okaywitheverything

[okaywitheverything]

Could you do something with yandere phantom troupe kidnapping a former member who betrayed them? I just found your page and I love your stuff!

Traitor! Reader x Phantom Troupe

Warnings: Mentions of revenge, violence, kidnapped reader, and slight hints and approaches

Author's note: I hope I got it right and that you liked it, have a nice day.

IS THERE REALLY ANYONE WHO LIKES BONOLENOV OR KORTOPI?!, I INCLUDED THEM JUST TO INCLUDE THEM!

Men of the Phantom Troupe

CHROLLO LUCILFER

When you wake up, everything is silent. You’re in a stone room, dimly lit by a soft glow from the desk where he sits, writing in an old book. You don’t need to ask where you are. You already know.

Chrollo closes his book with a sigh and stands up, approaching with slow, measured steps. There’s something devastating in the way he looks at you—not with hatred, but with serene sadness. As if your betrayal had been a story written long before it even happened.

"Y/N… —his voice is soft, almost compassionate—. I won’t say it doesn’t hurt"

He kneels in front of you and takes your hands gently, his thumbs brushing over your skin. His dark eyes search yours, piercing.

"But I forgive you. Because deep down, I believe you didn’t truly understand what you were doing"

The chains around your wrists tighten as you try to pull away, but he doesn’t react. He doesn’t need to. His control over you isn’t physical. It’s mental.

"I will bring you back to us, Y/N. No matter how long it takes"

He says it with certainty, not as a threat, but as an undeniable truth.

FEITAN PORTOR

Pain is the first thing you feel. Something sharp presses against your skin—not deep enough to cut, but just enough to remind you that it’s there. Feitan crouches in front of you, spinning his sword between his fingers with a twisted grin.

"Mmm… disappointing"

His voice is razor-sharp, like a blade sliding over glass. He stands up and circles you, enjoying every little shudder of your body.

"I thought you were strong, Y/N. I thought you weren’t just another filthy traitor"

The last word drips from his lips like venom, sinking into you deeper than any wound. Suddenly, his sword moves, slicing off a small lock of your hair, letting it fall into your lap.

"Does it hurt?" he murmurs, amused.

He’s not talking about his blade. He’s talking about your betrayal, about the fact that he is here and you are completely at his mercy.

"I will make you regret it. But most of all… I’ll make you beg to stay"

PHINKS MAGCUB

The sound of a door slamming shut makes you jump. Phinks stands before you, fists clenched, his expression dark with rage. At first, there are no words—just his heavy breathing filling the space.

"How could you do this?"

His voice is rough, almost broken. In the blink of an eye, he lunges at you, grabbing your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

"I protected you! I took care of you! —he shouts, his jaw tense—. Tell me what the hell was going through your head!"

But no excuse you offer will ever be enough. To him, what you did is unforgivable… but at the same time, he can’t let you go.

"Don’t do this to me again, Y/N…" his voice drops, shaking slightly "I don’t want to have to lock you up"

And yet, you know he will. Because losing you is something he won’t allow.

SHALNARK RYUSEI

"You know… I never thought we’d end up like this"

His voice is light, casual, as if he were chatting about the weather. But there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t match his relaxed smile.

When you open your eyes, you see him sitting in front of you, elbows resting on his knees, his face propped up in one hand. He’s smiling, but there’s no warmth in it. Not now.

"It kind of hurts, you know?" he chuckles softly, but there’s no real joy in the sound "Well… more than kind of. You broke my heart, Y/N"

His words are sweet, almost playful, but there’s tension behind them. Something sharp and dangerous in the way his smile never wavers.

You try to move, and that’s when you realize—your limbs won’t respond properly. They’re numb, weak.

Shalnark tilts his head as he watches your reaction and lifts his hand, showing you the small remote he’s holding with eerie ease.

"Oh, that" he twirls the device between his fingers, casual and effortless "Don’t worry, I didn’t put you in automatic mode. I still want this to be fun"

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know what’s worse—the veiled threat in his words or the fact that he genuinely seems to be enjoying this.

"You know what bothers me the most?" he sighs, as if disappointed by something trivial "I really loved you"

He pauses for a moment, then lets out a soft laugh, as if amused by his own words.

"No, wait…" he leans in slightly, his eyes locked onto yours "I still love you"

His words settle over you like a heavy weight. There’s something in his gaze, in his tone, that makes you realize immediately—

This isn’t just a confession.

It’s a sentence.

"If you had told me something was wrong, I would have fixed it" his voice remains sweet, but his smile widens just a little, revealing something far more dangerous "If you wanted more, I would’ve given it to you. If you wanted to leave…"

He pauses, watching you closely, studying every flicker of emotion in your face before whispering,

"I would’ve locked you up sooner"

He chuckles again, as if it were just a joke. But you both know it isn’t.

His hand moves to your cheek, his fingers tracing your skin with a tenderness that makes your stomach twist.

"Tell me, what can I do to make you stay?"

His other hand tightens around yours, just enough to make it clear that he won’t let go.

"Because I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N" his voice is a plea and a warning all at once "But I can’t let you go. Not again"

He holds you firmly, as if afraid you might disappear at any moment. His desperation is palpable, but that doesn’t mean he’ll give you a choice.

"We can make this work" he leans in even closer, his lips barely brushing against your ear "If you love me, forget everything else. Just tell me you love me"

For a moment, his grip loosens. Just a little. Just enough to make you believe you have a choice.

But you know the truth.

Shalnark is manipulative. He’s smart. And if he has to twist reality itself to make you his again, he won’t hesitate.

Because Shalnark’s love is warm, consuming, addictive…

And utterly inescapable.

NOBUNAGA HAZAMA

Nobunaga doesn’t hit you or yell. Not at first. He just sits across from you, one hand resting on the hilt of his katana, the other on his knee, watching you intensely.

"Tell me it was a mistake"

His voice is low, almost pleading.

"Tell me someone manipulated you"

But when you don’t answer, his jaw clenches, and his patience shatters. In an instant, he grabs your shoulders and shakes you.

"Tell me it wasn’t real, Y/N!"

Fear grips your chest as you see the desperation in his eyes. Nobunaga cannot accept the truth. And if he won’t accept it…

"Don’t make me kill you… because if you’re not mine, you can’t be anyone else’s"

FRANKLIN BORDEAU

Franklin doesn’t hit you. He doesn’t yell. His punishment is isolation.

"I thought you were smarter than this"

His voice is calm, unreadable. He turns away, walking toward the door.

"I’ll leave you here for a while. So you can think. So you remember what it means to be with us… and what it means to be alone"

ILLUMI ZOLDYCK

Illumi doesn’t react violently. He doesn’t raise his voice. He just stands there, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes piercing through you like daggers.

"You disappointed me, Y/N"

His tone is as flat as ever, but there’s something chilling about the way he says it. Like a judge sentencing someone to death.

"Did you really believe I wouldn’t find you? That I would simply… let you go?"

You try to move, but your body refuses to obey. And then you realize—his needles are already in place.

"You should be grateful. I could have killed you for this"

He tilts his head, studying your face.

"But instead… I will fix you"

He steps closer, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You won’t make this mistake again, Y/N. Not when you belong to me"

HISOKA MORROW

The moment you open your eyes, Hisoka’s grin is the first thing you see. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, looking at you as if you were a delicious little prize wrapped just for him.

"Oh, Y/N~" his voice is silky, teasing "Did you really think you could betray me and just walk away?"

His fingers trail down your cheek, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver through your spine.

"I have to admit… I’m a little turned on."

His laughter is lighthearted, almost affectionate, but there’s something predatory beneath it. Something dangerous.

"You running away only makes the chase more fun, after all"

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear.

"But the game is over, love. And now, I get to play with you as much as I want"

The worst part? You don’t know if he means torture… or something else entirely.

BONOLENOV NDONGO

Bonolenov whispers in his native tongue, drawing blood symbols on the floor.

"Your betrayal… will not go unpunished"

He watches you with eerie serenity.

"I will return you to the clan. One way or another"

KORTOPI

Every door leads to the same place. Every window shows a replica of reality.

Women of the Phantom Troupe

MACHI KOMACHINE

Machi doesn’t say anything when she sees you. She simply binds you with her Nen threads and sits quietly, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You try to speak, to explain, but her threads tighten immediately, cutting off your words.

"I don’t want to hear it"

Her voice is cold, emotionless. And yet, her eyes… there’s something there. Something like pain she refuses to acknowledge.

"You’re not leaving again."

She loosens her threads just enough to lean in, wrapping her arms around you in a way that is both possessive and heartbreakingly tender.

"I won’t let you"

Pakunoda

Pakunoda doesn’t scream. She doesn’t threaten. She doesn’t need to.

Instead, she sits beside you, crossing her legs, and looks at you with those sharp golden eyes that seem to see right through you.

"I want you to tell me why"

Her voice is calm. Too calm.

"Why would you betray us?"

When you try to answer, her hand gently cups your chin, forcing you to look at her.

"No lies. I’ll know"

Her fingers press against your forehead, and suddenly, memories flood your mind—not just yours, but hers. The way she had trusted you. The moments when she defended you to the others. The subtle warmth she had shown you, even when she didn’t need to.

"See, Y/N? You were one of us"

Her lips curve into something almost… sad.

"And now, you’ve broken something that can’t be fixed"

She stands up, walking to the door.

"I should kill you. But I won’t"

She glances back over her shoulder, eyes heavy with something unreadable.

"Instead, I’ll make sure you never forget what you lost"

The door closes behind her, and you realize—this isn’t mercy. This is a slow, suffocating punishment. One where she makes sure you drown in the weight of your own regret.

Shizuku

When you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is the soft rustling of paper. You blink, trying to clear your mind, until you see her: Shizuku, calmly sitting in front of you, flipping through a book as if nothing in the world could bother her.

"You're awake"

There’s no excitement in her voice, but at least she’s looking at you now.

You try to move and realize you’re tied up. A chill runs down your spine.

"Oh, right…" she murmurs, as if she had just now remembered you were her prisoner "Chrollo said we couldn’t kill you. So I brought you here"

She adjusts her glasses with a single finger and keeps staring at you, her expression… peaceful. As if she’s genuinely happy to see you like this.

"I’m glad. I didn’t want you to leave"

Her tone is simple, but there’s something unsettling about the way she says it. As if capturing you wasn’t a punishment, just a simple correction to the situation. As if fate had simply fixed your mistake of trying to escape.

"If you had just stayed with me from the beginning…" she lifts Deme-chan, idly stroking it "You wouldn’t have had to go through all this"

She leans in slightly, a faint smile on her lips.

"You know… I don’t understand a lot of things. But I know I love you"

Her words are soft, but her gaze is intense.

"And if I love you… that means you’re mine, right?"

She runs a finger along your cheek with a tenderness that makes the air feel heavy.

"If you try to leave again…"

She pauses, as if thinking about how to finish the sentence. But then, she just shrugs.

"Well, it doesn’t matter. You won’t"

Because in her mind, it’s already decided. There’s no other possibility. You’ve been caught, and in her innocently twisted logic, that means this is where you belong.

With her. Forever.

[okaywitheverything]

Painkillers

Part three of the Soulmate AU for Chrollo! Find the first two parts in My Masterlist!

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” You tentatively asked, watching the needle and thread moving ever closer to the wound. “I just mean… diy is good but I don’t want to make it worse, you know.”

Chrollo didn’t even falter, piercing your skin without looking up, though his eyes crinkled in amusement. “I’ve done this more times than I can count. Don’t worry.”

It didn’t hurt, your entire body filled with enough pain killers for you to forget about the wound all together. You’d fallen while holding some glass, and a large piece had etched itself in your shoulder, thankfully missing everything vital. Your yell of surprise and pain had summoned your kidnapper, who to his credit, had acted quite efficiently.

He had pulled out the glass, calmed you down and stopped the bleeding almost in the same breath. The pain had been harsh before the painkillers, and not accustomed to it, you’d openly cried, but he’d been so calm and comforting that you pushed through. 

When Chrollo had stood up to grab a nearby medkit, you’d been almost sad to see him leave.

When he got back you did not ask where he’d gotten the painkillers, assuming the worst by default. You had swallowed the ones he gave to you, when he suddenly pulled out needle and thread, calmly insisting the wound needed to be stitched.

You wanted to continue your appeal for a visit to a real doctor, but the dark haired man actually shushed you, placing his finger on your lips before starting to stitch the wound. He worked quite fast, pulling the thread through completely and closing the wound in a measly minute.

“See? Not too bad, right?” You turned your head toward the wound, and though most of it would only be visible with a mirror, the part you could see looked tightly and neatly stitched up. At the very least, it wasn’t bleeding anymore. “I have a friend who taught me.”

“You have friends?” You spoke, realizing as soon as you said it how hurtful it sounded. “I, uh, did not mean it like that. I just assumed since, you know… kidnappers are often lone wolves and all that… Sorry.”

Keep reading

[okaywitheverything]

I'd love to see more of chrollo with the librarian soulmate au! if your up to writing more of it of course

I had been wanting to do a part two for a while haha

The sight of stretched out landscapes was extraordinary, fields of green and blue brimming with life, creating a view that truly filled any human being with awe. You had only seen this view in pictures, never having been in a high enough altitude to truly witness it like this.

Your hands pressed down on the window, the heat of your skin immediately melting the foggy layer on the glass. You were sure your eyes were wide open, taking in everything.

While you’d traveled before, somehow an airship had never been part of it, so when the buzzing of the engine had awoken you, you’d only been able to gaze outside in wonder.

Waking up alone in a locked cabin was scary, certainly considering the rather terrifying events that had lead up to this, but was hard to immediately succumb to fear when you’d rarely awoken feeling so well-rested, and had to deal with the excitement of being in an airship.

Nevertheless, the entire situation with Chrollo, as he had introduced himself as, still made no sense. He had offered to drive you home from the library, but as soon as you noticed him going the wrong direction, he had drugged you, saying all kinds of crazy things. The memory felt fuzzy, as if your mind was filled with cotton, which was probably a side-effect of the drug.

He had said something about ‘doing this in the name of love’, which you found ridiculous. Who did he love that needing to kidnap you would win their favor? You also couldn’t really think of anything you would be able to help him with, so the entire notion felt odd to you.

A small voice in your head murmured a different reason for his phrasing, but you pushed it down before it could even manifest.

You looked around, but besides the blanket you had when you woke up, there was nothing else in the cabin. The door had no window to break, and there were no loose objects anywhere. Your pockets had been emptied.

Safe to say, there was little for you to do but wait.

The soft features of the man that had kidnapped you flashed in your mind, making you furrow your brows. This situation was terrifying, but considering his kind and calm attitude in the library all that time, you couldn’t picture him as a serial killer. He was probably mentally ill and needed professional help, and you hoped you could contact the authorities as soon as possible and let him receive that help.

Calming yourself by looking at the view and staying optimistic, you didn’t even notice the soft click of the lock, the cabin door slowly opening.

“Enjoying the view?”

You shocked up, twirled around and stood face to face with the man In question. He seemed calm and was carrying a tray of food, probably intended for you. Noticing he wasn’t acting aggressively, you meekly shrugged, nervously fiddling with your hands.

“I’ve never flown before.” You said, sitting down at the right side of the cabin. You tried to appear relaxed, but it was a bit hard when Chrollo followed every movement you made with keen eyes, closing the door behind him and sitting down opposite of you.

“I see.” He said, putting the tray on the small table in between the two of you. The food he had brought contained a bowl of soup, a small loaf of bread, some fruit yoghurt and a glass of water. You hadn’t realized your hunger till now but felt your stomach growl at the sight. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uhm… I guess.” You said, glancing outside the window. “Can I ask you where we are going?”

“Yorknew.” Chrollo said, pushing the tray closer to you. “I have some business there. You can start eating, I brought it for a reason.”

Yorknew was halfway across the country, about fifteen-hours of travel. You’d been there once before, by train, but hadn’t been expecting to see the city ever again, certainly not in circumstances like these.

“Oh.” You awkwardly said, reaching out for the bowl of soup. “T-this isn’t drugged again right?”

It was meant as a joke, but with you feeling as uncomfortable as you did, it had come out rather serious. He chuckled nonetheless and shook his head. Escaping the awkward interaction, you focused on eating, taking a few spoon-fulls of the soup.

“You’re being quite calm about all this.” He suddenly said, crossing his legs as he watched you eat. “I had expected you to be a bit more unruly, I guess?”

You swallowed some soup. “I honestly think I’m in too much panic to really react to anything right now.”

“Ah. Then your unruliness is only being postponed.” He smiled, leaning back in his seat, not lifting his eyes off you. “But if it makes it any easier, I promise not to hurt you.”

Your next words flew out before you could stop them. “Like you promised to drive me home?”

Chrollo’s expression didn’t change, calming you down somewhat. Your plan was to play along and alert the authorities as soon as possible. Provoking him didn’t serve to any purpose, only endangering you right now.

“That might have been a small lie, yes.” He immediately admitted, not at all seeming guilty by the confession. “But if you still feel so strongly about your home in a few months, I’ll be sure to take you back for a while.”

Putting down the empty bowl, you grabbed the glass of water, taking occasional sips.

“In the car you said something before I passed out, saying you were kidnapping me in the name of love?” You started, very hesitant in your choice of words. “Why would kidnapping me help you in any way with that? Why would the one you love need me?”

Your words had been fumbled, but you hoped the main message got through.

Chrollo had been in the middle of removing the bandana from his forehead, but froze as soon as you finished speaking. Silently finishing his motion, you could suddenly see a forehead tattoo you hadn’t seen before, an intricate symbol that you would probably have searched up in the library databases if you’d seen it before any of this.

Laying down the fabric, he took a deep breath, for the first time looking a bit taken off guard.

You hadn’t said something dumb, had you?

“Oh dear.” He said, letting out a short laugh at your frowning expression. “Can I ask you something, y/n?”

Hesitating, you nodded.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Choking on the water, you put down the glass. When you stopped coughing, Chrollo still looking patient at you to answer him, though he didn’t seem all too shocked with the shake of your head. “I see.”

“Why do you want to know that?” You said, your face growing redder by the second.

“Because you’re my soulmate.” He stated matter-of-factly. “It’s the entire reason for bringing you along.”

“Oh.” You said. “You also asked me about something like that last week. Was.. that the same thing?”

He nodded. “It was.”

You felt too curious not to ask. “How do you know?”

Chrollo lifted his left hand and lifted only his ring finger. You didn’t know what he meant by the gesture. “There is a red thread between us. You can’t see it.”

“Ah… so like the red string of fate.”

“Exactly.”

You already had some suspicions on him being mentally ill, and what he was currently saying didn’t help his case. You tried to ignore the warmth the word ‘soulmate’ had lit within you and decided to focus back on your objective: thinking of what to say next. Trying to think of something turned out to be useless, as he decided to fill the silence himself.

