multi-fandom-fanfic

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑: 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m finally back with Part 3. I’m so happy you all enjoyed the first two parts, it really means a lot! This will be the final part of this series, so I hope you love it just as much ♡⁠˖ If you have any ideas or requests for future headcanons, feel free to share them! 🫶🏻.

Pt.1 and Pt.2

Tumblr doesn't allow more than 50 tags per post, so the rest I tagged you in the comments.

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Two days later, Gojo's birthday came.

The day you were supposed to spend making him the happiest man alive.

At least you tried, but he ruined it. Instead, it was the quietest birthday of his life.

There was no cake, no party, no laughter, no flower that you chose them one by one yourself, there was nothing because you who made all these thing matter, were gone.

Days later, he was sat at the table of your favorite café, shades hiding his tired eyes. Everyone was there; Nobara, Megumi, Yuuji, Maki, Inumaki, All. But the atmosphere was heavy.

Every laugh or smile they gave wasn't for him anymore, it was all for you. You were sitting at the other end of the table surrounded by them. Nobara didn't leave your side not even for a second. Yuuji cracked jokes to make you smile and when you did, it shattered him.

They were trying to make you feel better, but Gojo kept showing up because he thought maybe he could something and because he's still part of the friend group.

But all what he did was watching you from afar, even his favorite coffee tasted bitter this time. His chest was aching so bad.

He wanted to walk up to you, to say something, anything but when your eyes met his, they were cold, he didn't even recognize the look you gave to him. He stayed silent, let you laugh without him, The strongest felt powerless for the very first time.

Two months later. He had tried everything, Flowers, your favorite dessert s, jewelry, very expensive jewelries, delivered to your door. He even considered buying you a car.

And every single time, you send them back, no note, no thank you, just rejection.

Finally, you would call him out about it.

It was at Jujutsu High, you stood in front of him, your arms crossed and voice sharp as a blade, "Satoru, you need to stop".

He looked at you, "Stop what? Making sure my pretty girl has everything she deserves?"

"I'm not your girl Satoru, not anymore" those words hit him hard.

You stepped closer, looking him dead in the eye, "I don't want this expensive shit Satoru, You can't buy forgiveness with money, you can't buy me back. So stop trying"

Every muscle in his fave tensed, "YN..." his voice was quiet, too quiet for someone who used to be loud, "Then what do I have to do? Tell me what should I do?"

"Nothing" your voice cracked, "I tried, I really tried to forgive you, to forget what you did, but I couldn't.. because everytime I close my eyes, I remember the humiliation and embarrassment I felt in front of everyone at the café, the dirty looks I received from people after accusing me out loud"

He swallowed hard, looking away because he couldn't meet your sharp gaze, "I was stupid, I was an asshole..."

"Yeah...you were and that's why we're here...and I don't think I'll ever heal from this" You whispered and turned to leave, his hands twitched like he wanted to grab yours, but he stopped himself, he didn't want to make you hate him more than that.

Weeks later, you and Gojo still crossed paths. You have mutual friends after all.

He saw you interact with everyone else, except for him. He tried to joke around with you sometimes, but you kept it short, a nod or a polite smile, that's all, never more than a sentence or two.

You were moving on, but he was still stuck there, waiting, having hope that one day, you'll come back.

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Three weeks.

That's how long you stayed away from him. Three weeks of unanswered texts or calls that took every drop of courage in him to make.

Suguru didn't take that well. At first, he tried to respect your space. He told himself you'd come back when you're ready. But your silence became unbearable, the house started to feel like a tomb, each day bled into the next.

And soon, he stopped leaving the apartment. The curtains stayed closed, lights off. The house you once called a home is now a graveyard of empty mugs and cold take out boxes.

Even Gojo was worried....worried enough to call you and beg you, "YN... He's not answering me, or Shoko, no one. It's like he disappeared. Please...just check on him. I don't like this"

Those words made your stomach twist, and heart drop. You didn't even think... you grabbed your spare key and rushed to the apartment.

At first you knocked multiple times and when he didn't open the door, you walked in.

The moment your feet stepped inside, you froze. The place was dark, suffocating. The place that was once filled with your giggles, laughter and jokes is now silent, eerily quite.

"Suguru...?" you whispered his name softly at first.

And your heart pounded when there was no response... hands shaking as you walked to the bedroom. The door creaked open and there he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, head low staring at the floor.

Your breath caught. He looked...wrecked, destroyed. His long hair tangled in a mess,

"Suguru..." you called again, louder.

His head shot up and looked at you. He didn't believe it was real. For a split second, panic rushed through him.

He quickly ran a hand through his hair, glancing around the room as if he could somehow hide the chaos. "YN...I..."

You didn't let him finish, without second thought, you closed the distance between you and pulled him into your arms.

He stiffened at first, completely froze like he didn't deserve your touch. But when you didn't let go....when you held him even tighter...his arms wrapped around you so fiercely.

His face buried deep in your neck, and that's when you felt his shoulders trembling. And that's when he felt that this indeed was real.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, "I'm so sorry YN. I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to make you feel that way".

"Shhh that's okay" you whispered back, holding him feeling how desperately he needed you,

"I love you" he murmured, "I love you more than you think... don't leave this time"

You pulled back slowly, just enough to see his face.

You saw how bad he punished himself, how much he suffered in your absence. You reached up and gently brushed a few strands of his messy hair away from his face.

"Apology accepted" you muttered with a smile.

For a moment he just stared at you, and then without warning, his lips crashed onto yours.

The kiss wasn't soft, it was desperate. It held all the pain, all the longing but most importantly all the love he'd been drowning in for weeks.

His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him scared that you might go.

When he finally broke the kiss to breathe, his forehead rested against yours, "I'll never do that again YN... you're everything to me"

And this time you believed him.

After that both of you cleaned the room, took a refreshing shower together and spent the rest of the night cuddling, just happy in each other's arms.

𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

You needed space, despite his heartfelt apology.

Despite his regret and guilt, you insisted to take that break and he didn't oppose that.

So you took your things and stayed in your dorm room in Jujutsu High.

Megumi didn't push beyond what you allowed, but he tried. Quietly, desperately.

Everyday there was something sent by him delivered by Nobara or Yuuji, like your favorite chocolate, favorite chips, favorite juice and biscuits. As well as little handwriting notes slipped under your door since you ignored all of his texts.

You could feel how sorry he was through the sharp handwriting, [I miss you YN] [Please take care of yourself] [ Don't skip meals and drink enough water] [I love you YN]

They were small things but they've shown his gentle persistence and quiet devotion.

You've never thrown these notes in the trash can though, you've kept them in a box in your room, they felt real and precious.

A week passed, you told yourself you were still mad. But that night, you needed a breather away from all the thoughts.

Something pulled you out to the balcony, the beed for a night fresh air, for peace. And that's when you saw him, Megumi.

He was sat on the edge of the balcony. His head tilted back as he stared at the night sky.

You froze in place as you looked at him, not sure if you should go back to your room or stay.

And that's when you heard him sniff, his breath hitching.. He was crying.

Your heart cracked wide open. He was crying....for you. Silently, alone, stars were his only companion.

"Megumi.." your voice was soft and hesitant yet he heard him instantly.

His head snapped towards you, his eyes wide in shock. He didn't expect you to come out in the balcony late at night.

He quickly wiped his tears, "YN" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You walked towards him slowly. Neither of you said a word until you were standing right in front of him.

His eyes met yours and the world went still. You could see everything in there, his regret, his love, his fear of losing you and you hated that you were too harsh on him for so long.

Without thinking, you cupped his face and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't soft or careful. It was everything both of you had been holding back for a week. He kissed you back, hands trembling as he gripped your waist.

"I love you" he whispered againt your lips, over and over again, "I love you YN. I love you so fucking much. I'll never hurt you again. Never".

You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his, "Don't" you whispered, "don't ever doubt me like that again"

"I won't —I'd rather die before I doubt you again" he promised, holding you tighter.

And under the stars, with his arms locked around you, you finally let your love win.

𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

It had been weeks since that fight. Weeks since you slapped him and spat the truth in his face.

You hadn't heard from him since that night, at least not directly. But his presence lingered.

Dozens of missed calls and unread texts. Hand written notes that felt like as his claws had craved them. [ Come back. You're mine YN. You can't run away from me forever] [ We are meant to be together YN. You can't hide from that].

You ignored all of them. Because for the first time you had space...space to breathe, to think.

And in that silence, you realized something you had been to blind to see; Sukuna didn't love you the way you deserved. He wanted to own you, to control you. And you let him because you loved him. But love shouldn't feel like chains around your neck, love should make you float.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the city lights from your window. Your chest was heavy with the decision you took, it was final, and you knew it was the right thing to do.

When your phone buzzed you knew who it was without looking at the screen. This time you answered.

"YN" he said voice raw and unsteady, "you finally answered"

"What do you wnat Sukuna?" you said coldly.

"What do I want?" he repeated, his voice darkening, "I want you back where you belong. With me"

You laughed bitterly, "With you? you mean back to hell?"

"YN don't start this shit—"

"No" your voice cut through, "you listen to me for once. I did everything for you. I gave you all of me. All of that wasn't enough. Despite my loyalty and devotion you doubted me in the worst way possible and threw me. And now when you realized that you messed up, you want me back, because why? Because I belong. To.You? I'm not a property Sukuna, to belong to somebody"

"YN. I already apologized.. You can see that I'm trying to fix this shit—"

"You can't fix this shit..you know why? Because this isn't about one fight, Sukuna. This is about you. About what you are, and what you've always been"

He went dead silent, and you knew his silence this time means rage.

"You're toxic...you control, you destroy. And I let you. I let you do that to me because I loved you so much it blinded me..but not this time, I'm not blind anymore"

"Don't....YN don't you fucking dare do that to me"

You closed your eyes shut, "It's over Sukuna, the moment you you grabbed my face and told me to fuck off, I knew it was over" you said swallowing the lump in your throat.

"YN don't, you'll regret this, I'm the only one for you and you know that"

"Goodbye Sukuna" you said and hung up.

You turned your phone off before he calls you again and again.

You curled into yourself sobbing, not only because letting go was hard, but because you regretted letting him destroy you and break you to this point.

But for the first time in a looong time, you felt free.

Sukuna on the other hand, fell to his knees. The king of curses finally learned what it meant to lose. He kept promising himself that he'll find you and bring you back to him from wherever you're hiding.

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨

You watched from the window as Choso left Maki’s house that night. His shoulders slumped, steps heavy.

It broke your heart a little, but still you needed time. The break was only supposed to be three days. Just some time apart so you could breathe.

You stayed in Maki’s guest room, phone in hand, and every time you unlocked it, those unread voicemails popped up.

You were hesitant to hear them, afraid that his voice might make you weak.

The first time you pressed play, his voice cracked through the speaker: Baby…please, pick up. Just once. Please, I need to hear your voice. I’m sorry, I didn’t let you talk. I was an idiot, ..I can’t lose you.

The second one was worse...full of sobs: I’m begging you. Come home. Or let me see you. Just once. I’ll do anything, Y/N.

And then the third: I left your favorite food outside the door. If you’re hungry…I know you like extra sauce, so.. I just want you to eat, okay? Please take care of yourself…please.

You couldn’t even finish the rest without tearing up.

He came every day. Every. Single. Day. With your favorite dishes, with hope that maybe today you’d open the door and let him in.

But everytime you refused to leave the guest room, he would just sit in Maki's living room chat with her and make her promise him that she'll take good care of you and then he leaves.

But as you laid there on Maki’s bed listening to his broken voice in the voicemails, all you could think of was "God, I love him. I love him so much" .

You had already forgiven him deep down. You just… didn’t want to admit it yet.

On the fourth day, you didn't even hesitate to open the door for him when you heard his usual, soft knocks.

You took a deep breath, walked to the door, and opened it.

And there he was, Choso.

Eyes swollen, hair messy, dark circles etched under his eyes from the sleepless nights, holding another takeout bag.

He froze when he saw you like he thought he was hallucinating, "YN...!?" he muttered in disbelief.

You didn’t say a word. You just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his chest.

His breath hitched sharply before his arms locked around you, tight, desperate.

Then, without warning, he lifted you off the ground, instinctively you wrapped your legs around his torso as he held you like he’d never let go again.

His voice was trembling, muttering into your shoulder over and over. "Baby..I’m sorry..I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N..I love you...I love you so much..please I’ll never doubt you again....I'll be a better man for you..I swear"

You nodded against him, your own tears falling now, because his sincerity hit like a punch to your chest.

When you pulled back just enough to look at him, his face was wet, tears streaming freely.

So you leaned in and kissed him. At first, it was soft. Just lips brushing. But then all the bottled-up emotions exploded, and the kiss turned deeper, hungrier.Choso kissed you like your lips is the only thing that's keeping him alive.

His hands gripping you like you’d vanish if he let go. When you broke apart, panting, foreheads pressed together, he whispered, "Let’s go home. To our home. Please. It feels so cold without you" .

You laughed softly through your tears and nodded, "Okay… let’s go"

And for the first time in days, he smiled...a real one, even through the tears.

He kissed you again before carrying you out like you were the most precious thing in his world. Because to him, you definitelyy are.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

Your hands were trembling as you clutched the handle of your suitcase and left the house.

After everything you had done to make him feel loved, safe, wanted and that he belongs.… he tore it all apart with his rage.

You didn’t look back. Not when he called your name multiple times.

Not when you heard his footsteps pounding, chasing behind you, "Y/N! Wait—fuck—WAIT!" His voice was hoarse, urgent, nothing like the cocky, confident man you fell in love with.

But you kept walking. Because if you looked back now, you’d crumble, you'd be completely shattered.

"YN WA–" Then it happened, you heard it, the screech of tires. The sickening thud.

The world stopped in its tracks. Your heart jumped violently in your chest as you whipped around... just in time to see his body hit.

"TOJI" you screamed, your suitcase forgotten, crashing to the ground as you bolted towards him.

People were already gathering, murmuring in panic.

You shoved them aside and dropped to your knees, your heart shattering into pieces at the sight of him blood trickling from the side of his head, his breath shallow.

You cupped his face in your shaking hands, in complete shock, your wide open as he laid in your arms.

"No, no, no… Toji" Your voice cracked as you shook him lightly, "Someone call an ambulance! NOW!"

His eyelids fluttered weakly, and then his eyes locked on yours.

Even in pain, even as his life slipped through his fingers, he smiled. That same damn smile that used to melt you every time.

"Y/N…. I'm sorry, I really love you" he said faintly.

Your breath hitched, your whole body trembling. "Don’t you dare say that like it’s the last time... you hear me?! Don’t you....don’t you fucking do this to me,...Toji!" you gasped between words.

His bloody hand lifted slowly, shakily, to touch your cheek, and you broke completely.

"I’m sorry" he whispered, "I’m… so fucking sorry. Should’ve trusted you… should’ve trusted us"

"No Toji...please, no… stay with me!" You whispered, tears refusing to come out because of shock, "I forgive you! Do you hear me? I forgive you, I love you, I love you so much—just stay with me! PLEASE!...TOJI OPEN YOUR EYES, GODDAMN IT TOJI WAKE UP"

You shook him, desperate, your voice raw with terror and fear.

The sound of sirens filled the air, but all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart, everything else felt unreal.. as if nothing of it was real, not the people around you, everything slowed down, eardrums clogged as you watched bow the medics took him..

But your soul whispering a prayer "Please God don't take him away from me".

Hours later at the hospital, You hadn’t moved from his side. You sat in that cold white room, his large hand clasped tightly in yours, Praying over and over again.

Guilt eating you up, "it's all because of me" you said between silent sobs.

Then his fingers twitched against yours, your heart nearly stopped."Toji…?" you whispered, your head snapping up.

His eyelids fluttered open, and there they were—those eyes you thought you’d never see again.

"God–you're awake.." you choked out, tears blurring your vision as you surged forward and hugged him as gently as you could, "you scared the hell out of me!"

