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lostfracturess · 4 months

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【 ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇꜱ 】 ch. 02

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 6.1 k

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note this chapter was partly influenced by my upcoming pharmacology exam haha. dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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Your eyes burned.

The words on the pages before you began to blur.

The library was quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of pages and the occasional distant footsteps. The stillness only amplified the dull ache throbbing behind your temples.

It was late, well past the time when most students had left, but you were still there, surrounded by anatomy textbooks and notes.

"First-year."

You were so engrossed in your studies that you didn't notice Gojo until he was standing right in front of you—a startling display of arrogance against the muted library backdrop. You didn't bother looking up.

"I've been looking for you," he announced. "You weren't in the lab today. I'd needed you."

"Back on the research project?" You flipped a page, your tone deliberately flat.

"More or less. I'm preparing my method, in case yours fails."

Now, you looked up. "It won't fail."

"Yeah, yeah, so why weren't you in the lab today?" He eyed the lukewarm cup of coffee beside your stack of books. Without asking, he grabbed the cup and took a sip.

You sighed, exhaustion washing over you. "Geto pulled me off the project until I retake my anatomy test and pass—"

Mid-sentence, Gojo abruptly spat the coffee back into the cup with a grimace. "What the hell is that?" he exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Five shots of espresso and a red bull."

He looked at you.

You looked at him.

Neither spoke.

He finally set the cup back down, shaking his head. "How can you drink that?"

"Unless you give me some ritalin, that's my drink of choice."

"You really are something," he said, his face still contorted into a grimace as he tried to process your—drink of choice.

You shifted your focus back to your textbook, desperate to regain your concentration. But Gojo wasn't done. He sat down on the edge of your desk and closed the textbook, urging you to give him your attention.

"So, you failed your anatomy exam?"

"Yeah," you admitted reluctantly, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't tell me, you think you don't need to know where all the bones are when you're operating on the brain."

You pressed your lips together, knowing that was exactly what you wanted to say.

"For someone as smart as you, sometimes you're really dumb," he added.

Wow. Thanks.

You shoved his hand off your textbook. "Thanks for the pep talk, Gojo. I'll see you around."

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I really do have to teach you everything, don't I?" With that, he stood up and started walking towards the exit of the library. "Follow me."

You hesitated for a moment, then gathered your things and followed him. He led you straight to his office, the click of the lock behind you feeling startlingly loud in the silence.

You stood in the middle of the room. Gojo moved to lean against his desk, his piercing gaze settling on you. You could almost feel the weight of his scrutiny, as if he were examining every inch of your being with his stupidly handsome blue eyes.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Your shirt. Take it off," he repeated, his tone dropping an octave.

A lump formed in your throat. Your heart raced as you held his gaze, somehow feeling less like a student and more like prey in that moment.

Yet somehow the intensity of his eyes made you forget all reason. So you obeyed. With trembling fingers, you lifted the shirt over your head, tossing it aside.

Shirt off, you stood exposed, vulnerable under his scrutinizing eyes. His lips twitched into a wry smile.

"Turn around." He pushed off the desk and turned to search for something.

You followed his command. You turned around, only to confront your own reflection in a full-length mirror. Your pulse roared in your ears as you watched him through the glass.

"Anatomy isn't just about memorizing diagrams and terms." He flipped open a case, revealing a glint of surgical steel. His hand hovered, then selected a single instrument.

He approached you with a scalpel balanced delicately on one finger. The metal gleamed ominously in the dim light of the room. Your eyes met his through the mirror. "It's about understanding the body as a whole, in a raw, physical way."

He stood directly behind you, his eyes fixed on your reflection. He placed the dull side of the scalpel against your neck and gently tilted your head to the side, exposing the vulnerable side of your throat.

Your breath hitched as the cold metal touched your skin, your heart racing even faster now.

"What are you doing, Gojo?" you managed to say, your voice trembling.

"Relax, sweetheart." His other hand curled around your waist. You were yanked back, flush against him, the hard bulge in his pants hard to ignore. His eyes locked onto yours through the mirror. "I'm teaching you a lesson."