He started some small-talk, questions on how you had started working in the library, what you did there and what you wanted to do later. You didn’t know how smart it was to divulge all this information to the person that kidnapped you, but you also couldn’t think of anything he could use it for. He already knew where you lived, your name, and he had your phone.

Stories about your wish to someday become an author were probably not that important in comparison.

You tried to ask some questions back, as was polite, but he deflected all of them. You asked where he was from, or what his business in Yorknew was, and he merely responded with some philosophical question on what ‘home’ and ‘work’ really meant, trying to tempt you in answering your own questions.

After an hour of a quite one-sided conversation, you tried your shot.

“Have you… have you told anyone you were going to kidnap me?” You hated the way it sounded and cursed yourself for your word choice. In your mind, it had sounded so subtle and inconspicuous.

“I have,” He said to your surprise. “but I wouldn’t count on any of their help.”

“No, I wasn’t counting on anything like that.” You said, and he tilted his head at your answer, clearly having expected something else. “I was merely wondering… like, it isn’t exactly healthy to kidnap someone, so I was just wondering if you had anyone you could talk to? I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but I had a friend who also had delusions so-“

While you were speaking Chrollo rubbed his eyes, exhaling deeply.

“Y/n.”

You stopped your rant. “Ah.. yes?”

“If I show you something you will consider impossible, will you stop insinuating I need to see a psychologist?”

Kind of curious, you nodded.

Chrollo held his hand out, and out of nowhere, a book appeared. You gasped as the pages flew open without any incentive on his end. Holding his thumb on the spine, the book stopped turning pages. As if that was the signal, a small flower bloomed in the black-haired mans other hand. As soon as it had grown fully, he picked it up beneath his fingers.

Extending his hand, he placed the small yellow flower in your hand.

“This was without a doubt, the most useless thing I’ve ever used my abilities for.” He laughingly said at your confused and slightly wide-eyed expression.

“I… kind of believe you now, though.” You said, your fingers tentatively touching the flower. “Though even if you aren’t lying about that entire ‘soulmate’ thing, it still isn’t okay to kidnap.”

“I guess I’ll have to live with that.” Chrollo said a bit teasingly, closing the book in his hands. The flower immediately disappeared.

“What is that though? Is it magic?” You excitedly started to question. “Is it like an inborn ability?”

“I’ll explain all that later, but now you really need to continue eating. We’ll land in fifteen minutes, and we won’t stop for another four hours.”

“Oh. Okay.” You picked up the fruit yoghurt and leaned back to eat it.

As he said, the airship landed approximately fifteen minutes later, though you didn’t really have a way to tell time. You had expected him to try and sneak out, but he walked out with the confidence of someone who had done this before. He had re-done the bandana, and the two of you walked out of the airport without even one stop. Chrollo apparently had gotten your passport as well, and he made it very clear that asking for help would end up badly.

“I’ll kill anyone you tell.” He had said, and though it had been said with the smile he had been wearing the entire time, you didn’t dare endanger the lives of random passer-by’s.

He had led you toward a car that had been parked nearby, similar to the one he had back at the library. In relative silence, you listened to the radio, and he drove the two of you to Yorknew, which was still a ways off. You wondered why he hadn’t taken a direct flight toward the city, but you were sure he wouldn’t answer something like that.

As soon as the city neared, the high sky-scrapers filling up the view and the sun already lowering, you started feeling a bit uneasy. The questions of where he would take you and what would happen then started ringing through your mind, and the more you got closer to his destination, the more the anxiety build up.

Chrollo suddenly pulled into a residential street, taking the first parking spot available.

“We’re here.”

You didn’t respond, only wrapping the sleeves of your coat around your hands. He stepped out of the car, opening your door, motioning for you to get out. You hesitated but left the relatively safe feeling vehicle for the dark street only lit up by the streetlamps.

Moving toward one of the houses, he grabbed a key out of his pockets and opened the door. As he opened it, he let you in first, before going in himself and closing the door. As soon as the door closed you saw a keypad, which Chrollo typed some quick numbers in.

“There are quite a few alarms here, please stay here while I take care of them.”

‘Very subtle way of informing me.’ You thought. The inside of the house was breathtaking, dark red wooden floors with soft white walls, all filled to the brim with art. It was an old house, or at least designed to look authentic and old.

After a minute, the dark-haired man returned. “I’m done. Do you want to look around or do you want to sleep?”

You felt exhausted, yet you were sure if you laid down right now you would lay awake for hours, trying to sort everything that happened today. Nevertheless, looking around was another thing that would certainly fill you with anxiety, and laying down on some soft mattress seemed nicer.

“I think I’d like to go to sleep.”

He smiled and motioned for you to follow, which you did.

Going up the stairs, he led you to a big bedroom with a king-sized bed. “I still need to call some people, so make yourself comfortable.”

Not really listening, you nodded and entered the room.

As soon as the door closed, you exhaled heavily, feeling all your nerves suddenly release in one big wave. You undid your coat and stripped till you just had a tank-top and underwear on. A small bathroom was connected to the room, so you looked around and tried to find a new toothbrush to use, which was surprisingly easy as an unopened pack laid on the sink.

After brushing your teeth and going to the toilet, you finally tried to lay down in the large bed. It was a nice bed, but so different from your own you found it hard to fall asleep, even being as exhausted as you were. The sounds were different, the feel of the sheets was different, the pillow was different.

Not to mention the thoughts that swirled around your mind, trying to make sense of today.

You were laying with your eyes closed, just trying to fall asleep, when a few hours later, the door opened. You didn’t open your eyes, hoping he’d just go away again. Instead, you heard the unmistakable sound of someone undressing, and you could nearly feel your heart explode as you felt the sheets being lifted from the other side of the bed.

Was he sleeping next to you?!

“You don’t have to pretend to be asleep.” He softly said, sighing as he eased into the bed. You hoped he would stay on his side, but that hope was quickly squandered as you felt him come closer. “I’m sure this is a lot to take in.”

Feeling a mixture of mortification and embarrassment, you felt his arm sneak around your middle as he pressed against you.

You tried to wriggle away a bit as you felt yourself tense up completely, but you merely felt him smile against your hair in the process.

“You’ve never had a boyfriend, did I remember that correctly?” He asked, though you both knew he remembered correctly. Nevertheless, you nodded, hoping he would take your inexperience as a reason to back off a bit.

He didn’t, his arm still hooked tightly around your waist, and your back flush against his chest.

“Hope you don’t mind me being your first.”

[okaywitheverything]

Okay that soulmate AU was bomb af. Could you do one with Chrollo? Soft yandere?

gotchu fam

insinuated to be red thread of fate au, but reader can’t see this due to no nen.

You mentally made a note for yourself to tell the janitor to oil the wheels on the cart. The cart was filled to the brim with books, and every time you had to turn, the front right wheel loudly protested the action. It wasn’t too loud, but in a library, silence was preferred, and you didn’t want to be seen breaking the very rules you enforced on the people visiting.

It was a busy afternoon, people of every walk of life walking about the rather large library. Most of the visitors today were students, but you also noticed some families with young children ready to pick out some easy books and other people browsing the stands. There was some small murmur among the people, parents asking their children what they wanted to read next or people asking questions to your colleagues, but it was quiet enough.

Your entire cart was filled with returned novels, most of them historical dramas. A new romance show had swept the nation and suddenly every man, woman, and child wanted to read medieval and renaissance romance books, though you doubted many of them actually finished reading considering the quick return of all of them.

Pushing your cart further, you asked a few people to part in order for you to pass, eventually reaching the dreaded romance novel section. You didn’t dislike this part of the job, but this section was notorious for people putting books in the wrong order.

You got to work, putting one book in after the other, and after ten minutes you had already finished putting away nearly half of the contents of the cart.

It was at this time that you noticed through the bookcase some new visitors sitting at a table nearby, a man wearing a long black fur-lined coat and his hair slicked back, and a pink-haired woman simply wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a vest.

They were sitting casually, and you wouldn’t have even noticed them if they hadn’t been speaking in a normal tone of voice. You couldn’t understand what they were saying but considering the number of people surrounding them trying to work, they were speaking a bit too loudly. This part was actually your least favorite, as you really didn’t like having to confront people all the time. Whenever it was a calm day, you would ignore such situations, but the surrounding people struggling to work forced you to actually do your job.

Leaning around the bookcase, you tried to make eye contact with either of them, which they caught on surprisingly quick. The woman first made eye contact back, her eyes narrowing slightly. The man was quick to follow, though as soon as he made eye contact with you, his eyes blew wide open with something akin to surprise.

You lifted your fingers to your lips, and to your delight, the woman made a curt nod.

Smiling, you lowered your hands, intending to get back to work, though the man was still staring straight at you. Maybe he recognized you from somewhere, though you could swear for a fact that you didn’t go to school with him, he was handsome enough that you would’ve remembered him.

As you turned back to the cart, you heard them continue their conversation in a lower volume, though the woman made a loud sound of surprise at something the man had said. Glancing through the bookcase, you wondered if you needed to step in again. Luckily for you, besides that outburst, they continued to speak through hushed whispers.

Wondering what all that was about, you continued emptying the cart, a sigh escaping you as you filled out the last one. Stepping back, your eyes scanned the shelves, seeing if everything was in the right place. You only had to move a few books to their rightful place before you were really done.

The only thing you had left to do was gather some books people had reserved, placing them behind the counter for pick-up. After that, it was time to go home and spend the rest of the night reading and drinking tea. A bright smile formed on your face as you imagined the space on the couch you’d occupy, a soft blanket covering you and a steaming cup of tea in your hand.

Your eyes glanced at the man and woman, though to your surprise they had left. You hadn’t even noticed them leaving, which confused you a bit. But well, you couldn’t keep an eye on everything, so you probably just didn’t pay attention for a while.

Seeing the finish line in sight, you grabbed the cart with a renewed vigor, pushing it forward.

You didn’t see the pair the rest of your shift, or the day after. It wasn’t for another week that you actually saw the man again, sitting in one of the reading corners with some philosophical book. His eyes followed you as soon as you came close, and a few times he’d asked you trivial questions like where the next volume or an earlier edition of a book was.

You hadn’t seen him today, which was both good and bad. You liked it when he was there, as he was always polite and quiet after the first incident. He smiled at you, and sometimes when the entire library was empty he would ask you questions and start conversations. You never really had enough time to really get into one with him, your co-workers always keeping an eye on slacking employees, but there was one small conversation that still made your heart bump in your chest.

The library had been nearly desolate at that time, and he was among the only ones still reading. You’d passed him while fixing some issue with the computers and he’d chuckled and initiated a conversation, seeing your despair with the program. Seeing as it was so slow that day, you’d responded with a smile and asked what he’d been reading all day.

It was something rather romantic, something you hadn’t deemed him the type for. When you voiced this opinion, he’d laughed and agreed with you. You were close to leaving again, when he suddenly asked you something, smiling softly at the cover of the book he was holding.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

When you had responded that you didn’t really believe in such things, he’d closed his eyes, mulling your answer over. After that response, he seemed to be keen on returning to his reading, so you told him goodbye and returned to your work.  In your head you wondered if you had said something wrong, wondering what he had wanted you to say instead. It was a bit of a stupid thing to ponder about, but the small crush you were developing made you think of the stupidest things.

Those conversations didn’t happen often though, and weeks passed with few words and lots of secret glances sent both ways.

Right now you were done with your shift, ready to make some quick dinner at home and relax the rest of the night. Wondering if you needed to stop by the grocery store before going home, you walked toward your car. It was pretty dark outside already, winter setting in too early for your tastes. When you reached your car and stepped inside, you put the key in the ignition. Twisting it around, pressing the clutch down, you expected the familiar rumble, yet no noise came out.

Your brows furrowing, you tried again and again, only for the same result to happen. Cursing, you grabbed your bag, stepping outside your car. You’d just closed the library, so no one there would be able to help you.

Throwing the hood of the car up, you wondered why you even bothered when the engine came in sight. You had little to no expertise with these things, not to mention the darkness obscuring the view. The only upside you could think off of doing this was that you could rule out the car exploding. There was no smoke, and you didn’t see fluids in places where fluids shouldn’t be.

Mentally kicking yourself, you didn’t even notice someone walking up to you until he stood right beside you.

“Are you having difficulties?” A voice quipped beside you, making you nearly yell out. Noticing it was your favorite visitor calmed you down instantly, though you still sent him an incredulous look.

“Please don’t sneak up on me.”

His smile didn’t falter in the slightest, his hands in his pockets. “I apologize, I thought you noticed me earlier. Do you need a ride home?”

Part of you was excited, this was the perfect opportunity to get to know him and maybe even learn his name, but another part of you was a bit skeptic. You could like him all you wanted, but there was no way a guy like him would even give you the time of day in that way. It was also late, and he’d shown up out of nowhere, even though the library had been closed for an hour already.

“No thanks, I’ll call someone.” Making up your mind, you sent him an apologetic smile. “Thank you for the offer though, I appreciate it.”

“Do you mind if I wait till you're picked up then? Wouldn’t want to leave you alone in the dark here.”

“Sure, thanks.”

Opening your bag, you scoured it for your phone, only to be unable to find it. You opened the car door, scanning the inside of the door and the passenger seat, only to find nothing. Checking your pockets again, even though you knew your phone wasn’t in there, you finally came to terms with the fact that you couldn’t find your phone.

“Ah, I seem to have left my phone inside.” You stated in a deadpan voice. The alarm was fully active now, and turning it off without any real incentive would only cause you trouble at work. You could already hear the sneer of your manager, making comments on your ‘addiction to electronics’.

With a slightly apologetic expression you turned to your now knight in shining armor.

“I really apologize, but do you have a phone I could borrow?”

“I’m afraid not.” He replied, a quasi-worried expression on his face. “But as I initially said, I can take you home.”

Not feeling like waiting outside for hours in this cold, or walking all the way home, you nodded and thanked him profusely. He waved off the gratitude, leading you with him to his car, which made you double-check when he approached it. You didn’t know a lot about cars, as stated before, but you weren’t blind, and this was a very nice car.

Sitting in the passenger seat, you did your best to make yourself as small as possible, feeling as if you were ruining the nice leather seat just by sitting in it. The man chuckled slightly, turning the ignition on. As he drove off the parking lot and you told him the address, you realized you didn’t even know his name.

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You began. “Though you might have read that off my id clip already.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes glanced over you before returning to the road. After taking another turn, he spoke.

“My name is Chrollo.” He replied. “And yes, I was aware of your name.”

The thought that he had paid attention to such small things made your heart bump slightly in your chest, and you tried to secretly glance at him. For a while, a comfortable silence sat between you. The scenery of traffic and suburbia flashed past you, and as he took the same route you usually did, you wondered if he also lived in the area.

“Not many people know this short-cut.” You said as the car slowed down in front of a stoplight. “You must come here often.”

“I am often in the neighborhood, yes.” If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve said that he was laughing at you, a slight mirth present in his voice. You didn’t want to pry, however, he was already nice enough to take you home. You didn’t want to be rude.

The first wrong turn you merely thought of as him taking another route, but when he went a whole different direction you asked aloud if he actually knew where he was going in the most polite way you could think of. He merely smiled at you, making a teasing comment about how he was surprised you didn’t know this shortcut. A few more minutes you remained silent, but when you realized he was going straight to the highway, you intervened.

“Not to be rude, but I really think you’re going the wrong way.” You said, a bit more pressing than the last comment you made. “My house is on the other side of this area.”

“I know.”

It only took those two words for your blood to freeze over.

“Are you making a detour?” You asked, voice a bit more shaken. “Can you tell me where you’re going?”

His hand went over you, toward the glove box, opening it. To your horror, you saw a needle lying right in the middle of the compartment, with cap and all. Before you found the chance to respond or even blink, you realized he'd already stuck the needle in your arm, pushing in the fluids.

“Wh-a, huh-“ You barely managed to react as the sting of the needle shifted into a loss of feeling in your entire arm, spreading rapidly to your other limbs. Even your head started to feel heavy, your eyelids fluttering.

Despite it all, you didn’t panic, instead you felt extremely let down. You didn’t know what you’d expected from him, but the prospects you associated with drugging were not on that list. Every sweet glance, small smile and witty comment he’d sent you in the library all flashing in front of your eyes as you met his now darker gaze. 

He didn’t really show any reaction to his actions, but he held up his hand for you to see, though the red thread spanning between his ring finger and yours wasn’t visible to you, his eyes still focused on the road.

“You might not understand it now, but I am doing this out of love.”

Those were the last words you heard before everything went black.

[okaywitheverything]

But then again, tears are the allure of the gentler sex.

this line! fukcing chills man😭 so amazingly written💫

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility and pregnancy

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: The Bunker

Your ankle feels better after a little over a week.

The one initially against you staying has been giving you medical check-ups every day—something about wasteland toxins and underlying, possible contagious sicknesses he’d like to keep a weathered eye out for. 

You hadn’t refused. After all, such precautions were only warranted.

When you first encountered them in the wasteland, they were both wearing hazmat suits and gas masks. And though you had already been put through the standard disinfection and the basic check—eyes, teeth, and tongue—before they’d even let you in, you can’t blame them for taking extra measures—no matter how meticulous the check-ups have been since, comprising of endless spit, blood, and urine samples.

Somehow, you actually appreciated the thoroughness. It was just one more thing that reminded you of the past. The way he sat there, behind the desk like a doctor, and you opposite, like a patient, waiting for your results.

You’d gotten more or less used to it now, so it didn’t feel as awkward anymore. And, if you were to say so yourself, you think he’s even warmed up to you a little bit too.

“You’re all clear. No detectable toxins,” he states after a moment, mulling over the data, more or less the same outcome he’d come to for the last four or so days. He scribbled a few things into the file he’d been conducting, a focused furrow between his brows as he worked. You felt inclined to inquire about what exactly he’d been jotting down all these days of running tests but then decided against it—explaining things to you would probably only vex him. He was a man of as few words as possible, after all.

He sighs, then informs, “We can stop checking every day now.”

“Really?” you light up—feeling excited for some reason. Suppose you took it as a sign of improvement even without knowing entirely what any of it actually meant. In any case, lesser checks must be good, right?

“Yeah. You’re way healthier, thanks to all our produce and not consuming any of that wasteland trash.” He pulled a grimace before his face settled back into that constant look of dour solemnity. “Blood pressure, heart rate, vitals—everything looks good.”

It almost seems like such a silly thing to even bother caring about. Only a few weeks ago, you hadn’t cared for any such thing as health as long as it meant you weren’t starving or freezing—and here you are, celebrating such a privileged thing as blood pressure.

You sniffle, can’t help yourself, balled fists quivering in your lap as a few tears start to drop, “Thank you—truly. I’d have died if it weren’t for the two of you.”

He must think you’re ridiculous, too, crying over something so small. You wipe your eyes, only to notice him holding out a tissue for you. You can only laugh at yourself while accepting it.

“You’ll help me in the greenhouse today since your ankle is all better,” he states while getting up.

