blindfold to look you directly in the eyes. “"Hey, don’t cry too much, alright? I don’t want people thinking I left you all heartbroken over me.” He gently cups your face and wipes your tears with his thumbs. “I love you.”

The kiss he gives is everything you need. He lifts your chin then connects his soft lips with your waiting ones. It was gentle, yet passionate, but it left you needing more.

“Satoru, please.” You look up at him, your heart nervously beating through your chest. He could die today. The terrible thoughts flooded your mind. If this is our last time together, I want to show him how much I love him. “I need you. Please.”

Gojo hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I know, baby.” He kisses you again then picks you up by your waist. You wrap your legs around him and he carries you to your shared bed, never breaking your kiss. He gently lays you down before crawling above you. “Show me.”

Even after a year of (secret) marriage, Gojo still makes you blush. You push the nervous butterflies in your stomach down and bite your lip. You kiss Gojo again quickly. “I love you.” He lets you flip him over to where you’re straddling his lap. Blindfold still off, his cerulean eyes watch you through snowy white lashes. “So much.” Your hands travel underneath the shirt he just put on, rubbing his taut chest. You quickly pull his shirt above his head, giving him another kiss thereafter.

Gojo continues to watch you as your hands make their way down from his neck, down, down, down, to his waist. You tug at his pants with need, sliding them and his boxers off in one pull. “Now I’m all naked,” Gojo smirked at you. You giggle at his silly comment before kissing him once more. You use one hand to pull your shirt above your head while your other grips his length, precum already leaking out of it. “Mhhmp,” he groans. You worship his length. Kissing his cock up and down as he continues to get hard for you. You lean down into his lap to take him into your mouth, no hands, as you continue worshiping your husband’s perfect cock.

With both hands free now, you pull down your shorts, and finally feel your own wetness. Straddling him again, Gojo slides his hands up your thighs. His left one stops at your pussy, while he holds you with his right. He gently rubs your clit with two fingers. “My girl is so wet for me,” he mused.

“Ahwh, ‘Toru” you moan. You gently rub his cockhead against your slick folds. “Need you, inside”.

Gojo smirks and sits up a bit. “Show me how much you need me baby,” he breathes.

Instead of responding with words you grip his length and line it up with your entrance. You ever so slowly sink down onto his cock. Slowly inch by inch, until your pussy is tickled by his pelvic hair. You both deeply gasp at the feeling. “‘M so full ‘Toru.” You throw your arms around his neck and start to move. A bit slow at first until you find a good rhythm. Quickly bouncing up and down. Up and down.

“Ff-fuck princess,” Gojo groaned. “Riding me so good.” He kisses your neck, then trails down to your breasts. Left then right. Giving each one their deserved attention. He puts one of your hardened nipples into his mouth while his hands land back onto your waist, steadying you. You ride him fast, and hard, focused solely on his orgasm. “You’re so beautiful,” he says while giving your nipple a lighthearted bite.

You throw your head back in pleasure, slowing down your vertical attack on his cock. “Satoruuu,” your moans echo throughout the room.

“Legs getting tired baby?” Gojo jokes, noticing your pace slow down. The second you nod he effortlessly flips you onto your back and gets between your legs. “Let me take over doll.” He aligns himself at your entrance once again, then thrusts hard, filling you to the brim. The slap, slap, slapping of his balls bullying your clit as he gives you fast, hard thrusts mixed with both of your moans become a cacophony of sound. “I can’t get enough of you,” he admits.

Each long thrust of his brings you both ever so closer to orgasm. “Gonna cum, ‘Toru” you admit. “C-can’t hold it.”

“Yeah, sweets?” Gojo turns your head up so you're forced to look directly into his eyes then places that hand on your throat while his other hand goes back to rubbing your clit. “Come on then, wife.” He thrusts hard with each word. “Cum. For. Me.”

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck, Satoru,” you gasped through a short breath. His ministrations paid off. Your legs start to inevitably shake as his thrusts bring you closer and closer. He leans forward, kissing you and looking directly into your eyes once more as you cum on his cock.

“I’m right here baby,” he says. His hair was disheveled, forehead was slick with sweat, as was the rest of his body; yet he still never looked more beautiful. “Princess, I’m cumming,” he slows down his murder of your pussy, but doesn’t pull out completely; filling your cunt to the brim with his seed.

He releases his hold on your neck and gives you a deep loving kiss. As you both come down from your high. “You okay, doll?” He begrudgingly pulls out you.

“Yes, ‘Toru. I’m okay.” you reassure him. You look up and see the light from the window molding into a series of oranges and pink, signaling sunrise. Your heart feels heavy and the worry fills your being once again. “I’m just worried–”

“Shh,” Gojo shushes you once again with his finger to your lips. “No worrying about me. C’mere.” He pulls you into a loving warm cuddle. He rubs the back of your head while he explains. “Not to toot my own horn but, I am the strongest. Besides, I have to come back to give you your Christmas gift.”

You believe him. So you both shower together, being intimate one more time. After showering, you help him get ready and he takes off his wedding ring and places it in your hands. “I need you too, y/n,” he kneels down. “And once all of this is over, we’ll have a proper wedding. Promise. No more of this secret shit. I wanna show you off to the world. Keep that safe for me, yeah?” You can’t help, but smile. You pull him into one last hug.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You glance at Gojo’s phone on the bed and see the name. Iori Utahime.

It’s time.

December 24th, today

“Liar,” you cried out. “You fucking promised.” Your hand was full of blue iris’. His favorite flower. They reminded you of his eyes. Oh God, those eyes. It was stressful for him to have them uncovered, so you didn’t see them too often. But when you did have those special romantic moments with your husband or sometimes during training, he would remove his glasses or blindfold. He mostly did it with you only, because he knew you loved looking into his eyes (plus he knew eye contact would always make you blush). “You damned liar.”

You kneeled down to the headstone, wiping away the dusty snow that just started to appear, gently placing the flowers down.

Satoru Gojo

December 07, 1989 – December 24th, 2018

Beloved Son And Teacher

They couldn’t even put “loving husband” on his gravestone. With your marriage being secret, only a handful of people knew about your relationship.

You had zero control of your tears. They flowed freely, running down your reddened cheeks. Fuck. The winter chill was making your nose run and your body shake, yet you remained in front of the grave.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you cried. “I wish I was there, I wish I could've saved you. I wish–” your shaky breath breaks. The wind lightly picks up, wisping your hair around your face. You sat there, telling Gojo about your year and everything that has happened since your last visit. You told him that you were proud of Yuta for taking over the clan. You informed him how you adopted a puppy because you were too lonely without him. You explained that you had hoped and prayed after his death that maybe his seed had land that you would still have a part of him, but alas, every pregnancy test you took back then was negative.

You even explained how much you hate Christmas and winter now because all of it reminds you of him.

You talked his ear off. Or the grave’s ear rather, if it had any. You promised Yuta you wouldn’t be here for too long since he mentioned wanting to come visit Satoru with Yuji and some of the other students.

“I love you, ‘Toru.”

Standing up, you wiped the snow off your bottom and turned.

“I love you too.”

You turned your head back and forth, searching for the owner of the voice. It must be your head. I must be getting delusional. God, I miss him.

“y/n”

You whip around and do a 360° turn. “Who’s there?” The graveyard was eerily quiet and there were no signs of anyone else nearby. Yuta promised you’d have private time, so where could this voice be coming from.

“Princess,” Gojo whispered.

Your heart fluttered hearing Gojo’s voice again. It had been so long. Wait, no. Satoru died a year ago. This is impossible… But apparently Suguru Geto had come back from death, maybe it was possible Satoru could too? No, no, no. That was someone’s technique. This is impossible.

“Sweets, I miss you.” Another whisper. Oh God. The only person on the planet who called you that was your husband.

“Satoru?” you questioned quietly, still turning your head back and forth. Tears started to well up in your eyes again. “Fuck, I miss you so much.”

“It’s really me baby,” you felt a wispy feeling on your face, as if a hand was there; yet you couldn’t see him. “Please don’t cry for me, doll.” Your face leaned into the wisps’ palm. As if reading your mind, the wisp gently brushed the tears off your cheek. “I don’t know how this is possible, but I heard you… talking to me. And now I’m here. I don’t think we have much time though.”

Your heart sank down to your chest. Of course you wouldn’t be lucky enough to have him truly come back. Gojo sacrificed everything, everything, for the world, yet when he wants something that’ll make him happy, he can’t have it. Life truly is unfair.

Not knowing how much time you had, you try to tell him the entirety of what you may have left out earlier when you were talking to his grave. The words come out like vomit, quickly, making sure he knows exactly how you feel and how much you need him.

As if God was finally giving Satoru something he wanted, the wisps near you form a very light blue cloudy silhouette of what seemed to be Gojo. Almost as if you were seeing his infinity. You still couldn’t see him fully, but at least you had some idea of where he was.

“Baby, I love hearing about all your little adventures.” The wispy silhouette pulled you into a hug. Somehow it’s filled with warmth. “God knows I’ve missed coming home to you.” You leaned into his chest and that’s when you felt it.

You looked down, still not seeing any physical form of Gojo but his lower outline started to bulge out. “‘Toru is that…”

“Heh, sorry sweets,” he apologized. “I just haven’t touched you in so long.”

“Would it even be possible…?”

“We could try,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

It stopped snowing, yet it was still very frigid. Gojo kissed you, slowly guiding you to his headstone. You unzip your coat and lay it on the ground, but keep your sweater on. “I want this, but I don’t want to freeze.”

“I promise, you won’t freeze.”

You nod, believing him somehow, even though he broke his last promise to you. Your sweater flies off of you just as quickly as he pulled your boots and pants off. The first kiss he gave you was filled with so much warmth and love and need.

“Last time, before I, y'know, died. We fucked and it was amazing, perfect even, but this time, I want to make love to you.” If you could see those blue eyes right now it would make you burst into tears again. “I love you so much, y/n. I’m sorry, I broke my promise.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him with a kiss.”I love you too”.

For the next hour he made slow, sensual love to you, in every romantic position possible. Gojo made sure to take care of you. You felt him and his throbbing length while you rode him and he littered your body with warm kisses. He might’ve even left a hickey or two on your neck.

