#slight spoilers but nothing major

[thatoneguy031]

Okay, the whole "storywriting" thing isn't really working, especially not with the way my blog doodad works.

So, a few changes I suggest, and I want to hear y'alls opinion on them:

Make the stories more scattered/Talk about them whenever, however: I can't really find my old posts, even with the tags on my pinned post, so I want to tell my stories in a less organized manner. Besides, I might have ADHD, and I have a hard time focusing on so many things at a time. That might be another reason why asks aren't answered faster, too. Sorry about that, by the way.

Let characters answer whatever: I dunno, I just feel like the whole "spoilers" thing might not even work, especially since I wasn't taking them too seriously to begin with. Heck, I literally confirmed that Trevor's story is a gag plot or whatever humans call them, so it would check out.

Changing my pinned post at some point: I'm not replacing the one I already have, I'm just rewriting some stuff regarding my aforementioned stories, mainly the ones about Jason, Chris, and Delta. This was when I was still getting used to the whole Rotomblr thing, and when I didn't really know what I was doing. This is a site for jokes and games, and I'm a jokey-gamey dude. And, it serves as an excuse for me to blabber about basically anything about them.

On top of that, this is sort of a reminder that you can ask me basically anything regarding my hobbies, battle experience, or anything really. And, with me getting a tablet at some point, maybe I can draw the answers too.

Again, I sincerely apologize for any kind of inconvenience this can cause, and I'm still giving you all the option to let this stay how it was before. I'm just excited to talk about the stuff I've worked on for a while, and I don't think that the way I was doing it before was cutting it. I just think that this'll be a little easier on me.

And, the reason why I say I might have ADHD instead of having it flat-out stated is because I've never gotten an official diagnosis. It was a mix of laziness on my part, and being too broke to go to a Pokemon Center. Basic healing is free, but that's for the superficial stuff, like basic cuts and bruises. If it comes to the stuff I'm concerned about, it's gonna cost a pretty penny.

Either way, if I do have it, I don't want it to get in the way of the things I've been doing already. Like I've said before, I just want to make it easier on myself.

Stay awesome, dudes!

[aroace-poly-show]

btw suika is everything to me thats my girl that’s my daughter my everything i love her

[awrkive]

[TEASER] CATCH YOUR WAVE (m) — JJK.

the last thing you expected when you strolled into your new school is to become the favorite project of the 5’11” tatted-up overly enthusiastic, golden-retriever-in-human-form PE teacher, jeon jungkook. he’s all goofy grins, bad math puns, and relentless charm, while you’re busy pretending you’re immune to his antics... spoiler alert: you’re not. and that infuriates you. 

alternatively, jungkook tries to prove that opposites don’t just attract — they collide. a classic case of one plus one equals: “oh, no. i like him.”

PAIRING jeon jungkook x (female) reader

GENRE r18+ (fuff, slight angst, mature content) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WORD COUNT ~15k (still working around the final wc)

TEASER WORD COUNT 1.8k words

WARNINGS/MISC teachers!au, pe teacher!jk, math teacher!reader, seven!jungkook, himbo!jk, coworkers!au (works in the same school), oc gets kinda mean sometimes but jungkook likes it lmfao, extremely corny pick up lines.. he tries 💔 2000s romcoms references (sorry) warnings for this teaser: nothing major. just bad math puns delivered by himbo jungkook :')

NOTES inspired by the whole “can she gaf me💔” vibes in the seven mv (by jungkook) and ultimately the click five’s song, catch your wave (hence the title🥸 pls listen to the song for the whole vibes hehe <3). ive been wanting to write himbo jk for awhile bcs all my jks are like … smart so far so i thought wait we need to change that. gahhhh im so so freaking excited ive been thinking about writing this ever ever since i wrote that one himbo jk drabble 💃🏼

[ CYW MOODBOARD ] • [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

RELEASE DATE 2025, FEBRUARY 15TH | 01:00 AM KOREAN STANDARD TIME (GMT+9)

They say life is a balance of good and bad days, and you’re not a pessimistic person, but sometimes enough is enough. How is your week already this bad when it’s just barely started? 

Sunday morning, when you picked up your laundry from the shop, you were too late to realize that you mixed not just one but two white underwear with the colored loads. You’d blame it on the fact that they were too tiny, too flimsy for you to notice. But you know you should’ve double-checked before putting them in the machine. And now you have lost two panties. And in this economy? That shit cost a ton. 

When Monday came and the head of the Math Department informed you there was a sudden shift in your schedule for the semester, it meant that instead of teaching three Algebra classes for tenth graders, you’re also teaching pre-Algebra for eighth graders, meaning you’re gonna have to cross the long walk from the high school building to the middle school one, the latter being all the way to the left wing, completely the opposite side of the right wing where the faculty room and your initial classes are. 

Today, you’ve woken up with your WiFi not connected to the internet (something you have to talk to your landlord about when you come back home) and just two minutes ago, you realized you forgot to take your coffee order with you from the cafe across your school building, the sad garlic bread you bought along with it staring right at you without its beloved beverage pair. 

Truthfully, it might be your last straw. How the hell is this happening to you out of all people? The semester is just starting, for god’s sake, and you’re already hanging on by a thread. 

You take a deep breath on your seat before standing up from your cubicle, heading to the coffee machine by the snack bar.

You hate the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep on stocking the pantry with, it’s too naturally sweet – and you don’t like your coffee with sugar. 

But you have no choice but to make do. The cafe’s too far out and your first class starts in about twenty minutes. 

“Good morning, Ms. Math Genius – ready to crunch some numbers today?” 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, you shut your eyes close for a moment when you hear the familiar voice. 

You stir your coffee with downturned lips.

“Only if you promise to flex those brain muscles—” You say, turning to look to the side. Much to your expectation, it’s Jeon Jungkook, leaning casually against the wall with that usual faux suave he keeps on around you – which you can’t take seriously because his big doe eyes tell you a completely different story. He’s wearing some Nike dri fit shirt, one that’s too tight around his chest and accentuates a comparatively tiny waist that you have to force your eyes upwards. But as they do, they land on the biceps that are straining against the poor material. It wasn’t lost on you though that one second after, they’re suddenly flexing. You arch your brow as you glance a look on his face. “—as much as you flex those biceps.” 

Jungkook’s lips curl into a huge grin, expecting the jab. 

“You know it!” He chuckles, running his fingers through his bangs. “I’m all about solving problems, and I’d say my favorite equation is you plus me equals a perfect start to the day.” 

You fight a loud groan from escaping your lips as soon as he says that, giving him a certain look before shaking your head and going back to your coffee. 

But you should’ve known better by now, because Jungkook – aside from being a PE teacher extraordinaire and every student’s favorite at that, Thee Football Coach, 5’11” tatted brunette with a long, fluffy hair paired with an objectively, annoyingly attractive face – is persistent. 

Most especially when it comes to annoying you. 

A few steps, and then you feel him getting closer to you. 

“Did you know that—” 

You roll your eyes. That’s it. If it’s another one of his corny math pick-up lines again you swear to god— 

“Jungkook, you don’t have to keep doing this everyda—” 

“—we’re like parallel lines?” 

“What.”

“Did you know that we’re like parallel lines?” Jungkook repeats earnestly, just like he always does. When he’s up in your personal space like this, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and your annoyance could’ve been justified if he smelled like shit but somehow, even though he looks like he just got back from a run judging by his running shoes and gym bag, he still smells… okay. 

Just okay. As in, you don’t care how good he smells like or how he smells at all.

You make sure to keep that thought at the back of your head. 

“No.” You say, hoping to dismiss the conversation right there as you pick up the cup of coffee from the machine, ready to turn on your heel, but then Jungkook laughs ever so slightly and gives your arm a barely-there poke.

“Come on, entertain me a little.” 

You squint your eyes at him. He challenges your stare with a growing smile on his face. Scoffing, you roll your eyes again before you put the paper cup back on the table. With a sigh, you cross your arms and look at Jungkook. For a split second, his eyes cast downwards to your chest level but he quickly snaps out of it. 

“Okay… we’re like parallel lines… why? Because we’ll never meet?” You say in response to his little request, keeping your tone impassive. 

Jungkook’s eyes slowly widen at your words, smile slowly dropping – as if the logic of your words have ruined one of his million pick-up lines again. 

“I– no! What? I meant, we’re like, always running to each other! Side by side. Parallel lines.”

“Okay… so still never meeting?” You ask impatiently, brows furrowing. 

Jungkook mirrors your confusion. Then, he raises a hand, one finger up. “One second. I’ll fix this–” he takes his phone out from his pocket, types on it quickly, lip jutting out as he reads whatever he’s looking up, and then, “Ohh, I might have meant asymptote lines. We’re like asymptote lines.” 

Your face contorts into even deeper confusion. Holy shit, you’re not dealing with this very early on in the morning, especially not after the circumstances of the past hours.

“Asymptote lines are more depressing than parallel lines if we’re talking metaphorically.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“I would hope I know my lines, Jungkook. I teach them everyday.” 

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners cutely, and you hate how that tugs something at your heartstrings. 

You catch yourself right at that moment.

Jeon Jungkook is not cute. You keep in mind. He’s not cute. 

Jungkook thinks you’re so cute. Gorgeous, most of all, and unbelievably so. You and your signature furrowed brows and pink pouty lips.

As usual, you have your hair up in a clean bun today, and Jungkook can smell the lace of sweet vanilla from you as he takes a step closer to get a cup for himself. 

He loves the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep stocking the pantry with, it’s sweet as fuck. Just like how Jungkook likes his caffeine dose. Kind of like you, he thinks. 

Jungkook casts a quick glance at you again, can't really help himself when you're so pretty, although he makes sure to be subtle about it.

You’re wearing another one of your pencil skirts, one that he has to avoid staring at for longer than three seconds lest his mind takes him too far – but the upper view is even more of a torture, unfortunaly for him. Because as much as you wear the same outfit every single day and it should mean that Jungkook should get used to it by now, he can never be immune to your silk long sleeves, where you keep the top three buttons open – and as much as Jungkook tries to pry his gaze away from the exposed skin down from your neck, it’s like there’s a strange force in the universe that keeps him on it. Doesn’t really help that you like crossing your arms under your chest, too, making his mind run a mile per minute at the thoughts that form inside his head when a very apparent cleavage shows—

Alright. Damn. It’s like 8 am. 

And you were saying something about lines…

“Yeah? I hope you can teach me too, I need to—” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jeon.” You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, taking your coffee with you as you head to the direction of your cubicle. 

The nickname makes Jungkook’s lips curl up. He probably shouldn’t smile, given that you only ever call him that when you want to cut the conversation with him short. But he can’t help it, it sounds sweet coming from your pretty lips. 

In an attempt to not look like a fool, Jungkook bites his lip as he watches your disappearing figure, your heels clicking on the floor as you walk away. Your legs look so long in that grey pencil skirt, and it really should be criminal how you look like that even when you’re just showing your back. 

In his trance, he forgets about the brewing coffee in his cup and absentmindedly takes it out while the machine is still running, the hot liquid pouring from the nozzle quickly burning the skin on his finger. 

“Oh, shit!” He hisses, jumping from the shock, almost knocking his coffee out but thankfully he manages to catch it on time, just as when another member of the faculty walks by the snack bar. 

With an awkward smile, Jungkook raises a thumbs up to Mrs. Lee. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. Looking rad as always.” He cheerfully greets, and Mrs. Lee’s confusion from seeing him fumble with his cup earlier quickly turns into a coo. 

“Oh, Mr. Jeon, you charming kid. I was just gonna get my cup of coffee.” She says, walking towards his direction. 

Jungkook adjusts the strap of his gym bag to his shoulder and takes a cup for Mrs. Lee with a grin, making her smile. 

She thanks him and with a playful salute, Jungkook goes toward the general direction of his cubicle, and because the PE department and Math department are just across from each other, he walks past you, typing something on your iPad before you look around and catch his gaze.

Jungkook automatically waves, smiling brightly, but you only frown, shutting your iPad close and ignoring him.

Amused, Jungkook tries to fight off a huge grin, taking a few long strides to get to his own cubicle. 

His day is already off to a good start.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈��𝐄 2025. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and/or translating any of my works are not allowed.

[princessbellecerise]

Beacon of Hope

Summary ✩ After the war, Jacaerys finally finds his purpose for living again

Warnings ✩ Slight spoilers for Fire and Blood

Notes ✩ Hosue of the Dragon has been so depressing lately and I needed a little something to lift my spirits. I hope you guys enjoy!

Some days he just couldn’t sleep.

It had nothing to do with his bed, as he had slept in multiple uncomfortable places during the war. But it was more so that Jacaerys was still in disbelief that this was his life now.

A year ago, the realm was at war and he was on the brink of death. After getting shot at during the Battle of the Gullet, Jacaerys suffered a major injuries that many didn’t believe he would survive. He spent his days floating in and out of consciousness, one foot in the grave until miraculously, the fever broke, Jacaerys rose again.

When he did, he learned that he was no longer a Prince. The war had ended with the death of his mother and the poisoning of the usurper, Aegon. And when he opened his eyes, he was a King.

Broken by the losses he took at war, yes. But slowly over the years, life turned.

Along with the many allies that still fought for him and his mother, Jace begin to rebuild the kingdom until it was whole again. What was once destroyed by dragon fire and blood was rebuilt, and in a few years time, King Jacaerys was able to restore what his family had destroyed.

It made the nights easier, knowing that the threat of war was gone and the realm was finally at peace, but even though his two remaining brothers were alive and the realm had settled, Jace still felt as if something was missing.

The holes that the death of his mother, his brothers, and his stepfather left never seemed to go away. And their death haunted him. For a while, the King believed that even though the realm was whole again, he never would be. The war had taken so many things—precious things—from him, that he no longer thought that hope and love was possible.

Then he met you.

When you came into his life, Jacaerys’ world had been upside down. He was alone with only his infant brothers to share his pain with, and he constantly felt like he was submerged in darkness.

But you…you were his light.

Not like dragon fire, which destroyed everything in its path, but rather the kind of light that inspired hope and growth.

With you, he learned what it meant to love again. What it meant to trust, and to have someone by his side that loved him unconditionally.

You were his greatest hope, and though many credited the maesters for keeping his broken body together, it was you that made his soul whole again. You were his missing piece, his beacon of hope, and he would never have it any other way.

So sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, and the memories that he tried so hard to repress during the day came hunting for him at night, Jacaerys would stop and he would look upon your sleeping face and realize that everything was okay again.

Though the losses he took would never fully heal, he felt the pain ease knowing that he had you, little Aegon, little Viserys and little Luke to keep him striving towards the future.

Along with the babe that was currently in your belly, your growing family gave Jacaerys purpose. For the first time since waking up, the darkness that shrouded him faded, and it was instead replaced by hope.

Hope a better life. Hope for a better future.

A future he swore that no one would ever take from him again.