"Here's the clavicle," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in, his warm breath grazing the strands of your hair. He traced the delicate curve of your collarbone with the scalpel. "It's more than just a bone, it's a vital landmark for surgeons. You must know its precise location for procedures like subclavian vein catheterization."

His lips brushed the back of your neck as he shifted, gaze never leaving yours in the mirror. "The humerus connects here," he continued, guiding the scalpel along your arm. "Understanding the intricacies of joints is crucial, not just in surgery but also in diagnosis and treatment. Nerve injuries often occur near these joints, so you need to know their anatomy."

The scalpel then lightly brushed along your forearm. "And here, the radius and ulna," he continued. "Fractures in this area can have a significant impact on radial nerve function, something neurosurgeons must always be aware of—even bold ones like you," he added with a playful smile.

He then moved the scalpel along the exposed skin in the center of your chest. "The sternum," he continued, his gaze locked on yours through the mirror. The scalpel found the bone instantly, tracing its contours with an ease as if he knew your anatomy by heart. "The brachial plexus runs just below. Damage here can have significant neurological consequences."

His touch ignited a slow burn within you, making your knees weak. You leaned into him, your back arching slightly, your senses overwhelmed by the heat coursing through your body.

Your eyelids drooped. It was obvious that you were no longer paying full attention to his words.

He then moved the scalpel up, pressing the tip lightly against the back of your head. "This is the occipital bone, part of the skull that protects the brain."

His hand then moved to the side of your neck, the scalpel lightly tracing where the spine meets the skull. "And here, the cervical vertebrae. Crucial for movement and support, but also dangerously close to the spinal cord and vertebral arteries. Missteps here during surgery can have serious consequences."

His hand reached out and grasped your hair in the back, forcing your head back to expose more skin to him. You inhaled sharply.

"And no one wants to play with fire during surgery, right?" he whispered, his breath a warm tease at your ear. His closeness was intoxicating, a teasing heat that threatened to melt all your defenses. "But perhaps you find a certain thrill in playing with danger."

"It's exhilarating, isn't it? The high stakes, the adrenaline rush of being on the edge," he mused, his eyes momentarily fixating on the scalpel in his hand. "It's almost addictive."

Then, with a deft twist, he reversed the scalpel, its sharp edge now grazing the front of your throat, tracing a torturous line across your skin. You couldn't help but tense slightly as the cool metal met your flesh.

"This is where the hyoid bone is." His lips brushed lightly against the side of your head, his breath warm in your hair. "Understanding its location and its relation to the carotid artery is vital, especially in surgery involving the throat."

He brushed the hair from your shoulder and leaned in. A soft moan slipped from your parted lips as his hot breath touched the sensitive skin of your neck. You couldn't help but twitch slightly, taken aback by the involuntary sound that slipped from your mouth. The scalpel cut into skin. You flinched.

In an instant, Gojo's tongue was on the spot where he'd cut, licking away the blood that emerged. His other hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into your skin. His tongue traced along your throat and up to your jaw, igniting a tingling rush of sensation that made you crave more.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a velvety caress against your skin. "If my breath alone made you quiver, can you imagine what my tongue will do to you?"

He released his grip on your hair and tucked the scalpel into the back pocket of his trousers. The dangerous glint in his eyes gave way to a sly smile that played on his lips.

"Lecture is over," he said as he tossed you your shirt.

"I hope you pass, first-year."

─── ·✧· ───

You passed.

Was it thanks to Gojo or whatever.

You passed. That was all you needed to know.

The next day was the surgery. You didn't have much time to prepare. But it had to be enough. You drowned yourself in your notes, replaying every aspect of the procedure in your head. You may have even dreamed about it that night. Everything was right. Everything will work out.

It must.

You scrubbed your hands methodically as Geto and you prepared for surgery. As you peered through the small observation window into the operating room, your eyes were drawn to the gallery. It was unusually crowded today—filled with observers and cameras.

"Nervous?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the sterile mask against your face. "It's not every day you have an audience like this."

"Remember, they're here to witness history, but we're here to make it," he said with a reassuring smile. "We've prepared for this. We're ready."

Somehow that didn't make you any less nervous—more like the opposite.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked after a second, his gaze landing on the bandaid on your neck.

You flinched slightly. "Just a scratch."