A low, weak chuckle rumbled in his chest, "Really? Did I?" His voice was raspy, tired, but his usual smirk was there.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing damp strands of hair off his forehead, "Don’t you dare joke right now,...I thought I lost you"

His gaze softened in a way that shattered you all over again. He raised his hand, still weak, still trembling and cupped your face,

"Guess I needed a car to knock some sense into me" he muttered, "I was a fucking idiot, Y/N. I let my temper… my jealousy… ruin everything. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve me like that"

You shook your head, "Shhh....Don’t you dare say that. I love you, Toji. I always have. Always will"

He stared at you like you were the only thing that mattered in this world.

And when you leaned in and kissed him softly, he kissed you back like a starving man who just got a second chance at life.

When you pulled away, foreheads pressed together, you whispered, "I'm sorry, this happened to tou because of m—"

"No.. don't say that YN.. it was my fault from the very beginning so don't you dare take the blame.. I'm fine now and I'm never letting you go again, Y/N. Never"

"I'm not going anywhere too" you whispered and put your head on his chest soflty.

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

‎You told him not to call you. Not to text you. And Kento respected that, because he’s a man of his word.

‎But that didn’t mean he stopped caring or worrying. Every night, when you went on your usual evening walk, he was there watching quietly from a distance, making sure you were safe.

‎When you went to your favorite café, he sat at a table outside, where you couldn’t see him.

‎Not because he wanted to stalk you, but because even if you hated him now, he still loves you more than himself.

‎But days turned into weeks. Almost three.

‎And every day without you felt like hell, like torture.

‎He started overthinking, assuming, "maybe she fell out of love with me. Maybe she’s moving on"

‎That thought ate him alive.

‎So, he did something he never thought he would, he called your cousin and asked to meet him at a café so they can talk.

‎And later that day, Nanami sat across from your cousin, hands clasped tightly together. His tone was calm but heavy with guilt, "I need your help" he said simply, "I know I don’t deserve it, but… I can’t lose her..I can't lose YN"

‎Your cousin raised a brow, arms crossed, "You really messed up. She was crushed, disappointed"

‎"I know" Nanami lowered his gaze, his voice quiet, "And I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to her, if she lets me. Just, please. Tell her that"

‎Your cousin studied him for a long moment. Then sighed, "She still loves you, you know. She’s just angry and hurt"

‎Nanami’s lips pressed together, "I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. If you could help me make this right"

‎Later that evening…Your cousin called you and told you every about it. How Nanami reached out to him, how he'd never seen a man look so broken and of course urged you to give him a chance.

‎You hesitated, but you missed him. God, you missed him so much. And deep down, you’d forgiven him the first time he apologized. You were just… hurt.

And for that, you said yes. So when Nanami asked to meet you, you agreed.

‎You met at a restaurant. When you walked in, your breath caught.

‎He had reserved the entire place, candles on every table, soft music playing. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t over the top. It was Nanami style. Elegant and thoughtful.

‎He stood when he saw you, adjusting his tie nervously. His voice was low, but you could tell how stressed and nervous he was, "Thank you for coming"

‎You sat, folding your hands on the table. "You said you wanted to talk. So talk" still playing tough.

‎Nanami inhaled deeply. Then began, his voice steady but filled with emotion,

‎"Y/N… I was wrong. I let my anger control me. I didn’t trust you, and that’s unforgivable. You didn’t deserve that. You deserve someone who trusts you completely, who believes in you… and that’s what I should’ve been from the start...So I understand your anger and disappointment..you have every right to feel that way.."

‎You looked at him silently, and he continued, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for something in his jacket. "I’ve had a lot of time to think these past weeks. And all I could think about was how empty my life felt without you. I don’t want to lose you. Not now. Not ever"

‎Then he placed a small red velvet box on the table and opened it. Inside was a simple, elegant ring, nothing flashy, just pure sincerity. Exactly the way you've always pictured it.

‎Your breath hitched, "Kento.."

‎He got up from his chair and walked to your side, kneeling down, his eyes soft and vulnerable,

‎"Marry me, Y/N. I want to make everything official. I want to prove to you that I’m serious, that you’re the only one I’ll ever love. Please… give me the chance to spend the rest of my life making this right"

‎You stared at him, heart pounding. And then you laughed softly, all the anger you once held vanished,

‎"Yes. I’ll marry you"

‎His eyes widened slightly, trying to process but you saw the relief flood his expression,

‎"Y–you...will?"

‎"Yes" you said again with a smile, "I think you’ve tested my loyalty enough"

‎That made the corner of his mouth twitch upward, "I’ll spend the rest of my life proving forgiving me is worth it"

‎He kissed your hands gently, then your temple, pulling you into his arms holding you like he never wanted to let go.

‎"I love you" he murmured against your skin, his voice breaking, "Thank you for giving me another chance"

‎You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling, "I love you too, Kento"

‎And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢

His tears were still falling like rain.

Yuuji stayed on his knees, his forehead pressed against your hands as if letting go would kill him. His sobs were shaking his entire body, breaking you no matter how much anger you held.

"Please ...YN..Please" he continued to whisper, "I'm so stupid... I'm an idiot"

It broke something in you seeing how he was saying such harsh things to himself.

You stared at him. This boy, always smiling, always light...now completely shattered on the floor, in front of you.

Slowly, you couched down in front of him. You placed your hand gently on his head patting it softly.

"Yuuji" you whispered. His teary eyes lifted, wide in surprise.

His breath hitched at the simple soft touch as if it meant everything.

"I should be furious at you. I should haye you right now."

His head dropped, feeling guilty.

"But I can't hate you, Yuuji. I know you love me"

His head snapped up again, as if he couldn't believe it.

"I forgive you" you added, still stroking his hair, "I'm still angry at you, it's going to take some time but I forgive you"

The sob that tore out his chest was painful. He lunged forward wrapping his arms around you so tightly you could barely breathe.

"Thank you" he cried against your neck, "Thank you, thank you..thank you..I swear I'll never hurt you like that again..I swear on my life"

You felt his body shaking as he buried his face in your shoulder, clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

You hugged him back, one hand rubbing his back slowly, the other in his hair as he kept whispering apologies.

You pulled nack and wiped his tears, he pressed a kiss on your lips and then whispered softly,

"I'm not letting you go..not now..not ever"

And he didn't, not for the next hour, not even when your legs started to go numb from kneeling on the floor together.

After that he did the unpacking, placing your favorite books and stuff right where they were, right where rhey belonged. In your home.

I tried to make this realistic. If it was up to you, who'd you forgive?

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ♡⁠˖

@superzombiewho

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[multi-fandom-fanfic]

I miss you, I'm sorry.

-Chapter 1

I miss you, I'm sorry; Akaashi Keiji x f!reader

I still love you, I promise Nothin' happened in the way I wanted Every corner of this house is haunted And I know you said that we're not talkin' But I miss you, I'm sorry

I don't wanna go, think I'll make it worse Everything I know brings me back to us I don't wanna go, we've been here before Everywhere I go leads me back to you.

-Gracie Abrams, I miss you, I'm sorry -

Contains:

Angst,academic rivals to lovers, lovers to exes, exes to … First love trope (my precios child), sfw.Descriptions of anxiety, panic attacks, slight dv (nothing graphic just allusions), depression and grief, fluff. not beta readed (english is not my first language if you find any errors please don't scream at me).

1- You?

Arriving in my hometown leaves me with a whirlwind of emotions that I can barely keep down by smiling at the taxi driver helping me with my bags.

I feel myself sigh before looking up quickly at the sound of my name

- Yn Are you ready? - My boyfriend Koji asks me.

Knowing he wants to get going as quickly as possible I nod before getting inside the back of the car. He gets on the Passenger side, and we start making our way to our hotel before going straight to his grandma's beach house.

I feel myself start to smile remembering every turn and curve of what I once called home, before I know it we are walking towards his parent's house.

-Welcome back my love! - I hear Mrs. Aoki excited scream before I see her almost flying to her son's arms. I step back lightly not wanting to get in between of the encounter.

-How was the flight, Yn? - I look up to see Mr. Aoki on top of the stairs.

-It was great sir; the only hard part was the length of it- I say smiling politely

- Well, that's a given knowing we came from Canada without making any kind of layover- Koji adds stiffing a laugh.

I laugh quietly -Yes, I guess you are right- I start making my way up the stairs.

-Wait Yn, let's go greet my grandma before we have dinner with my parents- Koji suggests.

I stop on my tracks and make my way towards him knowing he'll want to hold my hand on the way there.

-Sure thing- I make myself smile even though I feel exhaustion deep in my bones.

We start making our way to the pool house as Koji called it and I can't shake the familiarity of the streets as we make our stop before a big wooden door that I’ve crossed dozens of times even in my sleep, I can't do anything besides pray that I'm mistaken.

My hopes vanish as I watch Mrs. Aoki open the door for us. A shiver goes down my neck as we reach the pool where his grandma awaits us.

-I hear laugher and see myself 10 years younger happily playing pool volley as a soft voice teases me- I shake my head not wanting those images in my head.

-Good morning grandma- I bow towards the petite woman that's studying my every move.

-Hello-she murmurs in my direction with a curt nod before looking towards her grandson.

-Oh my god Koji, how do you look so skinny, are you even eating properly?..- I tune the conversation out knowing this will take a while I make my way towards a chair.

-Yn, are you guys planning on living together any time soon? - I whisk my head towards her at the sudden question

-I... We are not planning on it in the near future..- My answer gets cut short by a deep voice that I wish I didn't recognize so quickly.

-Shouldn't you be asking that to your grandson's actual fiancé?- I get up facing him for the first time in 8 years and there he is, those green eyes that shine with recognition and something else I can't quite pick up on, those shoulders that only look broader and more tense since we last talked.

-You..?- I watch him swallow before taking a step closer as if that will make me disappear into thin air.

-Akaashi I didn't know you guys -I say trying to explain the situationbut before I can continue, He looks back at Koji and his grandma.

-I'm not allowing you to do this anymore- He looks back at me before continuing his rant- Did you know your boyfriend has been in an arranged relationship since he was 14 years old? His fiancé has been waiting for him; their wedding is in 4 months- I feel my face drop the more he goes on.

-You are the fourth girl he has brought back from his work travels-

-Yn, wait I can explain...- Koji tries to reach me but I recoil and start to make my way towards the exit.

Akaashi catches me before I cross the road, and he guides me wordlessly towards a familiar path which I know leads to his house as I feel myself out of my body not knowing how to properly react. We reach his house, and he takes me inside, offering me a place on the sofa. He makes his way towards the kitchen resurfacing a couple seconds after with a glass of water that he offers me, I thank him before taking a sip not having notice how dry my throat had been.

-So, what- -How are- We both try to start a conversation, laughing at the awkwardness of the situation. Our laughter comes to a halt when we start hearing loud voices and noise outside. We make our way towards the window, and we see Koji trashing the Street and screaming for me to go outside and talk. I don't even notice my body shaking before Akaashi puts his hand on my shoulder.

-You don't have to go outside; you are safe here- as he finishes that sentence, I feel tears stream down my face as I fall towards the ground.

n/a: I can't belive my baby is seeing the light, thank you for reading and hope it's not too shaby.. mwah mwah <3333

Thank you @uzmacchiato for the banners.

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

I miss you, I'm sorry.

I miss you, I'm sorry; Akaashi Keiji x f!reader

I still love you, I promise Nothin' happened in the way I wanted Every corner of this house is haunted And I know you said that we're not talkin' But I miss you, I'm sorry

I don't wanna go, think I'll make it worse Everything I know brings me back to us I don't wanna go, we've been here before Everywhere I go leads me back to you.

-Gracie Abrams, I miss you, I'm sorry -

Contains:

Angst,academic rivals to lovers, lovers to exes, exes to … First love trope (my precios child), sfw.Descriptions of anxiety, panic attacks, slight dv (nothing graphic just allusions), depression and grief, fluff. not beta readed (english is not my first language if you find any errors please don't scream at me).

Index:

1-You? (Present time) 2-Help.. (present time) 3-Do you hate me? (flashback).. (more chapters to be added)

A/N: this is my first fic please don't eat me, all feedback is welcomed but be respectful, special thanks to @uzmacchiato to for the banners.

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

drafts

Okay, so as I have said previously that I have so many ideas in my head that I do not know what to do. I have started a whole revision and notes, even creating a few drafts and I got one I would like to share. Its not a draft more like an organizer for my plot and If anyone does see this, give me your honest opinion if you'd like! Ill gladly accept any feedback!

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I am calling this story for now, "your average love story" because in my opinion, it is average.

It revolves around Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader (she might seem very ooc since I am going slightly off personal experiences). It is your basic "spring/summer fling" vibes. Nothing crazy, but just realistic.

So here is something I did cook up throughout the week for a main conflict.

Relationship Fallout(The "breakup")

For 6 months, they live in the “everything but nothing” stage. Where they aren't lovers, they aren't friends, they aren't sex buddies, they are worse. They are all but nothing at the same time. Y/N waits through the awkwardness, patient, holding hope in small gestures.

She never outright asks for more, but her intention shows...yet in the way she stays, listens, lingers. Sakusa feels it too, but his walls are higher than hers. He’s overwhelmed, maybe even paralyzed by how much she makes him feel. After several failed attempts to distance himself, Sakusa finally ghosts her. His excuse being “I can’t give you what you need.” But within a week, he’s seen with his ex, the one he knows, the safe choice, the familiar history. Someone he knows, knows him.

Y/N is shattered. It’s not that she thought she had him, it’s that she thought she was worth waiting for, she thought she was worth taking the risk of something different for. In her devastation, she reaches out to the ex. Not to lash out, or jealousy. It isn't even in a fit of anger or rage or wanting to cause pain. But to make a promise to herself. “You don’t need to worry about me. I won’t interfere. I’ll never reach out to him again.”

She befriends the ex as a way of holding herself accountable. Tying her own hands so she won’t give into the urge to chase him, because if y/n has the ability to reach out without any guilts, any ties, any promises. She would reach out in a heart beat.

Because, at the end of the day...her heart belongs to him.

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

“please don’t leave me”

desc:the day Suguru left you was the day a part of you died, yet when ur standing in front of him at his deathbed you cant bring yourself to forgive him.

warnings or wtv:angst,death,trauma,ex lovers,grief

idk if this is super accurate as i tried to make geto more geto even tho ive watched jjk twice so i dunno

“You can’t do this” you cry out while gripping onto his sleeve, he knocks ur hand off and gives you a cold glare “either join me or don’t Y/n, i don’t want to hear your cries.” he mutters while glaring at the floor refusing to make eye contact because he knows he would break down at the sight of you being on the verge of tears. Three years of friendship and two years of being lovers went down the drain due to Sugurus selfishness, but you didn’t deny that his plan was entirely wrong it was just too unrealistic and morally bad.

“Did you know your mother used to tell me that i was the one?”….”look at me while im speaking Suguru.” You yell into his face leading him to lift his glare up to meet your beautiful eyes. “Your mother used tell me that i was going to be her daughter-in law, can you imagine that?” You say with a nervous giggle, suguru cant help but smile at that. He loved how you always tried to bring light into horrible situations…that was his favourite thing about you. “Now she will never ever see the light of day because of you, how can one kill its own fucking mother?” You say with a fierce tone shoving suguru. “You dont understand. I had to get it done! Whats the difference if i kill her sooner or later?” He says with raw emotion lingering on his tounge leading you to scoff, “fuck you if your willing to kill your family and leave your friends behind for some stupid hatred for curses.”

Suguru turns around and starts to walk slowly out of the hallways of jujitsu high, but he turns his head slightly to his shoulder and stops walking to puncture one sentence into your head “im not leaving because i hate them…im leaving because i hate what they have turned me and all of us into. so why should we get rid of the symptoms instead of the root cause? And you know what? Its kind of funny that out of everyone I expected you and gojo to understand me, but your all nothing but puppets for non-sorcerers that wouldn’t care if you sacrificed your whole life for them.” He spits out avoiding eye contact again, he doesnt give u time to respond but instead keeps on walking off. “Suguru i fucking dare you to walk off!” Your scream echoing in the same hallways you and Suguru once used to make out in causing a disgusting reaction from gojo and shoko. The good old days will never return as tears fall from eyes gently.