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[positively-mine]

You're a girl?!

how they find out you're a girl and their reactions

tags: afab (Floyd's part talks abt female anatomy), slight spoilers, lmk if there's any other

Series: ❤️ 🧡 🩵 💛 💜 💙 💚

Azul

After his overblot incident, he assumed that you both had ended up becoming acquaintance (he won't give up on his 2nd branch at ramshackle). So he's keeping an ear out for opportunities. Also since he has contracts with so many students, he hears an unusual rumour. The ramshackle prefect is apparently female? Well, he'll just have to check it out for himself. Sends jade to snoop around but not in a perverted way.

Once the rumours were confirmed to be true, Azul literally bursts into flames. The memories of treating you so ungentlemanly all come flooding into his head. And you saw his chubby baby picture??? Unbelievable. In all honesty though, he doesn't try to get into contracts with you. Doesn't apply to the people around you. We both know who I'm talking about. Even if your friends can't pay, he won't threaten you that he knows because there must be a reason why you're hiding it. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel if someone did that to him with his baby picture.

Jade

He knew from the start. I don't know how but he knows. It's like his secret power. Doesn't do much, but he likes to tease. Either when you're in a crowded space or when you're with your friends. He'll drop subtle hints that you're a female but nothing major. Just enough for you to know that he knows 😐

Overall 4/10 because he keeps messing around with you but since he's one of my favorites we'll forgive and forget. Won't tell Azul because it's HIS secret. So you don't need to worry about Azul threatening you into a deal.

Floyd

He knew as soon as he squeezed you. The minute he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you up to his chest he knew. Something along the lines of "eh? Shrimpy, what's this lumpy things on your chest?" And it doesn't help that his voice is l o u d. Once it clicks in his head, he's smiling mischievously at you.

He seems like someone who will use your secret against you. He's bored? He'll come find you. You don't want to hang out? Do the rest of the student body know you're a girl? Yeah, so approach with caution. Once you stop showing any reaction towards his threats, he gets grumpy and pouts. Just make sure you placate him somehow. Because one day he really might just scream out to everyone that you're a girl.

reblogs appreciated!

[harumasa-wifey]

➹Happy New Year»———>

✖Asaba Harumasa x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight spoilers of chap 5(nothing major) Not proofread

Category: fluff

Note:i was inspired by the new official art and wrote this I was supposed to post it last night but I fell asleep while writing,Sorry for the wait.i cannot picture the accurate spot of this pic but I saw one in game I'll post a pic of it later for reference!

“Meet me behind the cafe in lumina square”

This was the last text you had received from him as you left Random play after meeting with the siblings to return the movie you had rented and wishing them a happy New year in advance.

It was New year's eve and thankfully to the deputy chief you all were out and about today. No fighting hollows , No overload paperwork and some extra which asaba adds to you sneakily because he is too lazy to do them.You love him a lot but you wish sometimes he would Stop adding his paperwork on your desk. It can be a great hassle to finish them in time.

Lumina square always makes every New Year a grand one and a beautiful one to look forward to. You made your way to the metro station hurriedly taking the last train of the hour to the lumina square after talking with Nicole and the others in the cunning hares. The metro was full of people like the elderly, the people with their family, the young highschool students and the couples.

The thought of how this year went passes through your mind. The whole incident with the vision cooperation and the chase in the hollow was stressful. Although it hasn't been completely disposed of, you all can rest easy for the holidays. It was thanks to all of the background support everyone made it safely in the end.

Your thoughts came to an end as the mic on the train announced its stop , you got off the train heading out the metro station into the bustling city of New Eridu. There were lights everywhere and it was more crowded than usual, but there was still one place left to visit before you went to meet him.

Meeting the person you love on new year's eve without a gift doesn't sound right to you so here you are.Standing outside the shop while having second thoughts on what to get him. You had made up your mind to feed him some delicious sweets that are being sold around this time of year even though he likes the bitterness now and is not bothered by it.Having something sweet every once a while would definitely not harm him.

As you look around and yellowish star keychain catches your eye with a little Clover inside. There was something that attracted you to it, so without thinking further you had made the purchase and had it warped in a box.

And your next stop was The cafe.

You had made your way over to the cafe with a little pubsec bangboo to help you cross the road. You re-read his message and made your way to the back of the cafe.

There he was standing while leaning against the palisade while holding a small wrapped box in his hand, his attention over to you as he heard your footsteps coming closer.

“Well look who finally decided to grace me with their presence.Took you long enough”

He spoke with a gentle smile on his face as you rushed over to him.

“I am sorry! I was at the Sixth street when I got your message”

He chuckled at her worries about being late.

“Calm down baby, I was just teasing. No need to rush i just got in myself”

You could hear the crowd hushed as the first firework arched into the velvety night sky as he extended his hand holding the gift box his yellow eyes shining in the lights whispering in a soft tone.

“Happy new year”

Your instinct told you to go and hug him so that's what you did, wrapping your arms around his neck particularly throwing yourself over him not to worry he will always there to catch you.

“Happy new year asaba,may we be together in the next one too”

“Don't worry I'll live long” He said locking his lips with yours into a kiss.

[hansolen]

beneath the light of the neon moon

꩜ pairing ⇾ beast!dazai x reader

꩜ word count ⇾ 3.5k

꩜ summary ⇾ this is basically just dazai being a wet cat and unable to understand yet overanalyzing his attachment towards you through all the world’s that exist in the book. he’s just a lil weird about it.

꩜ author’s note ⇾ i missed him. there’s no other explanation. beast dazai needs more love 💔 i think dazai having beef with himself through all the worlds is very real and very true. this is nothing but the outcome of the visions that plagued me.

꩜ cw ⇾ slight yandere vibes i won’t lie.. but c’mon it’s dazai so that’s to be expected. some possesive behaviour might come up. slight spoilers for beast if you haven’t finished the ln/manga/movie, though nothing too major. if anything else needs to be tagged lmk!

ability description — the reader’s ability stays active 24/7 and it does take a toll on her. while i haven’t gone into too much detail of what it really does (maybe more in the future, since i have a lot of ideas for it lol) but the ability holds a similarity to that of arahabaki — it too is an entity. not really a god but something more sinister. reader is basically a concious host of that entity which lays dormant.

If Nakahara Chuuya — one of the top most executives of the Port Mafia, is called the left hand of the boss; then it goes without saying that you are the right hand. Just as scary, sometimes even worse. 

If Chuuya is the hurricane that destroys towns after towns with its howling whirlwinds, then you are the tsunami that envelopes everyone entirely. Once and for all — like an oppressive silence. And yet it’s commonly accepted that destruction is prevalent regardless of which hand the boss chooses to use. 

Everyone knows that the hands of the devil reach far and wide. Must be nice having two vessels of otherworldly entities on the tips of his fingers, they all murmur. And yet no one seems to mention how hard it is to actually maintain them, Dazai can’t help but think to himself.

Everyone in Yokohama can see the large and daunting building from wherever they stand, yet no one glances at it twice as they go through their day. A wise choice, by most. It’s sleek and definitely suspicious, neither the civilians nor the government officials ever directly mention it — in public, that is. Hushed whispers can only be so silent.

The boss of the Port Mafia resides at the top most floor of the main building. Anyone who has ever had the (dis)pleasure of being called up, for whatever reason it may be, knows for a fact that the silence on that floor is deafening. Except for when a certain red haired executive comes around, then one can hear bickering reach far and wide. But that wasn’t always the case, much like today.  

The only sound that could be heard along the entire floor was that of your heals clicking against the cold marble tiles. After two knocks against the large doors, you enter Dazai’s office. You hand him the papers — strict and professional, like you ought to be. You’re a sub-executive afterall. By your own choice, of course. You had been offered the executive position far too many times, and yet you always declined. Harshly too, much to Chuuya’s disdain. 

He was unable to comprehend it the first few times, and he even tried to knock some sense into you. He wanted you to understand that you were far too deep into this side of the world to continue thinking that you couldn’t cross a ‘certain’ line. You shouldn’t keep trying to balance your way as you continue to stride on the thin thread that separates the civilian world from the mafia one. You’re in too deep, and have done too much to continue acting as though you have a way out. 

But your only response was a soft hum, which frustrated him even further. Perhaps more at himself than at you. You both were well aware that neither of you ever had a choice, no matter what the circumstances may be. No matter which road you chose, the destination always ended up here.

Although if Dazai willed it, you would be given the executive title in a minute. Whether you wanted it or not. Instead, he allows you to relish in the feeling of being able to make a choice. Some part of him, deep inside his fucked up sense of self — tainted by the shades of blood and things far darker — he almost feels like he owes this to you, at the very least. Even if it’s just for the sake of maintaining what remains of your moral integrity — your sanity, even.

Not that it changes much, you already perform all the executive duties as far as protocol is considered. Including being present in the meetings, guiding troops and having your own faction within the Port Mafia. It’s generally accepted by the entire organisation that you are equal to the executives, if not something more — to the boss, that is. 

Dazai allows you to have a feeling of distance from the work that you do, the lives that you take, the sins that he makes you commit. Letting you wallow in the false sense of security that you could choose to step away any time. Somehow it leaves you a little sane and gives him a little more room to play with. Afterall, no one would enjoy a completely broken doll. 

He enjoys humouring you from time to time. As if this whole play wasn’t written by him. As though he hadn’t willed every single interaction on this path into motion. As if he wasn’t the devil’s advocate, whispering the sins you were to commit with his hypnotising voice. 

He needed you with him on this path. It was all for the plan he had threaded together, he tried to convince himself.

The plan, yes. But Dazai is well aware that isn’t entirely true. And sometimes, a paranoid part of him thinks that you do too. Know for a fact that more than any of the plans — he did this for himself. He brought you and caged you into this world carved out of sin just for his own selfish reasons.

Not for Oda, not for the book, not for the sustenance of the world or any of those idealistic reasons — but for himself. Afterall, he was never an idealistic man to begin with. He was just a boy when it all started. A boy who had given up far too much and for once, wanted something for himself. He wanted you.

And so he did. He kept you. Weaved you into his spiderweb of grand plans. He often thinks back to how he knew everything there was to know about you, before he even got the chance to meet you for the first time. There you stood under the cold harsh lighting of that deserted old lab. He remembers how the flashes of his other lives played all at once. It almost felt as though he was reliving the memories through the sparks of light.

It was making him sick. Being able to witness in such excruciating detail of how he got to hold you so tenderly, in those worlds from the book. It made him feel intense emotions that he couldn’t even begin to describe. All he could do was just glance at those memories that were undoubtedly his own — and yet felt like he was watching them dance through the other side of a glass door. They’re all so painfully clear and yet there is a huge barrier in between.

Dazai has always been well aware that he never should have brought you into this. He knows that he shouldn’t have tried to find some sort of replica of the emotions he felt, as he replayed all his other lives. But he just couldn’t help it. He has to keep you alongside him. Hadn’t he sacrificed enough in this life? You’ve been so good to all the other versions of him, can’t you treat him the same in this one? You’ll forgive him, right? You love him, right?

You have to. There’s no other way out.

𓇚

Dazai’s mind undoubtedly wanders back to the first time you fainted from his touch. He knew it was going to happen — saw it as a staple part of you both meeting in all those worlds from the book. 

He knew what was to come if he were to let his rough bandaged palm even slightly graze your warm one. You’d faint. Like you had in all the other worlds, of which he carried the heavy weight. Those memories all helped him create acute plans for this world. Yet, the ones that he cherished the most, the memories that weren’t a heavy burden to carry but instead some sort of salvation — the ones he replayed over and over again like a broken record in hopes to reach some sort of comfort — were the memories he shared with you. 

In every world, your first meeting was something special, he kept those memories safely. Back when he was younger and the light in his eyes had not yet been entirely consumed — he used to find himself wondering how you both would meet in this world. How differently would it play out? It helped him distract himself from his surroundings and the heavy responsibilities. Those memories often flooded his mind as he gazed into nothing. In all of them, you always fainted when he first touched you. And after that too. 

But, in all his other lives, it lessened over time, and eventually the fainting stopped. “It feels rather relaxing,” you had once said to him — in the original world. To the original version of him.

“It feels as though The Presence subdues for a bit, as if it were never there. Continue holding me like this, won't you?” you spoke to him so gently as you both layed on top of each other with his trenchcoat covering the both of you. It held so much comfort and warmth, like it was just you both in this world, rest all be damned. Dazai wished that adoration was directed to him and not the man of origin.

His heart aches at the thought. What could he do for you to talk to him the same in this world too? What would it take? 

In all the other worlds — with time, you ended up building some sort of immunity, or rather you got used to his touch and even craved it. In every single world. Every world of the book, but this one.

You never seemed to have gotten used to his touch in this world. You still fainted. Every. Single. Time. 

𓇚

Dazai hates it. He’s well aware of the fact that this world is special — after all it’s the only one where Oda ends up living. It’s a world that has been handcrafted by him alone. Each and every thread has been woven with a purpose in mind. Each action has a motive behind it. Which is exactly why he needs to sustain it. Yet he can’t help it — the jealousy that fumes within him. Jealous of himself? Such a stupid reason. He knows that and yet—

“Boss, here’s the report of on the foreign mercenary group that recently surged up, as you requested. I have sent my men to look through their abandoned hideout, although I’m sure you can already imagine the outcome.” you say as you hand him the files.

Dazai doesn’t quite understand why you continue to put up the professional facade when it’s just the two of you here. Yet, he decides to humour you.

He glances at files with mild disinterest, and then at your hand. A thought occurs in his head — among many others. It’s indulgent. Entirely so. You will not enjoy it one bit. And yet he’s also well aware of his track record of never really listening to what you want. He knows this will hamper a few upcoming tasks and meetings. But when has he ever given a damn about those? And so he decides to indulge himself. He takes the report from your hands in a smooth motion and accidentally brushes the tips of his fingers against yours.

It’s a brief touch, and it all happens in the flash of a second. You noticed it, he realises. You saw his intent building up and yet you still offered to hand him the files rather than just placing them on his desk. 

His ability is always active, as is yours. You lose consciousness in seconds.

And you fall.

Right into his arms, like he planned you would. He glances at your face, there’s a serene glow emanating from you. Something about you is always pulling him in. He’s well aware of how you both are so intervened in each other’s lives that perhaps it was fated. Maybe he’s not entirely to blame for everything, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part.

You look so relaxed like this, he thinks as he adjusts the both of you so that you can lay down in a more comfortable position. It’s often underestimated how tiring it must be to have the ability active at all times, especially one that is as draining as yours.

Perhaps, this could be an escape for you as well. Laying with him as both of your breathing falls into sync with one another. Or maybe he’s just cheating and controlling his heartbeat as he tries to come up with some valid excuse as to why he gave into his impulse. All while he continues to trace your face with his thumb. It’s a gentle motion, making sure to not disturb your slumber, though he doubts you’ll wake up from it. Your track record shows that you’ll usually be knocked out for the better half of the day.

The expression on your face is something he wishes to dissect. You look as though you’re in some dream far away from here. He wonders where you go when you lose consciousness. Will you ever take him with you? Doesn’t matter. He will follow you just the same. 