You followed him into the operating room, the buzz of the observers fading into the background. Your focus narrowed to the task at hand.

You took your place beside the operating table, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through you. Geto gave you a final, reassuring glance before beginning the surgery. Your gaze wandered over to the gallery once more. Your heart stopped.

There he was—Satoru Gojo, smiling at you. Somehow, your breath caught for a moment as your eyes met his. You had to look away, unable to hold his gaze. You took in a deep breath, trying to suppress the sudden heat that rose in your core.

But the heat quickly gave way to a crushing feeling in your chest.

Your worst nightmare had become a harsh reality.

Geto had tried everything—god, he had tried fucking everything. But every attempt to establish a signal between the neural device and the prosthetic remained unsuccessful. Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as you tried different techniques. The tension in the room was palpable. Every ticking second added to the pressure.

The patient's skull had been open for too long, and the risks were increasing by the minute. Panic clawed at your throat, your hands slick with sweat and trembling.

Another attempt, another failure.

Still no signal. No goddamn signal.

Geto made the decision to close the patient. But it was too late. The patient had been open too long. He went into a seizure. The whole operating room was in chaos.

No.

This can't be happening.

This was the save approach. It should have worked. Why didn't it work?

The walls are closing in.

You couldn't breathe.

You needed to breathe.

You spun around, your heart racing, and fled out of the operating room in a blind, chaotic rush. Geto's distant voice no longer reached you. You heard nothing. The harsh light of the corridor stung your eyes, blinding and disorienting, turning the world into a dizzying blur.

Gasping, choking for air that won't fill your lungs, you stagger down the hallway. Your hands claw at your scrub and mask, tearing them off in desperation. The world narrows to a tunnel of muffled sounds and the relentless, piercing ringing in your ears.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the chaos. "Come with me." Gojo stepped directly into your path, his hands tightly wrapped around your wrist. He dragged you into a nearby room, away from prying eyes. Once inside, he locked the door behind him.

The room spun, the walls seemed to pulsate. Gojo's face blurred in and out of your vision as he pulled you close to him. "Breathe," he said as he cupped your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. Tears streamed down your face, sobs wracked your body. You wanted to throw up.

"I—I can't," you choked out between gasps for air.

"You can, sweetheart. Please breathe for me. I'm here."

"I killed him... I killed that patient," you gasp, the confession slicing through you like a blade, each word a fresh wound.

"No, you didn't. It's not your fault," Gojo insisted, but his voice was distant, hollow against the backdrop of your inner chaos.

"I killed him... I'm a murderer," you repeated.

Without warning, Gojo enveloped you in a hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His warmth flowed through his touch. "No, you're not," he whispered, his hand caressing the back of your head in a soothing rhythm. "You did everything you could. It wasn't your fault."

But his words felt like they came from another world, a world where logic and reason still rule. In your world, there's only the crushing weight of guilt, the relentless echo of a life that has slipped away under your hands.

You clung to him, sobbing into his chest. "We never should have done this, we weren't ready."

"Don't say that. It's not your fault. You've done nothing wrong."

"You don't understand, I should have... I could have..." your voice broke, sobs wracked your body. Guilt was a suffocating blanket. It smothered reason, smothered the reassurances that tried to seep through.

Gojo pulled back slightly, his eyes searched for yours. "Look at me," he urged gently. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your doing."

But the guilt was a relentless tide, washing over you again. "I was responsible... I should have seen this coming," you whispered.

Gojo's hug tightened, as if he was trying to shield you from your own torment. "Stop it, sweetheart, please," he pleaded softly. "I'm here, and I'll always be here. Cry if you need to. Scream if you need to. But I'm here. Every step of the way. We'll get through this together."

As your sobs continued to wrack your body, his hold remained unwavering. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, offering a silent promise that he would stand by your side, even in ugly times.

─── ·✧· ───

The weight of the day still hung heavily in the air.

Gojo's hand rested gently on the small of your back as the two of you made your way down the long, sterile hospital corridors toward the exit. In his other hand, he carried your belongings.

The hallway was filled with hushed tones of hospital staff and the distant hum of medical equipment—a stark contrast to the chaotic events that had unfolded in the operating room earlier. You desperately need a break from the hospital environment for a while.