You spring to your feet, too. This would be the first time you’d been asked to help out. “What about—”

“He’s busy doing inventory,” he answers before you get the question out. “We’ll have to change a few things since you’re staying.”

This stills you, breath caught in your throat. You look at him wide-eyed, scared you’d heard him wrong. Voice weak as if scared to ask, “I’m staying?”

“Tch—” It’s his turn to chuckle, though he does so much differently from you—mockingly, a way he often does at both your and the other's expense. Though, you’d taken to find it rather endearing. He gives you a look—it’s very almost soft. “You didn’t think we’d waste our resources on something we planned on chucking back out again, did you?”

A tug pulls your wobbly lips back into a smile. “I guess that would be silly...” you sniffle again. “Still, thank you.”

This time, as you say it, you rush to hug him—tightly, with both your arms wrapped around his tough midsection and your head tucked against his broad chest.

It’s him who falls still now—stunted by the action and left both speechless and frozen in place. His arms hover mid-air, unsure of where to rest, before slowly lowering to settle atop your narrow shoulders—so much smaller in comparison. It’s crazy to think you’d endured out in the wasteland for so long.

He’s sure you’ve done things in order to stay alive you’re not at all proud of. Still, your survival is no less than a miracle.

He clears his throat. “Let’s hurry up,” He dismisses, then proceeds to nudge you off as if the hug was unwanted, but even you can spot the blush dusting his cheeks as he looks away with another grumble, “We’re making dinner before he’s done.”

The smile on your face is a sight for sore eyes, he thinks. You didn’t smile like that a week ago.

“Yes, sir.” You salute, following him in stride.

You’d said it innocently enough, but by God, if only you knew how it takes everything in him not to bend you over the medical desk right then and tell you all about how you’re in the perfect window for conceiving. 

He manages to steal himself. 

After dinner, he promised himself soothingly, calming the hunger in his gut—after dinner, they’d decided, tonight would be the night they’d finally make use of you the real way they’d intended—have you earn your keep.

When you’re done tilling the gardens, about a couple hours later, the two of you move on to the kitchen. You’d learn that the brash one was in charge of making most meals, as the other one was more than hopeless in the kitchen. It seemed you were replacing him as the helper, given simple tasks such as cutting, measuring, and fetching things.

It felt nice to be doing something again, especially something so trivial. Housework and domestic chores were something one could only reminisce about, and yet here you were, doing just that—cutting carrots as if the outside world wasn’t a badland of people killing each other for a can of expired dog food.

You really were so lucky you could hardly believe it. The tears start bubbling again.

“If you’re finished cutting, go to the cupboard over there,” he jolts you out of your thoughts. Not looking away from stirring the pot, he points with his other hand toward the far side of the kitchen.

You pad over and open it to find two dozen or more bottles of wine, all neatly shelved.

“Pick one out,” he calls out.

You blink, looking between the wine and him. “You mean—”

“Anyone of ‘em is fine,” he says. “Feel free to read if you’re looking for something special, though. It’s you were celebrating, after all.”

This time, you can’t stop the tears as they trickle down your face one after the other, soaking your cheeks.

Hearing you sniffle makes him sigh with rust. Scolding you with military toughness, “Quit cryin’ already—it’s getting old.”

You wipe your eyes and stiffen your lip. “Yes, sir.”

Turning your head back to the shelf, you can hardly believe the sight. It had been all moonshine and slop out in the wasteland. Dangerous stuff you were better staying well away from.

You can’t believe you’re going to drink actual wine again—your mouth waters just at the thought as you pick the first bottle you set your eyes on. But then you stop yourself—a guilty knot in your stomach twisting.

“Is it really okay?” you ask. “Shouldn’t we save it?”

“Tch—” he scoffs disapprovingly again. “You gotta stop doin’ that.”

You’re left looking at him even though he keeps his back turned, still busy stirring the pot. He lifts a spoon for tasting, then adds more spice to his liking before continuing as though he could tell you were confused just from the silence.

“You’re not in the wasteland anymore—” he states. “You can afford to live a little now.”

A concept like that had yet to have reached you. 

Suppose you were still settling in. 

“Besides, there are more in the cellar,” he reveals. “Even if we drank a bottle every day, it would take years for us to finish. So don’t worry your pretty head ‘bout it, a’ight?”

Your grip around the bottle tightens—trying to toughen up to keep the tears at bay. But today was an emotional day, and it seemed there was no end to the blessings you were given. It was all so overwhelming, your heart swelled with happiness—a feeling you hadn’t felt in such an awfully long time.

“Something smells good!” comes a call.

It seems he’s returned from doing inventory.

“Oh no, why are you crying?” He instantly rushes over to you, holding your face to inspect the damage, then snaps his head to the other, who’s still busying himself with perfecting dinner. “Are you being too harsh on her?” he accuses. “You know, not everyone can live up to your cooking expectations—”

“Tch—I haven’t done shit,” he denies. “She’s just emotional ‘cause I told her we’re lettin’ her stay.”

“What!? You told her without me?” he cries then. “We were supposed to surprise her together.” His pout is instantly replaced with a blank look of surprise as you wrap your arms around him like you’d done with the other earlier—hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” you repeat to him as well.

You still couldn’t believe how nice they had been to you. 

After dinner is eaten, the three of you end up sitting there, chatting—about the past, most of all, how things used to be—how people would live in little houses with next-door neighbors they’d invite over for game night—little families with kids and backyards and pet dogs—college, marriage, careers.

You helped the stoic one clear the dishes while the chipper of the two opened another bottle of wine. You can hardly believe it when they bring out the record player and slide a vinyl on.

You end up crying again as the music plays. You even dance. Laughter fills the bunker while you get completely swept away with the feeling of utter bliss. And as the wine finishes and the conversation turns sloppy, the hands twirling your body to the music get a little touchier, a little greedier, until you’re suddenly kissed.

Between the two of them, the air becomes hot—steamy as you share breathes. 

Busy hands, large and strong and callused from labor, work on your button-up shirt. It’s gone before you know it, then the hands move on to your pants.

Honestly, after all the emotions joined by the wine and dance and being spun between the two, you can’t say you’re completely without lust, but at the same time, you’re just a bit confused. 

Despite not having seen them kiss in front of you, you’re certain they both go to bed in the same room every night—so all this time, you’d been under the impression that they were involved with each other and not interested in you that way. 

Not that it matters much what you thought, you think, you’re not against what’s happening so much as you’re a little hesitant about how it’s about to happen. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone—willingly, that is—you’ve sort of forgotten how to enjoy it. 

If it were just one, you’d maybe find it a bit less overwhelming, but given there were two, you quickly found yourself feeling somewhat claustrophobic.

“Wait—” you stutter. Blocking the advance with your own hands, looking up into drunken and heated eyes and the soft look of arousal painted on the face before you. 

“Don’t worry,” he comforts with that kind smile. “You’re the most valuable thing we have—we’re gonna be gentle.”

You almost bite, almost give in, almost let it soothe you. But even in the drunk haze, the choice of phrasing finds you a little odd. And you’re unable to disregard that feeling that’s been nagging at the very back of your head ever since you stepped foot in the place. 

Something’s not right.

“Valuable?” Sure, you could choose to understand it as them saying they care for you, but somehow, it just doesn’t feel as if that’s all. “What does that mean?”

“You know…” he utters softly—his kind smile curling into something different. His eyes fall downward as he licks his lips before finishing, “This.” 

He’s laid a hand atop your belly where his gaze is set—his palm flat and firm as he rubs tentative circles into the softness.

It takes you a moment before you shudder. “You…” 

You needed to be rational about this. Some part of you always knew there was something going on, didn’t it? Why else would you be here? Why else would they let you stay? The cameras in the bedroom, in the showers, all those medical checkups—you’ve known there was something. And still, you hadn’t left. You hadn’t even so much as humored the thought even once.

There is no life for you out there. You don’t just want to stay—you have to—you need to.

And is it really so bad? Hadn't they been nice? Haven’t they been more than generous? Don’t you owe them so much more than what they’re asking in return?

But what are they asking? It’s not just intimacy. It’s something else—something premeditated.

“You want to use me to…” The realization makes you shudder. “To make you a child…”

Like an incubator.

They don’t deny it.

You want to back up—create space—room to breathe, but the other is just behind you with his big chest pressed stiffly against your back, keeping you close, trapped before the one in front.

“It’s true…” he confesses at your ear. “That is all we wanted from you in the beginning.” 

It sends a chill down your spine.

“It was almost too good to be true when we found you,” he continued while playing with your waist in big hands. “How a perfect candidate fell right into our lap mere days after we decided to go lookin’ for one.”

You suck in a hitched breath as the well of tears breaches, dribbling down your cheeks at the clinical word—candidate.

“But you’re more than that now,” the other reassures, bowing and fishing for your eyes as you’d taken to look down—too horrified to look him back in his. 

“We figured you’d be a savage, havin’ lived out there for so long,” the one behind says. He’d been the most skeptical at first, but he’d come to learn it was rather the opposite—your time out there hadn’t toughened your skin or hardened your heart but only made you timid and soft.

“In all honesty, we weren’t sure we were gonna keep you after the pregnancy…” the one in front whispers upon your lips. “But that’s all in the past now.”

He lifts your chin, taking in the all-too-soft look of despair on your face. It’s a strange thing to say he’d missed. It nearly makes him feel guilty for the hard-on in his cargo pants. But then again, tears are the allure of the gentler sex. It’s only natural for a man to enjoy the sight.

“We want you to stay.” He strokes your cheek, catching the tears on his thumb. “After all, it would be best for the baby to have a female presence—especially one as soft as yours.”

“And, well…” You flinch at the stubble being dragged upon your shoulder and neck, a kiss placed in the nook there along with his words, “We’ve grown to like having you around.”

His hands had fallen from your waist down to rub your hips, swaying you back against his crotch—and the bulge there, that now felt a little more like a gun being poked against your back. 

“It’s been a long while since we’ve had the company of a woman,” he continues while pressing himself against you. “It was unfamiliar at first, but… it’s nice.”

Something urgent takes over your body then—even though it’s beyond stupid. There’s no plan, no further thought than run—despite having no solid clue as to where. And yet, it ends up not mattering in the slightest. You don’t make it far.

You scream as their hands snag you. The grumpier one locks your arms, the chipper one grabs your legs—and they both lift and carry you back—laying you down on the little round table you’d had dinner on.

You struggle, but your wrists are pinned down to the metal with a strength you can’t hope to match.

“Don’t be like that.” He clicks his tongue dismissively like he so often does when you say or do something stupid. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“No—” you cry. “Please—don’t.” Shaking your head while squeezing your thighs shut. 

Never mind having sex, you could endure that much—but having a baby in this mess? They’re the ones who lost their minds down here. 

“I can’t—”

“Of course, you can,” the other insists, prying your thighs apart to make space for himself between them, already with his hands returning to undo the button of your pants, zipping down the fly and tugging them off.

“No—”

He’s back to console you just as quickly, “Shh-sh, don’t cry,” he soothes, cupping your face in both palms. He gives you that kind smile again, but it no longer serves as any source of comfort—now just a mouth full of teeth. “We’ll be gentle.”

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[okaywitheverything]

Who are your fav writers on here? Any fic recs?

okay buckle up because i have a lot of fic recs LMAO there's some that i'm not technically in the fandom as of now but i still thoroughly enjoyed the read.

most of my fav writers on tumblr are the ones i follow but i'll still list them cause im pretty sure my following is hidden lol (please go and support them as well!! they're all amazing i stg)

none of these are ordered on favoritism, i'm just listing them as i find them. plus i included brief descriptions in each fic i recommend lol, lmk if none of the links are working or if they are accidentally labeled wrong. THIS SHIT TOOK FOREVER TO FORMAT LMAO

i'll probably constantly update this whenever i read something good or when i find another great writer as well that i want to mention <3

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

LAST UPDATED: 12-08-2024

favorite writers

yandere-daydreams - love their fic imagines, multifandom and has original fics jackrrabbit - amazing multifandom writer, ik she hasn't updated in a hot min but her fics are so good seijorhi - multifandom, mainly haikyuu, jjk & tokyo revengers (though i'm personally not a fan of tokrev, i still want to acknowledge that she also writes for this fandom!) throwaway-yandere - their alhaitham fics are 🤌🤌, one of my favorite genshin writers and their art is so good! bunnykawa - she doesn't have much fics posted but she's another great haikyuu writer!! rocorambles - multifandom writer but i mostly indulge in their haikyuu fics remember-to-be-gentle - multifandom & original fic writer rotworld - original fic writer, love the amount of details and lore that they put into their writing

recommended fics

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canine by jackrrabbit - sesshomaru x reader; sesshomaru using the only alive geisha to forget about his issues (yandere/dark content)

a helping hand (or two) by hoe-imaginess - dabi x reader; dabi gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk and has you take care of it (not dark content)

intertwined by yanlovex3 - hawks x reader; bully hawks being obsessed with you (yandere/dark content)

interchangeable by yanlovex3 - hawks x reader; a softer what if version to intertwined, had me falling to my knees fr (not dark content)

invidia by seijorhi - kuroo x reader; dilf kuroo being a little too interested in his son's gf (yandere/dark content)

outrunning fate by seijorhi - tendou x reader x ushijima; having two soulmates is controversial but they don't care (yandere/dark content)

rabid by seijorhi - kyoutani x reader; assumingly mafia au, kyoutani wants all of you (yandere/dark content)

hungry by bunnykawa - osamu x reader; you're the one obsessed with osamu but he's not taking it kindly or is he? (yandere/dark content)

i'm better than you! by bunnykawa - oikawa x reader; ex oikawa proving a point that he's better than your current bf (yandere/dark content)

delusional fool by solarisensun - bokuto x reader; bokuto has a big ol crush that you don't reciprocate but that's okay, he'll change your mind (yandere/dark content)

good boy by solarisensun - kageyama x reader; though you're his owner, kageyama more or less owns you (yandere/dark content)

house of cards by ddarker-dreams - albedo x reader; being a researcher yourself means you seek out others for their guidance, shame that this exchange only results in you being bred (yandere/dark content)

sweet dreams by ddarker-dreams - xiao x reader; a little sleepy indulgence doesn't hurt, right? (yandere/dark content)

crystalline heart by ddarker-dreams - scaramouche x reader; respect should be given to the harbingers but why should you respect him? (yandere/dark content)

consequence series by archonanqi - zhongli x reader; you wanted to leave teyvat as you had finally found your brother but a little contract said otherwise, ONE OF MY TOP FAVS ITS SO DAMN GOOD (yandere/dark content)

hatefully yours by merakiui - saramouche x reader; a little hate-f*cking session (yandere/dark content)

what is love? by rocorambles - gojo x reader; you're the apple of his eye, doesn't matter if you're taken (yandere/dark content)

selkie by rotworld - oc x reader; this particular selkie wants you to take his pelt so he can belong to you forever (yandere/dark content)

see you again soon by remember-to-be-gentle - toji x reader; finding a werewolf fighting ring is the juiciest story you got but meeting with the ring's top fighter for insight is better (yandere/dark content)

twice bitten by remember-to-be-gentle - miguel o'hara x reader; being bitten by a radioactive spider wasn't in your plans, neither was getting chased by the scariest spiderperson you've met (yandere/dark content)

why? by toxicbiimbo - kaeya x reader; murders are happening around the city and you put it on yourself as a knight to investigate the crimes, not knowing that the very killer was closer than you expected (yandere/dark content)

loving you keeps me alive by j0succ - dainsleif x reader; the home you bought has a permanent guest but he doesn't mind you at all (yandere/dark content)

customer satisfaction by wttcsms - oikawa x reader; giving beverages to golfers pays strangely well (yandere/dark content)

his new wife series by prelovednikaidou - toji x reader; being toji's new wife and megumi's step-mom is a tiring cycle, I LITERALLY WAS BAWLING OVER THIS LIKE FULL ON SOBBING IVE NEVER BEEN SO DEVASTATED OVER A SHORT SERIES (not dark content)

don't say it's unholy by dollwritearchives - reiner x reader; he'd do anything for you despite how much you hate his eldian blood (yandere/dark content)

the tiniest notion by titan-fodder - reiner x reader; reiner's new step-mom turned into his biggest comfort (not yandere/dark content)

marine blue by iwaasfairy - iwaizumi x reader; a strange creature comes up to you from the ocean (yandere/dark content)

subject raptor by tainted-wine - hawks x reader; becoming close to one of the first hero-turned-nomus was something you never thought was possible in your line of work (yandere/dark content)

bon appetite by theblanketofugly - sukuna x reader; sukuna figures out what he feels towards you, even if he's your biggest bully (yandere/dark content)

not your baby by itoshifc - oliver x reader; omega x omega, oliver intentionally fucking with the reader to make her his, i've never seen or anything abt blue lock but i ATE this up (yandere/dark content)

just friends series by kneelingshadowsalome - könig wants you and you don't know if you could reciprocate his feelings back like that... or can you? (yandere/dark content)

all that glitters by blindmagdalena - homelander x reader; being the sacrificial lamb for the draconic god is not easy, but how else were you going to bring an end to the bloodshed? (yandere/dark content)

my babysitter turned into a dog?! by gojo-mochi - kenjaku x reader; you were supposed to watch little yuuji, but ended up meeting his father instead (yandere/dark content)

#wanna play psycho killer? by screampied - toji x reader; ghostface notices that you like the get-up a little too much (not yandere/dark content)

#the party and the afterparty by screampied - geto x reader; your stripper for the night is kinda hot (not yandere/dark content)

#rent-a-dilf! by screampied - toji x reader; playing a silly little game until the character actually comes to life (not yandere/dark content)

the tiger and his milk! by sukunasweetheart - sukuna x reader; your tiger hybrid neighbor wants a little taste of your milk (not yandere/dark content)

[okaywitheverything]

He Loves Loving You

Before you, his sex life were mainly hookups that always involved her facing away. He did not care at all about eye contact or passion it was just a way to help himself relieve stress.

But then he met you and now all he wants is to make you feel good and loved. He likes having you in the missionary position where he can look at your beautiful features and see how good he can make you feel. Soft little kisses here and there, sometimes your foreheads would touch, you had a way of making his soft self come out. Thats not to say he's lost touch with his rough persona, sometimes he fucks you in the most heinous positions and at rough speeds, but there's love that's what changed. There's always love in your intimate encounters.

And you always feel so good. Fuck you drive him nuts. He doesn't know what the hell he did to deserve this but with you its like heaven on earth. He loves loving you.

Nanami Kento, Gojo Saturo, Toji Fushiguro, Dabi, Bakugou Katsuki, Eren Yeager, Tooru Oikawa, Kuroo Tetsuro, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Shouei Barou, Shuji Hanma, Mikey, Baji Keisuke, Tetta Kisaki, Frederick Arthur

[okaywitheverything]

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn't belong until she finally runs into her "new" brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she's ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

Also posted on Ao3 notes: this fic is completely written. It is unbeta'd (if you wanna join as one, lmk lol). I'll be posting as it's edited. I hope you enjoy it because I sure as hell did.

Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 1 1 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34 / Chapter 35 / Chapter 36 / Chapter 37 / Chapter 38 / Chapter 39 / Chapter 40 / Chapter 41 / Chapter 42 / Chapter 43 / Chapter 44 / Chapter 45 / Chapter 46 / Chapter 47 / Chapter 48 / Chapter 49 / Chapter 50 / Chapter 51 / Chapter 52 / Chapter 53 / Chapter 54 / Chapter 55 / Chapter 56 / Chapter 57

everything tag: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties

[okaywitheverything]

Saudade - Chapter 2

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: One of my favourite scenes is in this chapter. I feel like this is a proper introduction to who Takara is. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prev chapter

She regrets her choices. Mainly for the sheer fact that in her attempt to avoid being in the house she lives at with parents who aren’t hers, she goes rollerblading again. And it’s pouring.

She tucks herself under an awning and waits for it to stop. 

Takemichi found her again after she had gone home from meeting his friends. It was cute to see him be a little jealous about the fact that they apparently kept talking about her rollerblading and the way she showed off a bit. She understands now why her brothers would keep teasing her. It is fun. Still, Takemichi left for his date with Hinata in high spirits that the future was secure even if he wouldn’t explain why. He was going to have some fun before going back to where he belonged. 

She wonders what that means for her. 

🐈‍⬛

It’s still raining, but Takara paces under the awning. She can’t stay here anymore. She moves without thinking. It’s both harder and easier to rollerblade in the rain. It’s slippery and far easier to miss something and fall, but it also reminds her of being on the ice. She’s just grateful she has on elbow and knee pads in case she wipes out. 

She’s moving down an alley that is usually empty and connects the park to some of the streets, including the way she takes to get home. It’s not vacant this time. 

The group of similarly dressed boys up ahead are facing and talking to someone. Even in the rain, she easily hears Takemichi’s voice. Hears the threat that’s given in return. 

She builds up speed. There’s no real way to do this quietly so she has to be fast. She tucks herself in and low, bracing herself before slamming her body into the one leading the pack. She knows how to shove her elbow into the tender spot under his ribs and throw him off balance. 

He goes flying into the others and she skids to a stop. Thankfully without falling. 

She stands there, panting under the street light as she faces the people who are trying to hurt Takemichi. “Well, what do we have here?” she asks, pretending like her whole body isn’t thrumming under her skin. 

“Takara? Get out of here!” 

“Nah,” she says. “What type of sister would I be if I just ran off while you got hurt?” They both know she’s not his sister, not really. But that doesn’t matter. He’s the only one here who she can talk to. She’s not about to let him get fucked up when she can help. 

Sure, it’s nothing like roughhousing with her older brothers or getting a bit vicious in a game, but she’ll manage. 

“Look boys,” one of the herd talks. “A girl’s their rescue.”  They all laugh, ignoring the fact that she’s already knocked one of them on the ass. 

“Aww, look,” she calls back out. “Isn’t it cute that you’re trying to impress your boyfriends?” That erases all amusement from their faces. Boys. Always the same. 

“I’m going to make this bitch cry,” he snarls back. She’s heard better insults from her team. 

“Not if I make you cry first.” 

🐈‍⬛

Later, after Takemichi and Draken add in their shit talk and her brother’s friends show up to help, she stays true to her word. She slams one of her feet down, throwing her weight into the rollerblade. She’s pretty sure from the way he screams that she broke something. She knows for certain she did from the way she slams her padded elbow into his nose after that. 

Tears spring to his eyes and before she can gloat about being right, he’s dragged off by his friends at the sound of sirens. 

Hinata and Emma are running with the paramedic for them.

“We gotta tell Mikey!” Takemichi says. 

“Where is he?” Hinata asks as Emma gets the hospital details from the paramedic. 

Takara listens to both before nodding. “You guys go. I’ll tell them. I’ll get there faster than you running anyway.”

“Be careful!” Emma says. “They were fighting.”

“Sure,” she promises. The rain hasn’t stopped but it’s fine. She’s still fast and it’ll do both boys good to have someone they trust there with them. She’s not that person. 

Takara nearly wipes out when she skids to a stop, eyes widening at the sight before her. There are bodies filling the parking lot, but the boys in black seem victorious. It takes a little more maneuvering to get around them as she looks for Mikey. She’s only met the guy once. 

“Hey!” someone calls out to her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

To be fair, she does look out of place. Still, she has a mission and she doesn’t know him, so she ignores it and continues looking. She finds Mikey talking to a giant. She knows she shouldn’t interrupt but her news is far more important than whatever posturing is happening there. 

It takes her longer than she’d like to weave around the bodies and she mentally wishes she wasn’t wearing her wheels so she could jump over some of them. Instead, her blades clack when she uses them to step and she uses someone’s shoulder to help her twist around them. She rolls to a stop next to Mikey, interrupting whatever the giant is saying. She ignores him. 

The tall one seems confused to see her though, like she’s an unknown variable. Whatever. She’s been getting that a lot recently. She waits until he drives off on the back of someone’s motorcycle before speaking. “Hey, my brother sent me.” 

That gets Mikey’s attention. He’s shorter than her like this when she’s wearing her rollerblades, but it doesn’t feel like it. “Takemitchy?”

“Yeah. Draken and him are on their way to the hospital.” 

“Hey! Mikey, who is this?” A few of the boys in black run up to them. She’s surprised they didn’t get there faster but they look rough and at least one of them is stumbling.  

Mikey doesn’t respond. Once she gives him the name of the hospital, he runs to his bike and takes off. 

“What the fuck did you say to him?” One of them asks, long black hair plastered to his face. 

“I told him which hospital Draken’s at.”  

“What?” 

It takes her a second to explain what she rolled into earlier and before she knows it, two of the men are taking off and she’s left with a bunch of strangers. Not her ideal situation. She glances around for the best exit.

“You’re Takemitchy’s sister?” The long-haired one from before asks. 

“Last I checked. Hanagaki Takara.” 

His eyes narrow and she’s aware of the way he looks her up and down. Her outfit is plastered to her because of the rain. 

“I’m Baji Keisuke. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll find my own way home.”

He frowns slightly. “Home? I thought you’d want to be at the hospital. Didn’t you say your brother was injured?” 

“Oh, yeah, but I don’t have shoes. I have to go home anyway. I wouldn’t be allowed in the hospital skating through leaving water and mud in my tracks.” 

“Well, I’ll drive. Get you both places faster.” 

“Can I even ride with rollerblades on?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Hurry up!” 

“Okay okay!”

🐈‍⬛

Baji is entertaining. 

He has a sharp grin and while he’s impatient about waiting for her, he still waits. She holds on tightly as he speeds to the hospital. It’s the first time she’s ever been on a motorcycle and despite being scared, it’s exhilarating. The speed alone makes it worth it. If the roads weren’t wet, she probably would ask him to go faster. 

He pulls up alongside a bunch of the others dressed in the same black outfit he is. She doesn’t recognize any of them but she thanks him for the ride and heads inside. She has to ask for directions a couple of times before she finds them. The group is quiet and they all look surprised to see her. 

Takemichi comes over to her first. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking in on you,” she says, looking up at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he lifts up his hand which is wrapped up. “I got stabbed but they said it was clean and there wasn’t much they could do outside of stitching it.” 

“You got stabbed?” She takes his hand and looks it over, as if she can see through the bandages.

Takemichi rubs the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“I should have stomped on his face,” she scowls as he says it. 

“You did enough,” Takemichi says. He hugs her again and she’s tempted to shove him off of her. It feels smothering, but more importantly, it doesn’t. She’s confused about the contrast and how easy it is to slip into this life. 

She’s saved from answering as she’s introduced to the others she doesn’t know. The two other boys in black, both taller than her and Takemichi, greet her softly. Mitsuya and Peh-yan both thank her for relaying the information about Draken quickly. Mikey, she sees, is sitting quietly on one of the seats. He smiles when he catches her looking. 

Hinata and Emma both quickly commandeer her attention, letting the boys talk quietly on the other side. She’s never really been good with female friendships, at least ones with people who weren’t into the same things she is, but she finds it’s easy to listen to the two of them. The more they talk, the more she learns. 

Emma takes the chance to fill Takara in on what she says are the important details. It’s mainly about her age, what school she goes to and the massive crush she has on Draken. Not that Takara can blame her, the boy is attractive. She’s surprised though that Emma is younger than even Hinata. Not by much, but she carries herself in a different way like she’s older. 

Neither of them seems to mind that Takara is quiet. She doesn’t really have anything to say, especially as they talk about school or Takemichi’s fight. When they discover that she’s recently sixteen, Emma offers to introduce her to someone cute. 

The last thing Takara needs is a relationship, but she recognizes the need for a distraction and the look Hinata gives her and allows Emma to tell her about the other friends of Mikey’s that she knows. 

Takara is half asleep, sitting on the bench with her head back against the wall when the doctor comes out. It’s not the most comfortable place to sleep, but it’s better than some of the team buses she’s been on. Still, she wakes up and falls off the bench when her brother scares the shit out of her by screaming. She stops herself from cursing when she sees just how happy and relieved everyone is. 

She rubs her eyes and yawns, moving out of the way so they can hug each other. It’s late and she���s too used to early mornings to be doing this. She follows them out of the hospital, still half asleep. She’s not entirely paying attention, hooking a hand into the back of Takemichi’s shirt and letting him pull her along. It saves her from needing to focus. 

She lets go once they're outside. The air wakes her up a bit and she’s surprised to see how many people are waiting for them. The boys in black all stayed, waiting for news of Draken. It’s like a team, she realizes. A family, in their own chaotic and bloody way. Almost like her team back home. It’s pretty impressive and she can’t help but smile as they cheer at the news. 

Then Takemichi runs past her. 

🐈‍⬛

Takara doesn’t even think. She just follows. In the few days she’s been here, she’s come to the conclusion that Takamichi attracts trouble like melted candy attracts ants. Thankfully, this is not one of those times. She comes to a stop next to him, looking at what’s caught his attention. Mikey is leaning against the wall, slipping down to the ground and crying. Takemichi doesn’t move. 

Instead, he pulls her back, hiding around the corner. Takara looks at Takemichi and thinks of the boy crying in relief that his friend is okay. She nods towards the corner where Mikey is. Takemichi’s eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly. She’s spent too long around boys and men who seem to think emotions are weaknesses. 

She rolls her eyes and moves. Takemichi grabs for her but she darts out of his reach and sticks her tongue out at him before turning her attention to the one crying. 

She’s aware that he’s hiding for a reason, that he probably doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, but Takara tends to act without thinking sometimes. She walks slowly, enough that she won’t surprise him with her approach. He wipes his eyes quickly before looking up, frowning at the sight of her. She kneels down in front of him. 

“Hey,” she says softly. 

“What are you doing here?” He demands more than asks. 

“Could ask you the same. Are you okay?” He doesn’t answer but he also doesn’t tell her to fuck off and that’s enough permission for her. She moves to sit down next to him, on the side that faces the pathway they found him by and leaves enough space so she’s not touching him. “I wouldn’t be,” she says. She keeps her voice soft. “I’ve always hated hospitals. They smell like death to me.”

That catches his attention. 

“I had to go in once when I was little. I scraped myself up pretty badly, got cut from someone’s skate on my calf. It was an accident but it scared the shit out of everyone. Blood was everywhere. It was gross and they rushed me to this hospital so I could get stitches. My brother thought I was going to die because they couldn’t be in the room. It didn’t help that the last time we saw my grandmother earlier that month she had died in the hospital.” She doesn’t look at him as she tells him the story. She can feel his attention and she’s not entirely sure if it’s helping, but at least it’s a distraction.  

“I got out and my brother just burst into tears when he saw the bandage. I made fun of him for it,” though it was because he was a couple of years older and she rarely had anything she could hold over him. She didn’t realize how much he thought her leg would have to be cut off. “My mother stopped me. She said that our tears were an outlet, that we couldn’t hold all of our emotions in and that it was a way of telling others that we were hurt or scared or that we cared for them. It’s a way of calling for help from those you trust around you.” Her throat tightens at the reminder. She’s alone in this except for her new brother who’s hiding. She wonders if he’s listening as well. “From the moment we’re born, we cry to communicate. Some days we’re the ones reaching out, other days we’re reaching back. It’s a balance but you can’t only be one. Apparently, it’s not healthy,” she adds dryly. She looks at him and leans over to nudge him gently. “Don’t feel ashamed that you care about your friend, Mikey. I’m sure he’d be grateful to know it.” 

She gets up and brushes herself off. “It’s past midnight. You should go home and get some sleep or at least take your sister home. Draken’s not going anywhere for a while. Come back in the morning and maybe he’ll be up. Good night.”

She leaves him there, pausing only to grab Takemichi and drag him away. She’s too tired for this shit. 

tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87 

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

saudade tag: @thisbicc

[okaywitheverything]

: ̗̀➛ satoru gojo x reader // like ghosts in the snow // chapter five pt II

╰┈➤ what goes up, or whatever they say..｡.:*♡

: ̗̀➛ Words: 5.0k : ̗̀➛ TW: pregnancy tests and lots of mentions, nausea/possible emetophobia triggers, light angst, jealousy, breakups

⇘ previous chapter⇙ •┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈• ⇘  story timeline ⇙

⌦ Tokyo, Japan | March, 2015..｡.:*♡

Days, weeks, a month passed by in a blur. Council meetings, calls from the higher ups interrupting your workday, stifled moans behind closed doors as strong hands gripped and pulled at you desperately. Your life was certainly interesting, and the rhythm you’d fallen into with Satoru was a confusing addition. It felt like the sweetest poison. It coated your tongue and throat with nectar, but left behind a trail of dread as it traveled down to your stomach.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

⌦ Tokyo, Japan | April, 2015..｡.:*♡

Two months now-- gone. Exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, dragging your every step as you crossed the empty corridors of Jujutsu High. The echo of your boots barely registered, your mind clouded with overlapping thoughts and tension. You had been summoned for a meeting this morning, one that you positively could not miss, or so an advisor had assured you.

Your stomach churned—a queasiness gnawing at your gut. Skipped meals and sleepless nights, you told yourself. You couldn’t keep anything down lately, pushing yourself harder than usual, chasing fragments of cursed energy and twisting whispers of fate into something coherent for those who demanded answers.

Headaches had plagued you for weeks now, blooming into a relentless pressure behind your eyes. It swelled alongside your technique, sometimes so intense you feared that you may faint.

The signs were becoming harder to dismiss. The nausea, the overwhelming fatigue, the strange taste in your mouth that never seemed to fade... Something deeper was wrong. Something you couldn’t yet name.

Around you, Council members discussed their favorite topic of the week: what are the three big clans up to? It had been on their minds, especially with the youngest Zenin and Kamo sorcerers beginning their terms at Jujutsu High within the coming years. You tried to focus, to latch onto their words, but your mind kept drifting, the strange heaviness in your body pulling you inward. Closing you off.

You caught snippets— mentions of alliances, lingering disputes, family squabbles— nothing concrete. It wasn’t until the tail end of one of the many voices sounding off that their words pierced through your haze.

“…And with the Gojo clan’s recent announcement of Satoru’s engagement, we can likely assume that new heirs will follow…”

Your breath caught and you struggled not to choke on your own saliva. The world around you sharpened into painful clarity. The councilman’s words echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting, as though the speaker had driven them straight into your chest and impaled you with them. Engagement. Satoru’s engagement.

You blinked rapidly, your pulse thundering in your ears as the room seemed to tilt around you. For a moment, you were sure that you’d misheard. But the murmurs of agreement around the chamber confirmed your fears— the Gojo clan sought to secure its future through its most powerful member. Satoru Gojo was getting married.

And he hadn’t told you.

The nausea twisted violently in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if it was from the strain of your body or the sudden weight of the news you now carried. Your grip tightened on the folder in your hands, your knuckles white as you fought to keep your expression neutral.

Someone else was speaking now, their voice low and clipped, discussing the implications for the balance of power. You couldn’t make out the details. All you could hear was the echo of those two words. Engagement. Satoru’s engagement.

“…Myoji?”

A voice, louder than the rest, cut through the fog of your mind and pulled your attention back to the room. All eyes were on you now, the Council members staring expectantly. You blinked, your mouth dry as you scrambled to remember what had been asked of you, to piece together the threads of conversation that you hadn’t really been listening to.

“The implications,” the voice clarified, impatient as ever. “What do you see?”

“Oh, yes,” you started, your voice soft but gaining strength. “I see… the balance of power continuing to shift. Slowly. Deliberately. But not without conflict.”

Your response was vague at best—you knew that. The Council seemed to pity you, however, quickly moving on around you. Please let this end soon, you prayed, letting out a slow breath and trying to pull yourself together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The meeting adjourned with its usual drone of formalities and farewells. You barely registered the words, your feet moving on autopilot as you stepped into the hallway. The cool air did nothing to ease the grueling sickness in your stomach.

“Satoru’s engagement… new heirs will follow…” The phrase looped relentlessly in your mind, digging in like a splinter. You gripped the wall for balance, shallow gasps breaking through the haze of panic rising in your chest.

Would he? The unbidden thought sent bile surging up your throat. Unsteady steps carried you to the restroom, where you barely made it to the sink before gagging, your body trembling as it emptied what little you had in your stomach.

The sound echoed in the small space, mingling with the hum of overhead lights. Cold water splashed on your face, but it couldn’t wash away the pale, haunted reflection staring back at you in the mirror. Your hands trembled against the porcelain, knuckles white as questions swirled in your mind.

Why didn’t I see this? You were the Oracle, prized for your ability to see the future, yet this had slipped past you. The trust you’d placed in Satoru stung now. Despite your defenses, he always had a way of making you feel… safe.

The thought of him tightened your chest painfully, his piercing blue eyes and infuriating grin filling your mind. Had he known? The possibility gnawed at you.

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts. "Myoji-san?" A hesitant voice—one of the first years. "Are you all right?"

You straightened, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I’m fine," you managed, voice steadier than you expected. "I’ll be out in a moment."

The footsteps faded, and you exhaled shakily, loosening your grip on the sink. Falling apart here wasn’t an option. But the weight of the meeting, of Satoru’s name tied to someone else’s future, pressed down on you like a vice.

Why didn’t he tell me?

You pressed your lips together. Whatever the answer, you’d find out soon enough. Satoru Gojo owed you that much.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Looking back, you’d ignored the signs. Things with Satoru had shifted—less caution, more reckless. The pull between you had grown stronger, impossible to resist. When you were together, nothing else mattered.

You’d convinced yourself it was fine. Your technique had always been your safety net, guiding you through every risk. But this time, there was nothing—no whispers, no warnings. Just… silence.