A good few years go by and yuta fights geto leading to him being severely injured and you and gojo are on the look for him and come across a bricked wall alleyway to surprisingly see geto kneeled on the ground on the verge of death. Its an akward moment at first but getos purple eyes immediately find yours and he gives u a smile, an odd one for a guy that ruined your life completely. “You haven’t aged a bit.” Suguru says with a weak chuckle, it hasnt been the first time you have seen suguru face to face since the incident but it was the first time being one to one with him.

“No small talk.” You mutter with your fist balled up almost like your about to throw a punch at his stupidly handsome face. “Really? Cant even say a few words to me before i leave this shitty world?” He says with his eyes filling up slowly with tears. “…you know i loved you alot Suguru, i dont hold a grudge on you for doing what you felt was right but i just cant help being angry at this world for allowing me to loose the only person i loved” you mutter quietly but loud enough for both gojo and geto to hear. “The amount of sleepless nights i had was insane suguru, i literally had to fall asleep with shoko and gojo to find some sort of replacement to you.” sugurus eyes start to tear up with regret. “An apology wont be enough would it?” He says while glancing at both you and gojo, “no never will be” you say while turning your back to him “Let me know when your done with him” you say to gojo with a fake smile as you walk off. “I love you” suguru mutters but not loud enough for you to hear. You cry while walking off but not close enough for him to see.

A part of you heals knowing you left him the way he left you.

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

“we—we can’t,” you pant, putting a trembling hand in the center of his chest. the feeling of his heart beating erratically under your palm causes an ache to make a home within your ribs. you know this has to end; you’ve laid yourself bare enough times for him that it’s to the point where there’s nothing left.

but sukuna doesn’t respond. he stays nearly frozen above you; the only movement is his chest heaving as he stares down at you, one hand resting on the wall beside your head.

“is it…” he swallows, “is it him?”

“no, there’s no one else.” you say quietly, feeling the truth burn behind your eyelids as tears gather. his head falls forward, forehead resting on your shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you,” he says hoarsely. you wait a few moments, but when he says nothing more, the tears begin to fall.

“I need all of you, sukuna. I’m tired of only getting scraps of you when I’m giving you all of me,” you say softly, voice cracking. he picks his head up from your shoulder and shifts to crouch in front of you. his carmine eyes bore into you, the pure fear in them cleaving your heart in two. “please, don’t,” he begs.

you shake your head, the pressure in your chest nearly constricting as you slip out from your position against the wall.

a shaky inhale, a small smile—and you’re gone.

sukuna’s hand slides into his pocket, fingers wrapping around the small velvet maroon box that he’d picked out the day before. rage—at himself, never you, courses through his body, and in one fluid motion the box is being launched at the wall. a peculiar noise, something akin to a sob drifts past his ears, but he’s more concentrated on the box. it makes a dull thud as it hits the wall and then tumbles to the floor. he stares at it for a moment; a hollow feeling settling in his chest, before his legs give out. he crumples to the floor, and it isn’t until moments later that he realizes that the gut wrenching sobbing he’s hearing is his.

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

Lords of The Ring

Smau: in which you left your ring at home and they wonder why Warning: angsty, but mostly fluff, some cursing, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

@realalpacorn I hope this was good 😣 it got a bit repetitive and stupid I’m sorry 😭 I think I’m a little rusty at this angst thing bae forgive me

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

OLD SOULS SINGS TILL DAWN PROLOGUE

In the end, it all became clear. It hurts knowing that you ruined everything out of selfishness—not caring about what would follow. The thought of what could have been if you had only kept your feelings in check is a pain that aches and burns inside.

Genre Drama, Thriller, Supernatural

Pairing Nanami Kento x Fem! Reader

Author’s Note I’m finally free from writer’s block!! And yes I’m back on writing creepy vintage stories, enjoy the reading!

✩ — Additional Content Psychological Horror, Mature Content, Dark Themes, Violence, Mentions of Suicide, Major Character Death, Timeline: 40s, Abuse of Alcohol/ Alcoholism, Toxic Relationships, Paranormal Activity, Emotional Breakdowns, Open Ending.

NOVEMBER 27TH, 1941

You stand before the stove in the grand, dimly lit kitchen, the early morning light barely filtering through the heavy curtains draped over the tall windows. The house is quiet, as usual, the only sounds being the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the soft hiss of food frying in the cast-iron skillet. The mouthwatering scent of bacon and eggs wafts through the air, mingling with the rich, earthy aroma of freshly brewed coffee, filling the room with a warmth that contrasts with the morning’s coolness.

Your husband, Kento, seldom joins you for breakfast anymore, his mind too consumed by his work to notice the hours slipping by. If it weren’t for your care, you’re certain he would have wasted away long ago, lost in the endless pages of his manuscript. Carrying his weight has become another burden that grows heavier with each passing day. It was times like these that you felt more like a caretaker than a wife, constantly tending to his needs. But even that pales in comparison to your concern for your eight-year-old son, Sora. Recently, he has been waking in the dead of night, tormented by nightmares that leave him disoriented and anxious. Though the details of his dreams remain elusive, the shadows of his fear linger long after dawn. You resolved to bring this matter to your husband’s attention, hoping he might pry himself away from his work long enough to care.

You woke up early to prepare your husband’s breakfast first, deciding to let your son rest longer to reclaim some of the hours stolen by his restless nights. Practically, you wipe your hands on your apron, ensuring the plate is meticulously arranged. The bacon is crisp, the eggs golden, and the coffee steams invitingly beside it. Once satisfied with the presentation, you place everything on a gleaming silver tray and begin the journey to Kento’s study.

The mansion's vastness always felt somewhat overwhelming, its high ceilings and echoing corridors stretching endlessly. A generous gift from your father-in-law before he succumbed to tuberculosis. This estate, with all its opulence, often feels more like a mausoleum than a home, its magnificence marred by an overwhelming sense of isolation.

You passed the grand staircase, your gaze briefly following the steps that led up to the second floor where your son still slept. You paused momentarily, listening for any sound. Relief washed over you when all remained quiet, a sign that Sora was finally enjoying a peaceful sleep, free from the nightmares that had plagued him in recent nights. Continuing down the hallway, you approached Nanami’s study, the faint but steady hum of typewriter keys growing louder with each step. The door stood slightly ajar, and with a practiced nudge of your shoulder, you eased it open, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of the tray in your hands. You stepped inside, the familiar scent of ink and paper enveloping you as you entered his world—a world where you feared you and your son no longer belonged.

“Good morning, honey.”

The room is cloaked in darkness, the curtains pulled tight against the encroaching morning light, casting deep, foreboding shadows across the space. Papers are scattered across the floor, some crumpled in frustration, others filled with dense lines of text. Kento sits hunched over his typewriter, his fingers moving rapidly, almost mechanically, across the keys. His hands are showing signs of strain—knuckles red, fingers bruised from the constant, relentless work. His usually neat hair was a tousled mess, and his clothes were rumpled, as though he had been wearing them for days. The room felt stifling, thick with the weight of his obsession and the toll it had taken on his body and mind.

You set the tray down on the edge of his desk, mindful not to disturb his concentration. His focus remains entirely on the page before him, the world outside his writing seemingly forgotten. You’ve learned not to interrupt him when he’s like this, knowing that your words would only bounce off the walls of his obsession. Realizing it was futile to attempt to break through the barrier of his creative trance, you resigned yourself to silence.

With a sigh, you turned away from the study, the clacking of the typewriter still echoing through the thick wood of the door. Your mind shifted back to your son. You knew you couldn't overlook his well-being, but Kento’s current state left little room for anything outside of his work, and any discussion would have to wait until he could truly listen. You made your way back to the staircase, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls.

You ascended the staircase, each step accompanied by the soft creak of aged wood beneath your feet. Arriving on the second-floor landing, you went to check your son’s state. Inside, the room was bathed in a soft, golden light filtering through the curtains. Sora lay nestled in his bed, fast asleep. His small body was curled around a well-loved brown teddy bear. His blonde hair spread out like a halo on the pillow, framing his cherubic face in a way that made your heart swell with affection. You lowered yourself onto the edge of his bed, careful not to disturb the serenity of the moment. With a tender touch, you brushed aside the soft strands of hair that had fallen across his eyes, mindful not to wake him. In slumber, his features—so strikingly similar to Kento’s—were softened, the worry and fear etched from his nightmares momentarily erased, leaving only the pure innocence of a child’s peaceful dreams.

Even though you had decided to let him sleep in today, knowing how exhausted he must be, you couldn’t ignore the responsibilities of his education. Homeschooling him has been a decision you and your husband took ever since. You couldn’t bear the thought of Sora being subjected to the potential cruelty of children who might not understand his sensitivities.

You walked towards the small desk in the corner of his room, where his schoolbooks and papers were neatly arranged. You reached for the lesson plan you had prepared, reviewing it briefly. You had been diligently teaching him lessons yourself, but the task was becoming increasingly overwhelming. In addition, you had placed an announcement seeking a tutor for Sora, hoping to find someone who could provide him with a more structured and engaging education. Yet, the responses had been slow to arrive.

You made your way back to the living room, sinking into the embrace of the richly upholstered sofa, its velvety texture providing a soothing contrast to the day's demands. An array of books and lesson plans was meticulously arranged on the coffee table before you, their diverse titles—from revered classics to intricate educational tomes—spanning the breadth of literary and scholarly pursuits.

Time seemed to stretch as you immersed yourself in Complete Geography by Henry Justin Roddy, the rhythmic turning of pages providing a gentle backdrop to the quietude of the room. The quietude was gently disrupted by the soft sound of small feet, signaling the approach of your little one. You glanced up from the pages to find your son framed in the doorway, his figure enveloped in pajamas. He clutched his cherished teddy bear with one hand, while the other attempted to rub the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. You closed the book with a soft thud and patted the plush seat beside you on the elegantly appointed sofa.

“Good morning, my love. How did you rest?”

Sora’s eyes, still dappled with sleep’s gentle haze, met yours with a sleepy but affectionate smile. “Morning, Mama.” His voice was soft and a little raspy from sleep. He made his way towards the sofa and settled next to you, his body sinking into the plush cushion. The teddy bear squeezed between him and the armchair. “I slept alright.”

You placed a hand on his head, your fingers weaving through his tousled, sleep-mussed hair. “That's good to hear, dear. I'm glad you got some rest.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes briefly closing as he savored the warmth and reassurance of your embrace. When he reopened them, his gaze wandered to the array of books and lesson plans sprawled on the coffee table. “What are we studying today?”

You smiled, aware that his enthusiasm for academics might be a bit lacking. After all, he was only eight, his heart was more attuned to imaginative adventures and playful escapades. Yet, education remained important, especially for his growth. “I was considering starting with a bit of English—maybe some Shakespeare. We could follow that with a dive into Geography. How does that sound?”

Sora's face crinkled into a slight grimace, his small shoulders drooping somewhat. The mention of Shakespeare didn't exactly excite him. “Do we have to do Shakespeare?”

You were not surprised by his reaction. Shakespeare was perhaps a bit too advanced and dry for his age. Still, it was part of the syllabus. “I'm afraid so, darling. We'll make it fun, I promise. Now, how about we hit breakfast first?”

His expression lightened somewhat at the thought of food any lingering protest about Shakespeare disappeared like magic. “But I don't want oatmeal again.” He said, wrinkling his nose a bit in distaste.

The corners of your mouth twitched into an amused smile.

“No oatmeal today.” You assured him, “I made bacon and eggs for breakfast. Let's go eat before we start our lessons.”

After breakfast, and the first lesson of the day, you watched your son from the window as he played out in the front yard by the swing that your husband had built years ago. His small frame was clad in knee-length shorts, a crisp white shirt, and a light-brownish sweater. He was giggling and kicking his legs back and forth, thoroughly engrossed in his play. His shoes dug into the dirt beneath the swing, leaving tiny imprints with each swing. You thought it was fine to take a break between lessons. After all, childhood was fleeting, and you didn’t want to wear him out too soon, knowing there was a long day of study still ahead.

You were suddenly pulled from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hallway. Turning to greet the approaching figure, your eyes landed on your husband. His glasses sat a tad askew on the bridge of his nose, threatening to slide off with any wrong movement. In one hand, he held a mug that you noticed was devoid of the rich, dark liquid that had once filled it moments ago. He came to a stop just in front of you, his gaze flickering between your face and the vacant mug in his grasp. “Could you spare a moment and pour me another cup of coffee, perhaps?”

You furrowed your brow at his request, a hint of concern knitting your features together, “Perhaps you need to moderate your caffeine intake, dear.”

Kento's reaction to your advice was immediate and somewhat cold. The moment your words left your lips, his shoulders stiffened, and a subtle frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. The suggestion that he needed to slow down with the caffeine clearly hit a nerve.

“I merely requested another cup of coffee. Must you always accompany it with a lecture?”

You sighed, understanding that any further argument would only serve to escalate the tension between you. Opting for a quieter approach, you proceeded into the kitchen with composed steps. Kento settled at the small table in the center of the room, his hand pressed against his forehead as if trying to stave off the beginnings of a headache. Within moments, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the space. You poured the steaming dark liquid into a sturdy ceramic mug, its surface glossy and reassuringly solid. Carrying the freshly brewed coffee, you returned to the table where your husband sat, still engrossed in his discomfort.

He reached for the cup, his fingers wrapping around the hot ceramic. Despite the steam rising from the liquid, he didn't waste any time before taking a generous sip, as if the scalding temperature didn't bother him. His face momentarily registered a fleeting wince at the heat, but he pressed on. He took another hearty gulp before setting the cup back on the table, the warmth visibly calming him as he settled into his seat.

You took your seat across from him, your hands resting gently on the surface of the table, fingers neatly folded together.

Kento glanced up from his coffee, his eyes locking with yours over the rim of his glasses. There was a moment of silent recognition as he took in the familiar expression on your face—one of concern. “What is it? Speak your mind.” He said, a touch of impatience in his voice.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the discussion.

“It concerns Sora. Our son has been plagued by recurring nightmares that disturb his sleep. It might be best for us to seek medical or therapeutic intervention, as this is not normal.”

Kento’s expression tightened at your words. He leaned back in his chair, setting the mug down with a faint clink. A deep sigh escaped him as he removed his glasses, his fingers pressing against the bridge of his nose in a gesture of frustration. “Our son isn't normal, Y/N. Let's face reality, there's not much we can do.”

You felt a pang of disbelief as his words sank in, wishing desperately that you had misheard him.

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” You cannot believe what you were hearing, “So you’ve given up on him, is that what are you trying to say to me?” Your eyes searched his face, hoping for any sign that his words were a momentary lapse rather than a true reflection of his feelings. His son you both are talking about!

“I’m just saying that what he’s going through is just part of who he is. Not everything can be fixed with therapy or medication.” You hated how blunt and uncaring his words sounded.

You bristled, your frustration bubbling to the surface despite your best efforts to remain calm. “You are dismissing him, Kento! Every child has their struggles, but that doesn’t mean we should give up on them. It is our responsibility as his parents to help me through this. We can’t simply accept it as something beyond help. Seeking professional intervention isn’t a choice—it’s a necessity.”

His gaze faltered for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a veneer of stubbornness. “I’m already providing everything we need. What more could you possibly want from me?”

“Yes, that’s all you do—provide, or that's what you used to do when you had your old job. Without your father’s money, we’d be on the streets by now. Now you’re hiding away in your study like a rodent, rotting away in your obsession.” The words burst from you, raw and unfiltered. “You’re neglecting your role as head of this house. Everything is falling apart, and you refuse to see it!”

Kento’s anger flared as he slammed his hands on the table, causing the mug to rattle and spill its contents across the tablecloth. Staining the once-pristine white fabric with a spreading pool of coffee. “You know well how much that manuscript means to me! How dare you belittle it!”

“I won't stop, no matter how much you scream or despise me for it. You stand here berating me for pursuing a dream, for yearning for something beyond this drab, repetitive life. You are selfish enough to try to thwart my efforts to honor my father's legacy! I've provided for this family, and given you everything you could possibly want. The least you could do is offer your support, appreciate what you have, and cease your incessant complaints!”