Your first orgasm was when he had you in missionary while you pleaded for him to fuck you harder, faster. Of course he declined, wanting to keep this as a love making session until you were absolutely begging for it.

You came again when he had you laying in front of him, cuddling, and he had his arms wrapped around you. Never stopping his relentless pounding into your pussy. A perk to being dead is never running out of stamina.

And you came again, for the third time when he had fucked you hard into a mating press. Your legs above your head. You came again and again, while Gojo declared how much he loved you over and over.

“Princess?”

“Mhmm,” you babbled out.

“M’im gonna cum,” he gasped out. “Gonna fill you right up.” You don’t see it, but you feel him stuffing your cunt full of his cock and his cum. He pulled out of you, rubbing his cock up and down your pretty pussy. He caught some of the cum that leaked out of you with his cockhead and stuffed it back inside of you. “My beautiful girl.”

He cuddled with you for another moment, keeping you warm while you both watched the snowy clouds up above. “Baby, I think, it’s time for me to go.” Your heart fluttered. This was the moment you both knew was coming. You looked where you knew his eyes would be at. "I love you. Always. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever move on from you,” you admit. “I just want to be with you”

“Baby…” Gojo’s voice is soft, barely a whisper. “Please, try. Live for me.” He ends his reasoning with a kiss. You shiver, his touch starting to become less and less warm. Whatever technique or spell that was keeping him here must be starting to wear off. He grabs your clothes and pulls you up, helping you get dressed. “After all, I know I’m the best,” he joked. “But you have to move on. Please? For me. I hate seeing you so lonely.” He pulled you into a final hug, his body becoming more cold and less tangible.

You nod into his chest.

And then you feel nothing.

A six sided snowflake landed on your nose before melting instantly. A reminder for you to get back inside.

Maybe the Christmas season won’t be so bad anymore.

EPILOGUE

Six Weeks Later

“It’s positive,” Shoko read the results. “You’re definitely pregnant.”

Your mouth was still agape. “But, but, that’s impossible.”

“Well the test isn't lying, y/n” Shoko said with a laugh. “Are you sure you didn’t get drunk around Christmas and have a one night stand?”

You thought back to six weeks ago. You tried to move on from Satoru, but none of the men you went on dates with truly interested you. And you definitely didn’t sleep with them. You remember visiting Gojo’s grave on his death anniversary and having a very vivid dream with him. But it was only a dream…

“Shoko…” you started. “Would you believe me if I told you I think this baby might be Satoru’s?”

A/N: Did you just fuck a ghost? Yes, you did. My bad if this was too long. And sorry if this is cringe; this is literally the first time I’ve written a story with a smutty-type scene in years. In fact, it’s only the second one I’ve ever written, so I’m sorry if it’s awkward. 😭

masterlist | jjk masterlist

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cosmicflare · 18 days ago

Text

✦ silence

plot → It was after the war, Hawks did things he didn't want to do and he got badly hurt, and you were there to comfort him.

pairing → Hawks x gn!reader

warnings → Angst, fluff, comfort, established relationship, he's not doing good 🥺

note → I originally posted this to Wattpad in 2020, but now that I'm back into BNHA and the Paranormal Liberation Arc is no longer manga only, figured I'd be post it here. It was originally written without caps for the ✨️ aesthetic ✨️ but I switched it to the proper capitalization, that's the only editing I did, so forgive me if I missed some!

You stare at your boyfriend, the winged man on the verge of a breakdown in your shared living room. You hated it, what happened? The press couldn't release anything yet and everything had been confidential, even to you. Your eyes started to well up as you pushed yourself off of the doorway and walked up to him with a sad smile. His head lay in his hands, choked sobs ripped through his throat, his form laid hunched over as he sat on the couch at the cusp of letting loose. Keigo's feathers had been burned off entirely a week ago, they were almost fully grown back, their usual beautiful red was replaced with a deep mahogany. He had his wings in full, spanning many feet on each side of him, they were loosely wrapped around his broken form, as a protective barrier. A shaky sigh escaped your mouth as you slowly approached the shaking male, his left hand attempting to cover up the long burn scar on his face, the sight broke your heart into a million pieces.

"Goawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygoaway...." he muttered, feeling your presence from a few feet in front of him.

He told you go away at the hospital too.

Tears only threatened to spill even more, Keigo never told you to go away, only at the hospital and now. You ignored him this time and walked even closer, he flinched with a shaky gasp as he felt your hand gently placed over top of his. You didn't say anything because knowing him right now, he wanted silence, so you gave him that. however the winged hero kept his eyes planted to the floor, but his shaking grew less only by a small bit. You leaned foward, however he flinched back and sat still, still staring down. tears crawled down his imperfect face as you leaned up and gently placed a kiss on his forehead, letting him know you were there for him. Keigo's hands then left his face as he pounced foward and wrapped his arms so tightly around you that the wind was knocked out of you. you didn't complain, you didn't say a word, instead you ran your hands through his ash-blond hair as he cried into your neck.

He let it all out.

Loud yet muffled sobs rang through the house as the broken man seeked comfort in your arms, your touch, your love. the crook of your neck and shirt got wet from his salty tears, but you couldn't care less. You softly 'sshhhed' him as your hand continued to run through his messy locks and your other hand gently rubbed his back. He continued to sob on you as his grip tightened, him not letting you go without a fight. Whatever he was going through, it had weighted him down so much, he couldn't bear it anymore. Then tears started falling from your eyes as you stared into window in front of you, seeing the lights of the buildings lit up in the dead of the night, what time even was it? You sniffled as you started crying, you wanted to know what was wrong, you wanted to know how he got that scar. but you couldn't right now, not now unless he tells you.

"I killed someone...i'm so sorry!" he yells at you, now sobbing even harder into you, you froze. Then you cried. you held him tighter as you buried your face into his abundant hair, crying into the softness of it. Did he actually kill someone? The villain from the league of villains twice was killed in the raid keigo was a part of, however you didn't know keigo was the one to kill him. You felt horrible he had to do all this alone, being a double agent, ending up killing someone, villain or innocent, it was still something that could lead a person to suicide with enough guilt.

You won't let that happen.

"Keigo, i don't care i love you!" you scream, not caring if he meant to kill Twice or not, he was still your one and only bird that you would love no matter what. You continued to sob as he pulled away and stared into your eyes. His face was red as the tears glistened, you then finally realize that he had made his wings smaller, no longer enveloping you two. He felt safe with you now, he must have because he flinched earlier at you, now he was drowning in your comfort. His eyes were red from sobbing so hard, his chest rose at a short pace, however his breaths had been shallow. His mouth was open as you continued to remain silent as you stared at your boyfriend.

"Y-you do?" he choked it out as he looked at you in disbelief, did he really think you would leave him? You giggled as some more tears fell from your eyes, you pushed his beautiful hair out of his soaked face to better take a look at your future husband. His hands then moved from your shoulders up to your face and did the same.

"Yes Keigo...I still love you, I don't care. I am and will marry you someday my handsome bird brain" You smiled through the waves of emotions that had been rocking your system as you both connected your lips. It was a soft and gentle kiss, one that eased your system. Keigo's hands cupped your face as you placed yours around his neck, you didn't feel desperation, you didn't feel lust, you felt the love of a shattered man who would never let you go. Your eyes fluttered shut as you continued to kiss him with so much love that he will always feel safe in your arms. You broke away from it, now your chests slowly rising and falling at a slower pace. You gulped as a small smile formed on his face.

"Hey chickadee, let's order takeout"

"Alright Keigo, i'm on it"

#bnha #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader

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jujutsukgojo · 6 months ago

Text

Sleepyhead

Dabi x Reader

Summary: You wished him good luck every time. Should you have kept them to yourself and let him die? tw: minor character death, major bnha manga/anime spoilers, implied abuse, attempted su*cide, tried to edit (pray)

Sleepyhead has finally woken up. He stumbles out of the room and looks at you. His eyes are crystal blue haloed with fluttery white lashes. Now that he’s awake, he’s prettier than when he was asleep even though Mr. Sunny disagreed with his looks. Mr. Sunny said something about him being beyond disfigured from the fire. To you, he’s still strangely handsome. You continue to chew on a bag of chips against Mr. Sunny’s wishes. “Hi, Sleepyhead. Nice to meet you.”

When he frowns, you immediately go on the defense. “Don’t tell on me, okay?”

He looks at you confused and nods. He hasn't talked yet, unfortunately; hopefully he can. It must have taken a lot for him to wake up and move around. It'd be a shame if he couldn't speak.

“They’re over there.” You point down the hall, and he takes off in that direction. You don’t know why Sleepyhead is so eager to meet Mr. Sunny and the rest. He’s never seen them since he’s been asleep this whole time. In fact, you came in at the same time he did and never has he woken up. It's a bit of a running joke. All of the kids draw pictures of him being sleeping beauty. Those drawings are even in his room, wishing for him to wake up. So, seeing him actually move is weird. You have watched him grow and now he's mobile. It's hard to explain why his open eyes throw you off.

You overhear that one girl be her own version of a welcoming committee. She calls for Mr. Sunny. You quickly finish your snack and put the wrapper in the band of your pants. Mr. Sunny walks by. He stops and looks at you. The saltiness of the chips stick to your throat.

“What’re you doing, little one?” His voice holds a fake sweetness. You curl your toes in your slippers, hoping for something to ground you. “Nothing. Sleepyhead just walked by.”

“Oh! Did you say hello?” You nod. His face looks like the sun but underneath is evil. Yet somehow, there is an even greater evil behind him, behind this whole operation. “What did he say?”

“Nothing.”

“Hm. Open your mouth.” He looks at you like he's appraising you. You swallow and give a thin, shallow smile. The empty bag of chips becomes more obvious to you as it touches your body. Your sweat slightly sticks to it.

“Where am I?” The teenage Sleepyhead asks. He whispers a question of his voice and caresses his throat. Mr. Sunny turns his attention to him. “Todoroki! Nice to see you. Come with me and everything will be explained,”

Your hands are behind your back. He stops and looks at you. “Show me what’s behind you, my dear.”

You show him your hands then turn around in a circle. “Mhm. Open your mouth for me.”

Your heart rate speeds up. There are still some crumbs in your mouth. Sleepyhead interrupts him. “What’re you doing? I’m serious! I need to see my family. Mom, Fuyumi, Natsu, Shouto, my dad!”