Dazai can’t help but wonder what you would do if you found out about other worlds. Worlds where you weren’t led to such a life. Where he didn’t turn you into a weapon for his own motives. Would you hate him for it? When you are made to face all the other versions of you — the much happier, and brighter versions. Where in the light from your eyes hasn’t been entirely extinguished yet. 

Dazai fears that you already know. Can’t help it when you both hold eye contact during brief meetings. At times he catches a glimpse of the space — somewhere in there — that he cannot reach. They often say that the devil’s arms reach far and wide, and yet he can’t help but feel there’s a large distance that he alone can’t cover, in his quest to reach you. (Dazai also knows that he is no devil. It has alwaye just been a title that was handed to him. He wonders if you know that, too.)

Afterall, you, too, have the look of someone who is hiding something. He understands the expression well enough — he has to meets those eyes every day in the mirror.

𓇚

That’s one of the many reasons he prefers you like this. With your eyes closed and breathing steady. You don’t give him the all knowing gaze, that you usually carry. He gets to hold you close, without it eating him up from the inside. Some sick part of him likes having this power over you. Being able to hold it above your head any time he likes. He would never use it against you though. Not really.

Your breathing is rhythmic. A constant motion. He has memorised your breathing pattern over the years. To the point where it’s almost comforting to listen to it. Almost.

His hand hovers from your cheeks to sliding right at the base of your neck. Something swells inside of him. Something sinister. He can’t help but feel a little drunk. Drunk over the control he has over you right now — your life. He can continue to feel as guilty as he likes, but it’s no secret what exactly he’s guilty of.

Dazai gently steadies your head and moves it so that it’s resting on his chest. He then tries to bring his focus back to the papers that continue to lay on his desk, and then glances at the ones that fell on the floor. Lord knows how much that slug would nag him if he didn’t finish reading these by now. So annoying.

He tries to push his focus on reading them, but the comfort of having you so close against him is really distracting. It’s contrasting, really, how your body spreads such warmth against his cold one. Like a single candlelight that continues to glow in the cold stark night.

You both should do this more often, he thinks. Though you might end up hating him for it. But that won’t be an issue in the near future, considering what’s to come — the plans written in the book.

What will be an issue is Chuuya barging through the black doors and seeing you both in such a precarious position — then he might proceed to quite literally kill Dazai. No matter if he’s the boss of the Port Mafia or not.

Afterall, Chuuya is probably the closest companion you have in this world. You both make sure to look out for one another as much as you can. It’s almost as if you both have this air of understanding, that Dazai often feels disconnected from. 

Is it because you both are vessels? Or because he uses you both similarly and keeps you both on leashes? Or is it some form of familial bonding that his emotional nerve receptors are far too fused out to understand? 

Dazai doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that you don’t necessarily hate him. That you never did. He doesn’t know that you let him do as he wills. He doesn’t know that no matter how much he thinks of himself as the ‘mastermind’ it’s you who handed him the reins. The one that held the other end of the leash that was hung on your neck and placed it right into the palm of his hands.

𓇚

“Men will be men,” The lady in the white lab coat had once said to you. 

“They shall always believe that they were the ones who invented the wheel. They shall always come close to calling themselves ‘creators’ of it all. They do not understand.”

Neither did you, back then. All you could really remember were the sparks she sent flying towards you — no mercy.

To those people in the lab coats that stood behind the glass — observing you like you were some lab rat and noted down the reactions your body gave out cynically — you weren’t some kid. Not some seven year old that probably should’ve been playing in park with kids her age or discussing the latest episode of some show that always aired at six in the evening.

But what that lady didn’t understand was that Dazai was no man. He never felt like one, at the very least. No matter how many masks he puts on to fill in the gaps of self — that one hollow part of him never fills up. He’s afraid it never will.

No, you were just a vessel. A means to an end. That’s all you were as they watched you writhing through the glass, taking in the after effects of the electricity coursing through your veins. Sometimes, you still feel the sparks travelling through your body and the night repeats. This time — it’s in your head. Yet it hurts all the same.

He never felt connected to those around him — to humanity. The best he could have had was Oda, and he didn’t exactly get to experience that in this world. So, as a self preserving tactic, he tries to form some scrappy sense of comfort with what's left for him and take it from you instead. Some part of him felt like you know this too, and let it happen.

In some wild way it’s fitting, he thinks. It makes sense that this world was meant to be special. It’s the only one where Oda will be able to continue living and eventually write that novel. It’s the only one where Dazai will finally fulfill his long running wish. It only makes sense that there are innumerable amount of exceptions.

Not only are the shin-soukoku switched and roles have been exceptionally reversed, new anomalies continue to rise up as days go by. That’s part of the reason why he decided to make you part of the Port Mafia. To deal with those anomalies efficiently, since your ability was perfect to cut through them all. 

𓇚

If anyone were to barge in right now, they would be greeted with an extremely bizzare sight. The boss of Port Mafia, one of — if not the most feared man in Yokohama — gazing gently at you as his dark figure envelopes you completely. In some humourous way it almost looks like a black cat holding it’s prey close, making sure it doesn’t get snatched.

He likes it, he supposes. The way you look so serene in the low lighting of his office. How your head rests right next to his bandaged heart. He adores the way you your lips settle into a soft pout in your sleep. You seem much more honest with your expressions when you’re asleep than when you’re awake. You look so inviting, he just can’t help himself.

He’s in too deep — you’ve had to have put him under a spell of sorts. There’s no other logical explanation to the way you’ve made him do such illogical things. How could you have reduced him of all people — the demon prodigy and Mori’s successor into such a state? Since he was a child logic has been drilled into his very bones. Every strategy and it’s counter. The side of him that was built to be made a mafiaso has always been rational.

What he failed to take into account is that to you he’s just — Dazai. There’s no other valid explanation to how you’ve enamoured and caged his heart in the tender embrace of your palms, in every single world of the book.

So he gives in, he lets himself fall. He leans down to place a soft kiss onto your lips. With as much gentleness as he can muster up — given his disposition. It was supposed to be nothing more than a soft peck. What he didn’t see coming was how as your eyes began to flutter open and how you kissed him back.

© hansolen do not translate or repost anywhere else. reblogs n comments appreciated 💌

[euhla]

𝑻𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐄 ☆ sunday

⋆. ✷ 🪽 spoiler for trailblaze mission, possessive & obsessive behavior and thoughts, mental abuse, gaslighting, slight yandere, stockholm syndrom ??, heavily implied ill! reader, angst w comfort, major character death, an attempt for sunday character study (spoiler; i failed). this fics is heavily inspired/referenced by that one comment from chasing kou at yt

a/n : i write this when it’s raining outside with my calm playlist n it’s the best feeling ever! ^ 0 ^ this is kinda rushed btw

and the moment a firework bursts and lights up, like an exalted flower standing in the middle of a sea of people, his cerulean blue hair is a contrast to the dark starry night.

you try to hold his hand, trying to found your way to slip underneath his gloves, and embracing it. you flinch at first, because his hands are cold like a living corpse.

“your hands are cold,” you said as you look at him in the eyes. and you can’t help but feel small whenever you two lock gaze.

“it’ll get warmer.”

“how do you know?”

he smiled, “because you hold it now.”

inside of the spacious universe under the moonlight, as the people in the background shouted happiness the moment the dark starry night were now filled with fireworks and lights of joy. you found another reason to live, again.

the distorted reflection of light that you see when you jump into water, as you two slowly count how long you can hold your breath un, deux, trois … and when you both gasping for air, feeling the breeze pierces straight.

now his hands— finding their way to hold yours. a solace intertwined for a moment as he speaks, “this is a foolish thing to do.”

no one— not even the wandering lost souls —expected the professional and well-behaved man to do the childish thing like this out of all place. mr sunday? the head of the oak family? jumped into water like a child? no one’s gonna believe you if they don’t see it themselves.

you laugh it off. “but sunday, you enjoy it.”

“of course, my dear. it’s because i do this with you.”

again, his smooth talking that he has trained since kid pissed you off sometimes. but again, maybe this is the only way to search for comfort within the cruel fate.

the sound of trees swaying in the wind is calming, you think. the sound of trees swaying in the wind is calming, you think. and suddenly life is worth living again when you finally lean against a big tree, blocking the raindrops with other than hanging on to thick leaves.

ready to face another shallow dream, you started to shut your eyes, expecting another endless void to enter your mind. but a hand— almost feels like a salvation—reaches you first, preventing you to fall into another abyss.

you gasped in response. “sunday..?”

“in your current condition, you should’ve know that you should stay inside the mansion, right?”

sunday removing his luxury white coat, then placing it on you.

“i—“ but you can’t say anything. trapped inside a fragile body means that any words that spilled out are just another excuse. “—i’m sorry.”

sunday exhaled. “i’m sorry i sound a bit harsh earlier, but i suppose you already know that i’m doing all of this for your safety, right?”

you smiled in response. “.. of course. always for my safety.”

the feeling of your hair blowing in the wind and your vision becoming narrower as the sound of laugh filling the air, ignoring completely the gloomy dark sky and the smell of rain and wet ground, make you feel like you finally regain your freedom once again. or when you're running when it’s only the silence after rain that’s linger around.

you know that you shouldn’t do this, and you know it better than no one else. but you can’t just leave your childhood urges when you already grow into adulthood. it keeps telling you go, as far as you can and don’t look back.

but something chained you down. it trapped you with nothing but sweet whispers; giving you a safe place to live, but treated like a porcelain doll who can’t do anything by themselves.

and it keeps whispering to you; “i’ll make you a beautiful flower in my the garden. blooming beautifully that other flowers are jealous of you.”

but it never told you that inside the garden, the flower bloom under humiliating watch. that it makes the flower feels like they’re a monstrous flower that bloomed too soon.

“so this is how running under the rain feels like!” you shouted, knowing that no one would hear you.

and not far away, under an absolute command, a bird is watching you with a rage.

The sound of the wind blowing in your ears or the sound of your breath is the last thing you enjoy before facing the consequences.

you can tell that his rage is uncontrollable even when he still keeps his charming calm face. and your heart keeps beating faster, you can tell.

“sunday, i’m sorry i– i just want to get some fresh air and i– idontknowthat it’s going to be raining.” your words spilled out in an irregular rhythm.

“and you don’t straight come back to the mansion?” he massaged his temples. and this is the first time you see him stressed out.

“because i just want to know how it feels to running under the rain again..”

“of course you just want to feel what you want to feel, my dear. and you will never want to know what i feel— stressed out when i know that you’re not inside the mansion. do you really want to escape that much? just because i prohibited you to go out of the mansion?”

guilty, you feel guilty now.

“all of my actions and orders are right, okay? because i’m doing this for you and your safety. if i didn’t save you that day, you wouldn’t have feel your own happiness.”

you smile and nodded.

because sunday is always doing the right things to do.

the sound of your heart when you fell in love is something you never knew are going to feel. you always wonder what is love anyway? does it feel like when you’re running under the rain? or watching a firework bursts and light up in the air?

your heart still hesitant to think that this is all called love; the way sunday would delicately touch you as if you can break, the way sunday would make sure that you’re safe on his mansion ( he said that it’s the only way to make sure you’re safe, so you can’t go anywhere without his company ), or the way he whispers sweet words that always make you flustered.

or maybe this is the love that people always talked about? he’s sincere about his feelings anyway. everything he do is always for the right things.

so you lean in his touch. you surrender, and you fall into his warm embrace. his wings twitched a few times, and he hesitantly try to cover his face with it, but you noticed it.

you noticed how he always ended up embarrassed and flustered everytime you return his affection. but you always caress his cheek, as if saying that it’s okay.

“please just trust me, okay?” he whispered.

…oh, and the feeling of being fulfilled when you hugged the person you love for the last time. because that’s finally the time that the bird realized that he’s the one who’s on a cage.

an outstretched hand faintly looked like a salvation for him when he’s falling into the abyss ( and that’s when he finally realized that no one is going to save him ). it must be ena’s hand, he thinks. but when he blinked again, he realized— it’s you.

and when he thought that you’re already gone, becoming one with the rain droplets you loved, you came back to him.

a hand reaches him and pulls him into a tight hug. he’s not surprised, or that’s what he thinks. because it will be the last hug you’ll give him.

he closed his eyes. now that he realized that he should let you go, and it’s time to wake up from this long dream. just like your last words to keep moving forward.

“.. i’m sorry.” a faint voice whispered.

[kaszuma]

Bad Habits | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 6 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Soshiro wanted to set things right by you, so he planned a date that would've gone perfectly. Had a Kaiju not appeared in front of you.

warnings: Mentions of Blood, heavy detail on Injury and Pain. Breathlessness and lots of claustrophobia related to crowds, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers

wc: 6,552

–

note: Please inform me if I missed any warnings, It has descriptive injuries so I don't want to trigger anyone who's willing to read this.

Part 7 will be a direct continuation of this. So that's why I dubbed it as a Hurt/No Comfort fic for now. The comfort will come in another part because things have been going too smoothly in the relationship. And I don't want that. Anyways, look forward to the next part. I will be adding a tags list. So if you want to be tagged. Please tell me.

Also, thank you for a hundred followers 🫶

–

Today was the day Soshiro had decided to finally make it up to you.

After weeks of moving between bases. Handling Number 10’s strange quirks in its new prototype suit. It had been an understatement to say that he had kept himself rather busy in the wake of his occupation. His attention often divided between the lousy paperwork stacked against him, as well as his individual training.

One that he had always upheld to keep his body sturdy and his reflexes sharp. Not once acting careless in his response to a Kaiju attack. Especially now where he was equipped with a powerful and sentient combat suit, bloodthirsty for war. Willing to pick a fight with anything remotely breathing in his direction.

By all means, Soshiro could not afford to slack off. And if there was a miniscule chance that he did, he'd be minced alive for sure.

Just when his hard work had started to pay off too.

Now that he had been recognized as a numbers wielder no less. He'd be one of the few melee specialists that Japan could rely on in the case of an emergency. The proof of his existence. That he wasn't just a reject of the Hoshina Family's line of descendants.

That he was more than capable to wield a blade that could slay Kaijus that came after him. And he had succeeded. He had fulfilled his place in the hierarchy. His place solidified beside Captain Ashiro who was an even stronger ally than he was.

But despite his successes. Despite the satisfaction he got from climbing to the top with only the swing of his blade.

That had not been enough for him.

It had not been enough to prove his existence to the world.

And although that had been a major goal of his. To surpass people's expectations of his limits. His boon to keep fighting. To keep swinging his sword despite the odds stacked against him, had also been the downfall of many past relationships that could not blossom because it had gotten in its way.

And you had been the first to stay.

The first to understand his sentiments.The first to clear a path for him when everyone else had all but given up.

And yet here he was. Being a stellar lover and prioritizing everything else above you.

It had been weeks. Practically an entire month since he's spent some quality time with you. Sharing the occasional kiss in the hallways where you'd start your day off. Or acknowledging each other briefly when he had been stuck in the confines of the training rooms.