Your heart pounded violently against your chest, his words cutting through you with brutal precision. “You know how deeply I cherished my father-in-law. How dare you accuse me of not caring! What you’re doing is noble, but you must move forward. He’s gone, and you cannot spend the rest of your life in this manner—don’t you see? Do you think your father would be proud of what we’ve become? A family that rarely connects, lost in our own worlds? Yes, I vowed to support you the moment I married you but I cannot stand by and watch you sacrifice yourself in the process.” You plead, every word carrying the pain that rested in your heart.

Before he could utter a word in response, your son's panicked voice cut through the room with sharp urgency.

“Mom, Dad!” Sora’s voice was fraught with alarm.

You two didn’t think twice and bolted out of the kitchen in a blink of an eye. Leaving the unfinished argument and spilled coffee in your wake. You rushed toward the main door—Kento trailing behind you. Flinging it open to find Sora rushing into your embrace, burying his head into the fabric of your white floral dress.

“What’s wrong, Sora? Are you hurt?” You asked anxiously, gently cupping his face in your hands to examine him, searching for signs of injury. Sora's gaze darted toward the distance, his eyes wide with unspoken dread. With a trembling finger, he pointed shakily towards the distance. You and Nanami followed his trembling gesture, your own hearts pounding in unison. There, partially obscured by the dense morning fog that had settled over the grounds, a figure loomed at the periphery of the property. The figure seemed to waver and shift, its form blending with the swirling mist as if it were an apparition conjured by the fog itself. The sight sent a chill down your spine. Kento’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and concern. You could feel his tension as he stood beside you, his protective stance evident.

A woman stood alone, her posture slightly hunched as though weighed down by years of hardship. She wore a long, dark coat that appeared both weathered and heavy despite her slender build. A large, faded bag was slung over her shoulder, its fabric frayed at the edges and bearing the marks of time. Her face, deeply etched with crisscrossing wrinkles, spoke of a life lived with intense struggle. She appeared to be in her fifties, though the harsh lines and weathered appearance made it difficult to pinpoint her exact age.

Kento moved in front of you and Sora, his eyes narrowed as he addressed the stranger. “Who are you? What are you doing on my property!”

The strange woman began advancing toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Her lips remained unmoving, chapped, and colorless, giving no indication of speech as she closed the distance between you. The quiet was thick, pressing down on the three of you as you instinctively took a step back. As she drew closer, she set down her worn belongings beside her, a small cloud of dust rising as the bag touched the ground. She lifted her wide-brimmed black hat, revealing eyes of a deep, contemplative brown.

“Forgive my abrupt arrival.” She finally spoke, her voice soft yet tinged with an unsettling undertone, as if each word was carefully chosen and laced with a quiet sadness. “I didn’t mean to startle you. The gate was open, so I let myself in. My name is Agatha Beechworth, and I’ve come in response to the advertisement for the tutor position in the newspaper.”

Your eyes brightened at her words, the tension from earlier quickly dissipating. Sora’s tutor is finally here! At least something good came out of this chaotic morning.

You gently disentangled Sora's hands from your waist, offering him a comforting smile as you stepped past Nanami. “Oh, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Beechworth. We’re truly fortunate to have you here today!” Your voice carried a warm, welcoming tone as you extended your hand for a handshake.

“Please forgive us for the less-than-ideal introduction. Your arrival is quite timely. I’d be happy to show you around and discuss the position further!” You motioned towards the mansion, eager to move past the unsettling encounter and into a more productive dialogue.

You turned back toward your husband, and a subtle gesture of your head prompted Kento to excuse himself from the conversation.

Kento exhaled deeply, heading back inside the mansion. He offered no further comment, his retreating figure heading back to his study, likely seeking solace in his work once more.

“Forgive my husband, please come right in!”

Your son, Sora, stood rooted in the doorway, his eyes fixed wide on the peculiar sight of the governess standing before him. You extended a comforting hand toward him, your voice encouraging.

“Darling, don’t just stand there. It’s quite rude to leave Miss Beechworth waiting. Come on, let’s all get inside.”

With that, you ushered both your son and the governess into the house, the door closing behind you with a soft, echoing click.

Miss Beechworth’s brownish eyes swept across the mansion’s interior, her gaze holding a trace of wistfulness as if she were recalling memories from long ago. The familiarity in her expression was intriguing. It was as though the mansion's grandeur and atmosphere resonated with something deeply personal to her. This curiosity prompted a thought: Could Miss Beechworth have been acquainted with the previous occupants of the mansion? It might be worth inquiring about her past experiences or connections with the mansion later on.

Sora stayed close to your side, his small hand clutching a fistful of your dress as if seeking reassurance. Sensing your watchful eyes, the woman’s gaze flickered between you and your son, her eyes softening when they finally settled on him. With a graceful, almost fluid motion, she bent down until she was at eye level with the boy.

“So, you must be the young master I’ll have the pleasure of teaching.” Miss Beechworth said in a soothing voice. Her tone was both kind and reassuring, designed to put Sora at ease.

“A pleasure to meet you. My, aren’t you quite the charming little gentleman?” She added with a soft, approving laugh, her kind words drawing a faint, hesitant smile from Sora.

You smiled at the interaction.

“And a very bright young man as well.” You echoed her sentiments.

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I must admit, there's no finer pupil than a bright-eyed young boy eager to learn.” Her eyes flickered towards you, “It’s clear his mother has done a splendid job instilling good manners.”

Well, well, look at that. It seemed like her kind demeanor already winning you over. Yes, she will definitely do.

“Thank you so much for coming, Miss Beechworth. Your presence is truly a blessing. If you’d like, please feel free to settle in and leave your belongings in one of the guest rooms. I’ll show you to it.”

Miss Beechworth’s eyes widened in mild surprise, “Oh, you’re too kind. I hadn’t expected—”

“Consider yourself hired!” You beat her to it, cutting off any further formalities. “We’ve been eagerly awaiting a tutor of your caliber, and it’s clear you’re exactly what we need.”

You gestured down the corridor with a gracious sweep of your hand, “Please, right this way. I’ll show you to the guest room where you can make yourself comfortable.”

Miss Beechworth inclined her head in a slight, almost imperceptible nod, her lips curving into a smile. She followed in silence, her footsteps nearly soundless on the polished hardwood floor. Upon reaching the guest room, you eased the door open, unveiling a charming, well-appointed space. The bed was meticulously made with fresh linens, and a petite, antique dresser stood by the window, offering a view of the garden beyond.

“Do you find it to your liking?”

Miss Beechworth's smile deepened, her eyes briefly surveying the room before returning to you, “Of course, it’s more than perfect. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Stepping into the room, her gloved fingers brushed lightly across the dresser’s polished surface before her gaze drifted to the window, “The view of the garden is utterly delightful.”

A quiet sense of satisfaction bloomed within you at her words. With a small nod, you replied, “I’m pleased you like it. The garden is one of my favorite spots in the mansion. I always find it rather calming. Should you require anything to enhance your comfort, please do not hesitate to let me know”

Securing Miss Beechworth’s services proved to be one of the most fortuitous decisions you’d made in quite some time. Even if your options had been limited—she was, after all, the only tutor who had ever responded to your inquiries. However, she had proven herself to be an exceptional governess to your son in the past weeks.

At the stroke of noon, you meandered through the mansion's labyrinthine corridors, intent on attending to a litany of household tasks. With Sora’s education now entrusted to the capable hands of Miss Beechworth, an enormous weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Resolving to address a long-overlooked corner of the estate, you set your sights on the attic—a space left untended for many months, its neglect demanding your attention for a thorough and much-needed cleansing. Hours slipped by as you sifted through box after box, scrubbing the aged, creaking wooden floors, and sweeping away cobwebs that clung stubbornly to the shadowed corners of the attic. At last, the space began to resemble something more presentable, its once-overlooked gloom giving way to a semblance of order. Yet, just as you were about to descend the narrow staircase and rejoin into other matters below, your thoughts unexpectedly strayed to Miss Beechworth. The wistful expression she had worn upon crossing the threshold of your home lingered in your memory, clinging to you like a suffocating embrace. It was...quite odd remembering such a fleeting detail, though you dismissed it as idle fancy.

Shaking off the strange notion, your gaze wandered across the room, it caught on an untouched corner—a cluster of belongings shrouded in dust, left undisturbed since the manor's previous occupants had departed.

For a moment, you hesitated. These remnants of the manor’s previous inhabitants seemed imbued with an unspoken sanctity. Would prying into their possessions be an affront to their memory? All you knew of the manor’s history was its abandonment for many years before you and your husband had made it your home.

You decided it was best to let memories rest, turning on your heel to leave the attic undisturbed. However, just as your foot met the first creaking step, a sharp thud echoed through the space, breaking the silence like a shot. Startled, you froze, your heart quickening as you turned toward the source of the noise.

Your eyes fell upon the very corner you had hesitated to disturb. A box once perched precariously atop the others, now lay sprawled on the wooden floor, its contents scattered in disarray. Your feet seemed rooted to the floor, as if some invisible force held you in place, urging you to stay away. Yet, you reminded yourself that it was merely the shock of the moment—nothing more. As your racing pulse gradually steadied, you took slow steps toward the scattered contents. Kneeling carefully on the cold, creaking floorboards, you began to gather the scattered items. You found yourself before you, from crafted relics of distant Italian saints, a well-preserved coin collection, neatly housed in a case—to exquisite silver necklaces gleamed, their craftsmanship so fine that their value seemed evident.

As you carefully sorted through the treasures, your attention was suddenly drawn to a small detail. Beneath the weight of the relics, your gaze caught sight of something unfamiliar—a frayed arm of what appeared to be a doll, half-squeezed beneath the other items. A strange tug of curiosity pulled at you, compelling you to set aside the objects you had been examining. Carefully, moving the items out of the way, you retrieved the doll from the box.

The moment the doll came into full view, the doll—though weathered and worn—was awfully familiar. Its features, though faintly tattered, mirrored the likeness of your son, Sora.

The doll’s resemblance to your son, Sora, was almost uncanny. Its small, ragged form bore a startling likeness to him, from his soft blonde hair to the clothing that mirrored the fashions of your own time. Considering how long the doll had likely been tucked away in that box, its appearance seemed entirely illogical—out of place, even. What could this mean? Yet, you convinced yourself that this was nothing more than a strange coincidence, dismissing any more thoughts. Perhaps the previous residents had a son who resembled your own, and that was the most reasonable explanation.

Determined to quell the discomfort that gnawed at you. You returned the doll to its forgotten place, ensuring that the other treasures were put back in their rightful places as well. With one final glance at the attic’s shadowed corners, you made your way downstairs, eager to leave the unsettling space behind.

Author’s Note: Wow, it's been a year since the last time I wrote something. I'm getting back to writing finally! And also picking up this dramatic story, I've planned to post last year around October. Anyways ill be working on the masterlist soon, so anyone who wants to be part of the taglist, let me know for chapter 1!

All rights reserved © 2025 𝐈𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐌. Please do not copy, rewrite, or translate my works on any other platform.

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

discipline or destruction?

being a sorcerer demands everything, discipline, stamina, strength. you tell yourself that’s all this is: training harder, eating less, pushing further. but somewhere along the way, the line between discipline and destruction blurred. competing with your partner’s body, his strength, his routine, you fall into a spiral, less food, longer workouts, smaller numbers. he notices and questions. you deny, again and again. until concern turns into confrontation, and you’re forced to face the truth you’ve been hiding.

c.w: eating disorder behaviors (restriction, over-exercising, calorie tracking), hurt, comfort includes: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, shiu kong, hiromi higuruma, atsuya kusakabe, ino takuma

a/n: this was requested. and i did my best with research and writing this. if there's something wrong, pls lmk and pls remember to take care of yourself ml. my requests are open!

section divider: @/cafekitsune

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

but i am a good girl!

consigliere!nanami x burlesquedancer!reader

charmed • next (soon)

summary: Your life changes forever on a Wednesday. It's rainy, boisterous, and sensual when Nanami Kento enters your club for the first time. From the second his eyes meet yours, you know that you're completely and utterly screwed. If only you knew a thing about him. [wc: 4.8k]

cw: mdni (18+), mafia!au, eventual sexual content, reader nearly gets shot, violence, love at first sight, nanami rich core, multiple mentions of eye fucking

art: @//auriuke on tumblr

You hear the roar of the crowd before you actually see the culprits.

Your fur overlayer drags on the dingy floor behind you as you prepare to walk on the stage, diamond rhinestones glistening in the low lighting. You adjust your feather headpiece, making sure it’s firmly in position. Your coworkers walk by you when exiting the stage, sending you pointed looks as they pass.

You wait.

This job at times feels only like a long waiting game that you never quite reach a crescendo for. You wait to go to work. You wait to enter the stage. You wait for it to all be over and start the process from the very beginning. There is no end. No beginning. Just is.

If you weren’t a performer at heart that loved the cries of the crowd, it would be a lot worse for you.

Your stage name is called. The music starts, loud and booming.

“Please welcome to the stage, Angel!” 

The lights are blinding. The cheap staircase creaks under your footsteps, and yet the second you exit the backstage room you’re on polished marble and surrounded by lavish velvet curtains.

You walk slow, sensually as the music begins. One pointed heel in front of the other, long fishnet covered legs moving gracefully. The crowd is rowdy today. You can’t see them quite yet when your eyes are still adjusting to the overpowering stage lights. The backup dancers enter after you, big feather fans covering you from vision.

You enter with a wide smile, all teeth and no honesty.

Your workplace is well known, and not for being a friendly environment. You get bad men with shit attitudes and big pockets. The men are handsy, but the bouncers are better. You’ve worked somewhere more respectable, of course. But the men aren’t as loud and they don’t throw cash at you like they have nothing else to spend it on.

‘Cause they really don’t. And you like the attention.

Your routine starts. It’s a new dance, just choreographed a few days prior and not yet been seen by the clients. You lipsync along to the music when the words begin, red painted lips grabbing the eyes of one too many hungry men. 

The feather fans move, and you step forward, a vision dressed in all white. The steps come to you like they're etched into your body. Your corset is tight, restricting the movement of your upper half and pushing your assets much higher than they should be.

Your hands trace along the expanse of your body, and you turn, removing the feather plume just above the swell of your ass. You throw it to the side, revealing the open piece in the back of your dress. The crowd whoops loudly, and you throw a cheeky smile into the void. 

One leg in front of the other. A swerve close to the backup dancer, leaning in for an almost kiss just to add to the sex appeal. Your stilettos are loud on the marble, but not as loud as the music coming from the speakers. Your now adjusted eyes sweep across the room as you take the gloves off every so slowly, just to the rhythm of the music around you. 

That’s when you see him.

A few tables back, dead center in the middle of the room. 

You see a lot of stares on a daily basis. Most lecherous, others passive, a few envious. You’ve never seen a gaze quite so intense. It makes you feel like he’s not just watching the routine, or focusing on the way your body moves. He’s looking at you. So deeply and so passionately analyzing you that it nearly throws you off balance.

A cigar hangs from the tips of his fingers. His suit is sharp, more pristine than perhaps all of the men here. His features are crisp and angular, not a blonde hair out of place on his head. His eyes are a warm shade of amber, and you’re surprised you can tell from your position on stage. He’s leaning forward, elbows on the table and hands crossed, an air of nonchalance surrounding him that doesn’t quite fit the look he’s giving you. 

Regaining your composure, you continue your practiced dance. You rarely feel the gaze of another on you. You’ve been in the business too long for that. When you turn away from the crowd, though, you can sense him. As if he’s right behind you, hand on your hips, breath in your ear. Except he’s twenty-five feet away, and you’re on stage far from his touch.

The music takes a turn, all horn and straight jazz. You take that as your cue to move your hands up, up, and knock the top button off your corset. You don’t have to look, you know he’s watching carefully, but curiosity gets the better of you. 

He doesn’t watch your hands as they carefully undo your own lingerie, he chooses to make eye contact. As if he knew you were going to turn and look at him.