As he says this, he makes eye contact with you. “My apologies, Touya Todoroki. You’ve been through a lot. I should prioritize that. Follow me.”

Sleepyhead walks behind him. In the distance Mr. Sunny asks, “What was she doing when you saw her?”

Fear settles in your stomach. “Nothing. Just standing there.” Before he goes in the room, Sleepyhead makes eye contact with you. You nod and leave the area, not wanting to be anywhere near Mr. Sunny.

Quickly, you dispose of the wrapper, take a drink of water then brush your teeth. Laying on your bed you draw another picture for Sleepyhead. There's no sun, sky, or a moon. Instead, there is a familiar building that you loved before you were swept up here. You color it with open doors and a red curtain in the back. On the stage is a small drawing of the familiar woman who sang beautifully. Sleepyhead will like this. You put him on a bench next to the building with a bag of chips in his hand. The next time you have them, you will give them to him as a thank you.

Suddenly, the building shook. You gasped and sat up in your bed. Dust from the ceiling falls. Not feeling safe, you get up and leave the room. The hallway is warm like when you open an oven. You head deeper into it, confused on why it’s so hot. At the end of it is a bright blue, consuming light. It eats away the walls and ceiling. There is only one person in the facility that can do this.

You gasp and head in the other direction as it travels in every way it can. At the end of the hall is a window. If you can get to it, you can jump out and be free. The problem is, is that you tried that once and it wouldn’t budge without Mr. Sunny’s permission or at least a strong enough quirk. You bang on it and try to open it. The building gets hotter and hotter. “Open, open, open!”

You hear people scream and Mr. Sunny yells for a straight line. His voice is hoarse, and he’s obviously hurt with the groans and hisses he makes. They’re going to leave you?

The banging, pushing, shoving, the window isn’t helping at all. Its steel frame refuses to let the window move. The heat increases and sweat pours off of you. Smoke surrounds the area, even the outside. They’re leaving you.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps behind you. You turn to see Sleepyhead walk through the flames. “Where’s the door, dolly?”

He stands on the fluttering blue light. You tap on the window behind you. Sleepyhead frowns but heads straight anyway. “Move.”

You follow his direction and shriek when the panel flies off the wall and the glass is melted off. Sleepyhead exits the window. You can’t make it across without hurting yourself. How is he able to? Ah, that's right. He cannot feel pain. Before he can leave, you lean and grab his shoulders. He looks back at you with furrowed brows and misty eyes that are not from physical pain. Without even asking him, you press your weight on his shoulders and jump out the window, missing the embers wanting to expand and the melted glass painted on the grass.

He growls and swings to pick you up. You're safely in his very warm arms. “Get off of me.” He puts you down on a safe spot and takes off. You run too and when he sees you follow, he pushes you down. “They’re over there!”

“You don’t understand…”

“Get away from me!” He runs again. You follow him much to his annoyance. Then, you see which direction he’s headed. “No, this way!”

He yanks his arm back. “I am not going back there. I have a family, friends, people that love and need me. I am not like you guys.”

It stings. “That way,” You point to his set direction. “Is where the doctor is and where the big boss goes sometimes. If they see you, they’ll grab you. I know a good way out.”

Interested, he follows you. There’s a buzzing noise over your heads. You gasp and grab his hand. You run to the trees. “W-why are you so fast?”

“Nomu! That’s what we’re gonna be if we don’t run!” Sleepyhead looks at the sky behind him. There are large bodies with their brains showing, flying around. They look under themselves and scout, no doubt for the two runaways. Your heart is pounding in your ears as a white one goes right above you, its eyes barely missing you.

Finally, you reach the edge of the cliff. A few tufts of grass surround the dirt. Beyond that is a river that gently flows. You’ve made it to this part before and know what’s at the end. “Can you swim?”

“Um, yeah? Not the best, though.” He looks down with fearful eyes.

You hold his hand tighter. “Hang onto me.” You grab his hand and jump. He screams as the two of you descend into the cold water. You hang onto his hand as you travel through the water. It chills you down to your bones but it is better than the alternative. If Doctor Garaki talks to Mr. Sunny and finds out that the two of you are gone, it could mean that the big guy, All For One, or something, could come.

The water pushes you two around and neither of you let go of each other. With grace, you dodge debris and pull him closer, encircling your arms around him as the rushing water guides you away.

Pebbles curl underneath your fingers when you pull yourself out with Sleepyhead’s hand in yours. He coughs and breathes heavily. “We have to keep moving. Down here is a street.”

“A street,” He coughs. “To where?”

“People that aren’t them. I remember seeing it.” You spotted it when you were pulled out of the water by a flying nomu. You have yet to touch the pavement of the street or smell the lavish perfumes from the boutique at the corner or get a good look in the pet store that is a few doors down. Colorful clothes and expensive cellphones have been next to the facility where children were held for years.

He gets up shakily and goes with you, his hand still in yours. The wind blows against you, chilling your body through your wet clothes. You gasp but keep on with the plan anyway. You and Sleepyhead have gotten far. There’s no turning back now.

You push the tree branches and leaves out of the way and show that you were right. The street is busy with people and life. The sun shines bright on the passing people who go about their daily lives, not once thinking that there is a monstrosity not too far from them.

“I…I know this. I know this! I can’t be far from home!” Sleepyhead yanks his hand away from yours and goes to the left. You follow him.

“What? No! Go away. This is my family. Go to your own.” He pushes you down to the ground, the pavement scraping against your palms. Someone scolds him. “Young man, control yourself! Now apologize.”

He growls and clenches his fists. “Sorry.” The old lady nods and helps you up then leaves. You notice how she didn’t even bother to comment on both of your appearances. Clearly, there is something wrong with the two kids in front of her, yet she walks away.

“Happy?”

You shrug. Sleepyhead turns around and continues to his home. Once again, you run behind him. At first he growls in frustration but ignores you in the end, except for running faster and using evasive maneuvers to lose you. Of course, they all fail.

The soles of your feet take a toll. Now that the adrenaline is wearing down, you’re beginning to feel the weight of everything. This is enough physical activity for a lifetime. Thankfully, you’re not the only one who feels that way. Sleepyhead slows down to a halt. He’s breathing heavily and has his hands on his knees. “Come on. If you stop, it’ll be harder to finish.”

He pushes himself up and jogs. The two of you come across a street that no doubt belongs to the rich. There are kominkas and modern homes next to each other, all different yet have a lavish quality. It’s something that you know you’d never be able to afford. It’s a miracle you’re even here.

“Are one of these yours?” You shake your head no. “You can’t,” He gasps for breath. “Come with me.”

“Where do I go?”

He cocks his head. “Fine, fine.” He grabs your hand roughly and limps to another house that isn’t quite as big as the kominka down the road. Sleepyhead brings you to the gate. “Knock on the door, alright?”

Before he leaves, you say, “Goodbye Sleepyhead, and I wish you good luck.”

“My name’s Touya.”

“I’m (Y/n).” He looks back at you. “Thanks for everything, doll.” He limps around the corner. You have a small smile and flutters in your tummy. Taking a deep breath, you push the button on the gate and it opens. Your legs are aching, and your feet are blistered. Whoever owns this house must be good if Sleepyhead dropped you here.

You knock on the door.

----

You walk home from work with the streetlights that are just now flickering on to guide you. Right as you are rubbing your shoulders, you hear voices to your right range in pitch and volume. You tread along the sidewalk and hope not to run into anyone unsavory. Suddenly, right when you come across an alley, it erupts into flames that create a woosh sound.

The heat is intense and consuming. People scream so loud it echoes on the brick buildings’ walls. There is nothing you can do for them except watch in horror. Some of the people move around frantically, and others roll on the ground. Lucky for them, their pain is soon gone as the flames ended them in seconds.

You are at the end of the alley, clutching your purse for dear life. Smoke blows your way as the assailant walks closer to you. His black boots don't melt and his trench flows behind him, letting him look like a true villain, even without his dastardly deeds

Now he is feet from you, you remember who he is. He has changed a little but looking at his face for three years straight lets you recognize him anywhere. His eyes are still jewels and have hardened, purple scars have spread, and his hair is dyed. He has staples rather than the bonded skin he left with.

And yet, you see him even though it’s been years. "Are you scared, doll?" His voice is deeper and smoother than it was last time you saw him.

You shake your head no. He doesn't smile but cocks his head to the side. He is letting you go. Before you can leave, you turn back to him and say, “Wish you good luck, Sleepyhead.”

Nothing else needed to be said between you two. Not even a nod or wave. There is a sense of familiarity, a camaraderie, a bond, that was created in a facility designed to abduct and trick children into nomus and spare quirks for All For One. There is nothing needed when it comes to you two.

-----

Lately, there has been a terrorist organization that has grown drastically. Among them is a blue flame user named Dabi. Without seeing him, you know who it is and have a feeling of what he is doing. He had dropped you off at his neighbor’s house and went to his family. He made sure you knew about them and how desperate he was to go back to them. If he has turned into this, it has to do with them.

On every screen is a shirtless Sleepyhead. He is covered in staples and scars. He talks about an unfair justice system and fake heroes. You look around and see everyone’s reactions to him.

He goes on about his backstory and doesn't bring up the facility, only Endeavor and his crappy parenting. You don't know whether to be offended or not. No, this is a wish for good luck. Because if he did, you'd be in deep shit. So instead, you nod and say, “Good luck, Sleepyhead.”

You walk away and head home, not paying any more attention to the man on the screen or even to the people who whisper the name, Dabi. There’s no need for any comments or corrections. At this rate, you may see him again.

This thought occurred again when he decided to attempt suicide. It was painful to see that because you saw Sleepyhead still and not Dabi. You saw Touya, who ran away with you and the one who didn't tell anyone about the potato chips, and the one who spared you from his flames twice. You can't listen to the fear and cries of others anymore. You sit on the bench with your hands in your lap, holding the wish of good luck. It is his if he wants it. And with this oncoming explosion, he doesn't want it this time.

In the fortress of U.A, you can’t do anything but have him on your mind, and the question of if your wishes meant anything.