Beating the lessons right into rookies' bodies when you'd pass by. Or better yet, the daily coffee you had somehow managed to squeeze in despite your equally tight schedule. His favorite blend had always been waiting for him. Ready at his office on the days he burned the very wicks of the midnight oil.

And what had he done in return?

Nothing.

Not since that incident with Kaiju no. 10 at least. That of which he worked so hard to erase any evidence left in its wake. The fake report had at least been a piece of cake to do. And they had to do over the entire prototype testing just to make sure Number 10 was usable in its current state.

And unfortunately for him, it proved to be a much more difficult task to complete. Day by day he had not once made progress in raising the Suit’s combat power. Leaving Kaiju no 10 to mock his defenses and other battle related tactics whenever it could. But that had been the least of his worries.

In all honesty, he had been feeling guilty since that day.

Although he'd be remiss to say he didn't enjoy the feeling. Soshiro had not been in the right sound of mind when he found himself getting closer to you. Drunken by your scent, he had practically seen images flash by his mind. Courtesy by the Kaiju that had seen through his desires. And one thing led straight to the next. He found himself in a troublesome situation that he had been afraid to know the consequences of.

He had desired her. Yes. That much was clear. But he wanted the relationship to evolve slowly. At your pace. One that made you most comfortable.

But he had breached that space. The inch you had given him had turned into a mile. And he was lucky he still held some sort of restraint before he did something stupid and regretted his past actions.

And somehow, you still forgave him.

You enjoyed yourself even. Welcoming him with open arms for the next time around when they had managed to squeeze in the time between work. Open to the idea of a more sensual intimacy. In the privacy of someplace else. And Soshiro had wanted that too.

He wanted to correct his haste. To properly love you right.

But not everything had been picture perfect in the way he had planned. His bad habits showed in the ways he'd prioritize everything but you. And just when he built up his courage–Built up the resolve to face you. To do right by you.

Of course, things just had to get in his way.

Things always got in his way before he could properly apologize and make it up to you. Or atleast, that was the excuse he'd find himself feeling guilty of.

And that is where he found himself outside the premises of the Tachikawa base. Strangely out of uniform and in his civvies that he had managed to find beneath the sweatpants in his closet. Dappered in a simple black turtleneck and a white overcoat. Befitting of the cooler weather Japan had been facing in recent times.

He had been waiting for you to show up with a picnic basket in hand. A few paperback novels that he thinks you might enjoy. Added with a few sweets that he hoped would lighten up your day perhaps.

The plan had been simple.

He’d already done the nerve-wracking part. Stopping you midway as you finished giving him the stack of blueprints for the Combat Suit you had worked on upgrading. His hand reached to touch the soft skin of your knuckles. An action that made you look back at him in turn.

“Is something wrong?” You had asked curiously. The softness in your voice remained. One that made Soshiro want to melt into a puddle.

He smiled. Somehow the words got stuck on his tongue. And he had to remind himself that you were his lover. Who of course would agree to a date. Should he suggest it, Right?

He gulps. Suddenly feeling a little irritated at the way his stomach had dropped and a plethora of nervous butterflies had resurfaced.

Normally he'd have no problem taking out hordes of Yoju that came his way. Boasting the highest individual kill count for slaying midsized Kaiju of his generation. Yet somehow, his reason had gona askew. And he found this situation a little more terrifying than he anticipated.

“Hey, I was thinking..”

“Uh oh- That's not a good sign.” Your comment makes him smile. His eyes rolling to give your shoulder a playful squeeze.

“-That you and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” You had replied with a tilt on your head.

“I got a few paperbacks in the mail yesterday. I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat while we read through ‘em?” He smiled. His usual grin did not falter in the way he spoke to you. Though you could tell that he had an inkling of nervousness by the way he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek.

“Oh. And here I thought I was in trouble.” You chuckle. “So you're finally inviting me out on a date, Vice Captain?”

He had moved to stand much closer to you. Hand already at the shape of your hip, habitually writing his name on the waistband of uniform. “Is that a no I hear from ya’”

“Now when did I say that?” And it makes you smile knowing he had been trying despite the busy schedule he had.

You had long since understood his place in the hierarchy. Soshiro may have not realized it, but he was far too important of a person in the Defense Force to have been kept away from duty.

His life alone had been the cost of a thousand who'd live due to his sacrifices. And whether or not his insecurities had blocked his view of his own self-worth. You were able to see it clearly.

So despite the difficulties. Despite the yearning you felt for his proximity You did the usual and prioritized his work. Letting him handle things when command had already put so much weight into his daily responsibilities. Not that he seemed affected by it, no doubt already used to the pressure of a hectic battlefield. Much less a hectic work environment.

But of course, you wouldn't reject an offer out on a date with your lover. Not when he so sweetly asked.

And if he had the occasional free time to invite you out. Who were you to say no to his offer?

“Soshiro!” You had called out. Appearing just beside him who stood nearest the entrance of the underground metro station. And he smiled turning towards you with his usual cheeky and cat-like grin.

“You shoulda’ texted me. I would've picked you up by the train stations.” He had moved his free hand to pinch your cheeks. And it makes you chuckle. Revealing yourself completely to him.

Where his eyes had raked over the surface of the cute outfit you decided to purchase the day before. Hand already twirling a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. Admiring your very soul. Your entirety in front of him.

“And miss your startled face? Fat chance I'd miss that opportunity.” You laughed.

Soshiro had rolled his eyes in turn. His heart pounding as his free hand immediately intertwined with yours.

“If it makes ya’ happy Sweetheart.” He didn't waste this opportunity to gently pull you close. Kissing your temple which had been nearest his lips. “You look pretty.”

His compliments had made you brighten. Your face visibly beamed when his eyes drank your figure. “Damn straight. I wasn't about to let you one up me in the looks department.”

“Alright, alright.” He found himself chuckling. “Let's get moving before the desserts I bought ya’ go bad.”

You had half a mind to drag your feet while he took you out of the metro line. Acting stubborn just to stall and ruffle his feathers for a bit. As payback for neglecting you all those days ago.

But you had decided against it, the crowded train station was far too busy in the early hours of the afternoon. And you would not risk losing each other and wasting the rare day Soshiro had all planned out for the both of you to do.

“Lead the way.” You had smiled, giddy at the mere thought of a time well spent together. And Soshiro had shared that very sentiment. Already leading you away from the busy horde where lines of people had been waiting for the next train stop.

Upon your words, he had gently walked forward. Leading you by the hand.

His grip on you was firm and you can see the way his back had engulfed and weaved through the crowd much more easily than you ever had. Broad in his strides as he tried not to go too fast. Matching your pace since he knew you weren't as built in stamina as he was.

You had admired the little details of his nape. The one mole peaking through the skin of his turtleneck, where his hair had shown every detail of his jugular. One that you had marveled at when he wasn't looking.

Just as you were about to offer your help. Reaching for the sling of the basket on his free hand.

A shiver ran down your spine. The hand that had tried to reach for the basket had paused in heavy response.

And you had suddenly flinched as a loud gust of wind had blown past you. Making the indoor lights of the metro begin to pop and flicker abnormally. An eerie buzz emitting from each light source as if the electricity had all short circuited, simultaneously.

The temperature underground had strangely heightened. Unusual for the cool metro station during this time of day.

And the crowd that had busied themselves passing each other by, had all but stopped. With people's stares directed behind the both of you in a frozen and frightened state. You look around, almost confused. And Soshiro had gripped his hand harder against yours. As if he already knew the exact dread that overcame him.

The exact thing that had been staring right back at them.

And somehow you had that inkling too.

But denial had only been your first problem. And the rest of your body seemed to know the truth. Your very palms began sweating like bullets, and you had hesitantly looked behind you. To prove to yourself that it had not been what you think it was.

But Soshiro who had somehow read your mind. Had moved much quicker than you had.

Pulling you behind him, already pushing you to the exit when people had started panicking. Screams had been the accompaniment of hasty footsteps. With people of all different ages, running in the same direction. Away from the stairs leading down the metro line.

A mere glimpse is all it took for the hair on your skin to rise. And the face of a humanoid Kaiju had looked in your direction. Its skin peeled like oranges, unlike the gritty leathery texture that surrounded its cheeks. And although it had a terrifying grin on its face. It remained calm. Observant. It seemed ecstatic in the way it reveled in the attention it had gotten. Whilst Soshiro had pulled you from your trance.

“Run. Get going!”

Soshiro had strangely screamed. Already pushing you to evacuate, weary that the Kaiju could attack you at any given moment should it wish to. But the Kaiju had a strange way of showing its excitement. Gurgling at every noise it heard. And Soshiro's yell had all been reduced to a mere whisper against your ear. The sound of a panicked crowd was all too encompassing for you to actually make out his words.

Soshiro had kept a firm grip on your shoulders. Still trailing close behind you with his gaze fixated on the Humanoid Kaiju.

Its legs had hovered mere inches above the ground. Crinkled like an old vegetable that was left out in the freezer for too long. It had double the arms, one that resembled old branches with no leaves. And although it looked sickly and frail, he was sure the damn thing was capable of major damage given the right opportunity.

But instead of grabbing onto the nearest person like Soshiro had anticipated. It surveyed the area. Weary of its nearest surroundings.

It's molars and gums chattering against each other. Echoing throughout the underground halls of the metro station. It looked as if it was occupied with something. A far off look in its beady eyes. As if it were communicating with someone.

Perhaps it had something to do with Number 9? Shit.

If that's the case, Soshiro needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

“I can't get through. They're all pushing..” You had gasped. Feeling yourself stumble back when another person pulled at your shoulder and leaped forward. Using you as leverage to get to the exit.

Soshiro, who had seen this, was quick to catch you before you could fall. Your back against his chest in a protective stance.

He couldn't move. Not yet at least.

More than anything he'd like to handle that thing as quickly as possible. But to leave you nearby in such close proximity too? There's no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So all he could do was fixate his eyes on that Kaiju.

This thing was clearly sentient. Soshiro had seen the way it lingered to read one of the signs nearest the exit. But I didn't seem interested in conversing, let alone leave if he had asked. And he wasn't about to take his chances.

He needed to get rid of that thing now.

“Hoshina here.” He had fished out the white earpiece that he hid on his overcoat's back pocket. Pressing the small item down to his ear to contact operations.

“There's a Daikaiju sighting in the Tachikawa-Kita Station. Requesting permission to use Number 10 to neutralize it.” He spoke seriously. Unlike the usual light hearted conversations you'd have with him. And it makes you stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

It had been weeks since you had worked on Number 10. It was still far too early to be used as a plausible weapon out in the field. And yet here he was, indirectly telling you that he had worn it out in public.

“You what?” You had gasped out. Eyes blown wide whilst his hand remained on the small of your back.

Much to your dismay, Soshiro had not answered you.

Simply moving you closer to the wall, to let other people get through. His hand still pressed against the intercoms whilst he waited for a reply from Operations.

Soshiro had been focused on shielding you for the most part. The crowd was pushing, but it seems they had still been making progress in evacuating the area. Save for a few rumbles that had happened when the Kaiju had suddenly implanted its branch-like fingers onto one of the pillars. Cracking the surface of the solid cement that held the pillar in place. And you couldn't help but worry at the close proximity you both had been.

Right in range of where the Kaiju was looking at.

“Permission granted.” Okonogi’s faint voice could be heard. Likely already booting up Number 10's system underneath Soshiro’s civvies. The bioweapon would slowly regain energy which kept it from its usual conscious state.

“Do you, or Do you not have Number 10 on?” You had asked incredulously. Prying his arms off of you to peel off his shirt. And his larger hand stops you before you could see the peak of red in the place of where his skin should be.

“As a precaution m'dear.” His reply was immediate.

And he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Ushering you forward along with the thinning crowd. The stairway had all been emptied now. Save for a few runaways that had tripped or were pushed earlier.

“Higher ups wanted me to get used to it. Releasing this thing’s combat power, I mean.” His voice had been an octave lower. His smile, although present, had not been enough to reassure you. And you had a feeling he was trying not to have you panic on him.

“That is stupid. Command shouldn't have let you wear it. Number 10 is still unstable. What if you go berserk and lose control?” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“You did try to argue with command right?”

…

“Right?”

Soshiro did not answer you. Already pacing to drag you out of here before things could escalate.

Meanwhile, you had all but looked at him once over. Now it made sense why he chose to wear an overcoat when the weather had only been a little chilly this afternoon. It had surprised you that he was able to hide its tail from emerging from his legs. But then again, he probably had his blades tucked away in that too.

“Soshiro..”

“Listen, I'll explain things later. Take this and get to the nearest shelter. I ain’t havin Number 10 going berserk. I'll be fine. Just let me handle the Kaiju first, okay-” His sentence was cut short by your scream.

A broken chunk of the large pillar had been thrown towards you. And it had startled you enough to drop the basket he handed you. Soshiro had been quick in his motion to shield you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulder to let his back hit the brunt of the pillar.

But before it could hit and crush the two of you to bits. The faint sound of number 10 chuckled inSoshiro's suit. And its weaponized tail lashed out to strike the pillar back. Destroying it before it could scratch you both from its debris.

The sharp end had all but ripped Soshiros overcoat to shreds. And he was quick to remove the unnecessary fabric on top of his combat suit. Revealing the distinct eye hollowed out in the middle of his chest.

“Lucky this bonehead woke up on time.” Soshiro had chuckled darkly. And it was followed by its immediate reply. Tail haphazardly swinging around from behind him.

“Stop with your meaningless trifles and get to fighting swordsman! My patience is thinning.” It sounded almost like a child. Though its voice had been a deep and rambunctious chatter like usual.

“You heard the darn thing.” He sighs, pushing you forward before another attack could come in.

And you shook your head, placing your firm hands against the suit of his chest. Just beside Number 10's glowing eye. Your gaze fixated on his usual smile, one that you had grown accustomed to hearing cheery laughs from. “Are you serious? This thing isn't ready for an actual fight.”

“Do not mock us Woman. By the time you have escaped our opponent would have been ripped to shreds by me.” It screamed.

Making you roll your eyes in turn. And Soshiro had all but chuckled. Already letting you get a head start as you stepped out of the underground Metro line. “Just go. I promise you I'll be jus’ fine.”

“I’ll come find you later.” He had spoken. Already turning his heel to grab the swords he had hidden on his back.

You knew this was his job. The unavoidable was bound to happen. And as much it pained you to leave him alone with a Daikaiju with only a misaligned prototype of a suit as an ally. There was bound to be trouble afoot. But what can you do other than run?

You weren't a fighter like he was.

Your use was only in the presence of a laboratory, as a technician. Paving the way to enhance his equipment. To heighten his chances of survival, even if it was a measly one percent of it.

That had been better than none after all.

So with a heavy heart. You nod. Glancing at his form for a second longer before you began running. Taking careful steps to the opposite direction where you knew the nearest shelter would be at. There was never a shortage of Defense Force Officers there. Maybe they'd be willing to let a few assist Soshiro before things could go awry.

Captain Ashiro had always made quick work of any Kaiju that appeared. The third had always been quick to respond to action. Not once arriving late when the Tokyo district needed them the most.

Soshiro would just have to hold out before then.