You took that silence as a reprieve, a break from the weight of constant consequences. You never imagined it meant you were walking into a storm unprepared.

But now, with your churning stomach and the ache of exhaustion pulling at you, you couldn’t help but wonder if your technique hadn’t been silent after all—if it had simply allowed you to make your choice, to walk the path it already knew you’d take.

The thought lingered in the back of your mind as you carried on with your day, feeling as if your body were made of lead. Every step felt heavier, every word spoken to you sounded distant, muffled by the storm raging quietly inside you. You told yourself to push it down, to bury it for now. You had responsibilities. The Council. The students. There was no time to dwell on what might be.

“Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

And yet, you should have known the day wouldn’t let you avoid him. Fate had always been cruel like that.

The moment you turned the corner, your heart sank. There he was, strolling down the hallway with his usual careless ease, his white hair catching the light with every step. He was mid-conversation with Ijichi, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he stopped, his grin widening as if he’d been waiting all day for this moment.

“Shi-chan!” Satoru called out, waving like the sight of you could brighten his entire day.

You froze. Your breath caught in your throat, and there was no escape. Not here, not with him staring at you with that infuriating mix of teasing and warmth that you hated how much you missed.

Fate had always been cruel. And now, locking eyes with him, you realized how cruel it could be.

He waved Ijichi off with a casual flick of his hand and closed the distance between you in long, unhurried strides. Your posture stiffened, and you knew he’d notice. Could he see the tension in your shoulders? The faint tremble in your hands?

More than that, could he sense it? Your cursed energy was frayed, spilling through the cracks of your composure like sand. You knew he could read it as easily as the air around him. Would he say anything? Would he press?

“Satoru,” you said, forcing the word out, your mouth dry and voice rough. Another wave of nausea rolled through you, and you fought a grimace. You swallowed it down, keeping your eyes locked on him as he stopped in front of you.

He tilted his head, his grin maddeningly casual. “Shi-chan,” he said, his voice warm, like nothing had changed. Like everything was fine.

But it wasn’t. You couldn’t muster a smile. For the first time, you felt like you didn’t know the man standing in front of you. Or maybe you never had.

You didn’t know the warmth in his grin, or the way his blue eyes sparked with quiet amusement, as intimately as you once believed. Or maybe you’d never really known him at all.

His eyes flicked over you, perceptive as always, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he waved a hand lazily in front of your face. “You okay there?” he teased lightly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your nails bit into your palms as you fought to steady your voice. “I’m fine,” you replied, though the words felt hollow.

His grin faltered, just barely. For a moment, the silence between you felt unbearable, heavy with all the things you couldn’t say.

He didn’t call out your lie. He rarely did, knowing when you were hiding something but letting you keep it buried. Instead, he got straight to the point, bluntness softened by charm. “I’ve got a break in about an hour,” he said casually, as though he hadn’t just cornered you in a hallway.

“Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

“Maybe sooner, if something urgent comes up.” His eyes sparkled with a familiar playfulness, the kind that told you exactly what he had in mind. A lazy afternoon in his office, maybe, or a walk through the grounds where no one would bother you. He’d slip his arm around your waist, tug you closer, make you laugh the way he always did.

You’d have jumped at the opportunity any other day. Hell, you’d have jumped at it if he’d asked you three hours ago. But now, standing here, seeing him in front of you, hearing his voice… hurt.

It hurt in ways you hadn’t expected.

You realized then, with a clarity that took your breath away, that what the Council had let slip wasn’t something you were ever supposed to know. It was a secret. A carefully constructed, deliberate omission. One that Satoru had no intention of sharing with you.

And that hurt more than anything else.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, the sickness from earlier threatening to resurface. “I can’t,” you said, your voice quieter than you’d intended. You averted your eyes, fixing them on the wooden floor. “I’ve got too much on my plate today.”

Satoru tilted his head, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Really?” he asked, his tone light, but the teasing edge had softened. “Too much for me, huh?”

You nodded stiffly in confirmation. “Yeah. Too much for you.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until he finally stepped back with a lazy shrug. “All right, Shi-chan. Rain check?”

The smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. And for once, you didn’t feel guilty for letting it linger unanswered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You went home early that day. You didn’t care if Satoru found out. You didn’t care if anyone found out. The nausea had become unbearable, your stomach twisting with every step as though your body was rebelling against the weight of your own thoughts. Your phone buzzed incessantly in your bag, executives firing off email after email demanding predictions, timelines, answers. You silenced it without a second glance.

It wasn’t like you to take sick leave, and you knew word would spread quickly—Myoji Shiori, the Council’s prized Oracle, walking out mid-shift.

Was it horrible that part of you wanted it to? That you wanted someone to see the cracks in your composure, to wonder if you’d been pushed too far?

Your first stop wasn’t home. It wasn’t the quiet solace of your favorite corner of the city. It was a shadowy little shop squeezed between a crumbling pachinko parlor and an izakaya with faded lanterns, far from the orderly streets surrounding the school. The sign overhead flickered erratically, half the kanji obscured by grime, and the dingy interior smelled faintly of mildew and old cardboard. The buzz of fluorescent lights overhead mixed with the muffled sounds of drunken laughter filtering in from the street outside, making the place feel both suffocating and strangely anonymous. It was exactly what you needed—somewhere no one would think to find you.

You weaved between rows of brightly colored labels and neatly stacked boxes. The section you were looking for wasn’t hard to find, tucked near the shelves of feminine hygiene products, as if hoping to go unnoticed. When you stopped in front of it, your chest tightened.

The shelves were lined with choices—digital, early detection, two-pack, five-pack, bold promises of “99% accuracy” printed in crisp Japanese characters. Your fingers hovered uncertainly before you finally reached out, plucking one box off the shelf. Then another. And another. Soon, your arms were full, trembling under the weight of flimsy cardboard packaging that somehow felt heavier than anything you’d ever carried.

Ten. You’d grabbed ten, your mind too clouded to think about whether that was too much or not enough. Each box seemed to scream at you with its branding, demanding answers you weren’t sure you were ready to face. The packaging looked familiar enough, even if the brands weren’t, but the uniform neatness of the display made the moment feel oddly clinical.

You glanced around, your gaze flicking to the nearby aisles. The store clerk at the counter was busy scanning a customer’s items, their attention elsewhere, but the thought of being seen still made your stomach twist. You dumped the tests into your basket in a rush, the motion awkward and frantic, as though speed might somehow make the moment less real. The weight of the basket in your hand felt impossibly heavy, each step toward the register adding to the tightness in your chest.

The automatic doors slid open with a hiss as you stepped out into the cool afternoon air. The neon lights from nearby signs flickered against the wet pavement, and the faint scent of rain lingered in the air. You clutched the bag tighter, letting the distant hum of traffic drown out your thoughts as you headed toward the nearest train station, the test burning in your pocket like a question you couldn’t ignore.

You’d taken a step. A tiny, terrifying step toward an answer. But the question loomed larger than ever: Did you even want to know?

When you tried to use your technique, it was like grasping at smoke.

Your chest tightened as you tried again and again, each fruitless attempt making your head spin faster, faster. The threads flickered before you, weaving in and out of sight, but each time you reached for them, they slipped away. They felt tangled, obscured, as if they were deliberately hiding from you.

You opened your eyes, your breath uneven. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was the fatigue that had been weighing you down for weeks now, stealing your focus and muddling your thoughts. Or maybe… maybe your technique wasn’t meant for this.

The thought hit you harder than you expected, a sharp pang of frustration and fear twisting in your chest. You’d relied on your clairvoyance for so long, trusted it to guide you, to protect you from mistakes. And now, when you needed it most, it was silent.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you reached your apartment, you bolted the door behind you. Your fingers moving on autopilot as you activated a barrier—a simple but effective wall of cursed energy that ensured no one, not even Satoru, could cross without your permission. It was obvious, he would see it from miles away, but at least he couldn’t sneak up on you.

You leaned back against the door, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing. You couldn’t let him see you like this. Not yet. Not until you knew for sure.

The thin boxes rustled faintly in your bag, a reminder of the decision you’d made, the answers you needed.

Before you could confront him, before you could even think about it, you had to know. This wasn’t about him. Not yet.

This was about you. About the fragile, terrifying truth that might be waiting just beneath the surface.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You took all ten tests.

When the first one came back positive, you froze. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur. It wasn’t real—it couldn’t be real. Your shaking hands reached for another test, fumbling with the flimsy packaging as your pulse pounded in your ears. You told yourself it was a mistake, a fluke. The test was wrong. It had to be.

But the second one came back the same.

And the third.

By the fourth, your legs were weak, and you sank onto the cold bathroom floor, the edges of the tile pressing into your skin as you opened another box. Your hands trembled so badly that the cheap plastic nearly slipped through your shaking fingers, and you struggled to steady it, whispering under your breath, Please, no. Please, just let this one be negative.

The minutes stretched endlessly as you stared at the sink, where the first three sat like silent witnesses. The fourth joined them, its result stark and undeniable.

Positive. Always positive.

You kept going. Five. Six. Seven. Each one delivered the same verdict, and each time, your chest tightened a little more. By the eighth, tears blurred your vision, and you struggled to read the result through the haze.

You finally stopped at number ten, your hands falling limply to your sides as the final proof stared back at you. A jumble of pink and blue lines, tiny plastic windows blinking Pregnant, sat in a messy pile on the sink.

Your breath came in shallow, shaky gasps as you stared at them, your mind racing through an endless reel of questions you couldn’t answer. How had this happened? You’d been careful… No—you hadn’t. Not with him. Not with Satoru. Careful had never been part of what you shared with him.

Your head pounded as emotions swirled inside you, one crashing into the next before you could even name them. Disbelief, sharp and cold, settled first. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

But it was.

Dread came next, clawing its way up your throat, twisting your stomach into knots. This would change everything. Your life, your work, the fragile balance you’d fought so hard to maintain.

Then there was anger. At him, at yourself, at the universe for letting this happen. For taking something so complicated, so fragile, and making it even harder to hold together.

And beneath it all, buried deep, was something softer. Something you didn’t want to name but couldn’t ignore. Joy. It was faint, like the first light of morning, but it was there, warming the edges of your fear and leaving you breathless in its wake.

You pressed your hands against your knees, trying to steady the trembling in your body as you stared at the pile of tests. Ten. Ten confirmations of the truth you couldn’t escape.

You were pregnant.

And nothing in your life would ever be the same.

Your phone buzzed angrily in your pocket, the vibration slicing through the suffocating stillness of the bathroom like a knife. It startled you, dragging your focus away from the pile of pregnancy tests scattered on the sink—the undeniable, irrefutable truth staring back at you.

You fumbled for your phone, heart dropping as you glanced at the screen.

Satoru.

For a moment, you hesitated, frozen as his name glared at you, demanding your attention. Then, with trembling fingers, you hit decline, the sound of it cutting off abruptly.

You sagged back against the wall, your breaths shallow and uneven. But the relief was short-lived.

The phone buzzed again, his name lighting up the screen almost immediately. The audacity of it made your jaw clench. You declined again, but the vibrations resumed before you could even lower the phone. He wasn’t giving up. Of course, he wasn’t.

Your hands shook as you stared at the device, your thoughts spiraling. Why now? Did he sense something? Did he know? Or was this just another one of his perfectly-timed interruptions, the kind that always left you teetering on the edge of losing control?

You started to lower your guard when it vibrated again—a text this time.

Shi-chan, I’m outside.

Your breath hitched.

You opened the message, your thumb trembling as you read the next line:

Answer your phone, or I’m coming in. Barrier or not.

The weight of those words crashed over you, your chest tightening as you reread them. The threat wasn’t empty. You knew him well enough to understand that. If he was outside, he wouldn’t wait much longer.

Your fingers curled tightly around the phone, and for a moment, you debated letting him try. Let him destroy the barrier, let him walk into this mess you hadn’t asked for, let him see what you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

Five minutes, Shi-chan. Then I’m coming in. And I’d hate to piss off your neighbors.

You groaned, pressing the phone against your forehead as your legs threatened to give out beneath you. Of course, he wouldn’t leave it alone. Satoru Gojo didn’t leave anything alone.

You shoved the tests back into the bag, your hands shaking as you crammed the jumble of plastic sticks and cardboard boxes beneath the sink. The cabinet door banged shut with a hollow sound that seemed to echo in the cramped bathroom. You leaned against it for a moment, closing your eyes and drawing in a long, shuddering breath.

Keep it to yourself, you told yourself firmly. For now.

The weight of the decision settled uneasily on your chest, but you pushed it down. This thing—whatever it was—you couldn’t face it yet. And you couldn’t face him with it, either. Not now.

But something was becoming increasingly clear to you. “Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

Your hands found the edges of the sink as you pulled yourself to your feet. You dried your face on a hand towel, forcing your eyes up to meet your own reflection. They were still red, still puffy, but clear enough to hold resolve.

This thing we have together needs to stop.

The thought echoed louder than you’d expected, sharper this time. It wasn’t just about the Council or the rumors of his engagement. It wasn’t even about the weight of the tests hidden beneath the sink. It was about everything that had led to this moment—the tangled mess of your feelings for him and the undeniable truth that you were too far in, too vulnerable to keep going without breaking.

You pressed your hands flat against the counter, staring into your own tired eyes. You would confront him about the engagement. You’d ask him for answers, demand the truth. That would be enough to explain your sudden departure, the barrier you’d thrown up as soon as you got home, the tear tracks still drying on your face.

It had to be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you stepped out of the bathroom, your chest tightened. Doubt clawed up your spine, relentless and unforgiving.

When you faced Satoru, would he see it? Would those Six Eyes strip away the walls you’d built, revealing everything you were desperate to hide?

You’d read about it once, the abilities of his cursed technique. How it saw cursed energy at an atomic level, down to the finest thread. Could it see the thing growing inside of you? Could it see the blood pumping through its fragile, half-formed heart, the life you hadn’t yet come to terms with?

Your trembling hand gripped the doorknob. If he could see it, would he speak it aloud? Would he force the truth into the open before you were ready to hear it?

You drew in a shaky breath. The barrier dissolved with a flicker of cursed energy, and the air grew heavier, dense with his presence.

When the door opened, he was there. No smirk, no teasing glint in his eye. His expression was sharp, serious, and the way his gaze searched yours made your chest ache.

You froze, hand clutching the doorknob, as his cursed energy brushed over you—steady, deliberate, stripped of its usual chaotic edge. For once, he didn’t try to charm his way past your defenses.

"We need to stop." The words tumbled out, rushed and trembling but resolute. Tears pricked your waterline, and you hated how close you felt to breaking.

Satoru sighed, the sound low and weary. “Shi-chan, again? Listen, I know you’re stressed—”

“Are you engaged, Satoru?”

The question sliced through his sentence like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. Your tone wasn’t curious—it was knowing. It froze his words mid-thought, demanding an answer he wasn’t ready to give.

His eyes widened—not in shock, but recognition. The fluster in his expression, the way his mouth opened and closed as if searching for words, the blush creeping to his cheeks—it was all you needed to see.

“Shiori,” he began, his voice softer now, cautious. But you didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t.” Your voice cut through the air between you. “Don’t explain it away. Just tell me if it’s true.”

He ran a hand through his hair, gaze darting between yours and the floor. His silence spoke louder than words.

“It’s not… not true—” he began, stumbling, his usual confidence replaced with something raw.

“I need real answers, Gojo,” you snapped, spitting his surname like a curse. “Real answers, or I will never speak to you again.”

The silence that followed was deafening. His shoulders sagged slightly, tension betraying the storm behind his eyes. “It’s not what you think,” he said quietly, almost pleading.

“Then tell me what it is,” you demanded, voice trembling. Tears threatened, but you held them back.

For a moment, his mask slipped—regret, fear, desperation flickered across his face. But it passed too quickly, replaced by his infuriating charm, now a defense more than a weapon.

“You don’t understand,” he said, words faltering. “It’s just a stupid clan thing, Shi-chan. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t mean anything?” Disbelief laced your voice. “They announced your engagement, and that doesn’t mean anything?”

“I didn’t let them—” he started, his voice rising, but you cut him off.

“Then what did you do, Satoru?” Your voice cracked as you took a step closer, the weight of your emotions crashing over you. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you kept it from me. Like you lied.”

“I didn’t lie,” he said, desperate. “I was trying to fix it, okay? I just—I needed more time.”

The tears spilled over. “You don’t get to decide that, Satoru. You don’t get to keep me in the dark and expect me to be okay with it!”

His hands twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should. His lips parted, but no words came, leaving the silence to stretch between you.

“I don’t even care if it’s true or not,” you confessed, your voice trembling as the lines of his perfect fucking face blurred through your tears. “I can’t keep doing this with you. Not anymore.”

He flinched, just barely. But you pressed on.

“You need to figure your shit out,” you spat, anger and grief lacing your words. “Go marry a sorceress from a prestigious clan who will give you strong heirs. That’s what they want, right?”

His jaw tightened, yet he said nothing.

“They won’t stop breathing down your neck until you give it to them, Satoru,” you continued, your voice breaking on his name. “So just… just go. This has gone on long enough.”

The silence that followed was broken only by your uneven breaths. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see whatever expression he wore.

But you felt it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unrelenting. It burned through the space between you, thick with unsaid words.

“Shi-chan—” he started, his voice quieter now, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head as more tears slipped down your cheeks. “Don’t try to make this better. You can’t.”

You took a shaky step back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if to hold yourself together. “Just go, Satoru.”

His cursed energy flickered around him, unsettled and restless, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at you with those impossibly blue eyes, his expression torn between defiance and something you couldn’t name.

For a moment, you thought he might argue, might fight you on this like he always did. But then he sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a thousand unsaid words, and turned toward the door.

And when it closed behind him, the silence that followed was worse than anything he could have said.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

See my listing on AO3 for a short short bonus chapter ft. angsty teen Megumi! (´ω｀*) perhaps leave a kudos or comment maybe idk haha >_>

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This is Chapter 5 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @megumisthirdog @thegh0stwife @54fangirl @misslovingpearl @idkuluka @bitchycloudstrawberry @pinkpunkdynamite @theclassbookworm @okaywitheverything @7ds4ever

[okaywitheverything]

“give me a baby” satoru talks to you in a normal tone; you can’t feel or see any notes of sarcasm, but you smile in disbelief, at which he turns to you, “please” sincerely looking into your eyes.

“what’s wrong with you?”

“kids inherit their intelligence from their mom.”

gojo doesn’t let you say a word, putting his finger to your lips, again dazing you with his arguments, “i want my kids to be smart.”

you take his hand away, and he runs his fingers through his hair, ending your dialogue with a wink “and beautiful of course.”

[okaywitheverything]

scared to ask the librarian about this poster...