---

Not too long after, you’re called to go to a special secured room. It’s one for the extremely injured patients or the dangerous. You knock first then open the door. Inside is a vault with a charred person inside. There is no one in the room but there were visitors before your arrival. You spot the vase with pretty blue flowers in it, a food tray with what looks like a single soba noodle lying in the trash, and a book on the table.

"Sleepyhead?" The machine beeps in response. In the doctor's notes, it says he is only able to speak for a few minutes a day. Since his family was here, those minutes are probably used up.

You enter deeper into the room and stand in front of Sleepyhead. "I'm only here to get your vitals, I won't be long." Another beep. You check the machine then gently touch him. He cannot feel pain, but it is still considerate to be careful. His skin is completely charred, his fluffy hair is gone. He may not be able to physically feel pain, however, that doesn't mean he cannot feel the burden of it. The fact that he knows his condition is painful enough.

After a few short minutes, a hoarse voice says, “Should’ve kept your wishes for yourself. They did me nothing.”

Sleepyhead's eyes follow you. “They were yours, nonetheless.”

There's a deep humorless chuckle. His voice sounds slurred almost. His tongue is probably burnt again. “You aren’t grossed out, dollface? Not even a little?”

You shake your head no. “I’ve seen worse,” You settle down on the chair that is to his left. “That one was you, by the way. When you first came in, you looked a lot like this but a little worse.” You hear a shuddered breath. “This is the most we’ve ever talked, ain’t it?”

“I think? When we were running, we might've talked more?” It's crazy how that is. You feel connected to him but have only spoken a few words to each other.

“(Y/n),” You don’t comment on how he remembers your name despite only telling him once. “I messed up, messed up badly. I’m dying.”

“Isn’t that how you wanted it?”

“Not now. Not when…everything is getting clearer.” You raise your brow. “Clearer?”

He takes a deep breath. "I hate him, that old bastard. But it cost me my life and siblings. Everything could’ve been different. There's still so much I hav-" He coughs.

"Don't waste your energy, Sleepyhead."

He sighs. "It feels good to talk about it," You nod, encouraging him to continue if he wants. Sleepyhead looks to the ceiling and continues. "His favorite food is soba, just like me. We have the same favorite color, too. Dollface, I messed up. I broke my family." You don’t know who exactly he’s talking about, but it isn’t Endeavor. Endeavor doesn’t look like the type to like soba.

"That wasn't just you, Touya. You were just the biggest crack in the glass house." You write down his numbers. "Honestly, Sleepyhead, I think this was bound to happen. Your home was built on glass when it’s not supposed to be, I think."

"So positive." He wheezed. You look at him, not moving from your seat. "No one can change the past, it’s set in stone and the future is just bare pages. That is how I think of it at least.”

He listens. “You can’t rewrite history but you can learn from it. Bear that burden in your current and write the lessons on the future pages. Endeavor made his bed and will lie in it. You can too, if you want."

After a few beeps, you speak. "I think it's evil of them to let you suffer though. You should die in peace. You got to say and do what you wanted." His eyes trail to you. "What would you like, Sleepyhead?"

"Bare pages."

"What if it ends up the same?"

His chest rises and falls. Sleepyhead lifts one finger to you. "It was you, right, angel?" You nod. He was bound to piece it together. It's just unfortunate that he figured it out eleven years later. Sad that on death’s door he figured out who you were.

"Can I still wish you good luck?" He can no longer talk today, so he'll blink.

You get up and walk to him. "Then I will see you later, Sleepyhead." You kiss his nose, just as you did last time. He looks shocked at you then closes his eyes. You will see him again, just like before. However, you are sure to piece him together right this time. With every wish good luck to pump his heart and organs again, every stitch to his skin is more careful. You don't have pressure or evil behind you, breathing on your neck.

Now, you can take your time piecing Sleepyhead together and hopefully, it won't feel weird seeing his eyes open.

#bnha #bnha manga spoilers #bnha spoilers #boku no hero academia fanfic #boku no hero academia spoilers #mha spoilers #mha #mha fanfic #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #todoroki touya x reader #my hero academia #q #boku no hero academia

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lixie-phoria · 2 years ago

Text

ੈ✩‧ ➛ best friend!hyunjin gets jealous of this new boy you've been talking a little too much about

pairing : best friend!hyunjin x gn reader

prompt : hyunjin can't help but get jealous of the new boy you seem to be infatuated with lately, hating the ugly feeling that burned through his chest everytime you said his name. he wishes he had realized sooner that he had absolutely nothing to worry about, because this new boy was, in fact, only fictional.

genre : fluff, little bit of angst bc hyunjin is jealous :(

word count : 707 words

an : extremely self indulgent haha

hyunjin was in love with you. everybody knew it; his friends knew, your friends knew, even the people in your university that he had never spoken to before knew about it. everyone seemed to know except for you.

but the boy could never confess. everytime he came close to, something always seemed to come in the way. this time it was another boy.

he first heard the name rindou when the two of you were out with a group of friends. he noticed how your phone's screen lit up and the girl sitting right beside you burst into a fit of giggles when she noticed your lockscreen. you switched off your phone before he could catch a glimpse of it himself, but he did hear the faint teasing of your friend. "i know you like rindou, but so much that he's already your lockscreen?"

hyunjin's heart dropped when he noticed the slight blush on your cheeks as you told her to shut up.

he was heartbroken. partly because you were best friends and you apparently didn't feel comfortable enough sharing about this new boy with him, and partly because here he had been pining over you for years and now you were suddenly interested in someone else?

hyunjin wanted to cry. what did rindou have that he did not? heck, he didn't even know who this boy was. he'd asked everyone around campus and there was no rindou who studied there. was it someone you met online? maybe on a dating app?

hyunjin's first impulse was to distance himself from you. it drove him mad, not seeing you for days and hearing the disappointment in your voice everytime he called off a plan.

but it was for the best, right? wrong. he couldn't have been more wrong.

the first time he saw you after an entire week was at a party, and his heart hurt when he saw the smile he loved so much take over your face when you saw him.

you rushed forward, throwing yourself in his arms. hyunjin wanted to wrap his own arms around you and breathe in your scent that he had missed so much and just never let you go. but he pulled away anyways, ignoring the hurt that flashed across your face.

"don't get too close. we don't want your boyfriend getting jealous, do we?"

he didn't meant to sound so crass, but it slipped out and there was nothing he could do about it as you blinked at him blankly. once. then twice.

"what?"

he scoffed. so first you kept rindou a secret from him and then you were going to play dumb? did you think hyunjin was that stupid?

"rindou. the guy who's your new lockscreen. aren't you with him?"

hyunjin was confused as your expression slowly morphed into a horror struck one.

"is that what you're salty about?" you asked incredulously.

"well, of course i'm a bit hurt you didn't tell me about him. i would be happy for you, you know, if you really liked him."

the poor boy was so confused when you burst into a fit of laughter, clutching at his arm for support.

"you mean that rindou?" was all you could manage between gasps as he stared at you with increasing confusion.

what was so funny?

"jinnie, no," you said, shaking your head. "rindou is a fictional character. he doesn't exist. he's from a manga i'm reading"

oh.

hyunjin felt heat rise up his face as he hastily freed his arm from your grasp, turning away from you so you wouldn't notice his increasingly embarrassed expression. rindou was fictional?

gods, hyunjin felt so stupid. all this for a boy who doesn't even exist?

"hyunjin, look at me."

he ignored you, letting out a huff as you tried to control the laughter that threatened to bubble out again.

"jinnie, please?"

"stop calling me that."

"but that's the only way you'll listen to me."

the two of you seemed to have forgotten the party raging around you.

"this is so embarrassing. please leave me alone."

"were you jealous?"

his silence spoke volumes and he heard you huff softly.

"jinnie, turn around, please?"

"so you can laugh at me more?"

"no, you dumbass, so i can kiss some sense into you."

©lixie-phoria, 2023

🏷️ @foxinnie8 , @hamburgers101 , @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed from the taglist :))

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ladybyakuya · 7 months ago

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| INTO MY KALIEDISCOPES ( part three ) + SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

+cw. — fem!reader, fluff, comfort, domesticity,pinning.

+wc. — 1k

+syn.— Sugishita Kyotaro was always the first target for every impromptu plan that Umemiya made while you were Kotoha's. Naturally, when they both made plans you and Sugishita had to face each other again.

+notes. — this is for the flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for prompt: date night hosted by @spookuna. m\dni cuz me iz eighteen plus blog. this is part of a mini drabble series that can be read as stand alone. | redirect to blog navigation.

The shop that was suggested by both Haji-kun and Koto-chan is the same shop that popped up in Google Maps when you searched for “grocery stores near me.” but now that you are finally here you can tell why it was so hard to locate the shop, even for google. The town guide, Sugishita, who is accompanying you was not much of a help. Besides, talking with him is still a boat you had yet to set foot on let alone sail on it. Never in the worst nightmares you had expected to run into him, again, after that embarrassing date night.

The shop is almost empty except for the staff at the cash counter who is practically dozing off. It is already quite late at night so you do not see a reason to blame him especially because Makochi is a forlorn town. No shop is ever too crowded to come back home empty-handed. Haji-kun wanted to have a barbeque night; naturally, Hiragi was busy helping him, more like cleaning the mess he left behind after he was done with something, as always. Kotoha, Sakura, Nirei, and Suo are helping with the setup while Kaji and Tsubaki have gone to invite others, especially the members of Shishitoren and the people at show pub Ougi bar. As a result of these patiently concocted coincidences You and Sugishita were the only two people left with nothing to do but one of the most important responsibilities: “grocery shopping.”

A heavy sigh escapes from your chest as you lay your eyes on the entire display of products while standing in front of the fridge. Vibrant in color compared to the other parts of this dull silent shop, it piqued your interest first even though it is the utmost corner. The ground shelf of the fridge, which extends from one end of the shop to the nook of the staircase which would possibly lead to the second floor, is filled with dairy products. The shelf above it is filled with frozen foods and various types of treats with different tastes like salty, spicy, sweets, and alcoholic; the last, the uppermost shelf is filled with a wide variety of chocolates. Your concern is the middle section but the level above it is the most tempting. You pick a bunch of packets from the frozen foods section and look by your right side.