Deal with Number 10's strange habits and hopefully manage to unleash the suit's combat power which had proven to be a tricky feat for a while now. And if he were lucky, maybe he wouldn't need backup at all.

The optimistic side of you wished to see him make quick work of the Kaiju. Have him return to you, maybe with a couple or bruises to sport but nothing serious.

He'd smile at you. Holding peace signs with his fingertips out as a form of comfort. To tell you that he had been fine and the Kaiju had easily accepted defeat, ending the story in a clean neutralization.

You'd even be willing to hear Number 10's inflated boasting in the background. Telling you that they had sliced it to ribbons before you even had the chance to reach the shelter.

At least that's what you hoped to imagine.

Just as soon as you arrived at the familiar street. You passed by the multitude of shopping districts in the area. And you see the familiar crowd of people being ushered into the sturdy underground bunker of the shelter. Far away from the premises of the Metro Line where Soshiro’s battle had taken place.

You had immediately stepped up. Trying to fall in line with the rest of the crowded spaces that led up to the entrances of the bunker.

But somehow the temperature rose once more. And you feel the familiar rumble in your chest as a gust of wind had blown behind you. Your hair going in all sorts of directions before your eyes settled on the familiar looking Kaiju floating in the very back of the crowd. Nearing you inch by inch.

What was it doing here?

Everyone who had equally felt the same tension had been paralyzed from fear. Its beady gaze had been burning holes unto the crowd. And its neck cracked as it tried to tilt its head to the side.

This had been enough to get rid of the stupor on everyone's expressions. And another wave of panic ensued. Leaving you and a few others to be pushed around in the wake of everyone's panic.

“Report. Kaiju has been spotted here in Shelter 1121. Requesting permission to engage.”

You had heard one of the Defense Force Officers yell. The few that had been present were already aiming their firearms at the chattering Kaiju. It's head convulsing as it floated ever so closer towards the crowd. Its branch-like fingertips grazed the road. Eerily dragging its long limbs down the cement. Its pace is slow and tantalizing as if to tease your inevitable demise.

You had groaned.

Feeling yourself be pushed down to the ground. Palms hitting the coarse texture of the cement roads. Knees scraping the rough surface as you stopped yourself from falling face flat onto the floor. Luckily the crowd had been mindful enough not to trample you. With most of the citizens already crowding the entrance as Soldiers had blocked the Kaiju's path from going any further.

But you saw the way it moved.

In a blink of an eye the Kaiju had made quick work of the Officers. Sweeping them off like insects thrown to the side. Their bodies hitting the nearest surface available in the area. And you had tried to back away. The itching pain that had surrounded your knees was like putting salt on an open wound. Still fresh from the poor landing you had from earlier.

But there was no time to focus on that. Its beady gaze already staring at you and his next target had been made clear.

Just as you had tried to get up, you saw the way a car had been thrown right above your head. And you had been a hair away from being hit by the force of its pitch. Landing on a few people who had crowded up against the entrance of the base.

Likely crushing a few people in the process.

Shit.

The dizzy unease you felt had all but dazed your mind's eye. And somehow through the fire and the panicked screams. A force had thrown you off the ground.

And suddenly your body had slumped against the nearest wall. Your back landing on the very glass of a fashion boutique. Your weight had shattered its surface upon impact when you were thrown against it.

A shockwave on the ground had likely thrown you a few feet back. And you whimpered. Feeling the shards of glass puncture your shoulder and arms. A few cutting your legs that had shamelessly bleeded against the floor.

You could feel a much larger injury on the small of your back. But as it stands, you couldn't really focus on a specific area. Not when it had hurt all over.

It had hurt to stand up. Let alone to crawl away.

You were not in the safety of the base. And Soshiro had not been here beside you. Even if it hurts like hell. You knew that you had to move. You had to get away and find some help before the situation got worse.

But somehow, it had only gotten much more difficult to breathe. Your eyes which had blurred from the blood flow on your head had suddenly cleared a little bit. Just enough for you to inspect your surroundings. And you noticed it had gotten significantly darker upon your landing. Everything, even within the confines of the boutique, had been covered in a thin layer of smoke that you could've sworn wasn't here before

The scent had been weird. Both earthy and a little rusty for your liking. But it had a distinct bitter smell, like something had gone rotten in the area.

And suddenly your throat lurched. Coughing at the sheer difficulty your lungs had inhaled. Like suddenly oxygen had all but ran out and you were left with a gas that had been invading your system entirely.

Your hand had shakily reached up your throat. Trying not to panic as the breaths you made had gotten shorter and shorter.

Was this poison?

Did the Kaiju have anything to do with this?

Where was Soshiro? Was he dead?

Only panicked thoughts plagued your mind. Not entirely aware that the pain had made you almost delirious as you try not to cry from all the overwhelming sensations you felt.

Your only thought had been to gather your bearings and find Soshiro. Damned the injuries that weighed your body. Damned the poison gas that made you want to throw up your lungs.

All you needed was Soshiro.

Yet somehow, you find yourself back on the ground. With your cheek pressed up against the shattered glass. Eyes slowly fluttering to a close from the sheer exhaustion alone. And your body, had never accepted sleep more than this moment had.

–

Who knows how long you've been laying there. A few gunshots sounded out from the distance before it ultimately quieted down. A roar rumbled to the far east of where you had rested. But the sounds had gone silent a few minutes after.

And here you were, dizzy from a concussion. Bleeding from your arms and legs. And your breaths barely audible from the amount of toxic gas you had inhaled.

You didn't know whether or not your lungs were barely functioning anymore. But with the slow rise and labored falls of your chest, you were sure you had still been okay. Though it's a miracle you were still half awake.

You could still make the odd gasps and silent plea for help. So you couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. Not when help could so easily arrive and your chances of actually surviving would lower.

The smoke had not cleared up from where you had laid. And for a moment, you see the shadow of a figure step hastily through the broken boutique. Staring down at you with gritted teeth.

“Found you..”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly the blinding numbness had been replaced with a fresh bout of soreness and burning pains. And Soshiro, who had stood above your half-conscious body, had stumbled a bit.

Not used to the way your body stood so still. Arched upward from the shard of glass punctured nearest the back of your waist. His breath was stolen away, as he could only imagine how the pain must’ve felt when you were thrown off balance to crash a building no less.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, c'mere.” Soshiro's familiar voice was much clearer now that he had stepped much closer to you.

The clang of his blades had dropped beside you as his hands were already fumbling to remove the straps of his respiratory mask. Rushing to place it atop your mouth and nose. Hoping it would help you breathe properly.

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic.”

Soshiro screamed. Glancing behind him for a moment before his focus had been fixated on you. His other hand gingerly lifting your head from the ground to assess the injuries you sustained.

And his eyes. The wine color of his eyes…

You could've sworn it had darkened. Brimmed with the fear of losing you. A cacophony of unshed tears that would usually be closed and cat-like in its features.

“..Soshiro?” You croaked out. Voice a little raspy from whatever gas that Kaiju had decked out. And your lover immediately pulled you closer. Rocking your body to keep you awake.

His first instinct was to secure the straps of the respiratory mask on your face. Letting you take a few filtered breaths before you try to speak once more. Though he hushed you right after, in the case you’d drain the little energy you had left in you.

And from the deadweight he felt. He somehow feared the worst.

“Hey, hey, Shhhh. You're okay.” He spoke with a shaky voice. As if he were assuring himself more than he did you. “I'm here now. We're gonna fix ya’ up brand new. I promise.”

His words had been loud. Desperate even. But for some reason, it went in and out of your ears. Not entirely sure if he had been screaming at somebody else, or he had been talking to you in particular. His reassurances got softer and softer from the minute your ears began to ring.

The sound of his voice, which you would normally find comfort in. Had your head spinning around. Making you wince in turn.

You had wanted to reach out. To pull him close and check for his own injuries. But your arms and shoulders would twitch in pain anytime you had tried to move a muscle. The poison in your system had made it all the more heavier for your body to move. Chained to the ground as if restrained by your own powerlessness of the situation.

“You're done?” You had managed to groan out. Wondering if the Kaiju had been neutralized.

And his immediate response was to nod in your direction. Pulling you much closer so that his leg would be able to support your weight on the ground. Away from the edged shards of glass that had scattered about.

“I'm okay baby. Yer’ the one that needs the help here..” He lets out a dry chuckle. Not entirely convinced that his jokes were actually landing. His panic was more evident in his tone than it had usually been, and for some reason. That hurt more than the physical wounds you endured.

“I know.” You hissed. “Hurts all over..if you couldn't tell..”

“Shit. Medics are on their way. I'm gonna lift you up okay? You'll be fine. Just gonna meet em’ halfway..” He had started. With Soshiro gently hooking his arms underneath the knees of your legs. And just as soon as you were an inch off of the ground. You winced.

Your teeth gritted together as you tried not to cry from the pain you felt when your body had raised from the ground. His hands, although they had been careful, were far too firm against the cuts on your body.

And the pain on your back, where the glass shard had punctured your organs, had a burning sensation you wished would go away.

Soshiro who had seen the way you panicked. Stopped in his actions. Putting you back down on the ground where his leg had cushioned your bleeding head.

“I know, I know jus’ bear with me, alright? Keep your pretty eyes open.” The string of curses never left Soshiro's lips. And his hand which had gently held the cheek where the respiratory mask met the skin of your pale face. Hoping that your breaths would get steadier. The mask recording all the slow inhales you'd take.

In and out. Labored but at least it was still there.

“Breathe..jus’ breathe for me, okay?”

Your eyes had tried to blink rapidly to remove the fatigue you had felt. But somehow, you were fighting a losing battle. And you couldn't help but give into the darkness. The fatigue would feel much nicer since you didn't have to worry about the pain. And with your lover here. It was okay to relax now. No longer did you need to have your guard up to combat the fight or flight situation.

And Soshiro found himself panicking even more at the way your eyes grew distant. Screaming at his intercoms for a medic on-field. Likely already on their way to the location he had sent to Operations moments prior. Okonogi in particular was trying to reassure the Vice Captain, but to no avail.

Not when his focus had all but fixated on your wellbeing. Eyes already closed as you drifted to an unconscious state.

His hand had reached down to your cheek. Already running circles against the bags of your eyes. Running across the dried tears that brimmed your eyes. Denying that this moment had a possibility to be your last.

And without hesitation, he started lifting you up again. This time not a peep from your mouth.

He was gonna fucking take you to the neareat hospital himself if he had to.

Like hell he was going to let you die. Right?

Right?

“Shit. This ain’t funny. Wake–Wake up!”

He hears Okonogi speak on the other side. Something about how a few officers had already turned the corner nearest their location. And he found himself running to their direction, your head leaning against his shoulder leaving small blood stains on Number 10's plated armor.

Help was close. But Soshiro's mind wasn't eased by that fact. Not at all relieved.

Not when your head had still been bleeding and a shard of glass as large as his hand had been punctured just below the small of your back.

And as he ran, he had wondered what he could've done to avoid this.

Should he not have asked you to go out today?

No.

You had been far too eager for this moment. It had been his fault for neglecting you. For not prioritizing the wave of affections you gave him in turn.

He had promised himself that he was gonna cherish you. Dedicate entire days just for you.

And yet here he was. With his plans, ruined beyond repair. And he finds himself going back to the root of his bad habits.

His work, his ambition to be seen as someone capable. Someone who existed in the hands of the world who did not see his strength and dedication. It had held him by the collar, forcing him to face elsewhere. Trapped him from doing right by you.

And now?

His bad habits had now suffered the consequences of his actions. No longer did he have the chance to do everything once over.

And his apologies had fallen to deaf ears. Hoping for the chance you'd get to hear him again.

He had a bad habit of doing you wrong. And now, he hopes you'd be awake so he can set things right.

[sleepynoons]

WELCOME TO @SLEEPYNOONS' FIRST WINTER EVENT!

happy winter, everyone! this time of the year's always packed with tons of emotions, highs and lows, cheers and tears, so the following 12 pieces (each being at least ~2,000 words) will span a range of genres, aus, and relationship dynamics based on a few of my favorite winter songs! i'll be writing for various characters and fandoms as well, so hopefully there's at least a story or two that you're interested in! if you would like to be tagged, shoot me a message via my ask box with your @. word count and warnings will be updated throughout the following weeks.

otherwise, stay warm, get a nice steaming cup of your favorite drink, and cozy up! (also, some tissues, just in case.)

edit: this event has officially wrapped up! thank you so much for all of your support! you can read my thoughts on this event here.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 1 – TIP TOE BY HYBS higuruma hiromi (jjk) x afab!f!reader, post-canon!au, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut word count – ~2,900 warnings – manga spoilers, brief sub!higuruma, oral (giving), body worship, marking, edging, cum eating, praise kink synopsis – it's been weeks since the last time you and your husband have spent quality time together, and now that it's christmas, the two of you can finally spend an intimate evening together.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 4 – ONLY BY LEE HI jing yuan (hsr) x gn!reader, modern!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,100 warnings – mentions of emotional cheating + divorce synopsis – although it's been years since your divorce, some part of you is still afraid to be in a relationship again. what does it actually mean to love someone, and are you capable of it?

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 7 – WONDER BY ADOY aizen sosuke (bleach) x afab!f!reader, modern!au + arranged marriage!au, sfw

genre – angst word count – ~2,000 warnings – n/a synopsis – aizen sosuke's the heir to the largest pharmaceutical company in japan, and you're his arranged wife. but your wedding oaths mean nothing when he doesn't love you and won't even look your way. unfortunately, you can't contain these feelings of yours for much longer.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 9 – YABA BY FUJII KAZE umemiya hajime (wbk) x gn!reader, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~3,000 warnings – characters aged up, references to previous toxic/abusive romantic relationships, description of physical injuries, overstimulation synopsis – you and umemiya rarely fight. but a problem's been brewing for a while now, and it's finally hit its boiling point. is this the end of your relationship?

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 13 – THE NIGHT BY SOYOU (FEAT. GEEKS) asakura shin (sakamoto days) x gn!reader, college!au, sfw

genre – fluff word count – ~2,300 warnings – suggestive content synopsis – plans have changed, and to your surprise, both you and your boyfriend shin are staying on campus over winter break. that means the two of you can spend christmas together, and you're excited to have him all to yourself!