He takes a puff of his cigar, leaning back in his chair. It’s magnetic. His gaze undresses you and makes you feel more vulnerable than any nudity on stage has ever brought out. When the corset is fully off your midsection, he uses that opportunity to give you a quick once over. He swirls his scotch around in the glass before taking a deep sip.

You watch his lips part around the glass, your own mouth in a soft ‘o’.

He’s dripping in sex. You want a taste.

Your last step is to take the skirt off your lower half, and you do, body moving in a quick circle and tossing it to the side. 

The crowd is still cheering and whistling. You smile and wave, giving them what they want.

The only one the smile is meant for is him.

–

There’s a short intermission in performances where the girls get ready and the men outside converse with the others they came with. Drinks refilled, cigars relit. 

In the backroom, the girls hide a bottle of dark rum for confidence shots. You need one, and you haven’t needed one in a long, long time.

After grabbing a glass from a work friend, you throw the rum back, throat burning. You resist the urge to gag, taking a shaky breath. It’s not enough. You need a little more.

Throwing on a robe, you head out into the main room and walk straight to the bar. You give a bouncer a look to let them know you’re heading out of the backroom, and he gives you a nod back.

Deep, deep inside, you know the truth that you won’t admit. People start to filter out during the second half, and you don’t want to miss him. You need to lay eyes on him at least one last time before the night is over. Your mystery man, the one whose set of citrine eyes won’t leave your head.

You walk, heels clacking, soft jazz playing in the back. Some of the men try to approach, but you walk straight by, and they get a stern talking to from the bouncers shortly following.

Even if there are some dangerous men in the building, security is tight. You aren’t concerned about walking to the bar.

Your only concern is finding him.

Approaching the bartender, you ask for some random fruity drink on the menu. Far from strong, but you don’t need the drink to get a buzz. You just need him, and when you want something, you damn sure get it.

You don’t even get the drink from the bartender before you feel it again. His gaze.

You smile, softly biting your lip to try and control your childish excitement.

“Put her drink on my tab.”

The voice is smooth like butter. Raspy and deep like thick wisps of cigarette smoke and spice, soft like the fur throw pillows in your changeroom. It’s perfect. You laugh softly, turning to your right where the voice came from.

“Sorry, sweet pea, they’re on the house for the girls.” You purr, looking to the bartender. “His drink is on me.”

The bartender nods, walking away swiftly to help the next patron. 

He laughs softly, taking it in stride.

“I’m afraid my attempt to introduce myself hasn’t quite gone how I’d hoped.” He says, taking a step closer.

He’s more attractive up close. Big, broad. Taller than you thought he was going to be. He’s definitely muscular, large biceps hidden under the well tailored suit. You hum.

“Well, not all hope’s lost. I’m still here.” You tell him, taking a sip of your drink from the small black straw.

He offers out a hand like a gentleman. Not pushing, not forcing. You take it.

He raises your hand up, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your knuckles. While you smile at him softly, internally you can feel the way your cheeks heat up.

“Nanami. Nanami Kento. It’s a pleasure to be in the presence of a woman quite so divine.”

“You flatter me.” You say, voice smooth.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Angel. You captivated me on that stage. I can’t say I’ve ever felt that same way at any point in my life.” He confesses.

Your hand is still in his. Reluctantly, and with a trace of your finger along the expanse of his palm, you pull away.

“Just Angel is fine, baby. No need for formalities.” You continue, “And I’m glad. I hope to invoke a response from my dancing.”

Nanami hums.

“Is that what that was?” He drawls, low and sultry.

He’s seeing right through you. The same way he saw you on that stage, he’s looking at you now, unravelling you, reading you to a point that almost makes you uncomfortable. Almost.

You’ve never been viewed quite like this.

“Perhaps not.” You say, taking a sip of your drink. “Who’s to know?”

A chuckle now. He leans on the bar, pulling a cigar out of his pocket and flicking on his lighter. 

“You play that role well.” He states.

Confused, you shoot him a look. Smoke billows out of his mouth around the cigar.

“Naivety. As if you’re clueless to my eyes on you the whole night.” He says, taking a quick glance down at your lips, “As if you didn’t watch me your whole routine.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re rather forward, Mr. Nanami.” You tell him with a sultry smile.

“Is it too much?” He murmurs.

You shake your head. Soft jazz is still playing in the background. You recognize the song. It’s the one they play right before the next girl is about to go onstage.

“Not at all.” You admit, suddenly very shy.

“I’m glad. I would hate to offend a lady, especially one as ravishing as you.” 

With a quick glance around the room, you make an unnerving realization.

The men in the room would have usually tried to swarm you like flies at this point. You’ve been out for so long you were genuinely surprised no one else other than your mystery man came to approach. Now you know why.

All of them are looking at you. Nervous. Afraid, even. 

Then, you understand, they’re looking at him.

“Just who are you, Nanami Kento?” You ask curiously.

 He raises an eyebrow, cigar hanging from his lips.

“Do you want to know?”

A rhetorical question. You pluck his cigar from his lips, taking a slow puff provocatively. 

It’s a nice cigar. One that isn’t cheap by any means.

“No. What fun would that be?”

“Nanamin~!” 

A voice calls out from the crowd. Nanami’s demeanor shifts, suddenly looking very tired and mildly irritated. He lets out a great sigh.

“I apologize. I must go.” He says.

Your shoulders slump, and you silently curse whoever it was that was calling out for him.

“Will I see you again, Mr. Nanami?” You ask, trying not to let your disappointment show.

You offer him back his cigar. He declines.

“Keep it, darling.” He states, beginning to walk away, “Just Nanami is fine. Ignoring the formalities, right?”

He leaves without answering your question. You grin.

That night, when you go on for the second time, you’re wholly unsurprised to see him still present in the crowd.

—

Nanami visits twice a week. Every Wednesday night, and every Friday as well. He shows up at ten o’clock without fail. Never late, always sharp and pristine. He’s taken to a spot closer to the front, the kind that you have to hand over a stack of cash for. 

You’ve caught him off guard during the other girls’ performances. He doesn’t watch them the way he watches you. He barely pays attention at all, choosing instead to write… something in his pocketbook. Perhaps work related scribbles.

You wouldn’t know, you haven’t verbally spoken to him since that first night.

You speak to him through your dances.

When you bend over, you make sure to watch him the whole time. While you slowly and provocatively strip off each bit of the luxury pieces donning your body, you make sure he’s looking first. He always is.

After your most recent performance, you relax in your dressing room, getting ready for the next one. A knock rings out on your door, and you pause, standing up from your chair to go and open it.

A bouncer is waiting outside.

“Angel. You have a client that wants to speak with you.” He says.

Clients that have big pockets also spend it on stupid shit. Private conversations and meetings are one such case. The girls are allowed to say no, but the men are also allowed to offer. The girls that have more meetings gain more popularity with the crowd, and thus more money.

You’re one of those girls. At least you were.

“Tall, blonde, small glasses?” You ask, leaning against the doorframe.

Until him.

“No. You hoping for someone else?” The bouncer asks with a chuckle.

You smile, disappointment obvious in your stance.

“Something like that. Not tonight. Let them know.” You tell him with a flippant wave.

“Will do.” He says, before leaving you alone.

You close the door, sighing loudly as you slump into your chair. This was stupid. The waiting, the teasing. It leaves you with a constant simmering frustration that you want more. You barely spoke that first meeting, and you’re supposed to be okay with that?

Every time you peek your head out after your final performance, he’s gone into the wind. You should be going out, seeking him out in between performances like you had done the previous time. But you’re stubborn. 

You want to be chased. To be craved by him.

Carefully buckling up your next outfit, a red corset dripping in tassels and pearls, you’re filled with a new determination. If he doesn’t want to approach you after this next performance, nothing will ever make him change his mind.

On the way out, you let them know to change the song.

The usual routine follows. The cheers getting closer, the lights, the girls half dressed passing by. Your long sheer feathery black robe catches dust on the floor as it drags along. You don’t hesitate today. You’re already walking onto the stage before they can finish announcing your name.

The lights are a different colour with this routine. Red, more sultry, more passionate. The music is slow to start. You’re on the stage alone this time. 

Your robe swishes to the side when you move, giving the crowd a cheeky view of your ass. You look into the crowd, carefully moving the robe further and further up while you make eye contact with your new favourite patron.

He’s there, of course he is.

He looks as he always does. Favourite brand of cigar in between his lips, suit jacket hanging off his shoulders, golden locks of hair carefully styled back out of his face. He’s wearing navy today, with a striped vest.

God, you want to rip it right off him.

You want to be the one to make him flustered for once. To see him lose his cool attitude that he always carries in the air around him. You’re sick of being thrown off balance, of being the vulnerable and shy one. No one has ever had this effect on you, least of all any of the clientele. 

Some commotion is heard from the middle of the room. You ignore it. Probably another bar squabble.

You face away from the crowd, slowly bringing the robe off your shoulders, and letting it fall to the ground.

It doesn’t have the reaction you’d hoped for. What is usually whoops from the crowd at increased nudity is now yells and screams. You turn around, trying not to let the confusion show on your face.

You’re immediately met with the culprit of the yelling. 

A man stands, directly in the middle of the room, as angry as you’ve ever seen a man. He’s short, stout, and rather ugly if you’re being quite honest. That’s not your main concern though. Your issue, and what you’re too delayed to do anything about, is the fact that he has a gun pointed right in your direction.

You freeze. Time stops.

What the fuck? 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. In your peripheral, you can see that the bouncers aren’t moving fast enough. Everything seems slower, more drawn out. Your brief moment of terror stretches out into multiple minutes of agony.

Your body won’t react.

Move.

Move. 

It seems that, in the grand scheme of things, there were greater plans for your future than dying here. It all happened in the span of a few seconds. The pointing of the gun, him on the ground.  While you remain frozen in place, the man gets tackled to the floor by none other than your knight in shining armor.

Nanami.

The girls run out from backstage, yanking you by the arm and into the backroom. There’s still shouting, the chaos growing louder and louder. The lights are dim when you walk behind them, almost in a trance. You don’t have time to look behind you.

The girls are calling your name, and it sounds like you’re underwater. They bring you into the back, give you something to cover up with, and offer some hot tea. You decline.

One of your coworkers, Tulle, a rather petite girl with a short pixie cut, stays with you in your dressing room while the others figure out what’s going on outside. The two of you wait.

Your mind wanders to Nanami. Was he alright? There didn’t seem to be any gunshots from what you perceived. You wouldn’t know anyways, you were so fucking out of it. Your head wasn’t present at all. Why did you freeze? You could have done anything. Fought back somehow, ran away, screamed for help.

Yet you froze.

Silently, and angrily, you grip Tulle’s hand. She squeezes back, a sympathetic look on her face. 

It’s stupid, how badly you want to cry. You’re stronger, better than that. You’ve been through worse. If Tulle sees a tear slip, she doesn't say anything about it.

The head of security for the bar enters the room. Both of you look up.

“We’ve identified him by one of our bouncers. He’s the same one who tried to pay for a meeting with you earlier, just couldn’t take the rejection I suppose.” He says woefully, “Don’t worry, Angel. He’s in cuffs now.”

Ah.

It doesn’t feel any better knowing that he’s gone, despite the fact that it probably should. You can still see the gun in your head, a memory constantly on repeat over and over. Can still hear the screams of the people in the room reacting to a man waving a gun around.

Nanami.

“The man who saved me, is he okay?” You ask suddenly.

He nods.

“He’s fine. Looked thoroughly pissed about the whole thing, though.” He smirks.

“Is he still here?”

“No. He left before the cops got here.” 

Your heart sinks. He left? After all of that?

You would have thought that he would at least check in after to make sure you were okay, even if it was brief. It’s a heavy disappointment that perhaps your knight in shining armor wasn’t the man you thought he would be, regardless of if he did save your life.

“We’re shutting down the club for the night. Go home, rest, Angel.” He states, before heading for the door.

“Right…” You murmur.

“Oh. Actually, I almost forgot.” He turns around, fishing a small box out of his pocket.

“He left this for you.”

He leaves after handing it to you. The box is velvet, and it doesn’t feel cheap.

“What do you think it is?” Tulle asks, peeking over your shoulder curiously.

Only one way to find out.

It ends up being a bracelet. A diamond one, platinum plated and with the smallest winged angel charm hanging from it. You lift it up carefully out of the box, watching the jewels glimmer in the light. Tulle whistles in appreciation from beside you. Your breathing hitches as you take it in.

What an interesting man.

—

You don’t take time off work. You also don’t see Nanami for a few days after that. 

Against your better judgement, you missed him in the crowd. It wasn’t the same performing when he wasn’t there to watch. The cheers felt empty. Stripping off your outfit piece by piece meant nothing. It was just… a job. No longer as pleasurable as it once was.

It makes you wonder what happened to him. If he got scared off by the events of the previous week. You’d hoped not.

And you’d be proven right. When you do see him again, it’s a Monday.

A knock at your dressing room door calls for you, something you’ve become familiar with as of late. You open the door.

“Angel, you’ve got a client here to see you.” He says, voice light.

A flashing image of the gun comes to mind. Not the man, not the room, not even the situation itself. Just the barrel of a gun pointed right at your chest, silver and deadly.

“No. I already told you, no more clients for now.” You tell him sternly.

“You’ll want to see this one.” He states, words ominous.

You pause, analyzing his face. He seems serious.

“Fine.” You concede, sitting down in your chair.

He walks off then to retrieve the customer. Deep down, you don’t even have to look. You already know who’s going to be at your door.

“Angel.”

Your eyes glance up in the mirror. Nanami stands in the doorframe, tall and looming. You look back down, reaching for your signature red lip. Slowly, you reapply.

He waits for you to finish.

“What do you want?” You ask, detached.

He moves from the doorway, taking a few long, slow strides over to your place in the chair. He doesn’t touch you. He’s too much of a gentleman to take without asking. He just stands over you in the mirror.

“I… I apologize. For last week.” He says hesitantly.

You side eye him.

“Do you mean for your absence? Or for the fact that I almost got shot?” 

Nanami doesn’t flinch.

“Both.”

“Why’d you leave?” You whisper, finally spitting out the question that has been plaguing you for multiple sleepless nights.

He sighs. He looks like he’s choosing his words very carefully, thinking hard about his next statement. You can see multiple times how he begins to say something, and then pulls back.

“Myself and the police don’t get along very well.” He decides on.

“... Ah. I see.” You reply quietly.

You should’ve known better. A man doesn’t come here unless he’s wrapped up in some shady shit. Perhaps you presumed he would be different. He seemed different from the other patrons. Less crass, less boisterous, not as likely to brag about things he shouldn’t be doing.

You look up at him, still in the mirror. He’s waiting patiently for your reply. Testing the waters.

“Everyone here has had their fair share of run-ins with the cops.” You tell him, organizing the already tidy desk of your vanity.

He hums shortly. A deep, comforting sound.

“You’re wearing it.” 

The bracelet he gifted you sits lightly on your wrist. It glimmers, it always does. Shines constantly. It would be annoying if it wasn’t a constant reminder of him. A steady ground to show you that in spirit, he’s still here.

“I am.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

He offers a hand out to you. You place your palm against his, and he inspects the piece of jewelry adorning you. The piece he adorned you with.

“It looks more beautiful on you than I could’ve imagined.” He murmurs appreciatively. 

All the tension, all the apprehension and stress immediately leaves your body. You sigh, leaning into him. You wanted to be mad at him. It would be easier than this. Easier than craving him, than needing him by your side for more than a few fleeting glances and moments.

“You didn’t have to get me this, you know. I can tell it wasn’t cheap.” You say.

You know the difference between real pieces and fakes, after all. Your time as a dancer has given you an astute taste for luxury.

“I wanted to give you a gift of my appreciation. You work hard. You deserve to be treated.” He confesses, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

You feel your face flush with gentle heat. The kind that licks at your ears, makes you shy away from touch.

“Thank you, Nanami. Truly. I’m grateful.” You tell him. 

“Don’t be. It’s the least I can offer. For as long you allow, I intend to treat you properly. As a man should.” He states, voice a heavy drawl.