Oh god! Where did this boy run off to now? He was following you like a stray puppy just a while ago. With the shopping cart in between the two of you, it felt like he was light years apart every time you turned back to keep anything inside it. You look around unable to spot him, slowly sinking into a rabbit hole of distraught since without him you would be lost in Makochi. You would not be able to go back without him. Relying on the phone? That’s pretty useless here. The network is bad besides you do not have anyone’s number except Kotoha and even if you did make a call she would be busy in the preparations of barbeque mostly probably unable to take the call . . . Oh God! Why did Haji-kun have to send you in the middle of nowhere. . . ?

A metallic screech sucks you out of your puddle of thoughts. You look in the direction of the source and a nonchalant Sugishita appears emerging from another section of the rack that has a lot of mangas, magazines, and books, by standing on the bar of the shopping cart while hunching his upper body to balance his weight, skidding it till he comes to a halt in front of you. His head turns up towards you, eyes blinking: one, twice, thrice before he straightens himself up to stand properly. He stands looking at the fridge, the cart in between you two as you inspect him for a few seconds. He is not hunching like he usually does around Umme! The inner flesh of your bottom lip faces a rough distortion against your teeth while you empty your hands into the cart. It already had drinks, soda cans, and different types of sauces neatly kept. It felt illegal to dump those packets messily into that apple pie setup but when there was a slow appearance of a visible crease along his eyebrows the pit guilt was now filled with surprise and . . . joy perhaps.

“Alright fine,” You chime with an ear-to-ear smile jocking down to keep those packets of frozen foods in a well-ordered manner. The dull buzz of the air conditioner, the sharp ‘clicks’ when the rotating fans switch its direction, the crinkle of plastic packets inside the cart as you organize it, the low even syncing breaths of you two; then a gruff unfiltered voice turns up in a weak whisper, “This almost feels like a date night, wouldn’t you agree? ” and then, his hand on yours. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this was coming. You were . . . supposed to be prepared for this. It was you who avoided him at first. It was you who created an awkward situation like this. The fact that you saw him under those dim yellow lights in such an intimate manner does not help either. Those moments so unadulterated keep coming back to you in situations like this in flashes. It makes you close your eyes, and blink rashly to be back in all sorts of coherence.

You look up slowly. His face is close, too close not to do anything—kiss or touch— your forehead against his, rub your cheeks against his. By now your fingers have found a home in between his fingers. He shoves his right hand into his pocket pulling out a half-eaten chocolate out of it and keeping it inside the cart. You feel a strong urge to smile but instead, wet your bottom lip rubbing the back of his palm with your lonely thumb that was not interlaced with his yet.

“Would you like to start over?”

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luvnami · 8 months ago

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shinazugawa sanemi is NOT the love interest of my dream office romcom! - chapter 3 (fuck me - no, not literally!)

ɞ an | this is a buildup to the okinawa trip arc in ch4 and ch5. i promise, we'll get more juicy bits soon! i wonder what will happen when sanemi and reader are on an island all by themselves... likes/comments/rb are appreciated. do let me know what you think about the fic! find the masterlist here ɞ cw / wc | mangaka!mitsuri and manager!obanai, sanemi's manboobs, blowjob mention, mdni (18+), 1.5k+

You think you might like ‘Doki-Doki Island Escape’ a little more than what you’d rather admit. You spend your weekend flipping through the first volume of the manga, in-between folding laundry and washing dishes (one of the many banes of your existence).

The story starts off like any other: the protagonist visits her grandparents in Okinawa for summer vacation. She dreams about the ocean views and blue skies, but meets a boy her age that shows her the island’s secret: a magical gem that grants the user a single wish. As the pair explore the island and fall in love, they try to ignore their inevitable separation at the end of summer.

The volume ends there. You put the book down and stare at the dark sky outside your apartment window, briefly thinking about a life where you’d wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. There’s no boss breathing down your neck for project proposals, no skyscrapers obscuring the light-polluted sky. You close your eyes. If you try hard enough, you can almost smell the salty sea and hear the caw of seabirds.

Nope. It’s just a dream, after all, and the reality you live in is unfortunately a lot more pathetic than an idyllic Okinawan life.

You wake up the next morning to your third alarm, blasting from your phone as the device vibrates off your nightstand and clatters to the ground. It’s Monday and you have 15 minutes to get ready for work. You curse and jump out of bed, though your comforter tangles around your legs and you tumble onto your bedroom floor with a muffled thump. You waste an extra minute unwrapping yourself and nursing the bump on your knee.

You race around your tiny Tokyo apartment in record time to make yourself look somewhat presentable for the office. No matter how attractive you think a beefy, handsome manager scolding you for being late would be, Shinazugawa would rather have your head on a pike (which is, contrary to popular belief, not as attractive). You thank yesterday-you for having enough sense to iron your clothes in advance. You wriggle your head through your shirt, grab your blazer and bag, and bolt out the door – though you end up having to turn back because you’ve forgotten ‘Doki-Doki Island Escape’ on your bed, and you’re meeting with the client today.

The morning rush is as unforgiving as ever. You make space for yourself on the packed train by shoving your way through, muttering ‘sorry’s that don’t sound very sorry in the first place. You look at the time on your phone. Maybe you’ll have enough time to grab breakfast at the convenience store. As the doors open and droves of people step off the train, you yelp and clutch onto a handlebar to avoid being swept off with the crowd. So much for that Okinawa dream.

You make it to the office on time and in one piece. It’s a miracle, really.

“Hey, you’re not late today!” Masachika grins.

You pretend to swing your fist at his head. He easily dodges, laughing it off. You spend the next ten minutes scarfing down your breakfast (red bean bread and a carton of juice) as Masachika tells you what he did over the weekend: taking care of his niece, watching a movie with his partner, the new recipe for chicken nanban he tried out. Way more entertaining and productive than your own weekend.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you spent half the time writing a new smut fic, so you lie about preparing for today’s meeting. The doubtful face Masachika gives you makes you feel a little bad, but not enough for you to tell the truth. You really, really don’t want to elaborate on how your protagonist gets eaten out by a vampire hottie.

At 9.30am, you head over to a meeting room with Masachika and Shinazugawa. Your clients are already seated inside. The author, Kanroji Mitsuri, is all pretty in pink. Her eyes glitter and for a moment, you’re stunned, recoiling as sparkles and flowers pop up all around her face with a lovey dovey theme song playing in the background. Her aura shines like the sun.

“Shinazugawa! Hi!” she smiles, and you’re almost knocked out by the pureness that radiates off of her.

It’s a stark contrast compared to her manager, Iguro Obanai. Kanroji and him are as different as night and day. He’s dressed in all black and has a face mask on, with a glare so deadly it makes you want to prostrate yourself and beg for forgiveness for breathing the same air as him. You’re not quite sure who’s more terrifying – him or Shinazugawa. The more you think about it, the more you consider resigning from your job and living as a NEET, so that you never have to interact with men who haven’t outgrown their puberty-induced rebellious phase (i.e., Shinauzawa Sanemi and Iguro Obanai who think that glowering at everyone and everything is cool. It is not. It makes them look unapproachable and like a prick, not quite quiet and mysterious and Edward from Twilight as they intend to be. Though, you’re not one to gentle-parent a man into being socially approachable, so that’s on them to figure out).

“Shinazugawa,” Iguro mumbles, though it doubles as a greeting. “Let’s make this fast. We have a lunch appointment after this, and I hate being late.”

You take a seat with Shinazugawa opposite Kanroji and Iguro, as Masachika serves everyone tea. Thankfully, even though your boss has a temper that reckons he must’ve been born out of Satan’s asshole, he’s professional and dependable when it matters. It turns out that Shinazugawa and Iguro have worked together before. A pair of unlikely friends, though you keep that thought to yourself since you do want to live to see another day.

The meeting goes by smoothly. Kanroji is easygoing, and agrees wholeheartedly with the idea that you propose – a large poster set-up at a train station. It’ll help passengers connect the story of the manga with a vacation destination, and reach out to a varied audience on their daily commute. You’re relieved as Kanroji gushes excitedly over it, though you try to ignore the daggers that Iguro is throwing at you with his eyes. Shinazugawa silently nods along as you speak. You’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t interrupt you.

The meeting ends with setting a date to see each other again in a month. You attempt to scamper off to your desk after sending Kanroji and Iguro off, but Shinazugawa calls for you and Masachika to stay back in the meeting room for a little longer.

“We’ll make a trip to Okinawa this weekend,” he says, arms crossed over his chest (drool-worthy, strong and broad, insert another fifty adjectives here to convey the sheer delight of a man’s boobs).

You gape. It isn’t strange for teams to conduct field research to understand the subject of their projects better, though Okinawa seems a little out of the company’s budget for you to take Shinazugawa at face value.

“Seriously?” Masachika scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “What a waste. I took the weekend off because I have to take my parents to the hospital for a check-up. I guess it’ll just be the both of you, then.”

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

“Alright. I’ll see you at the airport Saturday morning,” Shinazugawa nods at you.

Cut the cameras.

You are not about to go on a two-day-one-night trip to Okinawa with your manager. Sure, the purpose of the trip is to collect research material for your project, but it doesn’t help that it’s Shinazugawa Sanemi is the one going with you (read again: SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI, HOTHEADED BOSS, KNOWS YOU WRITE FANFICTION ABOUT HIM, AND IS HOT AS FUCK).

Heaven and hell must be plotting against you, because you don’t know if you’re overcome with joy or despair.

You hope that you’re sharing – NO! You will have separate rooms. There will be absolutely no tomfoolery. This is not a real life fanfiction fever dream come true, where there is only one bed and Okinawa will be storming all weekend so you’re forced to stay indoors with each other’s company. This is a very professional work trip, thank you very much.

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath. “Yeah. I can do this.”

You’re strong. You’re independent. You will not fall for the office eye candy that is Shinazugawa Sanemi. As much as you can appreciate any well-groomed and decent looking man, office relationships are a line you’ve never considered crossing. It’s dangerous yet enticing, although you’d rather spend your time worrying about your 13th month bonus than sucking someone’s dick in the office storeroom on your lunch break.

Shinazugawa gives you a puzzled look. The more he tries to understand you, the more he realises you are simply an enigma to him. He doesn’t know why he even bothers. A vein pops out on his forehead.

“If you’re done talking to yourself about nothing, then you can go back to your work,” he seethes.