As you turned a corner, you noticed a faint wisp of smoke wafting from a nearby balcony.

"Wait," you said, halting Gojo with a gentle tug on his arm.

On the balcony stood Geto, leaning against the railing with a lit cigarette in hand. He appeared lost in thought, his gaze distant and fixed on some distant point.

"I'll wait for you," Gojo offered before you could even ask him.

Stepping outside, a gentle breeze brushed against your cheek. Geto turned as he noticed your presence. He looked tired and somber, but you couldn't help but feel that you looked even more fucked up.

"Did you cry?" he asked gently.

You didn't need to confirm it, did you? He could clearly see it.

You moved to stand beside him, the wisps of smoke from his cigarette curling around you as he took a drag and exhaled a cloud of gray. Your eyes flickered to his hands, noting the faint tremor in his fingers, before dropping to the floor where at least fifteen cigarette butts lay scattered.

"How much did you smoke?" you asked.

He turned his gaze to you, sidestepping your question. "You want one?"

"They're no good for you."

A weary chuckle escaped him. "Everyone has their vices, right?"

You watched him quietly as he took another long drag from his cigarette, the glowing ember briefly illuminating his face before he stubbed it out against the railing.

"I wanted it to work so badly," you admitted.

"I know. Me too. But that's our job, isn't it? Sometimes we lose, and sometimes we win," Geto said, leaning back against the railing. "Just do me a favor and don't dwell too much on the surgery. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, things in the OR don't go the way you want."

"How do you cope with that?"

He flicked the last bit of his cigarette over the railing, watching it fall. "Some days it's easier, some days it's harder. But you'll find your way. We all do." He reached for another cigarette, his movements methodical, almost automatic.

Yeah, he clearly found a way to deal with it.

"You good?"

"Better than ever," he replied, offering you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

He wasn't very convincing.

He reached for a new cigarette and placed it between his lips, then brought the lighter to the tip of the cigarette. His thumb flicked the flame to life. His hands trembled slightly as he took a deep inhale. The smoke curled around him like a shroud, masking whatever emotions he was holding back.

"You know, he'll want to try his approach," Geto continued.

"Hm?"

"Satoru, will you help him?"

"I don't know," you answered.

Geto ran a hand through his hair, loosening strands that had escaped his usually neat bun. "He was here today too—watching you." He let out a huff. "He's really bad at hiding it. Doesn't even seem like he's trying."

You watched Geto in silence, unsure of what he was getting at.

"He will want you to help him," he continued as he took another drag from his cigarette.

"You don't want me to help him?"

"I want you to stay away from him," Geto's response was immediate.

"Why so?"

"He'll get you in trouble, I know that."

"Isn't he your best friend?"

"That's how I know," he said, exhaling a stream of smoke directly in your direction, the familiar acrid scent filling your nostrils.

Silence fell between you for a few moments. His gaze was suddenly so cold.

"It's late. You should head home," Geto finally said, his voice devoid of its earlier warmth. He then shifted away from you, leaning against the balcony's railing. His eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon, lost in whatever thoughts occupied his mind.

Without a word, you turned and walked back towards where Satoru was waiting. His hand immediately found its place on your back again as he guided you towards the exit.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Geto's eyes continued to follow your figures until you were out of sight. In a sudden movement, his hand twitched, crushing the remains of the cigarette he held. The crumbling embers fell from his fingers.

─── ·✧· ───

Your eyes burned again.

You sat at a large wooden table with Maki, Yuta and Toge, each of them absorbed in their exam preparations. Books and notes were spread out before them. The library was quiet, the silence broken only by the occasional turning of a page or a soft whisper.

Maki was leafing through a thick medical textbook, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Yuta, sitting next to her, jotted down notes on his laptop, pausing occasionally to reread a section or ask Maki a question. Toge quietly muttered words from his notes.

You, however, found it hard to focus on the study material in front of you. Your mind was elsewhere, still caught up in the surgery. The question of why the surgical approach had failed haunted you, gnawing at your thoughts. You were so engrossed in your search for answers that the words in your textbook seemed to blur together, meaningless.

From time to time, one of your friends would cast a concerned glance your way. "You okay?" Maki mouthed silently across the table.