“Careful, Nanami. I’m starting to think you’re coming here just for me.”

“I am.”

You pause at that, finally turning around to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to admit it so… casually. The eye contact that follows is heavy and thick with tension. Your mouth parts, trying to find the words that are desperately trying to come out. Your thick eyelashes bat at him gently.

“Really?” You stupidly say.

He doesn’t laugh at you, doesn’t smile. He simply crouches low.

“From the very moment I first saw you on that stage I was mesmerized. I hadn’t, and still have not, seen a woman quite so enchanting. You’re a vision, Angel.” He murmurs, “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.” 

It’s a crime, really. How fast he tears down your defenses. 

You’re used to being smooth and charismatic. To charm men with petty words and a pretty smile, make them fall in love. With him, your ability to speak leaves you stranded. Alone. You’re left defenseless against the curve of his lips, the intensity of his eyes.

“Well, I do like to hear how perfect I am.” You smirk, regaining some footing.

“And perfect you are, darling.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Nanami.” You smile, “Say, why did you start coming here in the first place, sweet pea?”

He hums.

“Originally, it was just for work. My boss had occasionally visited with clients and wanted to bring his men along as well. After I saw you, though, it became something beyond what I ever anticipated.”

“And what is it that you do for work?” You ask, amused.

“... I’m afraid I don’t believe I should share that with you.”

“Boo.” You stick your tongue out at him.

He chuckles at that.

“Come on, don’t be like that, Angel. It’s better this way. For both of us.” 

“Hm. I suppose I’ll just have to believe you this once.” You smile cheekily.

Your smile drops slightly when you see how close the two of you are. Your eyes dart down to his lips, and back up again. He saw it. He sees everything. Sees right through you, strips you bare without even trying.

You let out a shaky exhale. Your hand is still in his. You’ve been holding each other the whole time without even realizing it. The contact, now in the forefront of your mind, feels electric. His brows furrow slightly, as if he’s holding back and it pains him.

The cheers from the main room interrupt the moment. The second half of performances is starting. 

You look at the door, sighing. Nanami stands to his full height once more, clearing his throat.

“I’ll see you out there, Angel.” He says, pulling a cigar out of his pocket.

“Wait!” You exclaim quickly.

He pauses, surprise etched across his features. You take a breath, composing yourself.

“What about a private dance?”

a/n: a new long fic muahaha as seven devils ends another begins

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

☾⋆───Fractured Reflection ────⋆☽

Context: Zayn is having a nightmare as Dawnbreaker

Zayn×reader, mention of Dawn breaker, you are married to Zayn, suggestive, mainly self-indulgent tbh, not proofread. I'm not entirely satisfied with it tbh but enjoy♡

cw: nightmares • angst • bruising • evol surge • hurt/comfort

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"No..... stay ....away please ".

The voice of your husband whimpering from next to you, at first you thought you were dreaming but he whimpered again and your eyes snapped open to find Zayn lying next to you on the bed, brows furrowed in distress, skin glistening with sweat as he fists the sheets between white knuckles his chest rising and falling in laboured breaths.

You shot up immediately heart thrumming against your chest in distress for your lover, you knew not to wake him up, you remember reading about it somewhere that it's dangerous to jolt someone who is having a night terror awake. So you brushed against his cheek brushing against the sweat there and trying to ground him.

"It's okay" you softly whispered not to scare him "It's just a nightmare" Your other hand drew soothing circles on his arm.

His breath came out shallow as his hands tightened on the sheet turning his knuckles impossibly white " I hurt you... no..."

You reached your hand to his fisted ones trying to gently make him relax them by rubbing them soothingly "You didn't, you would never, I'm okay, I'm here Zayn" You pressed your lips gently to his forehead " Listen to my voice" You hoped your voice would guide him somehow "We're safe baby"

His hand suddenly shot to you, and you couldn't help the yelp of surprise when you found yourself under him, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly almost painfully, his evol getting out of control as the temperature dropped and tendrils of ice started forming around you, inching toward your bodies

He kept whimpering incoherent words calling your name desperately.

"Baby" you breathed as his arms kept tightening around you, you knew you needed to reach him inside whatever he is trapped in, because he might actually hurt you without feeling it. You didn't want to think about it or how he would feel after instead you kept your calm and wrapped your arms around him like, palm running up and down his heaving back.

"Zayn, baby listen to my voice, I'm fine, so are you, we are in our house, in our bed safe and sound, if you can hear me focus on my voice, on my touch" You pressed a kiss to his ear.

Slowly but surely you felt that his grip started to relax, his breath less ragged and he stopped squirming. Tentatively as if afraid it might be an illusion he lifted his head, teary green eyes gazed down at yours, and the look in them broke you, guilt, fear and hope all battling in those mesmerising irises.

"It was just a bad dream" you repeated.

His throat popped up and down as his gaze raked your face "You're okay?" It was both a question and a confirmation at the same time, you nodded.

He sat up taking you with him, the fear that whatever he saw in that dream still holding him. As his gaze kept raking your body to make sure that you're okay as you claim.

His eyes widened when they fell on your wrist and he retreated, you followed his gaze to find the skin on your wrist where he held you was red with his fingerprints printed on it, soon it would be bluish.

"No, Zayn..

" I hurt you" He didn't even give you a chance to finish as he jumped out of the bed, stumbling out of the bedroom repeating that he hurt you.

You called out after him but it was like he was in his own world as he kept walking towards the door, understanding his intention you knew you couldn't let him go out in that state, where his evol wasn't stable and he could harm himself, so you snatched the keys from the table and taking advantage of your lighter body you sprinted and jumped between him and the door, you locked it using the keys and hid them behind your back.

"You're not going out there like that, you need to calm down " you said sternly.

He stumbled back from the door, from you, like it pained him to even be near you.

"Please, I can't... I'll hurt you .... I need " the moister in his eyes intensified as he struggled to gather words to make a coherent sentence.

"You would never " you shook your head, voice full of faith "It was just a bad dream Zayn, dreams don't become reality " you took a step forward and he took a step back.

Shaking his head "It wasn't... wasn't just a bad dream" he stumbled and fell on the couch, he'd hung down in shame, his hands covering his ears like he was trying to block something.

You felt your own tears moistening your cheeks, you wished you could take all his pain and reassure him.

"It was me... but wasn't " he started, voice barely above whisper like he was afraid to utter the words "I was killing people.....no monsters, I wasn't even called Zayn, I... was lonely, so cold,then you I met you and....I hurt you" he sobbed.

You didn't even think before you dropped the keys and crossed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him tightly, his head against your chest, he didn't hold you back, still hunted.

You brushed through his thick hair with your fingers, massaging his scalp soothingly

"I know it was scary, and I understand, but " you lifted his head to you catching his gaze " I'm only safe when you are holding me, whatever you saw wasn't real and will never be cause I know you would rather burn the world than see me hurt" Your voice was full of conviction and your gaze was determined to make him accept your words.

He licked his lips "but .. what if I was capable of it " his voice was hoarse.

You wiped the stains of his tears from his cheeks "Being capable of doing something doesn't mean you will actually do it"

His gaze was on you but his resolve was wavering, he wanted to believe you but was hesitant.

You straddled his lap and took his shaking arms to wrap them around you wanting him to feel you, to remind him what was real and what wasn't, he was tracking your every move like you were the answer to everything, like you were his magnum opus.

"I'm only in danger when you're by my side Doctor Zayn" You called him by his title to remind him that he saved lives and didn't take them "Dreams are just that, reality is what we decide.

He nodded, swallowing, and finally held you, gently like you were made of glass, his head fell to your chest as he buried it there, like he was hiding from all those dreams.

Your hand brushed his hair letting him soak in your words.

You don't know how long you have been sitting there, but you didn't dare move letting him have all the comfort he needed. When he finally lifted his head to look at you, your lips curved into a gentle smile, you could see his resolve breaking completely trusting your words as he looked at you like you're the oxygen in the air.

Before you could utter a word his lips caught yours and he kissed you like a man who and been lost in the desert for days without water or food and he found you, his source of nourishment, he didn't even break away once as he hungrily took everything you offered greedly until you had to beg him to give you a minute to breath and even then his mouth didn't leave you, latching onto each kart of you he could reach his hands following the same lead.

From that day the nightmares never truly left him but neither did you, you were always there to reassure him, take his mind off it and most importantly keep him from believing them, but you could still see their effects on him in the ways he always checked you for injuries, or how he always seemed to touch you and hold you throughout the day almost obsessively

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

Open Arms, Part Two

Caleb×Non!MC Reader

The fracture between you, and Caleb's relationship was so evident- that you had care less of your sleeping schedule.

Working at home five times a week became a leisure for a full month, during medical clearance day for workers, your doctor would notice the inconsistent weight gain, and weight loss, resulting to a fine of a week and a half leave from work, and a weekly checkup that your great boyfriend never knew about.

On top of that, Caleb was no help at all. He sure was making up for his mistakes, which you were surprised that he found out, but given the circumstance that your boyfriend is undeniably smart, that you just let him.

He fed you, tried to convince you to stand up and walk for a little while outside, tried to get words out of you; anything, before going to work.

But instead of appreciating him for it, you just can't help but hate him more. So what gives if he was taking care of you now? If you didn't turned into a sour bile towards him, he still wouldn't look at you in a different light. His exchanged words with her through online messages were not escaping your head anytime soon.

You feel so hopeless that you don't know whether to feel bad for Caleb's effort, or be mad for his late realization in your relationship. He can do it to others, but why can't he do it to you?

Then again, you would fall to a false state of blaming. You would blame yourself for being unreasonable. That she was family, and you were an outsider. Then you cope up with the thought again, until you're drowning back. The cycle repeats until you just let yourself call Gideon again.

Three weeks. Three weeks ever since you walked away and left the room, away from him. And three weeks since Caleb made a move to you. You should've came handed, and be happy. Atlas! Your boyfriend finally sees you! But at what cost? Maybe it was finally time to withdraw.

It was dinner when Caleb came back home.

Eating dinner together feels so weird now, especially when he tries to poke in a conversation.

"Do you like it? I cooked your favorite." He gently asked. It was so gentle that you could choke on your food. It's like he was no near realizing the mental scar he placed on you. Swear to god, you'd be so willing to hold him with open arms even if you were struggling yourself. But, enough is enough. Your old self would be surprised to the way you were acting around Caleb.

When he wasn't getting any answers from you, he still continued to converse. "I placed a flower on your study today. You weren't able to se them when you were at work. I'm glad that your office gave you a week to rest." It's not that it was a lie, partly. Yes, your work gave you a time off, but it wasn't because you were a devoted employee- quite the opposite. Your facility was unsure of your health condition that they have to send you back home.

He was surely unaware. With that, he was also uknown from the medical appointments you went to, weekly, when he isn't around.

"They're pretty." you curtly replied.

Caleb pursed his lips, and proceeded to hold your hand near the table surface. His wands were cold, but it didn't matter anymore. It wasn't anything near pleasant to hold him once again. Your root for hatred was growing, that you feel void of hurdling with him further.

"Baby, I know I messed up. I'm sorry." You stopped from eating, and looked at him with contempt.

"I heard your conversation with Gideon... That day... Everything."

You stared at him. Your heart was pounding against your chest, it was ringing behind you ear. The salty tears you have locked in were now close to your tastebuds. But you can't. You were not allowing yourself to be vulnerable anymore.

"I'm sorry if you feel like I was neglecting you..." He licked his lips, and chose his words softly and carefully, after.

"I've been a horrible boyfriend, I'm sorry. I know I caused you a whole lot of mishaps. I had her emergency contact, blacklisted. I notice everything, babe. I once spoke to Gideon, he told me how badly you got wasted, how much your appetite change, how much you just wanted to be away from me."

Caleb stood up, and walked towards you.

He brought your hands near his face, as if trying to grovel out an oath.

"My girl... Hate me, all for the eternity, and I would still chase you. But please, don't leave me. I don't think I can still start again without you."

Unbeknowst to yourself, you cried. Even with a frowned face, you cried. Not because it was something you haven't heard from him sor a very long time... But because you can't bring yourself to love him again.

You were trapped, in a small cage. It was all so frugal, but you knew the answer. Even after you kiss and make up, your mind was fixed to the idea that he would still come back to her.

The trust, the broken ones, the lies you might not be able to keep up.

You were too broken yourself, that you see his current words a missile to your death.

Moments struck by, and there came a pregnant silence.

You were happy he said sorry, but you did not feel any better.

Isn't sorry what you want? His accountability and assurance?

Why do you still feel broken?

You pushed his hands away, gently. And looked at him, right dead in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Caleb. I want to end this."

Caleb's world seemed to spun around in shackles. He was taken aback to the amount of solemness of your tone. It was like– you already planned this for a little while.

"W-wha- Baby, no-"

"I'm sorry. I really tried to endure more. But I can't, anymore. I'm sorry, Caleb. I have to stop this, with you."

It's been a month since. Your breakup with Caleb was the most painful thing he had to live for compared to his shared experience in the lab.

The more he lives, the more he sees you face around. From claw machines, plushies, his other side of the bed, to the town square below– he couldn't move on. It was his fault, he was sure of that. But it sure wasn't easy to begin with.

Everyday, he blamed himself.

He couldn't sleep at night without giving a an 'I'm sorry' message to your unavailable cellular number. He would try to call you, and it would only fall back into voicemail.

And if it wasn't futile and cruel enough, he called you more than enough just so he could hear your voice– even if it was just from the voicemail.

Hanging out with MC feels like a drag. She called him frequently now, not minding about the emotional stress he had to cope up.

He was so derranged that he once snapped at her. And that was the last extent of it.

He was happy for you. He heard from the cross street that you were doing well. And from Gideon's sentiment, you were healthier than ever– only that, he wasn't the cause of it all.

He comes back home, only to see the alleyway dark. It was once included to your sunshine and rainbows. The couch he bought for your comfort. The carpet for you aesthetics. The kitchen placement was unmoved. He left the untensils through your rule of organization. He kept it that way. The mug you made with him together was still there. His coffee mug that he left untouched, with your lipstick stain on it... everything was still intact. How you entered his life, was also how you left him. Although the items were unmoved, the color in his house was somber, you carried it with you, alongside your clothes.

Propping to bed, he opened his phone. He saw his spam messages were still sent to an unavailable contact. Dissapointed, but not surprised. He thought. With that, he finally said his words. Picking up words that deems as him, finally withdrawing for your peace of mind.

It's so hard to let you go, baby. But I know it's not easy for you as well, after what I've done. Don't worry much for me, hm? If the world is downbad to you, I'll be right here. With open arms. Thank you, for everything. Forever love you, Caleb. Delivered. 24:51 am

A/N: Hello! I know that I said I'll posting soon, but I never expected it to be this soon. I was scheduled to have online mock exams this evening, and few more activities for the upcoming weeks. It's examination week, if you're curious. I'm sorry if this is rushed and lowkey sucked.

I will edit this as soon as everything is done. This was in my raw-sectioned drafts. I'm really sorry.

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

after bully!osamu, tsukishima, matsukawa, and sakusa bumping into you for the first time in two years, he stands there stupidly. caught in a trance, he couldn’t even muster up any words to say to you.

your face changed since then. eyes full of life, skin glowing even under the shitty campus lights, body confident, and your voice was strong. it took him aback when he realized it was you who confronted him first. back then, he would have walked away and ignored your presence. but this time, he can’t. he’s matured and reflected back on his younger self—he knew he was being an ass during his teenage years. though, he keeps in mind the only thing he can do is move past it.

it’s a split second where he covers up his facade in front of your newly image. taking his hand away from the door that held his key and shoving his hand in his pocket lazily. however, though he may look calm, he could feel his heart thunder with uncertainty. was it a safe call to interact with you?

it’s quiet when he says your name, he acts unsure just to play it safe when asking if he’s correct, and when he finally gets his confirmation—he stands there, his adam’s apple bobbing a wad of saliva down his throat to moisten the awkward walls.

your hands reach for the boxes, keeping 50% of your mind on him, the other half completing your unfinished task. you hum, not even staring back at him as he carefully watched each move you did.