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 18 – DIE 4 YOU BY DEAN kurapika kurta (hxh) x gn!reader, lovers to enemies!au + canon divergence!au, nsfw / 18+

genre – angst, horror word count – ~4,300 warnings – manga spoilers, graphic descriptions of gore/blood/human anatomy, murder, references to body dismemberment, violence, major character death, slight suggestive content, explicit language synopsis – kurapika's methodical, thorough, determined. there are very few things that can throw a wrench in his plans. for instance, he doesn't expect you to get in his way. at all.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 20 – ALMOND EYES BY CLAVITA oikawa tooru (hq) x afab!f!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut, crack word count – ~2,100 warnings – facetime/phone sex, sex toys (vibrator), overstimulation, mutual masturbation, slight exhibitionism, slight hand fetish synopsis – the two of you have managed to find balance in your long-distance relationship, but it's been especially challenging this time around, after having been separated for several months. it doesn't help that your boyfriend's being particularly evasive about his return for christmas, and you're at a loss as to what to do.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 24 – SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 25 – ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU BY MARIAH CAREY neuvillette (genshin) x afab!f!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut word count – ~3,100 warnings – age gap, lingerie, oral (receiving), fingering synopsis – it's your first winter with neuvillette, and where you grew up, it's customary to celebrate by exchanging presents, eating delicious food, and spending quality time with loved ones. even though neuvillette is overwhelmed with work at the moment, you're excited to surprise him.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 27 – ON THE DRIVE HOME BY NIKI hanma shuji (tr) x gn!reader, sfw

genre – angst word count – ~2,100 warnings – explicit language synopsis – you know it, he knows it. it's just that both of you are too complacent, so you're playing this waiting game. stuck in the middle of a snowstorm, in a car, you're face-to-face with the notion that your relationship is really coming to an end.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 28 – SHIAWASE BY OMOINOTAKE miya atsumu (hq) x gn!reader, sfw

genre – fluff word count – ~2,200 warnings – explicit language, slight suggestive content synopsis – atsumu is forced to articulate all the ways and reasons for why he loves you, which he thinks is ridiculous because there's no end to the list. little does he know, it's his voice, not his words, that fail him.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 30 – LOVERS' OATH BY CHEN YU-PENG diluc ragnvindr (genshin) x afab!f!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – smut word count – ~2,400 warnings – unprotected sex, fingering, thigh riding, riding, pussy job, creampies, multiple orgasms, husband/wife kink, praise kink, biting, squirting, lingerie, allusions to marathon sex synopsis – your wedding with diluc was a small, intimate event, just between the two of you, the officiant, close friends, and a few notable business partners. and you're glad, because you have more than enough energy to make the most out of your first night together as a married couple.

[imthepunchlord]

WARNING SLIGHT DANDADAN SPOILERS

Nothing major, but still, just be aware I'll be talking about some minor details we have from the manga so far.

One of the biggest curiosities for me is Okarun's home life and family. As Dandadan has 175 chapters out and well, there's still nothing on his family or home life. And he's the only major lead character to just not have anything offered.

We know Momo's parents are dead and she lives with her grandma.

We know Aira lives with her father.

We know Jiji lives with his parents.

But we just got zilch on Okarun himself.

And there's just some odd and slightly concerning details I see that make me wonder if things at home are ok.

In the age of tech, Okarun has a flip phone over a smart phone. Only one so far to have a flip phone while all others have a smart phones.

Nor does he have a computer at home.

And then you have detail of him wanting to be abducted by aliens, even as a kid.

Which suggests that home isn't really a home for him, he place he doesn't like returning to. A place he'd rather leave. To literally be taken by aliens.

In contrast, the Ayase residence he happily refers to feeling like home. A place to belong and to feel happy to be.

And there are times he stays at the Ayase residence for a good few days, and there's just nothing on needing to contact family. Why, at the end of dealing with Turbo Granny's curse, when he's finally going home without needing Momo to suppress the curse, he's about to bike home without someone coming to get him.

Mindful, I could just be overthinking what his set up could be, as we just don't really have any information on what his home life and family is like. But man I just kinda wonder, is his home life ok?

So I'm curious on what a majority think.

[cozage]

Responding to “I’m late"

Characters: f reader (gn terms!) x Luffy, Sanji, Shanks, Law

Cw: some pretty major angsty emotions in this. Spoilers for Dressrosa in Law's and WCI in Sanji's. Period talk

Total word count: 1k

--

He walks into your alls room and finds you sitting on the bed. You’re staring at the calendar on the far wall, still as a statue. 

“I’m late,” you whisper to him. 

Luffy

“Late for what?” Luffy isn’t clueless, but vague statements like that go over his head. 

“My period, Luffy!” Your head falls into your hands, but he’s still struggling to fully connect the dots.  

He tilts his head at you. He can tell you’re in distress and that worries him. “Is that normal?” 

“Obviously not,” you growl. “Or else I wouldn’t be telling you that I might be pregnant!”

His eyes widen at that statement, and finally he rushes over to where you’re sitting on the bed. He curses himself for being so oblivious. 

“How late are you?” He asks. There’s a slight urgency in his voice, but he’s trying to keep the panic down. 

“A week and a half!” At that response, Luffy realizes he knows nothing about these kinds of things. “Should we go talk to Chopper?” He offers. He hates being so clueless and he knows he’s not helping much. 

The way you’re looking at him makes him think that was also the wrong response. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m doing this all wrong.” He sits down next to you and puts his arm around your shoulder, leaning you in to him. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know!” You cried, and he rubs your arm soothingly. 

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “We have time to figure it out. And we will.”

Sanji

He should be over the moon. He should be ecstatic. He should be absolutely thrilled. But all he feels is dread. 

He tries to hide it. He really does. But you can see it. Because that’s the first emotion you felt too. 

“Sanji?” You call, trying to snap him out of the daze he’s in. But he’s frozen, just like you were. 

All he can think of is how his mutated genes are now forming a new human. What if it turns out like his brothers? What if it has 20 fingers and 20 toes? What if you get sick like his mother?

“Sanji?” You call again, and this time he snaps out of his spiraling. 

“What do you want to do?” He asks, and you can hear his voice tremble. He pulls out a cigarette and snaps open his lighter. Smoking is always an easy sign that he’s stressed. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. He nods, and comes to sit on the bed with you. 

His eyes look to your stomach, still trying to process it all. “We should go talk to Chopper. He’ll tell us if it’s something we need to worry about not. Maybe it’s just a weird month for you.”

You nod, and he takes your hand and leads you to the infirmary. He has to know, he has to prepare for the possibility. He can’t help but say a silent prayer to the universe on your way there for some kind of miracle. 

Shanks

“I know,” he sighs. “You know?” You stare at him, shocked.

“Of course I know! I know your schedule!” He smiles, and his arm reaches down to take your hand. He pulls you to your feet, and then holds you close to him. 

You rest your head against his chest and take an unsteady breath. “How do you feel?” He asks. 

“Scared,” you say, and you can feel tears prick at your eyes. He hums at your statement, and you to stand there for a moment in silence. 

He starts swaying you back at forth, as if the two of you are dancing without music.

He pulls you back and spins you around, and you laugh at his moves. He smiles when he hears your melody of joy, and you can see him relax a little bit. 

He pulls you back into him, still swaying. “We’ll be at a new island in two days. How about we go to a doctor there and see if we can get some answers. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” 

You nod into his chest. You’re still terrified, but at least you have him by your side. 

Law

He stands there, eyes moving between you and your stomach. “Late?” He questions. But he already knows. 

You ask for Midol and a heating pad at the same time every month. He gives you back massages at the same time every month. But not this month. 

You just nod, still staring at the calendar. He turns on his heels and runs out the door, leaving you alone.

He walks briskly through the hallways, trying to keep his nerves down. But his mind is racing. What if his child develops Amber Lead Disease? What if he passed it on to the baby somehow. It might be out of his system, but that doesn’t mean the lasting effects are gone from the disease. 

He’s also scared for you. He knows how taxing pregnancy is, and being in a submarine isn’t something you should do if you were pregnant. The pressure of the sea floor, the dangers of being a pirate, there were so many risks that came with it all. 

He grabs his sword and creates a room, and quickly shambles back to you. He finds you curled up in the bed crying, and realizes his mistake. 

“Im sorry, y/n-ya,” he whispers, brushing your hair to the side. “I didn’t mean to leave you without saying anything.”

You dry your eyes and look up at him, still sniffling. “I’m scared, Law.”

“Let’s find out how scared we need to be, okay?” He guides your limbs to position you to lay flat on your back, and he holds the sword over you. “Scan.”

[1chaerry]

the end you deserve

summary: a mundane lifestyle and unimaginable warmth, perhaps this was a luxury he had to achieve after years of hardships.

c.w : MAJOR ORV NOVEL SPOILERS, fluff, a bit of angst (?), domestic life, baking

disclaimer: happy birthday to Secretive Plotter, the way I just hold so much love for this man despite all that he's done. this is what I imagine his life is and no one can stop me.

Reader is called "Saram" meaning "Human/Person"

"Dokja, you have to eat your tomatoes." Saram sighed at the sight of the young boy in front of her. From being on the hunt for the Oldest Dream with Secretive Plotter to becoming a foster mother of sorts for said Oldest Dream was not what she expected her life would be like when she married Plotter.

Jihye grinned at the exasperated expression on Saram's face as Namwoon laughed, taunting Dokja about how Saram wouldn't like him anymore - which in turn caused the kid to cry, tears brimming his eyes - and before the woman could decide whether to throw her sandal or spatula at Namwoon, a hand came to rest on her shoulder followed by a deep, calm voice.

"Namwoon, you better stop unless you want darling to throw you out again." Secretive Plotter said as Namwoon ran off whilst Jihye took over Saram's place and helped Dokja eat the tomatoes.

Plotter leads her to the couch as the sounds of Uriel and Hyunsung sword training in the backyard could be heard. Saram sighed peacefully as she leaned her head against his shoulder and then proceedslooked at her husband and smiled, "When did you get back?" She hums.

"Just now, Biyoo is still training." Saram nods, staring at the sight of Uriel and Hyunsung training.

"Hyuk-ah, can I be honest about something?"

Yoo Joonghyuk looks at her, seeing her gaze towards the backyard.

"Anything."

"I'm really grateful for the life we have now. No more running, no scenarios, just a normal life."

At her words, Joonghyuk thinks back to the life that they have led till now – constantly fighting, surviving, strategizing, planning, running – Yoo Joonghyuk leans his head on top of Sarah's head, resting his arm around her as they watch the backyard, the commotion feeling like peace.

"Me too. Me too."

"Shh! You're gonna wake him up!"

"You're the one shouting, Namwoon."

"Seriously, you all are just kids."

"You're the kid!"

"Will Joonghyuk like it?"

"All of you shush."

Yoo Joonghyuk was awoken from his sleep from his sleep with the slight flicker of light against his eyelids. He blinked his eyes open and was greeted with the sight of Saram smiling.

"Hey, you finally woke up."

At the sight of her smile and soft tone, Yoo Joonghyuk blinked tiredly and sat up. His face held the expression of confusion upon being awoken by everyone – his eyes trailed over all of them – the room was dark save for the bedside lamp's illumination.

"What's wrong?" He asked and Saram smiled. Uriel, Hyunsung, Jihye and Namwoon seemed to be hiding something behind them and he soon got his answer when Dokja appeared from behind them - the four giving him space to walk forward – Saram and Dokja held the cake together as Uriel used her flames to light the candles.

"We knew you'd forget." Hyunsung crossed his arms as he stood behind Saram and Dokja with the four.

"Be thankful, Dokja and Saram worked on it for hours." Uriel comments, flicking when hair over her shoulder.

"Namwoon attempted to eat it."

"I did not!"

The two – Jihye and Namwoon – bickered as always. However, Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes were only on Saram and Dokja, Saram seated beside his sitting form on the bed while Dokja stood by her side, they all held bright, glimmering smiles.

His eyes fell upon the cake, it was a small cake, a bit messy with the icing and writing but it was perfect nonetheless. The man's eyes flickered from the cake and towards Dokja and Saram – they held nothing but warmth in their eyes, the younger boy looking a bit nervous – and he felt a feeling bloom in his chest.

"This is..." He couldn't find words to communicate.

"Dokja did the writing, he was nervous that you wouldn't like it." Saram gestured to the boy who was nodding and Yoo Joonghyuk gave a weary, smile towards Dokja, "It's perfect, Dokja."

"Happy birthday, Hyuk-ah." Saram said softly with a few wishes from the others as well.

"H-happy birthday, Joonghyuk." – Dokja.

"Happy birthday you idiot." – Uriel

"You're old now, hah!" – Namwoon

"Ignore that fool, happy birthday." – Jihye

"I hope that you gain many more happy birthdays from now on." – Hyunsung.

And their eyes widened when Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes brimmed with tears as he looked down, shoulders slightly trembling. Saram's eyes softened as he blew out the candles, giving the cake to Uriel to hold it, she pulled him into a hug.

Eventually, Dokja joined in, then Hyunsung, Jihye and Namwoon, in the end, albeit reluctantly, Uriel.

For every hardship, for part of him that bleed, for part of him that broke throughout his regressions – these people were slowly but certainly healing him, healing his heart. Perhaps, he didn't deserve this happiness after all that he has done, perhaps he still has a long way to go but one thing was for sure. Yoo Joonghyuk knew one thing as he was enveloped in a warmth that he could only dream of before.

Yoo Joonghyuk was no longer alone.

He, too, now had life and death companions.

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter two || extortion

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. will have a happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 6.1k.

edited but not beta-read.

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The smell of cherry blossoms brought a smile to your face as sunlight spilled through the beautiful buds. It was your favorite time of the year and while you and Miriko didn't often share thoughts without intending to, you could feel the enjoyment and relaxation absolutely brimming from her soul. You didn't have it in you to cut her off completely during moments like this, even for both of your safety. Especially when in truth, this was what she enjoyed the most about a domestic life.

Your shoes scuffed quietly over the paved surface on the way to a small coffee shop. Nothing would hit the spot quite like tea on a day like this one.

A bell rings over your head as you push through the door of a small local shop. Smiling politely at the cashier, you order a London Fog. In a few short moments, you were sitting at a small table in the corner, browsing your phone while you quietly sip your tea. Every so often the small door bell would ring but you paid it little mind, sitting in your own world.

Every now and then you found yourself reflecting on the strange life you lived since Miriko awoke. It was too dangerous for you to live in the city, too dangerous for you to hold a normal job. You had gotten lucky that a wedding flower business had worked out at all for you, and even luckier that Miriko had graciously offered her gift to you to aid with that.

Even luckier was Miriko herself. What would have happened had she been a malicious curse? Would you have been put down by Gojo like so many other curses? Would Miriko have killed you? Would she have forced you to search for the remaining cursed object to awaken her after all these years? You often wondered why she seemed to have no interest in such a thing, but you weren't about to test your luck in asking. You trusted her with your life, and yet sometimes you found yourself fearing her. You often referred to her as a miracle, but there were moments that reminded you she was a curse.

The bell above the door jingles once more but you pay it no mind, focused on reading a book on your phone. That is, until Miriko’s warning of a curse-user catches your attention.

Raising your head, you lock eyes with an all-too-familiar white-haired man. At least, you assumed you were staring at one another from behind his black blindfold. A lump forms in your throat as he makes his way towards you without hesitation.

“Well if it isn’t miss y/n,” he greets you with a smug grin, pulling out the chair across from you and taking a seat without asking permission. He leans forward on the table, paying no mind to the frown you now dawned.

“I can’t help but feel like nothing I say to you ever seems to matter,” you grumble quietly, eyes narrowed behind your pink sunglasses. You cross your arms over your chest, setting your phone down on the table before you.