“Yes! I’m sorry, we’re on our way!”

You squeak out an apology and shove Masachika out of the meeting room.

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me with Shinazugawa,” you sniff.

“I know you’ve dreamt about it. Make sure to use protection, okay?”

“Shut up! It’s not like that!”

Masachika laughs and you whack him over the head.

#shinazugawa sanemi #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #shinazugawa sanemi fic #shinazugawa sanemi fanfic #kny sanemi #kny sanemi x reader #kny shinazugawa sanemi #kny sanemi fic #kny sanemi fanfic #kny x reader #kny fic #kny fanfic #sanemi x reader #sanemi fic #sanemi fanfic #shinazugawa fanfic #shinazugawa fic

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absolutebl · 11 months ago

Note

Industry question for you, please: Why is it that it seems that Thai BL in particular has some really systemic issues with writing endings? Screwed-up pacing/editing, out-of-character/illogical actions, not being very satisfying... it seems like a show avoiding that fate is more of an exception than the rule, unfortunately. Do a lot of them just... not write the ending ahead of time? 😅 That would make having these sort of wacked-up endings at least make some sense, but... really, it makes *no* sense to me that that would be the actual standard writing strategy-- I mean, for example, one of the best living novel authors I know of *always* has very satisfying endings, literally without fail (I have read everything he's written and been perfectly content with the ending of every one), and the reason for that is he purposefully always writes the endings of his books *first*, then works everything back up to that point. Similarly, some of the best TV shows I've seen (from any country-- and this does actually include some Thai ones, to be fair) were written either all in one go or at the *very* least with their endings obviously already very firmly in mind, regardless of if they were completely original or were adaptations of some other source material. So... why does this often seem to be such a difficulty for the writers of Thai BL? 😅 (Sorry if I sound a little salty here, but endings either make or break all fiction for me {novels, manga/manhwa, TV, movies, games, whatever}, and I've been getting burned what seems to be more and more often lately with shows being great for the vast majority of their runtime but then inexplicably totally botching the landing, seemingly out of nowhere-- so I'm a bit frustrated with that when it seems to be a really simply-solved problem {that, indeed, has already been solved by many others before}: JUST WRITE THE DAMN ENDING *FIRST* and then work up to it? 🙃😅)

Endings huh? You a romance reader by nature? (Wait, no, you said... HE. So... Sparks? Green?) Anygay, where was I?

But yeah, I get it. I've always fancied the dessert course the most, myself.

To answer your question, not sure. I'm assuming its a narrative expectation based in culture. Like Japan and their lanes, China and 6 act structure, or Korea's adoration of love triangles. And producing culture comes to film and storytelling with its own set narrative conceits, archetypes, and tropes and aren't proscriptive but are leaned on a lot. Much as they come to film with a certain style as well.

Think about the "look" of Korean BL compared to the "look" of Taiwanese BL, for example. They have an entirely different flavor to them. Korean stuff is usually all bright and airy, lots of distance shots, super clean and uncluttered, filtered and filmy and atmospheric. Taiwanese stuff is much closer, more grainy, more bold with it's color choices and contrasts, kind-up n your face and gritty, a bit messy sometimes.

It's jarring to go from one to the other.

After watching nothing but Asian dramas for so long, I always find it jarring to go back to American shit. It feels over-acted and unsubtle and kind of brash. Over all "loud" and in my face. Jarring.

So when first encountering 4 or 6 act structure most westerners feel a little unmoored, it doesn't feel comfortable until you sink into it and leave 3 & 5 behind.

I'm mean I'm so used to K-dramas with that arbitrary year or more separation in the final episode I;m now shocked when it's not there.

I guess what I'm saying is maybe it's just a thing with Thailand, not to put that much truck in endings. The way (especially) romances do in the western world. There's a very fixed idea of what an HEA should look like in the west. Thailand may not share that idea.

I've not read the source books of any of these BLs, so I don't know if this is just their narrative style or not.

I mean there are some Thai BLs with good (if not great) endings, and plenty of Korean BLs with terrible middles, and far too many Taiwanese BLs with bad beginnings.

Ya just kinda get used to it, I guess.

15 Thai BLs with Good Endings

A Tale of Thousand Stars

Bad Buddy

Lovely Writer

2gether

Be My Favorite

Dark Blue Kiss (possibly my favorite on this list)

Destiny Seeker

Make a Wish

Naughty Babe

SOTUS

#asked and answered #sort of #stories represent culture #it;s the whole point #actually #thai bl #bad endings

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simp999 · 1 year ago

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A New Home Ch. 27

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.1k

A/N: Sorry for taking so long chat I had to walk my fish

A/N 2: (Checks watch) uh. Damn sorry ya'll. Don't expect too much out of me but I think my life should be a lil less hectic perchance. We'll see ww

Back to the Start! Previous Next

One by one, over the course of a few hours, you each put the blindfold on and attempted to hit your teammates. The difficulty increased as you went on, from standing still to slowly moving, to running. By the end of the training session, you had multiple teammates whizzing past each other in different directions getting splatted.

As the four of you sat near or against the wall to catch your breath, you congratulated them on their improvement.

"I can't really put into words how impressed I am, nor will I admit I'm a poet at all. But I will say this; what you guys showed me today was something I never thought was possible when I got here," You spot Leo's smile grow wider, glad to be getting praised for his efforts, then you lazily point at him, "Hey, that doesn't mean that you can slack off now, you dork. Don't forget that there's going to be loud music, bombs, people cheering, ink being thrown around, not to mention communication between teammates that'll make this 100x harder."

You take another glance at each of your teammates. - No. - Your family members.

"...But I can promise that this will be worth it. Every time we train, great progress is shown."

...You sure are good with compliment sandwiches, huh?

You can't promise that you'll win against team Emperor, but you're sure that every minute you spend training will prove helpful on the battlefield.

You're all exhausted from training and just on time. The next big match is going to begin in roughly a half hour. The battle between Team Monarch and Team Yellow-Green. The manga had skipped how much time was spent between important matches on the smaller, less important matches. You allow your family to relax however they so desire while you wait for the match to begin. Leo playing games on his phone, Milo stretching, and Tasha cleaning her weapon.

Soon, it's time to make your way over to Sturgeon Shipyard, biting your inner cheek as you realize how packed the seats are. What you weren't expecting, though, was for a path to seemingly be made as you walked through. You tried to avoid the many pairs of eyes on you. It almost felt like back when you first got here and rose the ranks, but the gazes were much more uncomfortable back then. The whispers paired with them used to be much more curious and sometimes rude. You almost cringed remembering those salty players you had to drown out with your headphones what feels like forever ago. But now; you take a quick look around you, - they almost seem to be staring in awe.

You glance back at your team. You wouldn't say you're standing tall, maybe a more introverted kind of confidence if that makes sense. You're still not a fan of being the center of attention. But looking back at your team- your family- a lot sure has changed.

Once you begin to settle down in your seats, doing your best to take up the least amount of room possible, you catch the way the sea of cehalopods appear to disperse yet again. This time much more obviously. From your position, it isn't too difficult to see who it was, easily spotting purple tentacles above the crowd as the tallest of the group makes his way closer.

Aloha's quick to tug you into a hug before you can sit down, dabbing Leo up before taking a seat behind you. You don't remember them being here to watch this match last time, which is odd to you. Skull's got a lollipop in hand, sitting behind Milo after being instructed by Army to do so. He does so without questioning, as airheaded as ever- but Army has a reason, given the heights of the two inklings. Army takes a seat behind Leo, and Mask - you.

You would have jumped if you hadn't noticed Aloha slowly get closer to you ear, attempting to surprise you.

"Sooo~, how's the training goin'?"

You're about to answer, but the immediate terrified look Leo shoots his way almost makes you snicker.

"Hey, it's not that bad. C'mon now."

Leo once again turns towards Aloha and dramatically grabs his hand with both of his,

"Save us, dude!"

You let out a chuckle at the scene.

"Leo, chill."

His hands shoot up in the air, and his voice cracks as he tries to make his point.

"You blindfolded us!"

"Which isn't that bad!"

He faces Aloha again,

"You have no idea how much pain I'm in."

You gently nudge his side as another chuckle escapes you, shaking your head.

Leo dramatically points to where you gently nudged him,

"See?! Abuse!!!"

Aloha's forced into a fit of giggles as he watched the scene play out before him.

"Oh, can it, dork."

"I think I deserve some sort of reciprocation!"

You sigh and roll your eyes. You rest your chin in your palm. This was most definitely his plan all along.

Aloha leans down once again, this time whispering to Leo. Obviously, you could still hear him;

"Don't worry bro, I'll set something up for you."

You've got no idea what that means, but they dab eachother up again. Whatever makes Leo happy, you suppose.

The match is about to begin, and you hear Goggles blabbing away to his team a few feet in front of you. You ignore it as you pull out a pencil, along with your old manual. You're nearing the end of the pages, and it has clearly done its time by now. But this match is crucial to be taking notes of since you'll get to see a new emotion in Emperor- frustration. As long as it goes as planned, of course. You analyze the stage, zeroing in on the exact spot that Emperor will step foot in yellow-green ink.

Once it begins, a smile filled with pride makes its way across your face. Rider obviously had many, many plans for this battle. It was almost comforting seeing the wide grin he wore all along the match, even when he did lose. He was having fun. It seems you're not the only one who's changed lots since the beginning of the manga. He was so organized right out of the gate, and only once did he falter, and only a little at that. Which lead you to assume his only goal the whole time wasn't to win, because he knew he couldn't- his end goal was to only force Emperor to feel the frustration of stepping in his ink.

Maybe, just maybe, you think: Rider truly did stand a chance at winning against Emperor if he so chose to have that as his end goal. How does that saying go? Shoot for the moon, land among the stars?

Next part

Feb.1.24

#splatoon manga #splatoon manga x reader #splatoon manga rider #splatoon manga emperor #coroika x reader #x reader #fanfic #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon manga army #splatoon manga skull #splatoon manga aloha #splatoon manga mask #coroika #splatoon 3 #splatoon 2 x reader #splatoon manga goggles

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museofreverie · 6 months ago

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Chapter 06 ⋆ Dépaysement

WAYS OF FREEDOM┊Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Modern Fem!Reader ┊2nd POV

In which a chronically online Gen Z that went through the pandemic goes to the Attack on Titan Universe and tries her very best to change the ending with an "I can fix him" mentality.