“seems like you changed,” your voice almost came out in mumbles before quickly retrieving back into your dorm. your hand clutching the door knob as the other held into the bottom of the box.

“still, don’t think i’ve forgotten how you treated me,” and just like that, a slam to the door made him realize mistakes never really do go away.

normally, students do not transfer to his college/university. he has all gears running in his head at 100% trying to figure out in all odds that you managed to enter back into his life again. this time, in closer proximity.

in the wing where his dorm was located, the other residents were also aware of the new arrival. eventually, he got his answer from the numerous chattering he heard from every corner of the walls; you had moved to his post-secondary school due to a bridging program. it now makes sense, and it almost feels like this his punishment after all these years.

nobody knew about his past with you, not even his roommates or teammates on the team he played on (aside from matsukawa). it was really only him suffering upon your sudden display of nature. to make matters worse, the last interaction you two had was when you first moved in. he barely saw you around the campus, almost making it seem like you were actively avoiding him so he wouldn’t spot you if he dare try to. the only times where he feels really any close to you is when it’s late at night and he could hear the vivid sounds of your sleepy voice talking to someone over the phone. however, he refuses to get any more curious.

to him, it feels like a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment during the next time he sees you. uncoordinated, unplanned, and accidental.

uncoordinated… unplanned… and… accidental…?

what the fuck were you doing standing in front of his door.

“huh?” it’s comedic when he lets out a genuine gesture of confusion. his shirt is half on, his hair what seems like he had just left a rave, and eyes drowsy thinking that he may be dreaming still.

a pregnant pause fills the both of you for a moment, till eventually you break the silence.

“…you, left your headphones back in your afternoon class,” in your hand, held what was what indeed his black headphones that he wears during studying sessions.

it’s awkward, “right. thanks.”

his hand reached for yours and took the electronic device.

“…but, why’re you the one… giving me my headphones when you don’t have any classes with me?”

“your friend.”

“my friend?”

“your friend,” you repeated again this time visibly more annoyed. “he asked me to give it to you since you don’t have any practice after classes. or whatever that means. he knew i live right beside your dorm. so he thought it’d be easier if he just handed me the headphones.”

“…i see.”

you nodded stoically. once again, awkward silence filled you both. using this time, he took in more of your features, soaking up all the defined areas his memory once forgotten and each time he remembers, it is followed by recollections of tormenting you.

“you’re awfully quiet,” he says your name trying to ease the situation. however, to you, it sounds like he’s just trying to be crude.

a dry echoey laugh erupts from your throat, “is that my fault?”

“never said it was.”

“it seems you can finally own up to your behaviour,” ouch, he could physically feel the weight of your words sink down on his shoulders.

“good to be matured nowadays right?” he shot back now leaning on his door frame. his body alone towered over you but you remained keeping your confidence high.

“that’s true. though it sucks im still waiting for an apology from you.”

like an actual anvil to his face.

“we were teenagers.”

“you still knew what you were doing.”

“it was a build up of mistakes,” he defended.

“a 3 year long mistake during high school?” finally, that shut him up. you scoffed rolling your eyes. “it’s not hard to apologize for being a dick,” his name rolled of your tongue. it felt like someone was pinching his heart.

your eyes then met his with pure anger rising in your pupils.

“just you wait till i start telling others,” his eyes widened unconsciously from the sudden threat. based on the words you chose, he knew you were careful. deconstructing each word for him, almost like you have been desperate to show him this side of you. you crossed your arms and left your hand out to point at him menacingly.

“your image, it will slowly falter. it’ll spread like wild fire, damaging you for all these years you put me through,” he could feel his heart drop each time you added more to the fire. you could practically feel your body shake from built of rage over the years. even with all the months you’ve ignored it, emotions like this can occur on a random tuesday where you’ve just gotten ready for bed.

it hurts to breathe but you push past your limits.

“it’ll start with my classmates, then eventually they’ll pass on the word. it’ll go through everybody at this campus that it will reach your coach—“ you continued rambling, each sentence that left your mouth came out as stronger.

“they’ll find out. and when that happens, it will stay as a reminder—this is all—“ he could feel his body boil.

“your,” you take a step closer.

“—fault.”

then, the rage is put out with one swipe of an arm.

his muscular hand reaches for the collar of your fleece as he aggressively tugs you close to him. pulling you inside his very own dorm and kicking the frame shut before slamming your back against the door making you wince out a heave. the sudden reaction left your body in flight mode, undetermined breathing and eyes wide like a scared prey.

his body towered over yours, hair draping over the top of your forehead as he grabbed your face, smushing ypur cheeks in his hand. his husky cologne endorsed your scent as you tried your best to stay focused on his aroused eyes.

“you let out one more word, and i promise you i’ll break your fucking jaw.” it’s an empty threat though it works like a charm to shut you up. you let out a quiet gasp of air to which he took notice of. he could see your quivering lips and body faltering under his. his heart aches once again.

he lets out a curse, looking away from your figure to compose himself. taking a quiet deep breathe in. he returns his gaze back you, leaning close to you to almost say sorry for his outburst. his breathes get heavier the longer he stares at you. it’s suffocating.

and he doesn’t know why.

suddenly, he lets go of you, walking away not daring to look back. it drained him of all his strength to look you in the eye. in result, he was never that strong to begin with.

his hands instinctively reaching up to tug at his hair as he goes back into his room and loudly shuts the door.

taking this chance, your body that was once frozen turned around and rushed out of his dorm.

pt. 1 pt. 2

literally had to squeeze this writing in at 1am. i’m on vacation rn but the fanfic grind never stops rahhh

tags for my lovelies <3 @trafalgar-mine @cassoufle

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

silver springs

ex-fiancée!gojo x f!reader x rebound!choso

synopsis being the lead singer of a popular rock band was your dream, but now that you and the lead guitarist have broken up and the world isn't ready to know just yet, you're left seeking comfort from another bandmate.

content mdni!, fleetwood mac inspired au, anxious reader, angst, yearning, pining, longing, eventual fluff, jealousy, break ups, eventual smut, multiple povs, multiple endings

full series masterlist here

chapter 4: second hand news

wc: 2.6k

You were sitting just in front of your manager’s office, knees bouncing up and down trying to contain your nerves.

This whole building was corporate hell, you thought. Big floor to ceiling windows, funky furniture and rugs everywhere trying to mask itself as attractive for the independent acts who came through the door excited at the prospect of representation. But you had been with the label long enough, and you knew from the moment you signed the contract the conversation changed from authenticity to money, money, money.

The big oak door creaked open, and your breath hitched in shock as your ex partner walked out. Gojo looked worn down, you don’t think you had ever seen him looks this... vulnerable. Big dark circles under his beautiful blue eyes, red rimmed like he had not slept at all or, worse, had spent the night crying.

His head slumped forward, and when he saw you his lips parted, surprised. You took a step forward before your mind could catch up, feeling guilt so deep it cut through every part of you, but your ex just looked down and walked straight past you.

Your manager was staring at you with mock sympathy through the door frame. “Come on in” he sighed, looking at you with that fake friendly smile you hated.

You slipped in without a word, sitting down on the long sofa. Your heart was hammering in your chest, already worrying about what this meeting would be about. “Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?” he winked, and you fought the urge to punch him.

You shook your head, picking at your fingernails as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. When he finally sat down, he let out a long sigh, looking at you with his head cocked sideways. “So. Care to tell me what all that fuss at the studio was about?”

“I wasn’t there for it” you replied, telling the truth. “Just creative disagreements, I’m assuming”

He sighed disappointed, frowning. “That’s what your fiancée said too” you winced at how he still referred to Satoru like that, but couldn’t help but notice what he was implying - had Gojo defended you?

“And yet” he continued, before you could say anything else. “I’ve spent all of last night threatening news sites not to publish something far more scandalous. Odd, no?”

You clenched your jaw, looking away from his gaze. You wished you had said yes to the coffee just to have something warm to hold on to.

“Darling” he continued, leaning in with forced familiarity. “You can fuck whoever you want. Would it kill you to choose someone not in the band?”

Your breathing stuttered, but you stayed quiet.

“I am all for the publicity, of course” he leaned back on his chair. “But I am trying to protect you from what the public would say if they found out about this little affair you’re having”

“I’m not having an affair” you shot back, looking at him. He smiled sympathetically.

“Of course. And yet no one would see it that way” you averted your gaze again, and he kept studying you. “You and Satoru are our best marketing point. But you” he leaned in again, tone all honey and charm. “You are our star, sweetheart. Don’t make the public turn against you. Think about what’s best for you. And I promise, what’s good for you is good for-”

“The band. I know”

“There she is” he grinned. “Oh, another thing. You’re playing the Rock Festival in 3 weeks. I trust most of the songs will be ready by then?”

You nodded. You knew what he was doing - pushing the band, getting ahead of any stories that might interfere with the new album rollout. But in the middle of all this chaos, this news did fill you up with warm excitement.

Playing live was your passion, the thing that had kept you going for all this time. Singing in front of your fans was like sharing a piece of your soul, like entering a full trance with a group of people you didn’t know but that the love was so strong you could feel all the way from up on the stage.

So this was good news. Something to look forward to. And, if anything, writing the album was the one thing going consistently well.

“You can go now” he said, standing up. “I trust you will make the smart decision”

You stood up slowly, trying to regulate the way your heart was hammering in your chest. Your hand reached for the doorknob and you cursed yourself for how it trembled slightly.

“I don’t want to hear another word about this” your manager said, tone gruff and final from his desk, not even looking up at you. You understood it was a threat without him even having to name it - you knew the amount of control he had over you and your career because of the stupid contract you signed before you were even mature enough to understand all the clauses.

Once again, trying to live your life the way you wanted was proving fucking impossible.

You went home that night still thinking about that meeting, anxiously going over and over it in your head. You couldn’t sleep at all, working on all the songs you’d written and practicing harmonies, perfecting the melodies, pouring yourself into your art because it was the one way you could make yourself heard. You constantly felt like the world didn’t care about what you wanted, but as long as you sang it over a strumming guitar, they’d at least listen.

It had been too long since you performed for a large crowd and you were itching for that moment again, but the veiled threat from your manager was sitting at the back of your head too. While not said explicitly, you knew he could take away everything you worked so hard for.

He could remove you from the band, take away any right to all you had written. Could make sure you never performed again. And yet, you were the lead, the face - would he do that? What if...what if his veiled threat was about someone else? Would he fire Satoru? No, he said it himself, you two were the biggest selling point. Then...

Choso?

That thought made you stop. You wouldn’t put it past your manager to do that.

There you go again, you told yourself, worrying about everyone else, making up scenarios in your head. It’s not like anything had been explicitly said. But now you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Were you playing with Choso’s work, with his stability? Were you putting someone in danger just by wanting him?

You didn’t sleep at all that night.

The morning rolled around too fast. You downed two double espressos, which probably did nothing but make your anxiety worse, but you had to stay awake for the rehearsal. Put some make up on your face to hide the dark circles, gathering up all the material you had spent so long working on to avoid thinking about everything else.

Deep breaths, you told yourself as you stepped into the recording studio, every face in there turning towards you. Yuuji came over to give you a hug, calling out your name in that sweet tone that made you smile, reminding you of when you were just kids. Geto didn’t get up from tuning his bass, but offered you a reassuring smile with a “hey” and a nod.

Choso looked like he wanted to move towards you, but didn’t. He was right at the edge of the studio, as far away from Gojo as possible, as if the whole room would explode if the two of them stepped closer to each other. He looked so sweetly at you, his body leaning slightly forward towards the door where you stood, but he didn’t move. And Gojo...

He didn’t even look up, staring directly at the floor at some sheet music he was working on. You noticed the way his hands tensed around his guitar though, holding it tight until his already pale knuckles were bone white.

“You excited for the festival?” Yuuji said, taking the heavy bag from your shoulder. You noticed Choso smiling from the corner of the room. “It’s been too long, huh?”

“I really am” you replied, sitting between him and Geto, Yuuji buzzing with electrified energy next to you. “I spent the whole night working on the new stuff” you admitted.

“Oh?” Yuuji looked at you with those wide, worried puppy dog eyes. “You didn’t sleep?”

“Who needs sleep” you waved your hand, trying to dismiss it. You could feel the eyes in the room turning towards you though, and every instict in you shouted to deflect, change the subject. “Are you excited, Geto?”

“Of course” he replied, his voice always so calm doing wonders to soothe your nerves. “All new material, though? It’s a lot”

“It’s great!” Yuuji retorted. “Everyone is gonna be buzzing for the tour!”

“Tour?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“His wishful thinking” Suguru replied, shaking his head. “No one has said anything about a tour, Yuuji”

“Come on” he nudged you. “It would be great, right? New album, everyone out on the road again... you see it, right?”

It was hard not to smile at his anticipation. A few years ago, the prospect of going on a tour was the most exciting news you could hope for. Travelling around the country, playing different stages for a crowd of different people every night.

You remembered fondly how that first tour went, sharing every shitty hotel bed with Satoru, the way he let you rest against him on the bus when the exhaustion was too much. As tiring an ordeal as it was, the buzz when you all got off the stage was worth everything, celebrating together in little towns you had never been to, before hopping on the bus again, onto the next one.

Everything was so perfect back then.

You felt your chest tighten. Don’t think about it. Deflect, change the subject.

“Well” you said, “shall we just start rehearsing then?”

Everyone nodded, moving to their instruments. Apart from your ex in the corner, who finally opened his mouth since the moment you walked in.

“I-” he started, tone too tentative for him. “I’ve been working on something. Can I?”

He motioned to the sheets of paper on the floor in front of him, scribbled lyrics, all messy and crossed but clearly written with intent. Everyone looked around at each other, and leaned back silently, giving him the space to perform.

You could feel the way Choso looked at you, but you just stared at the wall straight ahead. You had no doubt this new song would be about you, again, and these moments were the worse, anticipating what your ex had written about your failed relationship, what version of his truth he would spell out in front of your bandmates this time.

You braced yourself, expecting sharp chords and venomous, angry lyrics. So when he started the song with a dreamy chord progression, you were surprised. F minor to G, strumming the guitar softly in a pained, slow rhythm, steady under the lyrics he started singing with an uncharacteristic raspy voice.

And it surprised you. Because it wasn’t angry, at all. What you expected to be a song about betrayal, your betrayal, was actually about the grief of shattered hopes. About the fear of not being enough. Without even looking up, Gojo sang to you about his regrets, about love gone cold and the pain of seeing someone move on when you couldn’t.

It was beautiful. Gojo’s lyricism was always at its best when it was daring, tongue in cheek and a bit arrogant. But this was nothing like that - a kind of broken honesty you hadn’t even heard from the other songs he’d written about the break up.

And it made you feel like the worst person in the world. But you stayed, listening to him, because it was the least you could do. You owed him that much.

The song ended, and the silence in the room was deafening. Yuuji looked at his brother, his brother looked at you, and Geto’s eyes danced from you to his best friend with an expression that betrayed how hard he was struggling to just stay neutral in this whole ordeal. But everyone in the room felt it.

“That was beautiful, Satoru” Geto said softly, breaking the silence. Yuuji agreed, teary eyed. Even Choso nodded, respecting his bandmate, but you could see the guilt all over his face too.

You couldn’t really bring yourself to say anything though. The world felt far away, like everything was underwater. Your skin felt prickly in an unfamiliar way, like it didn’t quite fit. Your face was wet but you didn’t even remember shedding the tears. Heart hammering in your chest so loud you wondered how no one else noticed.

But Choso did notice. He was already moving towards you, saying your name, which made the whole room turn their attention to you. The last thing you wanted.

You could hear their voices rising towards you, even Satoru starting to get up and saying your name like a question. You couldn’t stay there. Why would you, when you just seemed to fuck up every step of the way?

So you stood up without a word and rushed to the door, just needing to get some air, muttering apologies and trying to wave it away like it was nothing. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

Choso caught your sleeve when you were halfway across the corridor, saying your name in that grounding tone of his. You didn’t move, letting your tears spill freely, not able to look at him.

“I just need air” you lied again.

“I’m not letting you go alone” was all he said.