With a chuckle, the cocky man shrugs and leans back with arms crossed behind his head. “How’ve you been?”

Perplexed by the question, your features twist in confusion. Small talk? You didn’t know Gojo well but you knew well enough that he wasn’t one to seek you specifically out to chat, unless- oh shit. Had he come looking specifically for you? You swallow the lump in your throat at the realization that there was no world where he casually happened to stroll into your favorite coffee shop on the other end of town.

“What do you want, Gojo?”

His eyebrow raises at your hostility, though he’s quick to brush it off. “I want to know how you’ve been.” He grins as he pushes the two front feet of his chair off the ground.

“I was better five minutes ago,” you retort venomously, your eyes narrowed behind the tint of your rose glasses.

“Ouch,” he feigns hurt, “and here I thought I was reconnecting with an old friend.”

Shaking your head incredulously, you barely manage to keep your eyes from rolling. “Friends don’t kidnap each other.”

“Touché,” he hums, his smirk never once fading despite the topic. He leans forward, grabbing your tea and taking a sip to your complete and utter disbelief. The way he so confidently strode circles around you, how were you meant to make heads or tails of his actions? Could he possibly believe he had any good will left with you? Surely he knew he was in no place to be making requests of you after your last two meetings with him. And yet-

“Do you need something?” Your eyes widen slightly and you take in your surroundings, searching for other sorcerers, but there were none. Of course he had come on his own, this wasn’t a coincidence. Before he could respond, you questioned him further. “Wait, how did you find me? Did you follow me?” You lean forward as you accuse him of following you.

Matching your energy, your adversary leans forward on the table. “No, I didn’t follow you,” he grins, “I came to get coffee.” You had to fight the scoff in your throat at his blatant lie. “But now that I’ve got you here, I do have a favor to ask.”

This time you don’t fight the urge to roll your eyes, leaning back as you stare out the window. It’s too nice of a day to be getting harassed by Satoru Gojo. “You’re joking,” is all you mumble in response.

The white-haired man clicks his tongue. “Listen, I teach a group of students and one of them is just like you,” he says, his voice growing more serious. You dare to turn your gaze back towards him, examining the way he takes a sip of your tea as he leans in further. “The higher-ups want me to kill him when it comes to it. That’s not the world I want for this kid. That’s why I’m here.”

Given the Shibuya Incident a few months ago, you’re well aware of Sukuna’s vessel. Miriko was familiar with Sukuna and had filled you in on the details of the king of curses and his twenty cursed fingers.

“Gojo, if anything, you owe me after you showed up uninvited,” you respond exhaustedly. Gojo’s smirk falters as you rub your eyes in disbelief, blinking your eyes back open to see him still overly joyful. He was some asshole, expecting anything more from you given your current feelings towards him. “This isn’t my problem anyhow.”

“It will be,” his voice lowers. You stare discontentedly at him as he moves a hand through his snowy locks. “If he can’t control Sukuna when he gets the twentieth finger…” Gojo trails off, frowning. “I’ll win, of course,” he grins, narrowly missing your eyes rolling back into your head for what felt like the twentieth time this morning. His silence speaks volumes, the serious frown he dons all the information you need to know what he’s thinking.

“I’m not killing a kid,” you hiss, your voice low in the extremely public cafe setting. “You can tell me over and over it’s Sukuna, I am not-”

“I’m not asking you to,” he interrupts, letting out a long sigh. “It’s my job to prevent that outcome.”

There’s always a but.

“But,” he begins, leaning in further. “If I fail, if I can’t find a way to separate or defeat him,” he pauses again, lips parted. “I don’t think there’s anyone else capable of defeating him.”

You could only blink as you took in the information. Clearly he cared a great deal about his students. He was an asshole, not heartless. That became abundantly clear when he showed up at your door. You had to figure that he likely also believed that Miriko was whole, which you didn’t plan on correcting him about any time soon. On top of that, he was asking you for something that he didn’t understand the cost of. Sukuna’s death at the cost of your own life, of Miriko’s? Was that something you were willing to give?”

No. Do not humor him, y/n.

Miriko has been practically screaming since the moment he’d made the request, and you could do little more than ignore her despite the headache her outcries were bringing on.

“Let me get this straight,” you tell him, laying out the facts. “You want me to train the vessel to control Sukuna, or figure out how to separate them with my knowledge of being a vessel,” you glance up at him from where you were staring at what was once your London Fog. He nods, his carefree smirk returning. Oh how you hated that smirk and blindfold- “and if you fail, I have to kill him.”

“That about sums it up,” he grins all-too-cheerily.

“And if I say no?”

“Well, if Sukuna’s free you’ll end up fighting him at some point,” he shrugs slyly.

“So you’re extorting me,” you state blandly. “I agree and run the risk of having to kill someone, or I disagree and I run a bigger risk of killing someone.”

He shrugs, barely reacting. “Unless I succeed on my own,” his voice grows darker as he pulls his blindfold up just enough to see the sly glint in his eye. “But this is Sukuna we’re talking about.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you sigh. You weren’t left with much choice and between the draconic curse in your mind uttering obscenities at the man sat before you and the person in question both about to give you a headache, you could only rub your temples to attempt to alleviate your oncoming headache.

“If we both fail?”

He sits forward, nodding slowly. He had clearly considered the possibility whether he believed he would fail or not. “It’s a risk,” he admits. “But I have better odds this way.”

You ball your hand into a fist as you watch him take another sip of your London Fog. The audacity he had to walk in, take your drink, extort you, and all for what? An act of self-preservation? So that he stood a chance against Sukuna? He was using you. Your jaw clenches as you sigh, trying to contain your anger, your cursed energy flaring like a stoked fire.

That seems to be all he needs to see to realize he’s won as he gets to his feet, pushing your tea back across the table. “Careful, y/n,” he teases with a tilt of his head. “Wouldn’t want to lose control now, would we?” Miriko’s anger boiled alongside yours in your stomach, and you had to consider him incredibly lucky given that you were able to keep your own curse at bay. “Be packed, a driver will be at your place by noon,” he tells you as he strolls out the front door.

He never even ordered a coffee.

Liar.

–

You’d been dragging your feet on packing, debating the concept of leaving before a car could ever arrive. When it came down to it, he’d found you before and he would find you again. In fact, you had grown more and more certain over the past twenty four hours that he’d always had an eye on you, though you didn’t know enough about him or the Jujutsu Society to know exactly how.

The least you could be thankful for was that you rarely, if ever, used your technique beyond growing flowers for your business, a reversed version of your usual technique.

Your heart drops at the sound of tires rolling over the gravel path beyond your gate. Although Miriko didn’t say anything, you could feel her irritation growing. You didn’t share all of your thoughts or emotions with her unless they were strong, though with every encounter involving the head of the Gojo clan, you knew exactly how she felt at all times.

A knock at your front gate pulls your attention back to reality and with a wistful sigh, you make your way to the noise. Standing at the gate is a tall man with short black hair and glasses. He greets you kindly, introducing himself as Ijichi, and you greet him in return. He offers to take your bags and opens the back of the vehicle for you, turning with wide eyes as you begin to lead Taro into the vehicle.

“Oh, um, I don’t think-”

“No dog, no sorcerer,” you hiss unintentionally, feeling bad the moment it comes out. You sigh, composing yourself. “Sorry,” you grumble as he nods finally. He seems uneasy, though you suppose someone with as low of a cursed energy output as himself driving someone like you around would do that.

Each moment staring out the window left you longing for it to last longer. Just one extra moment back in your cozy cabin running your business. Anything to keep you away from Jujutsu Tech.

The school was tucked in the trees just on the outer edge of Tokyo, well-hidden by a barrier that seemed to allow your passage. As the car slowed to a halt, Gojo’s presence irked the curse hidden within you and you struggled to keep down the growing feeling of irritation, unsure if it was your own or Miriko’s emotions that were influencing you.

“Look who made it!” Gojo called excitedly, much to Miriko’s dismay. You had her on a short leash, choosing to suppress your cursed energy on the school grounds. You could only hope Gojo was keeping the majority of your secret beyond what was necessary to know about you. You shoot him a grim look before forcing a more agreeable smile to the woman who stood alongside Gojo. She wore a cute blue turtle neck with a long lab coat over it, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders. A toothpick hung from her lips, her tired eyes wrinkled at the corners as she smiled at you.

“Shoko, this is our newest special grade sorcerer, y/n,” he waves his hands in the air towards you. “This is Shoko,” he introduces you to her, “our resident doctor.”

She waves kindly at you. “Satoru mentioned you’ll be joining us for a bit so we set up a private cabin for you,” she tells you, waving somewhere behind her to where the cabin was set up.

As she speaks, Taro hops out of the car behind you, his happy demeanor changing in an instant to a growling one as he bares his teeth to Gojo. He’s a good boy. Still, you tell him to relax and he sits happily beside you.

“And who’s this?” Shoko greets your dog as her tone changes to one more fit to speak to a dog. You chuckle at the site, laughing.

“That’s Taro,” you introduce him. His tail happily swings from side to side as Shoko leans down to scratch behind his ears. Beyond you and Miriko, he wasn’t too familiar with other humans so the interaction was thrilling for him.

“Well isn’t he just the best? Yes you are!” She stands once again, composing herself as she gestures for you to follow with a calm smile. You spare a glance at Gojo as you gather your bags, who grins slyly at you. Choosing to ignore him, you snap your fingers as a signal for Taro to follow as you fall into step with Shoko.

Your eyes wander the length of the school grounds before you, mostly open fields with several massive buildings extending at their length. There was a group of six students sparring towards the end of the field, though the sight of one of them in particular caused you to pause.

“That’s a panda,” you state in bewilderment, hearing Shoko’s amused hum.

“He’s a student,” she tells you as though it’s completely normal, gesturing for you to continue following her.

“What have I gotten myself into?” You whisper quietly to yourself.

“So, where’d you come across Gojo? He mentioned you’re special grade, not many of you around,” Shoko comments casually, quietly eyeing you. 

“I’m pretty sure he kidnapped me last year,” you bite your lip at the thought, “and then he extorted me.” Grimacing, you meet the shocked face of the woman who was leading you in the direction of a small cabin tucked away in the trees.

“Wow.” She gapes, shaking her head. “That’s a new low, even for him.”

“So he’s not always an asshole?”

Shoko laughs with a shake of her head. “No, but he could certainly do with a lesson in manners. He’s always been like that though, you get used to it.” She stops in front of the small cabin, turning towards you. “Wait, so how exactly did he convince you to help us if he’s kidnapped and extorted you?”

Shrugging, you set your bags down now that you were stopped. “The extortion was a part of this arrangement,” you state plainly, though you knew at the end of the day there was at least some bit of irony to this entire situation that Shoko couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Well, Gojo’s a dick, but I promise he does have good intentions,” catching your raised eyebrow, she continues. “Either way, I’ll give him a good smack for ya.”

You sigh with a small chuckle. “Thanks, Shoko.”

She gives you a tour of your small cabin, letting you know where she and everyone else would be situated should you need them. Shoko’s infirmary was in the building just across the field from your cabin, while Gojo’s own cabin was in view of yours. Turning to leave, you hesitantly stop her.

“Hey, what’s special grade?”

Her eyes widen in shock that you aren’t aware, uncertainty flashing momentarily in her eyes as she explains to you the meaning of your assigned grade and how few other sorcerers had such a class.

You thank her quietly as she makes her way out to the infirmary, turning back to your new house. Your new home. Light sifts through the sheer curtains that hang on the window above the kitchen sink, a warm glow illuminating the wooden interior of the small cabin. The cabin had a full kitchen to your right, a dining table placed towards the back of the kitchen area and a small living room with a television and couch to your right. Stairs cascaded up from the corner behind the dining room table to a loft with a queen bed and a small night stand on either side adorned with a lamp. There was even a dog bed in the corner of the room.

In all honesty, it left you a bit shocked. Although tucked away in the trees, there was lots of space for Taro to explore and even for you to grow flowers should you desire to.

On top of that, Shoko seemed nice which you were grateful for, and figured should you need any help you would be able to go to her rather than Gojo, which you were grateful for. The only difference that was beginning to get to you was how lonely it felt in comparison to your home. Despite the amount of people here, Miriko had grown very quiet. It was unnerving, but you weren’t about to push her given how uncomfortable you both were with the situation.

Maybe she would come around later.

–

Holding your hand out, Taro excitedly drops his favorite ball into your hand, his tail wagging wildly. Giving it a toss, you smile as he dashes away after it. The golden rays of the setting sun shone on the Rottweiler’s gorgeous black fur, and you were so caught up with his enjoyment that you didn’t notice someone approaching.

“Do they have a name?”

Jumping in surprise, you stare in shock at the tall blonde man standing at the edge of the steps you were sitting on.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, no longer focused on Taro. Examining the blonde, you notice he’s wearing a light blue button up with slacks, as well as a yellow tie. From the way he’s standing, you can only see one side of him, but the straps across the side of his head tell you he’s got an eye patch as well.

“No worries, I wasn’t paying attention,” you forgive him quickly with a dismissive smile. “That’s Taro.”

The blonde turns his head to face you and you’re able to see his entire left side appears to be covered in scar tissue. Is this what it’s like to be a sorcerer?

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself, watching with mild amusement as your dog barrels excitedly towards him, doing small spins as he drops the ball he’d been chasing at Nanami’s feet.

You introduce yourself in turn and Nanami nods, committing the name to memory as he adjusts his sleeve and throws the ball for Taro.

“I hear you’re-” Nanami begins, though you interrupt him.

“Yeah, I’m special grade.”

“-Quite the flower connoisseur.”

You stare at one another, your mouth agape at how rude you had accidentally been. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed-” you desperately try to backtrack, but Nanami shakes his head.

“I understand,” he shoots you a lopsided smile. “Gojo did also inform everyone of that, to my knowledge.”

“Right,” you mutter wistfully. A breeze ruffles Nanami’s carefully coiffed blonde hair as he carefully observes you. The way his deep brown eyes quietly examined you should have sent a feeling of unease through you, but his presence was oddly calming.

“You should make use of the yard,” he motions to the grassy area Taro was barreling around, vigorously shaking a toy. “It’ll be a nice change of scenery around here.” He tells you before curtly waving and heading on his way. 

He seems nice, you think to yourself, leaving the thought open for Miriko to respond, although she doesn’t. You head back inside to get settled for the night, only managing to throw your hair up into a bun before someone is already at your door.

Your visitor calls your name and you groan in response. No matter how hard you tried, there was no escaping Gojo.

If I ignore him, will he leave? You ask Miriko, hoping that maybe just this once she’ll respond.

Surely, to your surprise she does.

Continuing to clean and unpack, you ignore the sing-song tone Gojo uses as he calls your name and continues to knock.

“C’mon, I know you’re in there,” he calls as he knocks again. Completely suppressing your cursed energy, you begin moving slow and quiet in hopes he’ll get the message. “Cursed energy doesn’t change the fact that you’re in there and you hear me.” With an irritated sigh, you stop suppressing your cursed energy, able to connect to Miriko again.