⋆ CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 4.2k words

⋆ WARNINGS: manga spoilers

← prev chapter ┊ next chapter →

𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝟖𝟓𝟏.

THEY SAY THAT life flashes right before your eyes when you greet death—or— almost greet death.

Why? No one truly knows.

Perhaps it is a reminder to treat our life gently and treasure it. So that when we reach the very end; we can say that we have lived fiercely and boldly.

But on the other hand, the thought of death often fascinated you.

It could be because you thought that the world would end when you hit the age of twelve.

It was a silly thing, really. How could someone who has only started to become a teenager and witness the beauty of being alive— already think about something as deep as dying?

Your mind conjured imaginations about greeting death—picturing scenarios of a grim reaper visiting you like what you've seen in the movies. It could be a scenario as raw as when you were young and naive, tired from a trip, and your father cradles you in his arms, lifting you and carrying you to your room and whispering good nights. Or, perhaps it could be a distant friend of yours, waiting for your sweet and warm embrace.

It was this that made you think— I hope death is kind.

Death lingered in your room. You felt it when your first pet died.

Death whispered in your ears. You felt it when you attended a funeral of a relative when you were naive and you didn't even know they were family.

Death visited you in your dreams. Several times already.

It lurks, and lurks, and lurks. And you desperately wished to meet them already.

But death always seemed to whisper one thing— it is still not your time.

But when will that time truly come?

Perhaps not yet, even if you thought you had just died from that fall under the tree.

In the abyss of your mind, phantasmagorical visions started to appear slowly which made you see something familiar again.

It was that silhouette of a faceless woman against the blinding light that conjured the luminous tree you saw in your previous dreams.

Huh? Were you dreaming again?

Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the sudden burst of light. As you blinked away the disorientation, you took in your surroundings.

You were lying on the sand.

You winced as the sand stuck to parts of your body that weren't covered by your dress, and your brows furrowed with confusion as the lush sandy beach you had been lounging on just minutes ago was now replaced by steep rocks jutting into the sea. The salty air from the vast expanse of blue water filled your lungs, reminding you of where you were. Confusion masked your face as your brows knitted together once again. It looked the same as the one you visited earlier yet so. . . different.

How the hell did you end up here?

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots grew louder with each passing second filling your ears. Your head whipped toward the direction where it came from, and you struggled to push yourself up to see who it was.

Who could it be?

At first, there were two of them. Both wearing the same clothing consisting of a light brown cropped jacket covered by a dark-shaded green cloak. What seemed like long blades filled both of their hands as they both stood in a stance ready for a fight.

Your head tilted at this. You knew that uniform like the back of your hand.

Are they cosplaying? That was your first thought.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, one of them had beat you to it.

"Don't move," said the guy, his blades pointed toward you in a threatening manner.

"Whoa!" You yelped in surprise, and instantly backed away. The short one awfully reminded you of Levi. His voice is deep, with a subtle hint of a. . . French accent? You weren't sure.

Your gaze shifted toward the other person; something instantly clicked the moment your eyes fell on the red scarf wrapped around her neck. The woman was cosplaying Mikasa.

"Where — Where am I?" you asked. "But don't come close!"

You weren't a fool to not recognize that these two were cosplayers of Levi and Mikasa at first glance. But were these people not aware that there's still a global pandemic going around? They weren't even wearing any face masks or protection from the virus! You almost scoffed at the absurdity that some cosplayers like them went to such extremes just to have a cosplay during a pandemic. Couldn't they just have a photoshoot inside their home? You wanted to commend them for their realistic approach yet now is not the right time for that.

"Why couldn't you just wait for me?!" someone shouted, their voice gruffly. "IS IT A SHIFTER, HA?!"

The person neared and a few other people came close; all were wearing the same uniform the Levi and Mikasa cosplayers were wearing.

The person who had shouted earlier now had a frown, and one of their eyes that wasn't covered by an eye patch was fixed on your face. "Eh? Not a shifter then?"

You blinked at them. "What?"

"Who are you?" The voice of Levi's cosplayer boomed, his sneer contorting into a twisted grimace as he thrusts the blade threateningly toward you. The glint of metal catches your eye and you can feel your heart racing in fear as you struggle to find the right words to say.

Okay. . . Why does that look real?

Your eyes widened as you caught sight of the newcomers, their unexpected arrival catching you off guard. You quickly composed yourself and pointed a finger in the opposite direction with a look of feigned innocence.

"They went that way," you said with a gulp and gestured towards a distant path as if it were the most obvious answer.

The guy scoffed at your antics and said, "Just answer the damn question or I'll slice your arm off."

You flinched as all of their attention was on you, and the feeling made your skin crawl.

"I. . . I. . ." you stammered, unable to speak.

"Um. . . Captain—" someone spoke but was immediately cut off by the Hange cosplayer.

"I said wait , Levi! This one doesn't seem to be a shifter!" the Hange cosplayer hastily declared. "They don't even have titan marks on the face!"

But the guy only ignored the comment and scowled. He continued pointing his blade at you which made you flinch again.

"With or without titan marks, it doesn't mean they can be trusted, Hange. You should know that by now."

Huh? Titan marks? Titan shifters? And why are they calling each other Levi and Hange as if that's their names? Your mind was a jumbled mess right now.

"Oi, Levi! You're scaring her."

But the Levi guy only rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Tsk. Whatever four eyes."

Huh? Four Eyes? I'm so confused. Okay, they're taking this cosplaying way too far.

You jumped to your feet, throwing your hands up in a defensive stance. Fear etched itself onto your features as you desperately tried to protect yourself from their presence. "Please, I already told you. I — I don't know where I a—wait."

You paused.

What the fuck is happening?

It seemed like your brain was playing tricks on you. Your eyes skimmed over everyone, and your gaze focused on their clothing and that intricate white and blue wing shield patch placed on their jacket.

It took you a whole minute to process what was going on.

Your eyes darted to the direction where they had emerged from, their pursuit still fresh in your mind. You struggled to remember how you ended up lying on the beach without making any noise. You couldn't even remember how you got here in the first place. It didn't make sense—how did they know exactly where to find you? Unless. . .

A sound.

Echoing through your thoughts, you desperately tried to piece together the events leading up to this moment.

Tree. Silhouette. Light. Explosion.

My dreams. . .

Your eyes widened when something clicked again. No way.

A nervous chuckle left your lips. "Wait. . . did you just say, Levi? and Hange? Are you — er — are you guys cosplayers or something?"

Silence; nobody dared to speak from your absurd question.

The Levi guy exchanged looks with the Hange look-a-like before fixing his stance. "What in the shitty world is a cosplayer ."

You became silent for a minute.

Is he for real? Literally, what the actual fuck is happening?

Your brows met in confusion. "Wait, what do you mean you don't know what a cosplayer is?"

You got even more confused when you were met by their silence.

Huh? That's weird. You looked at their clothes again. But they definitely look like cosplayers of AOT.

"Are you sure you're not cosplayers?" You pointed at their clothing. "You're clearly cosplaying the Attack on Titan characters right now."

"The what ?"

In haste, the Levi guy clutched your shoulder roughly with an iron grip, forcing you to kneel on the sand. You were sure your shoulder was gonna bruise. And before you could react, he aimed his weapon at you with precision, his eyes bulged with maniacal fury.

"Oh my god!" you said in between breaths. "Seriously, what the hell is going on?!"

The cold steel of the blade pressed against your neck, sending a jolt of fear through your body as you involuntarily flinched at the sudden threat.

"I said who are you ?" he said sharply and eyed you suspiciously.

You trembled and said your name with a stutter.

"If you're not a titan shifter. . . then you're probably part of that ugly monkey's plan, aren't you?" He pressed.

"Titan shifter? Wha — what's that? And monkey? Which monkey?" A dry chuckle nervously escaped your lips as you tried to feign innocence once again.

"King Kong?" you offered, trying to lighten up the mood.

A part of you wanted to run, but another part was paralyzed by fear.

"Please don't kill me!" you begged. "Where — where exactly am I?"

"Huh?" The Hange look-a-like's head tilted. "You're in Paradis Island."

No way.

"Paradis. . ." you said slowly, ". . . Island?"

Your mind was in turmoil as you fought against conflicting emotions.

You tilted your head upward to look at the guy pointing the blade at you and then at the person with an eye patch.

Levi and Hange.

Your gaze shifted towards the people at the side, their prominent features making you gulp.

Red scarf. . . Mikasa.

Brown hair in a ponytail. . . Sasha.

Long face and sandy hair. . . Jean.

Buzz cut. . . Connie.

Blond hair and bright blue eyes. . . Armin.

Finally, after scanning the crowd, your eyes landed on a man at the far end. His gaze was fixed on you, captivating and intense. You couldn't see the color of his eyes yet you were a hundred percent sure they were green. Realization dawned upon you as your gaze from his figure shifted to the sea and then back to him.

Your heart dropped. No fucking way.

Your mouth fell open and went dry as you couldn't stop yourself from recognizing the man that haunted your dreams all this time.

" Eren ," you breathed out in a whisper, unable to stop yourself from blurting out his name.

At the mention of Eren's name, their attention shifted to him.

No. No. This isn't real.

Your head shook furiously, trying to make sense of the situation. You punched your arm in frustration but immediately regretted it as pain shot through your body and you winced.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. "This must be a joke. No, I must be dreaming — did I — did I shift?" you asked yourself, "Please tell me this isn't real." You called out desperately.

But someone poked your arm. "Huh? But you're pretty much real."

It was Hange . You still weren't sure if all of this was real or not.

The blade's edge bit into your flesh, slicing through your skin until a trickle of red liquid flowed down your neck.

"There's your answer," said Levi, unamused.

Your eyes widened as you felt the cold steel against your throat, and a desperate gasp for breath escaped your lungs. You immediately reached for your neck, wincing as the pain shot through your body.

Ouch! You tightly close your eyes, trying to push away the stinging sensation. It hurts!

Green Eyes. Blood.

"Captain, I think — I think we should ask if she's from the outside world. . . ?" asked Armin.

"Are you — um —" you gulped, "—are you the Survey Corps?"

"Yes, we are," said Hange.