[okaywitheverything]

you write so welllll! I’m in love with this fic! the way I’m on the edge of the seat for Gojo to meet Haruto is unhinged😭😭😭 amazing chapter author🫨

satoru gojo x reader // like ghosts in the snow // chapter three

Words: 4.7k ♥ the one where u kiss a lil bit ♥ no TWs, just cute Satoru n some light angst/comfort action Previous chapter :33

╰┈➤This is a Flashback Chapter, but i promise i kept it relevant! no world building or unnecessary characters, just good old fashioned bonding :))

✎ reminder that reader has been given the default name 'shiori myoji'!. you have a clairvoyance technique and a two-year old gojo >;3 enjoy!!

...

Tokyo, Japan / January 2015 (see timeline here)

You saw more of Satoru after the ceremony. He’d find you when you were visiting campus grounds, sometimes bump into you on your way into meetings with the Jujutsu council. It made you a little nervous, knowing that he likely wasn’t finding you by accident, but it wasn’t until he’d somehow gotten ahold of your phone number that you started getting really annoyed.

“You’d better be dying,” you rasped, your voice heavy with sleep. It was nearly midnight, and Satoru had called you three times. You only picked up on the third because you were certain it was an emergency— which it was not. 

“Nah,” he replied coolly. “Just lonely. Whatcha doin’?”

“Gojo, it’s nearly midnight. I’m sleeping.” 

“It’s Satoru off-the-clock, babe,” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, cringing as you listened to him go on. “Besides, it’s Friday night. Why are you going to bed at old man hours?”

“I have a migraine,” you grumbled. “Don’t you know about those?”

“Of course, I know about migraines,” he replied, his tone shifting slightly as if offended. “I just don’t let them stop me from living my life.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “Living your life? You’re calling me at midnight to bother me. How’s that for living?”

“Aw, come on, Shi-chan,” he teased, and you could almost see him leaning back with that stupid grin on his face. “You can’t tell me you don’t secretly look forward to my calls.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he corrected smoothly.

“Satoru,” you seethed through gritted teeth, “if you don’t give me a real reason for why you’re calling, I’m hanging up.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough for you to wonder if he took you seriously, but then he exhaled dramatically.

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “You caught me. I wanted to see if you’d come out for food.”

You stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded. “You called me three times in the middle of the night for food?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ve barely eaten today! Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Your silence must have given you away because he chuckled softly. “You’re predictable, Shi-chan. Always working yourself to death, skipping meals like they’re optional. I’m just doing my civic duty as a fellow sorcerer to keep you alive.”

You rolled your eyes, even though you knew he couldn’t see the gesture. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably thoughtful,” he corrected. “So? What do you say? Midnight ramen? My treat.”

“It had better be,” you shot back. “You’re loaded.”

“Okay, fine,” he replied casually. “I’ll throw in dessert. Come on, it’ll help with the headache. Trust me.”

You sighed, debating whether you had the energy to argue. Honestly, the thought of food was tempting, especially since you had skipped dinner.

“Fine,” you relented, tossing your blanket aside. “But only if you promise not to talk the entire time.”

“No can do,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “But I’ll promise to be entertaining.”

“Debatable,” you muttered.

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from Satoru in a nearly empty ramen shop, wondering how you had allowed yourself to be dragged out of bed for this.

“So,” he grinned at you, twirling his chopsticks expertly. “How’s the migraine?”

You shot him a flat look. “Still there. You’re not helping.”

He laughed, leaning forward on his elbows. “You’ll thank me later when you’re full of delicious ramen and no longer grumpy.”

You huffed but took a sip of broth anyway, the warmth soothing your headache more than you wanted to admit. “This doesn’t mean I’m going to make a habit of this, you know.”

“Of course not,” he asserted, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he didn’t believe you. “But you’ll answer my calls next time, right?”

“Only if you’re dying,” you replied, slurping your noodles.

He smirked. “Guess I’ll have to get creative.”

You groaned, but deep down, you knew that you would answer.

And so it began. Your evening outings with Satoru became more frequent, to the point that he’d started to skip the courtesy call. Satoru would knock, and you’d already be dressed, ready to partake in whatever late-night cravings he had in mind. You told yourself it was just for the free meal, a convenient distraction, but that excuse felt thinner every time you walked out the door with him.

You found yourself lingering on the way he leaned back in his seat, one arm slung casually over the backrest as he told an outrageous story about his students. Or the way his face lit up whenever he convinced you to try something new, his grin infectious enough to make you laugh even when you weren’t planning to.

You liked him. Just a little. Enough that you didn’t mind his teasing quite so much anymore, or the way he always made it a point to walk you back home, even when you insisted that you didn’t need an escort.

One evening, Satoru had something different in mind when he showed up unannounced. His bandages were pushed up into his hair, leaving his eyes bare, and he looked… excited. More so than usual.

“What is it?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Put your shoes on, Shi-chan,” he instructed, waving a hand like he was summoning you. “We’re going out.”

You groaned, crossing your arms. “What are you dragging me into now?”

“Dessert,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

“Dessert?”

“Not just any dessert,” he clarified, his grin widening. “The best parfaits in the city. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Is this just an excuse to feed your sugar addiction?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But I’m not going alone, so get moving.”

With a sigh, you grabbed your coat and followed him out the door, trying to ignore the way your stomach turned when he held the door open for you, smiling expectantly.

The parfait shop was small and tucked away into a quiet alley, lit by warm, glowing lanterns. The moment you stepped inside, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of fresh fruit, whipped cream, and caramel. You couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped you.

Satoru led the way to a booth in the corner, practically bouncing in his seat as he opened the menu. “Look at this,” he enthused, pointing to an elaborate parfait topped with layers of strawberries, matcha ice cream, and tiny macarons. “This one’s calling out to me.”

“That’s enough sugar for three of you,” you muttered, scanning the menu.

“What are you getting?” he asked, leaning over the table. “Ooh, you should try the mango one. Or the chocolate banana. Or the—”

“I can read, Satoru,” you said, cutting him off with a small, reluctant smile. “And I can decide for myself.”

When the parfaits arrived, they were too pretty to eat— almost. Satoru wasted no time digging into his strawberry concoction, humming in satisfaction after the first bite.

“This is the one,” he outright moaned, pointing his spoon at you. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny how good the sweetness in front of you looked. You took a tentative bite of the chocolate banana parfait, and the immediate burst of flavor was enough to make you pause.

“See?” Satoru smirked as he watched your reaction. “Told you.”

On the walk back to your apartment, Satoru insisted on a detour to a nearby taiyaki stand—because, as he so eloquently put it, his daily sugar quota hadn’t been met, parfait notwithstanding. He carried the box of warm, fish-shaped pastries under his arm as you strolled through the quiet streets of suburban Tokyo. His voice filled the air, rambling about something inconsequential, his excitement infectious in the way that only Satoru Gojo could manage.

The gears in your mind turned over as you listened. This felt so familiar, like something you’d watched from a distance long ago. Him, lighting up at the simplest joys. The image of Satoru as a budding adult, walking alongside Suguru Geto, slipped into your mind unbidden. You’d seen him like this before—his shoulders relaxed, his grin easy, his words tumbling out with the same unguarded enthusiasm. Back then, it had been Suguru who tempered his boundless energy, who grounded him just enough to remind him that he was human.

The thought sent an ache through your chest. This wasn’t just nostalgia; it was Satoru searching for something, someone, to make him feel anchored again. Someone to remind him that he wasn’t untouchable. That he wasn’t just the Six Eyes, the strongest sorcerer, but Satoru—flawed, messy, and still yearning for the companionship that had once made him whole. But could that really be you?

And did you want it to be?

When you looked up again, your building was quickly approaching.

“Thanks for coming out,” he said casually, glancing over at you.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” you replied, but your tone lacked its usual bite.

He smirked. “You say that, but I think you’ve been enjoying our little outings.”

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes focused on the ground again. The truth was, he wasn’t really wrong. You were starting to look forward to these moments—more than you wanted to admit.

“Maybe,” you said softly, and your honesty caught even you by surprise.

Satoru’s smirk faltered for a split second, replaced by something warmer. “I knew it,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

When you reached your door, he handed you the box of taiyaki. “Here,” he said. “In case you get hungry later.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking the box from him. He opened his mouth, and you just knew he was going to say goodbye, so you beat him to it.

“Satoru,” you declared suddenly, a sour feeling gnawing at you from inside. There was something… something you needed to ask. Something you needed clarity on.

He closed his mouth for once, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes were uncovered. Expectant. Like he was waiting on something, too.

“What are we doing?” You spit out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’m not… do you want something from me?”

“What do you mean, Shi-chan?” He asked, his words light but careful. His eyes were scrutinizing. “I wanted dessert. You came with me. Easy enough, right?”

Not convinced, you shook your head. You stepped closer to him, the sour feeling inside you intensifying. “No, it’s not just that. It’s the phone calls, the showing up unannounced, the--,” you gestured around vaguely with your hand. “This. All of this. What is it?”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. For once, he didn’t seem to have a quip ready. His silence was as unnerving as it was unexpected, but you pressed on.

“I’m not dumb, Satoru,” You continued. “You don’t just... call people for no reason. You don’t go out of your way--,” you shook the taiyaki box for emphasis, “--for just anyone. So, what is it? Why me?”

Satoru’s jaw ticked almost imperceptibly. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air between you. Satoru ran a hand through is hair, letting out a breath that sounded far too serious for someone like him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I think I just... like being around you. Reminds me of simpler times.”

Those words stuck out to you. Simpler times. Because nothing was ever simple with Satoru Gojo.

And yet, as much as you wanted to laugh, to not believe him, you couldn’t. Your breath hitched, and you didn’t respond. Your thoughts flashed back to high school, seeing him and Suguru slinking around campus late at night. How sometimes they’d pass by your dorms, voices hushed but still loud enough to wake you from sleep. Laughing, like they’d just come back from a party and not a first-grade mission.

“I guess that’s allowed,” you finally muttered after a beat, averting your gaze to the ground. You were blushing fiercely, embarrassed with the assumptions you’d made about an old friend. Maybe he really is just... lonely.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to see him a few paces closer than he was before. His lazy grin was back, but there was still sincerity written across his features. “Goodnight, Shi-chan. I’ll see you around?”

“Night, Satoru,” You replied with a nod, hating the disappointment you felt when he withdrew. You watched him turn and walk away.

When the door closed behind him, you stood in place. Staring at the polished wood. Chewing your bottom lip.

“What the fuck?” you breathed, wondering if this was becoming something dangerous. For both of you.

You saw less of your six-eyed friend after that conversation. In a cruel twist of fate, the steady rhythm of a budding friendship started to falter as work piled up, missions became more frequent, life happened. The late-night knocks at your door stopped, his texts became sporadic, and a familiar hollowness began to take the place of Satoru’s easygoing, persistent presence.

You told yourself that it didn’t matter, that it was for the best. Sorcerers shouldn’t have distractions, right? Especially ones of your respective statures. Alas, it was hard to ignore the ache of his absence… like a thread constantly pulling at the edges of your thoughts. As much as you wanted to banish it from your mind, it always felt like… something was missing. Something with white hair and blue eyes.

Council meetings kept you busy, the higher ups’ usage of your technique was at an all-time high. Your headaches were constant, the need for a break starting to get desperate. One afternoon after one such meeting, you were merely passing through the Tokyo campus when you started hearing things.

The rumors started small, whispered between both staff and students. Murmured in passing, not even bothering to lower their voices when you approached—because why would they? No one knew about your friendship with Gojo, and the way it fizzled out into nothing. All the same, your chest ached to hear that he wasn’t just busy with work, he was… dating someone. Courting with the intention to marry, even, according to several sources on campus.

Not that you had asked them directly.

You knew that the clan was always pushing him to marry, to find a powerful sorceress from a prestigious line of her own, to produce an heir. The idea of him bending to their will—especially when it came to something as archaic as choosing a wife—was laughable. At first.

Eventually, the whispers changed.

You heard about a woman that he was seeing. A young, beautiful sorceress who had been sighted spending time with him. Casual strolls in the city, dinners at fancy restaurants—all of the things you’d expect of a young clan-head seeking out a potential spouse. You heard that she was from a respected lineage, someone that the greater Gojo clan approved of. Someone they saw as worthy of his name.

You heard that she kind of looked like you.

And again, you told yourself that it didn’t matter. You didn’t care.

But it wouldn’t hurt so bad if that were the truth, would it?

Their words lingered in your mind long after you overheard them.

The image of a woman who looked a little too much like you, walking beside him, laughing at his jokes. A part of you wondered if it was intentional, or if it was some cruel trick of the universe.

So when you heard the knock on your door one unassuming evening, your stomach twisted into a knot. You weren’t expecting anyone, but somehow you already knew by the way goosebumps sprouted against your flesh, and the beating of your heart sped up.

And when you opened the door, there he was.

Satoru Gojo stood on your doorstep, a lopsided grin on his face, his white hair falling messily over his forehead. He leaned casually against the doorframe, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

You felt a little naked before him, standing there in your cozy pajama top and bottoms, clearly not expecting visitors. Satoru’s eyes raked over your body shamelessly, but he didn’t comment on your attire. Thankfully.

“Hey,” he said easily, as if he’d just seen you yesterday. “Thought I’d stop by. You know, see if you missed me.”

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked, tilting his head like your question didn’t make sense. “What? I can’t visit anymore?” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. “Besides, you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you? What’s up with that?”

You stared blankly at him, stunned by the accusation. “Avoiding you?”

“Yeah.” He gave you a pointed look, still grinning. “No texts, no calls. You ghosted me, Shi-chan. Should I be hurt?”

Your frustration boiled over. How could he stand there, acting so normal, like he hadn’t done anything wrong? Like he didn’t even realize—

“I thought you were avoiding me,” you snapped, crossing your arms.

That made him pause, his grin faltering for just a second. “Huh? Why would I do that?”

You shook your head, your emotions threatening to spill over. “Forget it.”

“No, no, wait.” He frowned now, stepping closer. “Seriously, what’s going on? Did I miss something?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. “I heard things, Satoru.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. “Things?”

“About you.” Your voice cracked despite your best effort to keep it steady. You turned your face away from them as you added, “And her.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his confusion plain on his face. Then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, that?” he said, still chuckling. “That’s what this is about?”

Your stomach dropped at how easily he dismissed it. “What do you mean, ‘that?’”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You seriously thought I was avoiding you because of her? Come on, Shi-chan. Don’t be ridiculous.”

You clenched your fists at your sides. “Maybe it’s not ridiculous to me.”

“Shi-chan,” he insisted, his tone laced with exasperation. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not even someone I’d consider dating.”

“Then what—”

“She’s a pawn,” he interrupted in a serious voice. “A face to keep the clan off my back. They’ve been hounding me about marriage again, and she’s just… convenient.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Convenient,” you repeated, your voice hollow.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, taking another step closer. “She knows the deal. And trust me, she is being well compensated for her time.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that?” you asked, your frustration bubbling over.

“Because I didn’t think it mattered,” he replied with a frown. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t care,” you scowled, though the ache in your chest betrayed you. “But you can’t just show up here like this, expecting me to—”

“Clearly you do,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so pissed off right now.”

You snapped your gaze upwards, glaring at him. “I’m not pissed off!”

“Oh, you definitely are,” he mused, a hint of his usual teasing slipping through.

“Satoru,” you hissed, your fists clenched at your sides. “Do you know how humiliating it is to hear something like that secondhand? To have people whispering about you and some perfect sorceress, and I—”

You stopped yourself, biting your tongue before you could say too much.

“And you what?” he questioned, his voice quieter now and his expression unreadable. “Go on, Shi-chan. Say it.”

You shook your head, looking away. “Forget it.”

“Not a chance,” he declared, inching into your space, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve got something to say? Say it.”

Your chest heaved, the words clawing at your throat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them. Instead, you looked up at him, your anger dissolving into something more vulnerable, rawer.

“Why are you here, Satoru?” you asked finally, barely above a whisper

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “And I’m not dating anyone. If I was, you’d be the first to know.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, almost hesitant smile, “that if there’s anyone I’d want to spend time with, it’s you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Satoru shifted, scratching the back of his neck. “So, are you going to invite me in, or do I have to keep defending my non-existent girlfriend on your doorstep?”

But your mind was stuck on those words. If there’s anyone I’d want to spend time with, it’s you.

“Satoru,” you said, wishing you could wash the taste of his name out of your mouth. “You can’t say things like that to a woman. It’s… dangerous.”

Satoru blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by your response. Then, in true Gojo fashion, he tilted his head and smirked, his expression equal parts teasing and curious.

“Dangerous?” he repeated, his tone lighter now but edged with something more serious. “Why’s that?”

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. “Because,” you muttered, your voice just above a whisper, “they might start thinking you mean it.”

“And what if I do?”

Your head snapped up, your eyes meeting his, wide with disbelief. “You’re not serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he shot back. His gaze was steady and searching.

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head as you stepped back. “Because you’re Satoru Gojo. You flirt with everyone. You don’t mean half the things you say.”

He frowned, his hands sliding into his pockets as he tilted his head again. “You really think that?”

You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto the wall you were so desperately trying to keep between you. “It’s not like you’ve ever given me a reason to think otherwise.”

He sighed, the weight of your words settling between you like a stone.

“Why does it bother you?” He said quietly, a pointed look on his face. “Whether I’m dating someone or not?”

You froze, the question throwing you off guard.

 “I… It doesn’t,” you stammered, your heart racing. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to—”

“To what?” he pressed, stepping closer. “Spend time with you? Talk to you? Care about you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a step back, your legs hitting the edge of the couch. “Satoru, don’t.” You said, your voice low. Quiet. Nervous.

“Don’t what?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you. “Don’t ask why you’ve been avoiding me? Don’t ask why it bothers you so much that someone said I might be with someone else?”

“I’m not avoiding you." Your voice was weak, your hands gripping the back of the couch for support.

He laughed then, but it was humorless, sharp. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying!” you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. “I just—”

“Just what?” he interrupted. “Just don’t care? Just don’t want to admit that maybe you feel something for me?”

Your cheeks burned, your chest heaving as you struggled to find the words to refute him.

“That’s what I thought,” he retorted, his voice almost gentle now.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, looking away.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softening further. “But I’m not wrong.”

You felt his presence closer now, his warmth radiating in the small space between you. When you finally looked up, his blue eyes were piercing, unguarded in a way you’d rarely seen. His face had changed since high school. Still full of boyish charm, but… older now. Handsome. Matured. Not the teenage heartthrob of the Gojo clan that girls were clabbering over each other to flirt with.

And now, his attention was all on you.

“Satoru,” you said, your voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was featherlight, his fingers lingering for just a moment too long.

You swallowed hard, your heart thundering in your chest as his gaze dropped to your lips. “This is a bad idea,” you whispered, though your words lacked conviction.

“Probably,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, rueful smile. “But I’m full of bad ideas.”

And then he kissed you.

It was tentative at first, as though he was giving you the chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, his hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss deepened, the world around you fading until all you could feel was him—his warmth, his intensity, the way he seemed to pour everything he couldn’t say into the way his lips moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, your breaths mingling in the quiet room, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your waist.