“Why?” you asked with a small, pitiful scoff.

Choso swallowed, looking around at the people nearby. “You know why” he said, quietly.

You breathed in. Just two nights ago your bandmate and childhood best friend had finally confessed his love for you. And it felt great. It felt like hope. A hope that was shaken by your manager’s veiled threats. But you couldn’t shake the guilt, couldn’t pretend part of you didn’t know he had a point too.

Would it kill you to fuck someone who is not in the band?

Was all this worth hurting Gojo like this? Putting Choso’s or your own career and livelihood at risk?

“I’m starting to worry” you whispered, still unmoving, “I’m just really fucking selfish”

Choso moved closer at your admission, placing himself in front of you and cupping your cheeks with his hands. “You’re not selfish” he said.

You wanted to believe him, allow yourself to melt into his touch, but the sound of footsteps and hushed voices around sobered you up instantly, the fear of someone overhearing and it ruining everything creeping back in.

“Not here” you said, stepping away from him.

He took a step away too, although it clearly pained him. “I thought we could... stop lying” he muttered, voice even lower, careful, but you could tell this had been eating at him.

“It’s not that simple” you said, not able to look in his eyes, not able to see how you hurt yet another person you cared for.

So you turned around, walking away from everything as fast as you could.

If only there was a way of walking away from yourself too.

thank you for reading! immediately writing some fluffy one shots to balance out this angst ugh

taglist: @hellovanie @saikasdomain @jolly4holly

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

under the blue sky.

warning: angst. soulmate color au. ♡⠀i was sad when i made this and saved it in my docs, so today I remembered it and wanted someone to suffer with me. that’s it.

Gojo Satoru was broken.

Or, at least, he had always believed himself to be.

Until yesterday. When his fingers brushed against yours and the world burst into colors he had only dared to dream of.

Most people discovered their soulmate at twenty-one: the gray would shatter, and each hue would slip through the cracks until everything was painted anew. Satoru had waited eagerly, then despaired, then learned to laugh at his own absence, for at twenty-five, he still lived in a world washed in pale shadows.

And then you came.

His best friend of all time.

Someone he had loved, yet never tried to hold, because you still had a chance to find your own counterpart. Now, in pieces that fit perfectly together, it was the destiny he was ready to grasp — and never let go.

That’s why he ran, unafraid of slipping on the cold station floor, his breath coming in sharp, icy puffs, a single crocheted edelweiss flower clutched in his hands; there was no time to fetch a real one, but in his mind, the bouquet for your wedding would have dozens of them. It was only a matter of time.

His hands reached out, eyes wide. There was no way to reach you.

The snow had slowed him too much, and now Satoru watched you step into the carriage — alive in colors he had longed to memorize.

As the train began to move, their eyes met for a fleeting moment. Your cheeks were already flushed from the cold. The blue scarf — one he had made and given you — was wrapped snugly around your neck. He saw everything. Every perfect detail. His mouth opened to call your name, but the sound died against the cold glass.

You, who had only ever seen colors in blurs since twenty-one because your counterpart had never revealed himself, waved with a smile full of deep dimples, the glimmer of sapphire in his eyes mistaken for the sky miraculously clearing after shedding heavy flakes of snow.

Just like four years ago, another missed encounter — this time suspended between ice and cadence.

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

winner takes all

being slightly older than Satoru gives you certain privileges I gojo x gn!reader - sfw, angst

divider: @/strangergraphics art credit: @_3aem on x word count: 2k

When your world consisted of neon blocks of lego, when socks were officially the worst gift you could ever receive, and when you could hide behind your parents’ legs at the first sign of danger – oftentimes a smiling stranger, maybe an overeager dog – you realised one very important fact. 

One that made Gojo Satoru’s lower lip wobble, and the ground shake with furious clouds of dirt as he stomped away, bested in whatever silly squabble you got into that day. 

You were older than him.

By nothing but a few months, inconsequential really. 

But when time trickles like molasses, and when midnight feels like the edge of the universe, a few months stretches into an eternity of ‘respect your elders’, of one wagging finger from you to shut down his irrelevant protests. 

“Which one do you want?” In your hands, you hold two yoghurt tubs. One in each hand. Vanilla, and strawberry. Fingers splayed slightly, you weigh them like your palms are beam balances – though Satoru knows there’s no calibrating that measuring device to be fair.

He tries anyway. “Strawberry.” He reaches towards your outstretched hands, like if he tries, sheer hope could halt your cruelty in its tracks. 

You tilt your head like you’re actually considering giving it to him. “Hmm…actually, I want the strawberry.” You toss him the vanilla with the grace of a tiny, victorious monarch. 

“You asked me first!” 

“Details, details,” you say. “I’m older. I know more. Case closed.”

And that was that. 

It’s when you pull that well-worn card from your sleeve of tricks a few years later, does he have the perfect comeback. 

Over countless nights of board games, you and Satoru have figured out the strategy to wipe the floor with the other. 

Going first.

Drop your piece before the other can blink, and suddenly, the game bends to your will. 

“I’m going first.” You plop the shiny, silver playing piece on the START square. It hits the thick cardboard with a finality, like the board itself has acknowledged your dominance. 

Satoru squints, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing despite being long accustomed to the sight. “You can’t just say you’re going first.”

“Well, I did.” You fold your arms, smug. “You’ll understand when you’re older.” You pause, savouring in the way his jaw tightens and ticks. “And wiser.”

He shoots back without missing a beat, eyes glittering with triumph. “Old people die first.”

Laughter bubbles in your throat, gaze hazy with the tears that prick your lower lash line, holding your stomach so that it might stop aching as you collapse into giggles. Satoru’s snowy brows knit together, the light of the afternoon sun flitting through his translucent locks – bright, fleeting – as he gears up to strike another one at you. 

“I’m gonna play Monopoly with your gravestone and dance on it when you lose.” Pink dusts his cheeks, betraying the crack in his bravado.

He hides it behind a grin, sharp and reckless, but the faint flush lingers, softening the edges of his threat until it feels less like true malice and more like the clumsy affection of a boy who doesn’t know what else to do with it. 

“Not if I get there first,” you manage, now sprawled on the floor, back meeting floor, as cold air settles on your heated cheeks. 

“You wish.”  

As the years pass, half-hearted shoves become excuses to linger close, to blur the line between platonic and romantic and something more.

Familiar teasing wades into uncharted waters, every laugh leaves you second-guessing. Leaves you confused on whether you want to shut him up just to calm your aching heart, or become his personal jester, just to hear the sound that makes you believe that nothing bad could ever happen. 

On this particular night, Satoru takes home two wins.

He’s grinning, holding a slightly lopsided stack of birthday presents that threatens to teeter with his every step, azure eyes lit with the knowledge that he is loved, and surrounded by those who love him. Though amongst the crowd of well-wishers and party hats, you’re noticeably missing. 

Satoru isn’t worried, and instinct guides him to the kitchen. 

It’s you, plucking freshly rinsed strawberries – still beading with water, drying them with delicate dabs of tissue, and arranging them on his cake with artful precision.

Your face is pinched with concentration, hyperfocused, like if the fruit was placed the wrong way, in the wrong place by a fraction of an inch, his birthday party would be ruined. 

He watches you like his own private show, the way you hover over the cake – utterly yourself – and he can’t help the small, helpless grin that tugs at his lips. 

Every tilt of your wrist, every shift, carries a thoughtfulness and a grace that makes his chest tighten in ways he’s finally ready to confront. 

But you get there first. Of course you do. 

“If you don’t want to be at my party, you could’ve just said so.” He pushes off the door frame, presents long forgotten on the floor as he makes his way over to the counter. Satoru gleams with mirth, eyes as blue and tempting as a clear summer sky. 

“Toru, I’m going to eat this cake by myself if–”

“–Oh, first you abandon me on my birthday. Then you threaten my cake. You really are mean.”

“You have loads of friends waiting for you.” You huff, resuming your drying of the strawberries, meticulous in your method. “Go back to them.”

“None of them are you, though.” His words are soft, pebbles skimming the surface of friendship. His grin softens too, replaced with a tenderness you don’t know how to handle. 

Your muscles tense with longing you didn’t know you could feel. Heartstrings already singing his name, the leitmotif of your life. “You’re funny, Satoru.” 

“Am I?” His grin curves crooked, though his hand moves towards yours with a quiet certainty that leaves you breathless. His free hand tilts your chin, and he leans in – your pull is one that he could never resist. 

But he stops just shy of your lips, restrained by doubt, of unsurety. What if you didn’t want him like this? What if he was making you uncomfortable with his advances?

Those thoughts and feelings are tossed aside as you close the gap, meeting his lips with hesitance of your own.

It’s not perfect. He tastes of sugary soft drink, and it’s mingling with a few of the more…aesthetically challenged strawberries you ate earlier. But his lips are soft, pillowy, against yours, and fire sets your nerves aflame from where you’re connected. From the awkward bump of your noses, to a hand holding yours – a silent plea to stay with him – and the featherlight touch of his fingertips at the small of your back. 

When you pull back, black has swallowed the sapphire that you’re used to looking into. Satoru’s eyes are half-lidded, cheeks red, the tips of his ears more so. 

When he pulls you in again, restraint is abandoned for a confident tug, pulling you off-balance so that you have to brace yourself against his chest. And then his hands travel like he’s mapping your body out, the hand on your chin now tilting your jaw at an angle where he can lap into your mouth, and hear the pretty gasps you let out. 

Between kisses, he asks you a question so idiotic, you laugh in his face. 

“So does this mean you…you like me?”

You blink at him, caught off-guard by the innocence of his query. “Are you serious right now?” you manage between giggles, voice trembling in the best possible way. “After all this? After everything?”

He smirks, unwavering, leaning just enough to steal another kiss that silences you. “Sweetheart, I need you to admit it.” 

You only press yourself closer against him, heart hammering, neurons firing with the pull between teasing and the truth. Lips brush once, twice, each kiss more insistent, like he might drag the answer from your mouth through sly pecks.

You’re not a shy one, though. Never have been. “I’ve loved you since forever.”

And now he’s the one flustered, holding you in his arms like he doesn’t know what to do when his world is in his grasp. For a moment, he just stares, memorising every detail – your expression, the degree of your head, the way you’re worrying your lower lip when he hasn’t responded. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited…” This time, you wrap him in your arms, bury your face in his chest. 

“...to hear you admit that you’re a cougar.” You freeze for a fraction of a second, brain scrambling to decide if you should laugh or smack him. You do both.

“You–!” you splutter, but the corners of your mouth betray you, twitching into a smile that always seems to appear when he’s around. 

He’s laughing too, that infectious, teasing sound, though his hands never loosen from your waist. “You’re impossible,” you whisper, still battering his shoulder with soft swats. 

“And you,” he murmurs, “are my favourite kind of impossible.”

Then, without warning, he captures your lips again. And you melt into him, warm, dizzy, and certain that forever might not be long enough. 

—

Satoru has always been good at granting your wishes. 

Even here, in the midst of chaos – the city burning, reduced to rubble that reminds him of the building blocks of so long ago, tucked into childhood like you were, in his arms. He’s wearing the lucky charm you gave him, the cat pendant bouncing, and smacking into his chest – mottled with fresh, pink scars. 

But as the King of Curses stands before him with the face of his ward, contorted into harsh lines and an arrogance unbefitting of his features, Satoru doesn’t know if he can grant you your last wish.

To come back home to you. 

To where you’re surely stress baking, surely the countertops are crowding with desserts. Icing is definitely melting off the warm goods, and dripping onto already glucose-stained marble, because you were always too impatient to wait for them to cool completely before decorating them. 

Or maybe, this time, you wanted it to be perfect. Maybe this time you’d actually wait, and the buttercream would stand tall and firm, perched upon golden-brown crusts. 

You could give them to Megumi when the kid gets back to you. When he gets Megumi back to you. 

You’d be holding onto the hope that he’d swing the door open – any second now – and that you’d be able to run into his battle-scarred arms. 

The TV would surely be turned off. Instead, 2000s pop songs would be playing – echoing throughout your empty apartment, where his shirt for tomorrow would be hanging in his closet, where his shined shoes lay waiting for him, for his victory lap when he returned. 

That’s how he used to know that you were distraught, when melancholic music was replaced by songs designed to increase the dopamine levels in your brain. For your sake – and maybe for his ghost – he hopes your hands are still busy, coaxing sweetness into existence, shaping warmth and care into something tangible while the world outside crumbles. 

He imagines you standing on your tiptoes, brushing stray crumbs from the counter, humming along to a song you’ve memorised by heart.

He pictures the faint smudge of flour along your forehead, the powder dusted across your apron, and the determined glint in your eye. Satoru thinks of the soft scowl that forms when the ‘ingredients aren’t being nice to me’, and somehow, it steadies him. 

Satoru hears a scream. Or maybe that’s the ‘you’ in his mind, reaching for him as the light in his eyes flickers. His last thought isn’t of pain, it isn’t of fear. It’s you.

The memory tethers him to life. Then, the string pulls taut.

And it snaps. 

And somewhere across the city, perhaps in the quiet of your apartment, perhaps in the music he loved to hear, the world goes on. His world goes on, alive in you. 

Jujutsu society will remember him fallen, stained with a humanity he was never supposed to let bleed through. 

And you?

You’ll remember him as the boy who granted the wish you made when you were both far too young to understand the weight of words thrust into the universe. 

Saline sadness – most of it yours – waters the grass of where he rests. 

Forget-me-nots frame the Earth, the narrow, rectangular, impossibly small hole in the dirt where someone who had always seemed too large for life sleeps. Over the years, you’d planted more blue flowered variants, hoping to capture his vivid gaze, so that his eyes might always meet the sky. 

But the brilliance of the cobalt – or was it cerulean? – of the irises you spent barely half your life looking into, is fading.

His voice, one that used to ghost your ear and snicker with you, distorts into someone unrecognisable. Memories warp, crinkling like an overplayed tape, fuzzy and greying at the edges. 

You sit cross-legged now, beside his tombstone. Your old Monopoly board in front of him.

And you make the first move, like you always do.

Did. 

© 2025 letteremi. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise/copy, feed my work into any AI systems, translate, or repost my work to any platforms 

[multi-fandom-fanfic]

Nanny Dilemma part II preview:

a/n: the story'll have a happy ending, I promise 😌

You’re brushing your teeth in Sukuna’s bathroom, your hair messy from sleep, when your phone buzzes against the sink with a text. You glance at the screen—your mom. Are you at Eriko’s again? We need to talk.

You shove it back down before Sukuna notices, but he’s already leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you. He doesn’t say anything at first, just studies you with that unreadable gaze of his, and suddenly the sound of the faucet feels deafening.

“What’s with you lately?” he asks finally, voice low. Not accusing. Curious, maybe even cautious, but it lands heavy all the same.

You freeze, toothbrush half-rinsed, because what does he mean with you lately?

Sukuna tilts his head, the tattoos on his neck catching the bathroom light. “You get jumpy when your phone goes off. You’ve been lying to your parents, haven’t you?”

The words hit sharper than you expect because he isn’t wrong. You grip the sink tighter, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. “It’s not—” you start, then falter. “They wouldn’t understand.”

His brow furrows, his jaw tightening like you feared it might. “Wouldn’t understand what? That you’re with me?”

You bite your lip, throat dry. You want to tell him everything, the way your friends recoiled, the way your parents pry, the way fear coils in your stomach every time you imagine people whispering about you and him in the same breath. But the words stick.

So you whisper, “I just don’t want to fight with them. Or with anyone. Not when we’re good like this.”

Sukuna studies you for a long moment, his silence heavier than anger. Finally, he rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “You think I don’t know what people say about me?” he mutters, softer now, though it’s a softness edged with hurt. “I’ve lived with that shit my whole life. But you—” his eyes lift to yours, sharp, searching—“I don’t want you hiding me like I’m something you’re ashamed of.”

The lump in your throat burns. “I’m not ashamed of you,” you manage, your voice breaking just enough to betray the truth behind it.

“Then why hide?” he asks simply.

And there it is. The first crack, widening in the quiet between you.