" Shut the fuck up," you said out loud, stunned by the revelation.

Their faces twisted in a manner that suggested they were offended by your words.

You looked up at them. "Sorry, but you must be joking."

"Do I look like I'm fucking joking?" said Levi with a stoic face. "You better watch that mouth of yours, or I'll cut your tongue off."

After that, you were stupefied into silence.

Tree. Silhouette. Light. Explosion. Green Eyes. Blood.

You gulped. What the hell did I get myself into?

Blood continued to trickle down the side of your neck, blurring your vision as you fought to stay conscious. You tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak, choked sound. The darkness was inevitable as it crept in from the edges of your vision, engulfing you.

"Huh?! She fainted?!"

Levi looked at his comrade unamused before he retracted his blade to his gearbox as he saw your limp body in the sand.

"Well, that didn't end well," he said.

Mikasa also retracted her blades back to her gearbox and went near to Hange.

"What are we going to do about this situation, Commander Hange?" asked Mikasa.

"Hmm," pondered Hange. "She kept on asking if we were, what was that? Something about player. . . ah, cosplayer! Hmm. . . is that another term for the devil that the outside world calls us?"

Meanwhile, Jean, Sasha, and Connie exchanged looks.

"Well, that was something new," said Jean.

"Look," interrupted Armin, "She's not healing."

Armin's observation was true. That means. . . You weren't a shifter.

Hange tried to stop the blood on your neck with a cloth, and Mikasa carried your body with ease after that and placed you on a horse.

"Looks like captain went hard on that one," winced Sasha.

"At least it wasn't a titan shifter," said Connie.

Armin's attention shifted towards his childhood friend. He frowned. "Eren, are you okay? You look tense."

"She's from the outside world, Armin."

Eren looked at Armin with an unreadable expression.

As the others frantically attended to the commotion, Sasha's curious gaze settled on something glinting in the sand. With a quick and nimble movement, she grabbed the object that had been carelessly discarded. Confusion clouded her features as she studied the sleek device in her hand that felt foreign, trying to make sense of its functions and purpose. With light fingers, she turned it over and is met with a photograph of a man she does not recognize, his handsome face frozen in a candid moment. The bright screen illuminated Sasha's puzzled expression as she wondered who this mysterious man could be and why he was on the back part of the object.

"Commander Hange! Captain!" called out Sasha. "Look at this!"

But with a sudden and swift movement, Sasha's finger clicked the tiny button that rested on the bottom middle of the object. With a start, she was shocked when the screen opened to reveal a photograph that she did not recognize once again and almost threw the device in surprise.

"Sasha! What's that?" asked Connie.

As Sasha's fingers slid to the left, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection on the screen and she jolted in shock. To her surprise, she accidentally clicked a button, and the sound of rapid clicking filled her ears, making her yelp and scream. She quickly threw the device away from her, her heart racing with fear.

"What in the—? Sasha, how did you do that—?"

"I — I don't know!" Sasha panicked. "I saw my face staring at me! How did it do that?!"

"Tch, quiet down, you brats."

"Sorry, Captain."

"Oi, Sasha," called Levi, "give that thing to me."

Levi examined the object once it was given to him; the photograph in the back reminded him of the photograph they saw in the basement. Yet the only thing that separates them is that this photograph had vibrant colors instead of the grey neutral look the other had.

Hange tried to gather all of them. "Listen up, everyone. Our expedition is done for now. We'll talk about this more once we return to the Headquarters. For now, we must search the area if we can find something again," they said, and glanced at your body, and then at the color of your hair, "Huh. . . Didn't know it's possible to have that kind of hair."

They weren't expecting this to happen.

I mean, were they even called the Survey Corps if they weren't always fighting the unknown?

Because for the first time in six years of doing expeditions outside the walls, they had finally reached the ocean. But at what cost? They had lost so much. So much. Yet, it was still a start nonetheless towards knowing the existence of humanity beyond it.

As you slowly emerged from the depths of sleep, you stirred awake and a surge of newfound energy rushed through your body. Your limbs stretched out, feeling rejuvenated after one of the most amazing naps you had taken in a long time.

What the fuck happened? Was that only a dream?

"It has to be a dream," you said out loud.

But as you reached to stretch your neck, you were suddenly hit with a sharp pain. With a soft groan, you gingerly probed at the area and felt the rough texture of a bandage covering it. Wincing at the stinging sensation of the bruise beneath, you tried to recall how you got it. Your eyes fell on your clothing, you were still wearing the white dress you wore before—yet now, it looked dirtier.

"Oh, you're finally awake!"

At that moment, your senses finally came back to you, and you became aware of your surroundings. As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, your body stiffened as you realized you were trapped in a small cell instead of being in your room inside your grandma's house.

"Where am I?" you mumbled.

Cold stone walls enclose the small space, their rough surface casting eerie shadows in the flickering light of torches mounted on iron sconces. The flickering torches, held in iron sconces, provided the only source of light, casting a sickly yellow hue across the barren room. You were separated from the outside by thick iron bars, taunting you with their sturdy strength, where three figures stood.

"Um, hello," one of them said softly.

Your eyes squinted to look at the person properly, yet you failed, and so you decided to push yourself up, the small bed squeaking as you stood up.

"Hello. . . ?" you said slowly, still a bit disoriented and unsure of what to say. "How. . . how long was I asleep?"

"Three days."

Your mouth fell open. "Three days?!"

Damn, that's a first.

Well, now, you were fully awake at the revelation.

As you approached the rusted iron bars, your fingers lightly grazed their cold surface. The person who had spoken earlier slowly retreated from your abrupt appearance, their eyes shifting nervously under your gaze. All three of them were dressed in matching green military trench coats, each sporting a sleek black belt around their waist.

Your gaze settled on the first person, a young man with tousled blond hair and an innocent face that almost seemed out of place among his companions. His small pointed nose and slight frame set him apart from the others, giving off an air of innocence in contrast to their calculated demeanor. In all honesty, his hairstyle reminded you of Lord Farquaad from Shrek and that berries and cream guy.

He looked at the guy uncomfortably. "Eren, is it okay if you stay here? Mikasa and I will go and alert Commander Hange and Captain Levi that she's already awake."

Your ears perked up at the familiar names. Huh?

Your gaze flickered between the two figures standing before you. The man's dark brown locks cascaded over his shoulders, mirroring the woman beside him, whose neck was adorned with a red scarf, the color seemed to fade over the time it was used.

Don't tell me . . . that's Eren and Mikasa.

Eren gave Armin a curt nod before his green eyes went to you.

At this, you were in deep thought. So it wasn't a dream, after all. . .

But the sound of footsteps broke you out of your reverie, and your eyes followed the figure of Mikasa and Armin disappearing from your sight.

As Eren's intense gaze landed on you, your heart sank horribly as your palms started to sweat.

And now, it was just you and Eren.

Oh, damn.

It was just you and Eren.

Eren Jaeger.

Eren fucking Jaeger.

The man, the myth, the legend.

You tried to casually glance at him from the corner of your eye, but his towering figure and piercing stare were too overwhelming for you. You turned your back on Eren and faced the room, your mind racing. Your hands flew to your head, clutching it as you panicked.

"This isn't happening. . . It's all in my head. . . It's just a dream. . . It's not real. . ." you whispered.

But as you took a peek back at Eren, he was still there, serving as a guard on your cell.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

At this, your breath hitched and you immediately stopped looking. You closed your eyes with brute force. No, this doesn't make any sense!

You tried to compose yourself with a deep sigh. Stay calm , you told yourself. Breathe, Y/N.

Fiddling with your fingers, you decided to be valiant and turned around to cast your eyes upon Eren, taking in his features with slow, cautious glances. You carefully study him, trying to decipher the emotions behind his guarded expression.

"Hi." You offered him a tight-lipped smile.

Silence filled the room as he refused to answer you.

"Okay, then. . ." you said awkwardly.

You desperately searched for something else to focus on, afraid of facing the tension that was building between you. But no matter where your gaze landed, you could feel the unease creeping under your skin. With every passing moment of silence, the conflict between you and him grew stronger and more palpable so you decided to ask him a question.

"Are you really Eren?"

Once again, he did not answer. But he did arch an eyebrow.

"Am I really in Paradis?" you asked again, waiting for an answer.

You almost gave up on questioning him, yet he suddenly spoke.

"Yes."

Your shoulders tensed, and you blinked. "Oh, okay. . . um, thanks."

How was all of this possible? Your eyes flickered to your sides, looking for your imaginary camera. Am I even real? Or am I just a character inside a story? This doesn't make any sense! Does anime logic even apply to this?

You sighed. So if this is real, then. . .

Realization dawns upon you. Oh, no.

Your emotions started to bubble up, and you looked back at Eren, your hands gripping the rusty bars once again in desperation. You wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat.

"You're. . . you're. . . you're. . ."

Shit. You couldn't even speak properly.

Eren looked at you expectantly, and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

He raised a brow, his face unreadable. "I'm what?"

A tense silence hung in the air as he waited for your response, but none came. Your emotions were rising to a boiling point and he could see it in every quivering muscle of your body. His face hardened with anger as he saw your reaction, taking it as an insult over who he was.

"You think I'm a devil," he said accusingly, his tone sharp.

"What?!" you said, offended by his false accusation. "No! No! You're not a devil — First of all, why would I even call you that?"

Eren's clenched jaw relaxed and his eyes softened, as if a switch had been flipped. The fury that had consumed him only moments ago disappeared with your confession.

"It's just that you're. . ." Alive. Breathing. Real. In front of me. Talking to me. And certainly, not a bird.

"You know what? Never mind." Your shoulders deflated, and you offered him a small smile.

"It's nice meeting you, by the way."

Eren's countenance remained guarded, his eyes following your every move as he tried to decipher your intentions. Just as he was about to question you, the sharp clack of footsteps echoed through the ancient stone walls, causing him to turn towards the source.

You inhaled slowly, the breath shallow and controlled as you tried to compose yourself. The corners of your lips twitched upwards, betraying the amusement bubbling up inside of you as a thought played through your mind like a mischievous sprite.

Watch Attack on Titan, they said. It'll be fun, they said! And look where it got you now. In a foreign land—heck, a foreign world .

What could possibly go wrong?

To be continued . . .

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