“Shi-chan,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Just… tell me.”

You hesitated, your heart screaming one thing while your mind warned you of another. But as you looked up at him, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name, you found that you couldn’t say the words.

Instead, you leaned into him again, sighing in relief when he didn’t pull away.

His lips met yours again, this time with more certainty, and your world tilted on its axis. Every warning your mind screamed at you—this is wrong, it will only end in heartbreak—was drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the sensation of his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to this earth.

You gasped softly against him, and the sound broke something loose in him. His grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer, his other hand sliding to cradle the back of your neck. You felt his tongue against yours, tasted his spit as his fingers tangled in your hair. It sent a shiver down your spine that burnt away whatever resolve you had left.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t want this. But as his kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second, all logic crumbled. There was only the searing heat of him, the way he smelled faintly of something sweet and familiar, and the feeling of his thumb brushing softly against your jaw, grounding you even as everything else spun out of control.

Every nerve in your body was alight, every ounce of restraint you thought you had vanished, replaced by the overwhelming need to stay in this moment, in this feeling, for as long as you could.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your heart pounding like a drum in your ears. His eyes searched yours, wide and unguarded, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. His lips were red and slightly swollen, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just run a marathon.

“This isn’t—” you started in a breathless whisper, but the words caught in your throat when he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones with a tenderness that sent another shiver through you.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice low and raw. “But… does it matter?”

Your throat tightened, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket, heavy and warm. You didn’t know how to answer him, and maybe he didn’t expect you to.

Instead, he leaned in again, his breath ghosting over your lips, his hands steady and sure against your skin. “Tell me this isn’t right,” he whispered, almost pleading now, his voice breaking just slightly.

But you couldn’t. You didn’t.

And so you kissed him again. Because in that moment, it felt right enough.

.

.

This is Chapter 3 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @megumisthirdog @thegh0stwife @54fangirl @misslovingpearl @idkuluka @bitchycloudstrawberry @pinkpunkdynamite @theclassbookworm @okaywitheverything

love u guys <3 thx for reading and reblogging

[okaywitheverything]

╰┈➤ satoru gojo x reader // reader self insert // prologue here

╰┈➤ like ghosts in the snow // synopsis: Two years ago, you vanished from Tokyo and its world of curses entirely. First grade status be damned-- you were gone without a trace. Left to raise the son of the strongest sorcerer in a world far removed from the dangers you and his father both had been subject to. You escaped the endless battle of curses vs man, the burden of a life sopping wet with death and tragedy. Here, in the solitude of these snow-covered mountains, you were finally safe.

Right?

╰┈➤ CH 1 TWs: male masturbation, explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of sex, original characters used, secret pregnancy, mention of young children, mention of past character death, possible manga spoilers, blah blah blah. enjoy :)

╰┈➤ see story timeline here, if you wanna!

╰┈➤ next chappy :)

✎ side note before we dig in! I know y'all hate a YN so the reader has been given a random japanese name. welcome to ur new life as Shiori Myoji :)

Somewhere out west, 2018...

You sat alone in your cabin, staring at the flickering fire... The wind howled outside, shaking the windows and piling snow high against the panes. You barely noticed. Winter had come early this year, though the townsfolk chalked it up to the unpredictable nature of the mountains. You held a half-empty teacup, the liquid long since gone cold. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gripped its handle, though you told yourself it was just from the chill in the air. 

The fire crackled on, and your thoughts drifted like smoke, pulling you backward through time as you stared into the hypnotizing flames.

...

Tokyo, Japan- December 2014.

The first time you saw Satoru Gojo as human was at the ceremony following Suguru's death, a private event held at Tokyo Jujutsu High after hours. There weren’t many guests, but the crowd was big enough that he hadn’t seen you at first. You’d stood at the edge, out of the way, your umbrella shielding you from the rain pouring down as if the sky itself was in mourning, too. 

You hadn’t planned to approach him. What could you have said? The strongest sorcerer in the world, staring at the ground as though he could will himself to fall through it– what words could you possibly offer? Anything that crossed your mind felt hollow, tasted meaningless on your tongue. 

Yet, still, you approached. Those bright blue eyes had landed on you and you were drawn in, like a moth to flame. Your feet were moving before you realized what you’d done. 

“Shi-chan, you’re staring,” he chided, his voice sounding hollow. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t,” you replied, aware that you both knew it was a lie.

It always was.

He smiled, soft but genuine– like he was just grateful for your company. You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from the gesture. 

The relationship you’d had after wasn’t supposed to mean anything. A month of stolen moments, grief shared in the only ways you knew how. You sought comfort in each other’s arms, filling the empty spaces that Suguru had left behind. Late night texts. Solo outings. You told yourself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a way to cope. Was that a lie, too? 

That time together had changed everything. And two months later, when you realized you were pregnant, you knew that there was no going back. 

The sound of Haruto stirring in his sleep pulled you back to the present. The cabin’s quiet stillness wrapped tightly around you as you set down your teacup, your fingers still slightly shaking as you stepped toward your sleeping son, curled around his stuffed rabbit. He was so small, so peaceful– and yet, every time you looked at him, it was like staring into the past. Your big, scary past. 

His hair, white as the snow outside… his eyes, that same piercing shade of blue that gazed at you from across classrooms, found you in crowded hallways buried deep in your memory… Sometimes, if you looked at him just right, he even had his father’s stubborn smirk. Sometimes it was enough to make your heart ache. 

You didn’t regret leaving– you wouldn’t let yourself. You’d made the choice for Haruto, for Satoru, for humanity– he deserved a childhood free from the crushing weight of the Gojo name, free from the dangers of being born into a world of curses. And Satoru…

He didn’t need the burden of fatherhood, another anchor to his already heavy chains. 

He didn’t stop you when you left.

Your breath caught in your throat. You told yourself not to think about him, not to wonder where he was or what he was doing. You’d left him behind, you’d left everything behind, but the truth lingered. Sharp and bitter in the back of your throat. You’d run because you were afraid. Afraid for the part of you that wanted to believe that Satoru might have chosen you and the life growing inside of you over everything else. 

But you’d seen the threads of fate. Tangled, cruel, impossible to ignore. You left because you couldn’t bear to watch him choose the world over you. 

The fire snapped sharply, loud enough to make you jump. The flames cast dancing shadows against the walls, and you felt a familiar prickling at your scalp as you watched them move. It wasn't a vision, but a feeling, a suggestion that something may be on the horizon. You closed your eyes, trying to will fate’s whisper into a conversation, but it remained quiet– imperceptible. Glimpses came to you in flickering waves, an apparition at the edge of your mind… someone tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like the sky…

Your chest tightened as you pushed the thought away with a gasp, forcing yourself to focus on the crackling fire and the sound of howling wind outside. 

“Shiori,” an older voice called softly from the adjoining room. “Are you still awake? It’s well past midnight.”

“Aya-san,” you replied, withdrawing your hand from your son’s hair. “Did I wake you?”

“No, child. The storm did.” Aya stepped lightly into the room, moving with the ease of someone used to late-night watches. She lowered herself onto the armchair by Haruto, dimming the table lamp and casting soft shadows across her face. 

Aya Takahashi, formerly Zenin– she’d sought an escape from the troubling world of jujutsu, same as you. Born into the infamous Zenin clan with a powerful technique, she had built her life around the expectations of her lineage… until she met her late husband. He was a non-sorcerer whom she'd fallen in love with devastatingly quickly. Their love was defiant in the eyes of the Zenins, and Aya chose him over their approval. They ran away together, knowing the cost of their love, only for her spiteful relatives to come for them both, bringing their marriage to a sudden, violent end. 

Aya lost her husband that day.

She ran away to this sleepy, mountainside town out west, hoping that its wild, untamed cursed energy would mask her signature. For thirty years, she had been successful. When she came across you and Haruto, barely ten months old at the time, she saw herself in your struggle, and she knew... she couldn’t walk away. 

And gods bless her soul, she didn’t.

Aya had become such an unassuming yet steady presence in your life—a former sorceress who had left her old life behind and found solace in this small, secluded town just like you had.

The arrangement had begun with practicality, but Aya’s quiet strength and experience had turned her into a figure of comfort, almost a guardian. Her motherly tendencies extended to you as much as to Haruto, though she rarely showed her cards outright.

Aya studied you for a moment, her expression knowing. “Something tells me you haven’t slept yet,” she hummed, reaching to turn on the television as if to settle in for a watchful night.

You studied her with a hint of reluctance, knowing exactly what she intended. “Aya-san, you really don’t have to—”

“Go and rest, Shiori.” Her voice was gentle, but her tone left no room for debate. “I’ll be here if the boy wakes.”

“But I—,”

The look she gave you, one full of quiet insistence, spoke louder than any further protests you could make.

With a resigned sigh, you shook your head and accepted the fate she’d laid out for you, the comfort of her presence an unspoken balm. You relented and bid her goodnight, resting a comforting hand on Haruto’s little head before walking away. 

Tokyo, Japan- 2018.

In Tokyo, Satoru Gojo was feeling a similar kind of anxiety. 

Ryomen Sukuna had a vessel. The thought of it alone made his jaw clench tightly. It was unprecedented, unpredictable, and as far as he was concerned, a major pain in the ass. There were no protocols for this sort of thing— well, maybe one, but that was the last thing he wanted. “I can’t let them kill him,” he muttered to himself, tone sharp as nails. “He’s just a kid.”

He leaned back in his office chair, staring out at the Tokyo skyline with mild interest. His head pulsed with a day-old migraine as he studied the tiny flares of cursed energy erupting in short bursts across the city's grid. The presence of curses and the activity of curse users had become more erratic than usual, flickering in the depths of the city like embers waiting to be ignited. It had only gotten worse since Sukuna's fingers entered the equation; like all of Japan was holding its breath. Even with his technique, Satoru was struggling to keep up with the endless spikes of energy on the horizon. His head throbbed, his senses constantly assaulted until finally, he pulled the blinds closed. 

Satoru sighed. He hadn't been this on edge in a very long time, not since...

He dismissed the thought, reaching for a bottle of painkillers nearby and rattling it in a last-ditch effort to dull the throbbing in his skull. He popped two in his mouth and swallowed them dry before running a broad palm over his face, a low groan slipping out as he reached his lips. "This is fucking stupid," he muttered, voice muffled by his hand.

With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the chair and stretched his long arms above his head, joints stiff and aching from too many hours of vigilance and too little rest. He hated to even consider leaving campus, knowing that Yuuji-- no. Sukuna was here. Yuuji had done well in controlling the king of curses since they had started training, but the thought of leaving him alone still left Satoru uneasy. Could he really turn his back on him?...

Yes, he decided, as his eyes caught sight of his phone screen flashing the time: 3:55pm. He hadn't slept a wink in over 40 hours, a reckless oversight even by his standards. His Six Eyes needed rest, and he'd be no use to anyone-- especially against Sukuna --if he burned out completely. I can leave. Just for a few hours.

With a tired sigh, he dialed his assistant. “Ijichi,” he sang half heartedly into his cell, his voice missing some of its usual playfulness. “I’m going home.”

Ijichi's protests were immediate, though muffled through the receiver. Satoru didn't bother listening. He slipped the phone into his back pocket without even hanging up, ignoring the last few sputters of "--but Gojo-san!"

Stretching his limbs once more, he felt the weight of exhaustion settling into his bones. It wasn't like him to abandon his post so early into the afternoon, but he wouldn't be of any use in this state. Half-blind, staggering through a haze of pain. The pounding behind his eyes was growing unbearable, his senses dulling with each passing minute. 

With one last glance at the skyline, Satoru exhaled, letting his shoulders drop just slightly. It was strange, the guilt that had begun creeping in these days, as if his raw determination alone would be enough to protect humanity from Sukuna's dark influence. But at his core, he knew that if he wasn't sharp, if he wasn't fully there, then he was no more than a tired body standing watch. 

Humanity deserved better than that. 

Yuuji deserved better than that. 

In his apartment, Satoru wandered thoughtlessly into his bedroom, tossing aside his phone, his wallet, his blindfold, and all of the other little trinkets he carried on the job. The blinds were drawn and the room was dark; still, he manipulated the pitch black space seamlessly, thankful for the small mercy of darkness. He migrated to his shower-- something else he'd been putting off. 

The hot stream of water-- scalding against his porcelain skin --was healing. Following the contours of his body, mapping the planes of his muscles as it traveled across his skin. The rich scent of his body wash hung thickly in the air, cutting through 40 hours' worth of sweat and frustration. With a sigh, he bowed his head, letting it all fall into his eyes, mouth. 

What the fuck had happened to him? 

Being alone was something he still struggled with. He'd once thought of Suguru as the only person who could possibly understand the isolation that followed his responsibilities as the strongest. But Suguru was gone, had been gone longer even than he'd been dead, and all that was left now was... Satoru and his sadness? Longing? He didn't know what he was feeling. 

Remorse? 

"You promise you won’t regret this?"

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Eyes snapping open, he reared his head back. Infinity kept him from losing his balance, thankfully, but didn't stop the way he wobbled a bit on his feet with the emotional whiplash he'd just received from that memory. That voice. 

He exhaled, long and slow, steam swirling in the dimmed light. His pulse quickened just slightly as the memory returned to him in living color, as if he were reliving it-- naked and vulnerable. 

A laugh-- soft like morning mist. Perfume dancing across his senses, igniting warmth within his chest. He felt her  presence even here, in the sanctuary of his mind. 

Shiori Myoji. The Clairvoyance User. 

The quiet, mundane memory came to him suddenly-- like his pain had picked the lock to a door he'd forgotten long ago. She was sitting on the edge of a windowsill in the Jujutsu High dorms, delicate fingers cradling a cup of tea. He sat beside her, much too close, with a large hand resting on her covered thigh. She was blushing, and he remembered the way it made his heart race. Has anyone ever done that before? 

Has anyone ever done that... since? 

"You're incorrigible,"  she scolded lightly, though the light smile upon her lips told him all that he needed to know. With a glance toward the halls, assuring there would be no witnesses, she leaned into him and he did the same, capturing her mouth in a tender kiss.

Fuck, she was always so soft. So calm. The kind of calm he pretended that he was, but had never really felt. Only in these moments, did she ever seem to look at him. Usually, her gaze extended into a space that he couldn't see-- a space that no one occupied, as if she were seeing something that he couldn't. 

The water hit his shoulders harder now, as if trying to call him back to the present. He straightened, shaking his head as if that could wash away the memory of her. As if it were something that could be scrubbed away as easily as sweat and blood from his skin. 

But she lingered, as she always seemed to do. She'd been away for too long for him to still think of her. She was a distraction at the time, something they both craved desperately. That is what she was, wasn't she? His distraction. His excuse. His anchor when the weight of Suguru's passing had threatened to tilt him off-balance. She was his-- then, now, whether she knew it or not. 

His, because he couldn't let her be anything else.

Yes, a voice in his head purred. Yours, it agreed— languid and sweet, sounding suspiciously like her. 

She was an addiction he’d been more than willing to rid himself of— even if it hurt like pouring salt into a wound. He’d love to say that he didn’t feel it, or that it paled in comparison to the pain of killing his best friend, but that simply wasn’t true. He’d grown attached to her warmth, her quiet strength, the mutual understanding of their own responsibilities as sorcerers. She’d been an enigma to him in high school, a close friend as an adult, and now? A ghost. A shadow. Someone who knew him intimately, someone whose taste hadn’t left his mouth since the last time his tongue was inside of her— because only he knew her so intimately, too. 

Only he had been privy to the way that her brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and disgust when he said something lewd, the way her cheeks would darken at the slightest mention of their extracurricular affairs, igniting a fire in the pit of Satoru’s belly each time. Only he got to see the spit-slick part of her lips when she came, her wet heat wrapped so tightly around his member that he’d nearly blacked out at the force of his own orgasm. Only he knew that it was like that every. Single. Time. with her, like they were both squirming virgins experimenting with strange new feelings. 

Except Satoru had never felt so enthralled with a lover before, and he never would again— something he’d come to terms with after trying and failing to fill the void she left in his life as his ‘distraction’. That’s all she was.

Right?

“Fuck,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he recalled her image in near-perfect clarity, spread out above his sheets— moaning softly, gasping his name when he fucked her just right. “Fucking shit.”

Satoru took himself in his hand, letting the water cascade down his back as he hunched over, pressing his forehead against the cool tile as he recalled more. Her dainty fingers tangled in his hair as she writhed beneath him, bucking her hips against his pelvis and fucking herself on his cock. Broken whispers of ‘Satoru, please,’ as her walls contracted around him, milking his seed into her waiting womb. The taste of her sweat on his tongue, salty and sweet, while he sucked his little purple love bites into her skin. He’d spell out his fucking name with them if he could. 

He’d carve it into her flesh with his teeth if she’d let him. 

Feelings Satoru had never experienced before her— or after her — flooded his senses. The hollow ache of desperation as he craved her warmth, the bitter taste of jealousy as he thought of her with anyone else, the crushing weight of grief when he remembered she was gone—

“Fucking miss you,” he spat, pumping desperately into his own fist, slick with prespend. “Fucking miss the way you feel.”

In his mind’s eye, Shiori writhes underneath him, pinned to the mattress by his weight. Her fingers tangle into his hair as he fucks into her, hard and fast, carving out a space just for him. He’s grunting along with his thrusts, her pretty little gasps coming out in broken hiccups. They’re hiding in the campus dorms again and they have to be quiet; she muffles a loud cry against his shoulder, teeth baring down into his flesh as she locks her legs around his waist with surprising ferocity, holding him so deep inside of her, and oh shit they forgot a condom—

“Fuck,” he hissed out in a sharp breath, tightening his grip on himself. The exhaustion in his bones temporarily forgotten, Satoru slammed a fist onto the wall above his head, a satisfying little crack! coming from the tile. His orgasm had nearly taken his breath away in its intensity, years of frustration and repressed feelings finally coming to a sore, bursting head. 

He stood panting in the shower stall, watching the physical evidence of his longing swirl down the drain. His head pulsed with every beat of his heart, the effort he’d exerted not mixing kindly with his already throbbing migraine. He groaned, running a hand through his slick hair, and subsequently flicking water onto the wall behind him. Fucking Shiori, he muttered to himself. 

Head swimming, Satoru emerged from the muggy bathroom several minutes later. He was still stewing over his momentary loss of control. He could have anyone he wanted, and here he was, fisting his cock to memories of an old flame. A ghost from his past. 

He’d buried her in the place he’d buried Suguru— except, the ache was different knowing that her physical form still roamed this earth. Somewhere. He could find her, if he wanted to. Maybe she'd be able to tell him what the fuck he should do, how the fuck he was going to save a 16 year old boy with an eons-old curse living inside of him. 