You nodded, offering a small, unconvincing smile, and returned your gaze back to your textbook. But your eyes weren't reading the words; they were seeing surgical diagrams, replaying the operation, desperately searching for a clue, a misstep, anything that could explain the failure.

Yuta leaned over. "Hey, if you want to talk about it..." he began softly.

Talking about it was the least thing you wanted to do.

You needed answers.

Not talks.

Abruptly, you stood up. "Just need another textbook."

Wandering through the aisles of the library, you found yourself in a quiet corner. The book you needed was on a high shelf, just out of your reach. You stretched on your tiptoes, fingers grazing the spine of the book, but it remained stubbornly beyond your grasp.

Suddenly, you sensed a presence behind you. Before you could turn around, a hand reached over your shoulder, effortlessly retrieving the book.

"Funny, and I thought if someone had a pharmacology exam coming up, they would need a pharmacology book. Yet here you are, gathering the next neuroanatomy book."

You didn't need to turn to know that it was Gojo. His presence was unmistakable.

"Stalking me now, Gojo?"

For a moment, you both remained frozen, his hand still above your head. He was close, closer than you would wish he was.

"Just keeping an eye on you," he replied, reaching for the book on the shelf. As you turned to face him, you found Gojo standing close, the textbook in his hand. "This won't give you the answers you seek," he said, offering the book to you.

"But I sure will try." You took the book from him. Your fingers brushed against his briefly, sending an unexpected shiver through you that you tried to ignore.

"Don't do that."

You clutched the book to your chest. "Do what?"

"Blame yourself for the surgery. You weren't wrong in your approach. I would've done the same based on the data."

"Yet, you didn't. You wanted to take a different approach with this patient."

He tilted his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. "It was more intuition than data," he said, scratching the back of his neck."Sometimes, data and statistics only tell us part of the story. The human body isn't a machine. It's unpredictable."

You looked at him. "So, you're saying I should screw data?"

He shrugged lightly, the hint of a smile returning to his face. "I'm saying that being a good surgeon isn't just about knowledge. You're young. You'll learn."

Gojo stepped closer, his eyes searching yours as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your shoulder, exposing the bandaid still adhering to your neck. His thumb gently stroked along it. He parted his lips, the question in his eyes clear even before he voiced it.

"Help me with my neuroprosthetics approach," he proposed.

You tensed, your mind racing. "I'm not sure."

"Why not?"

"I have exams."

"And here I thought I was your best study partner," he countered with a light, teasing tone.

You quickly added, "And I need to unpack at my new place." It was true, but even as you said it, it sounded like another excuse.

Gojo's response was immediate. "I can lend a hand with that."

"Geto will hate me."

"He's already upset. What difference does it make now?"

"I also have this really important thing..." you started, but Gojo cut you off.

"Come on, you're just finding excuses here," he said with a huff.

There was a brief silence before he continued, softer now. "I need you on this."

"I don't think you do."

His gaze intensified. "Believe me, I do."

You averted your gaze, unable to hold it. "I'm afraid—afraid of making another mistake."

"You're with me. You won't. I'll make sure of that."

He moved even closer. His hand came to rest against the shelf above your head. With his other hand, he gently cradled your chin, lifting it so your eyes met his. "You don't need to fear anything when you're with me."

In that moment, with his hand so gently holding your chin and his eyes locked onto yours, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The library, the books, the worry about exams—all of it faded into the background. There was only Gojo, his closeness, and the sincerity in his eyes that you wanted to believe.

"If anyone sees us like this, you're really fucked," you breathed out.

"Lucky for me, you have a thing for unpopular, heavy neuro textbooks hidden in the very far corner of the library," Gojo quipped, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Seems like a safe bet."

Your lips twitched into a light smile, and you rolled your eyes.

"Come on," he pressed. "Say yes."

You could tell he wasn't going to back down—Gojo had that determined look in his eyes, the one that said he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You let out a weary sigh. "Okay."

Satisfied, Gojo released your chin and leaned back. "Give me your phone," he said.

Raising an eyebrow, you hesitated for a moment before understanding his intention. You handed over your phone, watching as his fingers moved over the screen, adding his number.