I will kill him.

You chuckle at the Death curse, sighing as you open your door.

“What do you need?”

“I need you to come with me,” he grins from where he’s leaning against your doorway. He no longer has on his blindfold, his blue eyes peeking at you from over his black shades. You glance at the clock, shaking your head. “No chance, I’m gonna read and go to bed. It’s already eight.”

“How old are you? Exactly, it’s only eight, you’re coming with me.” He beckons you along with him, turning to wait for you on the steps. You grimace, flipping your gaze back towards the cabin to find an excuse, but Gojo catches on too quickly. “Nuh uh, c’mon,” he beckons again. Silently complying, you let out a breath and lock your food behind you, keeping a small distance between you and him.

“How’re ya settling in?” He asks, glancing in your direction.

“Been better.”

Gojo wasn’t a fool. He knew you were being short with him. He was well aware you weren’t his biggest fan, though he had done what he needed to do in order to keep an eye on you and put in place a contingency plan.

“Aw, c’mon!” He grins, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he turns to face you, walking backwards. He catches the way your eyes narrow at him from behind your own glasses, choosing to ignore the look. “I’m doing you a favor if you think about it.”

“I’d love to hear how you think you’re doing me a favor. Really, amuse me,” you spit out, rolling your eyes as Miriko’s anger fuelled your own. It was hard to ignore her emotions when they were practically running through your veins when they were strong.

“Well, for starters you’re surrounded by just about the best there are for bodyguards,” he motions cockily to himself. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You could potentially save some lives,” he muses, “and to top it all off, you have a great cabin and don’t need to hide anymore.”

The audacity that this man had to suggest that you, a vessel that no one knew of, who lived a life in a beautiful cottage of your own creation outside of town, had the option not to hide in the cabin you didn’t want to be in to begin with. You hadn’t realized your feet had planted themselves on the ground as you stared at the white-haired asshole in disbelief.

“You’re kidding, right?” Your words come out far more hurt than you intend. “You took my safety from me over a year ago. You, single-handedly, took my safety, you took my life, and now-” you find yourself choking on your words as anger bubbles in your throat. You step forward, pointing a forefinger straight at Gojo’s chest, though it never connects with him due to a force you can't see. “Now I’m in more danger than I ever have been! I’m surrounded by people who don’t know what I am, who don’t know what I can do, who don’t know why I was hiding to begin with, and it’s all because of you!” You growl, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight tears now that you were full-on yelling at the taller man. And that only makes you angrier, what person wants to cry when they’re yelling? “And you know what, Gojo? To top it all off, the only reason I’m here at all is because you decided if someone had to kill a child, it may as well be me,” your words drip with venom, shoving your finger nearly against his chest. Your body begins to shake but you don't waver, burning red eyes looking for a sign that he felt even a little bit bad.

The sign never came, though. He stood before you, letting you vent your anger at him with little more than a frown. He doesn't respond, just stands before you in silence. The worst part is that you want him to react. You want him to yell back. You want him to feel something about what he had done to you. You want a reason to leave, a reason for him to let you leave. But still, he stands in dead-still silence. His piercing blue irises are hidden by his sunglasses in the darkness that surrounds you both and you can't make out anything about his expression.

Letting your hand hang back at your side, you drop your gaze to stare at your feet. Your chest heaves as you struggle to regain your composure, teeth gritted furiously. Silence surrounds you both, only interrupted by the sounds of summer cicada and the occasional whistle of the breeze. The cool night air is brisk, but a welcome feeling against your warm skin.

Taking one last glance up at Gojo, you watch as he simply turns to leave, heading along in the direction he was leading you.

“I- I’m going back to the cabin,” you stammer, stumbling back in the direction you came, struggling not to cry. You didn’t catch him turn back towards you, hands in his pockets again.

“Look, I don’t care what you do,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “but Shoko sent me to get you. She put together a fire with faculty staff.” Your gaze falls to the ground, though you were listening. Your brow furrows when you realize he almost sounds hurt. “Besides, you should probably meet the people you’re workin’ for.” And with that, he turns away from you and begins walking back to the fire. Holding your head in your hands for a moment as you let out a deep sigh, you wipe the tears from your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself down and very slowly follow Gojo, keeping enough distance that he wouldn’t talk to you. Admittedly, you hadn’t realized it wasn’t him you were working for, so it did make sense to meet everyone while they were all gathered.

You approach a corner towards the back of one of the buildings, light dancing across the ground the closer you get. Fire licks at the night sky, sparks disappearing among the stars above as you pause with a wry smile.

“Y/N!” Shoko calls, waving you over to her. Relief washes over you as she drags a camping chair close to her. You’re glad to find Gojo settling opposite the fire to where Shoko beckons you. Several other voices of different faculty members greet you as you pass by, the only person rising to greet you was a man who appeared older than the rest of you were.

“Yaga Masimichi, nice to meet you,” he bows, pleased as you introduce yourself and bow back. “Thank you for your assistance, I’ve heard good things from Gojo.” You nod, forcing a smile at the mention of Gojo’s name. The man sits back down and allows you to take a seat beside Shoko. Nanami’s to your other side, and as parties weren’t your usual scene, not to mention that you weren’t in the greatest mood, you were grateful for the two somewhat familiar faces.

You were quickly introduced to Choso, Nitta, Ijichi, and Atsuya, although you were familiar with Ijichi from the ride here. You introduce yourself only for your heart to drop as questions are immediately thrown your way from the faculty members you were just meeting.

“I hear you’re special grade,” Nitta comments.

“So I’ve been told,” you sigh, trying to mask your tiredness.

“Special grades don’t pop up outta nowhere,” Yaga comments, eyes narrowing. “‘Specially not at your age. How were you unregistered for so long?”

Heat creeps up your neck to your ears and you shoot Gojo a glance, unsure of what he had told his boss. Your boss. You gingerly move a strand of hair from your face, a strange sensation of being in trouble creeping up on you. The feeling was reminiscent of being back in school, something you certainly didn’t miss.

“She’s from outside the city, not many curses out there,” Gojo explains casually, which you’re thankful for. Given what he’d put you through it was the least he could do.

A waterfall of questions poured from the group at that, your eyes wide as you tried to get to everyone’s questions. Questions about where you were from, your hobbies, how you met Gojo, and your technique (which you did your best to avoid), were thrown at you from left and right. Nanami, Shoko, Choso, and Gojo stayed mostly quiet though Gojo smirked through the interaction. You were just relieved he kept his mouth shut for once.

Sensing your exhaustion at the onslaught of questions, Nanami tilts his head towards you, speaking only to you rather than the broader group. They had finally moved on to a topic apart from yourself and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You don’t need to stay here, you know,” the blonde quietly tells you. You meet his careful gaze in surprise, noticing now that he looks as tired as you feel. He leans back in his chair, looking equally as thrilled to be at the fire as you were.

“I mean,” you worried your lip between your teeth, “I should probably stay,” you reason. “After all, Shoko set this up as a welcome.”

Nanami’s brow furrows as he curiously tilts his head. “Satoru organized this for you.”

You stare blankly at Nanami, sparing a glance at Shoko who was deep in conversation with Choso. Gripping the arms of your chair, you shoot a nod at Nanami, getting to your feet and thanking everyone for the warm welcome before excusing yourself. Your gaze briefly lands on Gojo from behind your tinted glasses. Although you weren’t able to see his full expression from behind his black glasses, you noticed his smirk falter when he found your stare.

You turn back to Nanami, who was standing as well and he nods as a signal for you to lead the way.

“You don’t want to stay back?” You question curiously.

He shakes his head. “No, I have work tomorrow,” he explains. “And while I do often work out of Jujutsu Tech I’m not a part of the faculty staff.” You nod slowly, uncertain of how the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers works. “I don’t usually stick around past five,” he tells you, his eye fixed straight ahead.

“Sorry you’re here so late,” you apologize, though he shoots you a small smile.

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. A comfortable silence falls over you both as he walks you to your cabin in the dim moonlight. You tilt your head to get a better look at him, noticing that not unlike Shoko, he had a rather gaunt look to him as though he hadn’t slept in a long time. Even so, he carried himself in a much different way than Shoko did. He had a much more somber and serious attitude than it had seemed the rest of the faculty did.

“How long do you plan on staying?” He interrupts your thoughts, catching your stare. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’d been caught.

“However long Gojo needs me, I guess,” you sigh quietly.

Eyebrow raised, Nanami turns his head to face you fully. “You aren’t here by choice?”

“You could say that,” you laugh dryly. The cool breeze blows through your hair as your cabin comes into view. “Gojo didn’t leave me with much of a choice.”

“I see. I suppose that was you arguing with Gojo earlier, then?”

You freeze, nearly tripping over your feet. “You heard that?”

Nanami stops, facing you as he quietly examines your features. “We couldn’t hear what you were saying, but we did hear the argument,” he explains. His vision follows you as you take off your sunglasses for a moment to rub your eyes before replacing them on the bridge of your nose. They didn’t make it easier to see the man in front of you in the dim moonlight but you certainly didn’t need to raise any suspicions regarding your eyes that weren’t unlike Gojo’s. Interrupting your thoughts, Nanami’s voice brought your attention back to the sorcerer in front of you. “May I ask you a question?”

You nod cautiously, almost certain he would question you about your technique.

“I recognize that it wasn’t your first choice to help Gojo and I can’t blame you for that,” he hums as he earns a wry smile from you. “However, do you plan on helping Itadori?”

“Itadori? Sukuna’s vessel?” Nanami nods. “Oh, um, I do.” You shuffle uncomfortably. “I don’t mean any harm.

“I didn’t assume you did,” Nanami turns back to continue leading the way to your cabin. He adjusts the tie around his neck to hang more loosely as he clears his throat. “Itadori could use a more reasonable mentor than Gojo. He’s brash and needs to learn when it’s best for him to stay back. He could use someone like you,” Nanami’s gaze softens and you catch a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “He’s a good kid.”

You smile softly in return. “I’ll do my best.”

Nanami hums, clearly satisfied with your response.

You come to a halt at your door, turning to face the kind sorcerer. “Thanks for walking me back.”

Nanami had stopped at the edge of your porch, nodding. “Here,” he holds his hand out, “let me leave you my number. Send for me if Gojo gives you too much trouble,” he offers. Heat rises to your cheeks, dusting your ears a rosy red that you could only hope he didn’t see in the moonlight.

“Oh, sure,” you agree as you hand him your phone. He has it for only a second before handing it back. “Thanks again,” you smile, turning to part ways.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || Thank you for all the love on the first chapter!! I've written and even finished more fics than I'd like to admit but just never seem to have the courage to post them so I appreciate all the love ♡

[ataraxiaspainting]

Presentiment of Massacre.

Yan Geto x F Reader.

Synopsis: Of all the people in your village, why were you the only one spared?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, major spoilers for the start of JJK S2, some not SFW implications, and violence/slight gore.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

“You can see them, can’t you?”

The man is tall, so much taller, so much taller than you who is curled up into a ball in the corner of your home, to hide, an intention that was more or less popped like a balloon. He is so much taller than the corpses littering the floor with their blood, their vomit, their tears. Gazing at the disarray with a mix of revulsion and frustration, he found himself devoid of any trace of it on his person, his exasperation evident as he muttered the word monkeys repeatedly along with quick, muffled talks of cleaning and baths and stains.

“Miss. You can see them, can’t you? The beings around us.”

As he receives no response once more, he pivots. A terrifying grin adorns his face, an unsettling visage that seems to transcend the boundaries of humanity. It appears as if it is a mere appendage, capable of detachment at whim, akin to a magnet or a metallic fragment. This facade, a deceptive guise, conceals the malevolent demon lurking beneath its surface.

“...I… Please… Please just ge-”

“Answer my question.” Interrupting, he maintains a sickeningly warm smile and tone, though his words possess an entirely different temperature. They are demanding. Frigid. For nothing burns quite like the icy cold. “I know you can, from the way you are looking around the room and hiding. Stop pretending you can’t.”

Even when his gaze was averted, his vigilance never wavered, always deciphering the motives behind your awkward, apprehensive behavior. He possesses an uncanny ability to interrogate as if presiding over a courtroom, posing probing inquiries that unveil the heart of the matter. Every response you offer seems to hold the power to determine your verdict: a life of freedom, confinement, or even death.

Opting for honesty may prove beneficial. It could potentially strengthen your position, although there are no guarantees. Contemplating the act of praying, you ponder its efficacy, hoping for assistance from any divine entity that may exist. You certainly wouldn't want to become another disfigured body within the grasp of the beast behind the man's monstrous jaws.

So, after weighing all of this out, your lips part instinctively.

“Ah, I knew it. Unlike these monkeys, you are worthy.” As a reaction to those two sentences, about a million thoughts and questions sprout in your mind. “You will be spared if you join us. You do not want to be rotting on top of these filthy monkey corpses, do you?”

In an instant, you vigorously shake your head, causing a fleeting sense of dizziness, as you promptly respond to his inquiry this time.

“I’ll… I’ll… do it.” As anticipated, the act of surrendering proved to be a complex experience, simultaneously challenging and effortless. This situation resembles a collision of opposing forces, resulting in a powerful and explosive event. However, due to an innate instinct and the familiarity acquired from past encounters with your inebriated father, you find yourself succumbing once again. “Anything.” You don’t think of saying that word specifically, and you regret it later than sooner. “Just… Just please. I want to live.”

A gentle pull brings you to your feet as his hand reaches out to grasp yours.

“I am glad you accepted my conditions. Very glad.” The man brushes his side bang out of his face, his grip becoming slightly looser. “I am Suguru, Suguru Geto. Now, what is your name, my new recruit?”

“...[First].” You whisper your name so softly, questioning whether Geto caught it. “Do I… Do I have to use that too? Because…”

“No, you don’t. Though if you want you can be taught to wield something, something weaker than this.”

He responded to your question as if you were a young child inquiring about the purchasing of infants from a retail establishment. “...But do I have to?”

Geto shook his head and called the beast with two waving fingers. It is a dragon, you think, from how long it is and how it has large white scales, even whiter teeth, and long golden hair partially stained red, and how its large blue eyes stared into your soul.

“That depends on the future.” He says, his grip dwindling even further. The monster disappears with another wave of his hand. He chuckles. “Depends mainly on what you do, and why you do it.”

“…What do you think I would do?”

“You’re not good at hiding your emotions, you know.” Something creeps up your thigh, and before you have the chance to scream he puts his hand on your mouth and his other hand grabs one of your arms. “That gives way to not being able to hide your plans very well. You’re planning on running the first chance you get, aren’t you? Before you do such a silly little thing, I must tell you that I can give you protection, and luxuries beyond your imagination… everyone and everything will bow down to you.”

He looks down at the slimy red thing with at least six eyes, the build and size similar to that of a basketball. Its lips were sucking on your flesh with words like love leaving them in between moments. That was the answer to your unspoken question.

“All you have to do is follow me, okay? No matter where I go, follow me. Do that, and your life will be so much better.”

From the look in his eyes, you already know he had already made the decision for you.