A plan began to unfurl inside of him, unwillingly. A first grade sorceress, gone without a trace... But all cursed energy left residuals, didn’t it? Would it really be so hard for the Six Eyes to follow her clues, hunt her down, and bring her back home? 

It wouldn’t be hard, but it wouldn’t be right, he thought. 

Last he heard, Shiori had fled west to study cursed energy manifestation in other regions. It was a convincing cover up, but given her technique and her history of omitting bigger details, he'd always assumed there were other implications to why and where she'd gone. Did she know what was happening in Tokyo? Did she see something that he didn't? 

Of course she fucking did, he scoffed, slipping a t-shirt over his bare shoulders. When didn't she? She always knew more than she let on. It had frustrated him back then, and it frustrated him even more now. The idea that she might have seen this, predicted it-- Sukuna, Yuuji, the spiraling chaos of Tokyo's curses --and had chosen to leave anyway gnawed at him. 

The truth was, he didn't want to think about why she left. Shit, he didn't want to think about her at all. But her name sat heavy on his chest now, a quiet itch he couldn't continue to ignore. If anyone could make sense of the impossible, it was her. And yet... she was gone. She'd left without so much as a goodbye, or a trace worth following. Maybe that was all of the explanation he really needed. 

Maybe that was all of the closure he’d ever get.

With a low groan, Satoru flopped onto his bed, stretching his arms out wide. He didn't get tired often, but exhaustion was settling into his bones. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness settle over him, the plan that he refused to admit beginning to stir in his minds' eye once more, unwelcome and persistent. He could find her. If he wanted to. If he needed to.

.

.

This is Chapter 1 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @hyookka @drogonfruitzen

[okaywitheverything]

"Boys don't cry"

He's heard those words ever since he was a little kid. The people around him always told him how he needed to be a "big boy", and big boys never cry.

He didn't cry when he scraped his knee on the slide. He didn't cry when he got his first failling grade. He didn't cry when things went badly in his life. He was sure his tear glands weren't even working at this point.

He never cries. He's a big boy. Big boys don't cry.

So why does he feel his cheeks wet when he sees you dressed in white?

Why does he feel like breaking down into tears while you make your way to the altar, smile radiant as ever and holding a big, pretty flower bouquet?

Why does he keep blinking his eyes as you approach him and link your hands with his? And why is his vision getting blurred when he realized you were soon to share the same last name?

It then dawned on him.

He wasn't a boy. He wasn't a big boy, either. He was a man.

And when the priest finally says: "You may kiss the bride" and he finally lets the tears fall freely as your mouths get closer, he realized he learned something today.

Boys don't cry, but men do.

And he was a man. Your man. And he would gladly cry in front of the whole world if it meant keeping that title.

TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kunigami Rensuke, REO MIKAGE (even tho he cried when Nagi left him lol), SENDOU SHUTO, Rin Itoshi, Megumi Fushiguro, Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, ATSUMU MIYA, KAGEYAMA TOBIO, Oikawa Tooru, IWAIZUMI HAJIME, Kuroo Tetsuro, Ushijima Wakatoshi, KITA SHINSUKE + your favs!

Masterlist

[okaywitheverything]

BLUE LOCK // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works. creds for divider

itoshi rin

because you're my muse

wallet

make you mine

nodus tollens

nothing more than lovesick

supernatural

mutual support

jealousy

itoshi sae

seabird

devotion

us, again

it would have been sweet

find love

freefall

valentines

michael kaiser

five dates and a proposal

sweet nothings

stench

red

what does it mean if i can't write a love letter?

it's like i'm painting pictures the way i picture paint

pulling pigtails

yoichi isagi

say you love me

fake it 'til we make it

football for dummies

lost

wednesdays with you

skirt physics

seishiro nagi

your attention on me, please!

flight of the navigator

hell or glory, i don't want anything in between

lullaby

his favorite character

good luck charm

reo mikage

sharing secrets in the dark

your tequila lips is my idea of luxury

[okaywitheverything]

'•.¸♡BUY ME THE MOON࿐ྂ SANO "MIKEY" MANJIRO x f!READER

ONE — house of glass

chapter summary: a 'sheltered girl' living a somewhat secluded life, hidden away from the public eye as the secret daughter of Japan's president, celebrates her 20th birthday alone. Meanwhile, Sano Manjiro, the man with the country under his boot, helps the president win the election and gets engaged to his oldest daughter.

chapter warnings: DARK CONTENT 18+, mentions of prostitution, car accidents, spoiled!reader, inaccurate depiction of politics and political climate, infidelity, cheating, implications of abortion, character death, sexism, isolation, violence, corruption, objectification(not reader)

word count: 3377

masterlist | chapter 2

The world is unfair. You realized that pretty quickly when you were young. That's why every day you're thankful your dad is disgustingly rich and loves the smile on your face more than he loves being a good person.

You were the daughter of a prostitute and a politician. Odd combination, yes, you know. Years ago, your dad made the drunken decision to cheat on his current wife and there, low and behold, the story of your birth.  Surprisingly, your father wanted your mother to keep you. 

Your filthy rich politician dad buys your mother a mansion hidden away from the public in the woods. It's there you are born and there that your father's first wife finds out about you and what your father had done. 

Saimori Shinichi was no good man and perhaps his wife, Saimori Kanoko should have known that the man would cheat. But what she hadn't expected was for him to keep you, an illegitimate child he looked at more fondly than he's ever looked at Kaya, his first daughter. You personally do not understand the reason for your father's blatant favouritism but you could care less.

Shinichi keeps his cheating under wraps and Kanoko is forced to go along with it. After all, what is more disgraceful than being cheated on with a prostitute? You are kept hidden away from the spotlight. No one knows of your existence except for a few of your father's bodyguards, Kanoko and Kaya.

When you turn 5, your mother passes away in a car accident.

You can't say you were... sad. You felt something but it wasn't like you got along with your mother when your father wasn't around. Your mother wished you were born a son but Kaya tells you she's thankful you aren't a boy or else she would have hated you more. 

There were both good and bad things in life and it seems for Kaya, a good thing for her was that you were not only illegitimate but also a girl like her. 

A good thing for you? Daddy's money.

Over the years, your father climbed up higher and higher in the social ladder and became a candidate for president.

You, on the other hand, were his hidden daughter, a current university student majoring in fashion design. You spend most of your time buried in books and fabrics, dreaming up designs that would never see the light of day. But that was okay, because the world outside was a scary place, and your cozy mansion provided all the safety and comfort you needed. You went to class and came back. You had no reason to make any friends. Friends were a security issue and you couldn't have that. It wasn't like you needed anyone else anyway. 

On the eve of your 20th birthday, you wake up to the same routine. A luxurious breakfast prepared by the house staff, a solitary stroll in the mansion's sprawling gardens, and then back to your room where you lose yourself in the world of sketches and swatches. Birthdays were just another day, after all. But this birthday feels different, a subtle shift in the air that you can't quite pinpoint. Maybe it's the loneliness that settles heavier on your shoulders today, the absence of any real connection beyond the opulent walls of your prison. Or perhaps it's the nagging feeling that there's more to life than what your father's money can buy. But that's a stupid thought.

You sit in a room of the mansion on the floor with your laptop in front of you and an embroidery hoop in your hand. This specific room was set up by your father so you had your own space to store fabrics and other things you needed. But it wasn't really needed. You were the only one who lived in the mansion anyway. Kaya and your stepmother lived in Tokyo with your father. After all, they had to make it seem to the public that they were a happy family. 

You thread the needle through the fabric in the hoop as you listen to what is being said on the news. It's about 11:30 pm. You're watching the live results of the election playing. The winner will be announced at 12 am. For this election, your father was one of the candidates. 

As the clock ticks closer to midnight, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation mingled with dread. You're supposed to be happy, right? After all, your father's victory would secure your comfortable lifestyle for the foreseeable future. But deep down, you can't shake the feeling that something about this whole situation is wrong.

The television screen flashes with the latest updates on the election results. Your father's face appears on the screen, his usual charming smile plastered across his features as he shakes hands with supporters. But behind that facade, you know the truth. You know the lengths he's gone to secure his victory, the shady deals and underhanded tactics he's employed.

You sigh, focusing back on your embroidery, the needle moving rhythmically through the fabric. Your phone buzzes beside you, startling you out of your reverie. It's a text from your father, a rare occurrence in itself.

"Victory assured. Be ready" it reads. Short and cryptic, as always.

You roll your eyes, setting the phone back down without replying. Be ready for what? Another party you won't attend? Another parade of false smiles and empty promises? You continue stitching, the repetitive motion soothing your restless mind.

As the clock strikes midnight, the news anchor's voice crescendos with excitement, announcing your father's victory. Your father's face is back on the screen, victorious and gleaming. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to step out of the shadows, to be acknowledged as his daughter, to be part of the life you can only watch from a distance. But then again, you remember all the unnecessary scrutiny Kaya goes through on a daily and wonder perhaps it was for the best that you weren't out in the spotlight like her. 

Almost like the cameraman heard your thoughts, the screen changes to Kaya who is hugging your father with a huge smile on her face. Her hair and makeup are done perfectly and her outfit is without a wrinkle in sight. You smile. She looks pretty. Now, you would probably text Kaya that but you don't get along with her. She doesn't like you and you don't like her. It's as simple as that. Telling Kaya she looked pretty would upset the fragile balance you've maintained with her and psychological warfare was more fun. So instead you text:

[12:04 am] cute outfit but is that a white hair I see?

You giggle to yourself and put your phone down. However, your smile quickly fades realizing you were spending your birthday alone. You just turned 20 and here you are, in one of the rooms in the mansion in the woods, surrounded by colourful fabrics and a laptop on the floor. The mansion is eerily quiet as the celebration rages on in Tokyo. The only sounds are the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees outside. You look out the window, at the dark, moonlit forest surrounding the mansion. Sometimes you wonder if this isolation is a curse or a blessing. Your world is so small, confined to the mansion's walls and the occasional trips to your university. There's an almost suffocating security in your routine, a predictability that keeps you anchored. But tonight, the loneliness feels more palpable, more oppressive.

You didn't want to seem ungrateful or spoiled. After all, your father always gave you whatever you wanted and loved you a lot. You know he did and he showed it as well. The only thing was that he didn't acknowledge you in public and couldn't talk about you. It wasn't like you were really complaining about it. It was just that you felt really lonely right now. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. It's unusual for anyone to visit the mansion at this hour, especially on election night. You set your embroidery hoop aside and move to the window, peering through the curtains. A sleek black car pulls up to the front entrance then a few more and then a truck.  Your heart skips a beat. Who could it be at this hour? Your mind races through possibilities, none of them comforting. You consider calling your father, but dismiss the idea just as quickly. He wouldn't appreciate being disturbed during his victory celebrations. But then you realize that perhaps it's nothing as you watch security lead the cars to the side which was direct entry to the backyard. Maybe it was nothing. 

The mansion was extremely secure and security very loyal. Your father paid them well and was actually pretty nice to them. They had no reason to sell your father out so, these new people arriving were not anything alarming. Perhaps your father was increasing security now that he was president. You shrug and pick your laptop off the floor, leave the room and head to your own bedroom. That was enough stitching for tonight. 

You settle onto the plush bed in your room, laptop on your lap and start to do some online shopping. The rhythmic movements of your fingers on the keyboard and each new item you add to your cart help soothe your frayed nerves, but you can't shake off the curiosity about the late-night visitors. It's not unusual for your father to have secretive dealings, but the timing feels odd. You mentally list all the possible reasons for the visit, each one more unlikely than the last. 

Oh well, you think and open up Viviene Westwood.

"Stupid brat" Kaya mutters as she closely examines each strand of her black hair in the mirror of the private bathroom in the president's office

After you sent her that text about white hair she couldn't help but internally panic. Kaya glares at her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair, searching for any sign of a stray gray strand. Of course, there isn't one, but your message has done its job: she's flustered and annoyed. She was on TV just moments ago with her father and the thought of the entire country seeing a damn white hair on her head makes her sick. 

There was a lot resting on her now. She was the daughter of the fucking president and that came with responsibilities. Kaya takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her. She can't afford to let her facade crack, not now, not when she's so close to achieving everything she's ever wanted. She splashes cold water on her face, letting the shock jolt her back to reality. She adjusts her perfectly tailored suit, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. Everything about her has to be flawless, and impeccable, a reflection of the prestigious position she holds as the president's daughter. She can't afford any slip-ups, especially not now when the media's eyes are trained on her every move.

But despite her outward confidence, there's a gnawing sense of insecurity that never quite leaves her. It's always been there, lurking beneath the surface, a constant reminder of her status as the second-best daughter. She hates that you, the hidden daughter, exist. She hates that you're a constant reminder of her father's infidelity, a stain on their perfect family image.

But what she hates most of all is the fact that you seem to revel in your position as the favoured daughter, even though you're nothing more than a spoiled, sheltered brat. But Kaya refuses to let you get under her skin. She's worked too hard and sacrificed too much to let some spoiled princess steal her thunder. She'll do whatever it takes to maintain her status, even if it means playing dirty. She's learned from the best, after all. She tosses her phone onto the vanity, the screen lighting up with a text from her fiancé, Sano Manjiro.

Kaya found it dumb that her father even suggested this engagement. Sano Manjiro and the rest of Bonten were no normal businessmen. They were fucking snakes, criminals. Kaya hated her father for setting her up with a damn criminal like Sano Manjiro but at least he's hot and has money. Kaya scoffs at the message, her lips curling into a smirk. She knows Manjiro's just another pawn in her father's game, a means to an end. She doesn't love him, and she's sure as hell he doesn't love her either. Their engagement is nothing more than a business transaction, a way for her father to solidify his ties with the underworld. But Kaya isn't stupid; she knows how to play the game. She'll use Manjiro to further her own ambitions, to climb even higher up the social ladder.

But even as she revels in her own cunning, there's a part of Kaya that can't shake off the feeling of unease that's been gnawing at her ever since she received your text. She knows you're up to something, knows you're not as innocent as you pretend to be. And that terrifies her. Because if there's one thing Kaya can't stand, it's being outmaneuvered.

She glances at herself in the mirror one last time, adjusting her expression into one of poised elegance. She can't let anyone see the cracks in her facade, can't let them see the insecurity that's been eating away at her from the inside out. With one last deep breath, she squares her shoulders and steps out of the bathroom, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

As she exits the bathroom, her eyes flicker to the closed door of her father's office, where he's no doubt celebrating his victory with his cronies. She knows she should join them, should bask in the glory of her father's success. But right now, all she can think about is you, the mysterious girl hidden away in the mansion in the woods, the one who threatens to unravel everything she's worked so hard to achieve.

With a determined set to her jaw, Kaya strides towards the door, her mind already racing with plans and schemes. She may not be able to control everything, but she'll be damned if she lets you ruin everything she's worked so hard for. You may be the president's secret daughter, but Kaya is the president's daughter, and she'll be damned if she lets anyone forget it.

 She glances down at her phone remembering she hadn't responded to Manjiro's text. But then again, she also has no plans to respond to him. She rolls her eyes before responding with a quick, "Busy. Later." She had plans for this evening with a pretty boy she saw at the rally tonight. 

Little does she know, Manjiro has his own plans for the evening.

You smell something burning. You narrow your eyes, push your laptop off your lap and get off the bed, heading for your balcony. You push open the double glass doors and the smell gets stronger, the acrid scent filling your nostrils as you step onto the balcony. The night air is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the source of the smell. You follow the scent, your gaze sweeping over the sprawling grounds of the mansion, searching for any sign of smoke or flames.

And then you see it.

A bonfire?

There are a few men standing around it with large boxes nearby. You furrow your brow in confusion, wondering what could possibly be going on. This isn't a normal occurrence at the mansion, especially not at this hour. You watch in silence as they throw sheets of paper into the fire, emptying out box by box making sure none flies away. Your curiosity piqued, you lean forward slightly, trying to get a better view of what's happening down below. The men seem to be completely absorbed in their task, their movements swift and purposeful. You can't make out their faces in the darkness, but their silhouettes dance against the flickering flames of the bonfire. "hmm..." you murmur when you see a flash of pink

As your eyes adjust to the darkness you notice the bright hair colours on a few of the men. Purple, white and pink. The rest have black hair. Your eyes focus on a few men in particular, laughing and smoking while the rest empty the boxes into the fire. You squint your eyes and notice the two men with purple hair have matching tattoos on their throats, the same design that the guy with the long white hair has on his scalp. With bated breath, you continue to watch from your vantage point on the balcony, trying to piece together what's happening down below. The men seem to be finishing up their task, the last of the boxes emptied into the roaring flames of the bonfire. "what..." You mutter trying to figure out exactly what is going on

With your focus being on the bonfire below you in the backyard, you don't hear your bedroom door opening. Before you can even blink, your body is forcefully turned around. Your heart leaps to your throat as you're suddenly spun around, your back meeting the balcony railing with a jolt. You gasp in shock, your eyes widening as you find yourself face-to-face with a man you've never seen before. He's sort of tall, but still somehow intimidating, with sharp features and piercing eyes that seem to bore into your soul. His hair is a striking shade of white, a stark contrast to his dark clothing and the darkness of the night. 

But it's not just his appearance that sends a shiver down your spine; it's the aura of power and danger that surrounds him like a cloak. This man is no ordinary stranger; he's someone to be feared, someone to be respected. However, your eyes light up in interest. Oh wow. He may be scary but he's gorgeous. His arms are muscular, you can tell by the way his shirt creases while he keeps you caged in place against the railing. He's not huge though. He's lean and it's damn attractive. Your pulse quickens as you take in his intense gaze, feeling a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. You've never encountered someone like him before, someone who exudes such raw power and authority without even saying a word. And yet, there's something undeniably captivating about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

His eyes, sharp and calculating, seem to bore into your very soul, assessing you with a scrutiny that makes your skin prickle with awareness. You're frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from his, feeling as though you're trapped in some sort of unspoken standoff. But despite the fear that courses through your veins, there's also a strange sense of... excitement. It's pretty quickly you realize who this is as you think about the tattoos on the men around the fire. 

Your mind draws back to your laptop, to all the tabs of designer brands open and the things in your cart. You can't help but compare this man to all the expensive items you've been eyeing online—the sleek leather handbags, the luxurious silk dresses, the designer heels. He exudes the same air of opulence and exclusivity, a rare gem in a world full of imitations. But unlike those material possessions, there's something inherently dangerous about him, something that sets him apart from the rest.

You remember your father's words, him always telling you he could buy you whatever you wanted. You were about 6 or 7 when you asked him for the moon. Your father told you he couldn't but it's always been a childish wish of yours. 

However, it seems that Sano Manjiro is the closest to that moon you've always wanted.

His hand comes up and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers rough and calloused. "Happy Birthday, princess"

notes: welcome to Buy Me the Moon :)) I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Yes, I know it was uneventful and short but this is also the introduction chapter. I promise the next chapter will have more... spice. lol.

check here for progress on the next chapter and other works

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