"There," he said, handing the phone back to you. "Call me if you need anything."

─── ·✧· ───

It was late at night in your small apartment.

The only sounds were the occasional hum of traffic from the streets below and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. You sat at your desk, surrounded by textbooks and notes, trying to focus on studying. But no matter how hard you tried, the words just wouldn't sink in. Your mind kept drifting.

With a sigh of frustration, you closed the textbook and got up. You paced around the room for a moment before finally throwing yourself onto the bed. Lying there, you stared at the ceiling.

Maybe it was the stress or maybe it was curiosity, but you reached for your phone. Your fingers hovered over the screen before you finally worked up the courage to type a message. You hit send before you could change your mind.

[1:24 AM] You: Haven't had the chance to thank you yet.

[1:24 AM] Gojo: That's quite an anonymous start. Who's this?

[1:25 AM] You: You get a lot of late-night texts from unknown numbers?

[1:25 AM] Gojo: Oh, I might have been expecting one in particular. How's the studying going?

[1:26 AM] You: Can't seem to focus tonight.

[1:26 AM] Gojo: Stop it. I can tell you that you are dwelling on things again without having to see it.

[1:27 AM] You: Hard not to.

[1:27 AM] Gojo: Need a distraction?

The message pops up, almost too quickly. Yeah, you needed a distraction, but more from him than anything else. You pause before answering.

[1:30 AM] You: It's late.

[1:31 AM] Gojo: Since when has that stopped you? Must have been imagining all those late nights in the lab.

Another pause as you consider his words.

[1:33 AM] Gojo: Send me your address.

[1:33 AM] You: Planning to come over?

You sent the message before you really thought about it. The payback was immediate.

[1:33 AM] Gojo: Oh, sweetheart, quite bold of you to ask your own professor to come over at this hour, don't you think? What would people say?

[1:34 AM] Gojo: I'll pick you up with my car and we can get coffee, my treat. We can talk or not talk. Whatever you need.

[1:36 AM] You: Just a drive, nothing more?

[1:36 AM] Gojo: Just a drive, nothing more.

[1:37 AM] You: Okay.

You send your address.

─── ·✧· ───

Lost in thought, you scrolled through social media. Then your phone buzzed with a call from Gojo. You answered, still slightly surprised each time you saw his name light up your screen.

"Look down," Gojo's voice came through.

You walked over to the window and peered down. There, on the street below, stood Gojo. He leaned nonchalantly against a sleek black car, its polished surface reflecting the dim streetlights. He was looking up, a confident, almost playful smile on his face as he spotted you at the window. For a moment, you just watched him from above.

God, what are you doing?

He's your professor, for fuck's sake.

You're supposed to work with him. Not whatever you're starting here.

Yet, as he smiled up at you, all good reasons seemed to leave you.

You grabbed your jacket and made your way out of the apartment. As you descended the stairs, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Gojo was here, in the middle of the night—for you. Your heart raced.

You stepped out onto the street, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heat on your skin. Gojo pushed himself off the car and stood upright as you approached.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Wherever you want."

Gojo's smile widened. He opened the passenger door for you. "Then let's go."

You got into the car. Gojo started the engine and pulled away from the curb, the city lights beginning to blur past. There was no destination, no specific purpose, just winding through the streets under the city's neon embrace.

The dashboard's soft lighting cast a gentle glow on Gojo's features. He wore a crisp, white button-down shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong, lean forearms. The shirt was just tight enough to hint at the well-defined physique underneath.

The faintest shadow of stubble along his jawline gave him a rugged edge, contrasting with the sharp, clean lines of his attire.

"You're staring," Gojo remarked as he caught your gaze.

"Geto would kill us if he knew," you replied.

"Worried about him, huh?"

"I just—I owe him a lot, feels like I'm betraying him."

Gojo chuckled. "You say that like we've already fucked."

"That's not what I meant," you quickly clarified.

"Of course not, sweetheart," he said with a sly grin before shifting gears. "Or maybe you want us both? At the same time?"

You blinked, taken aback by his boldness. "Ha?"

"Don't tell me the thought never crossed your mind, first-year," he teased. "But just so you know, I'm not really one to share."

God, this man really has too much confidence for his own good.

"You're quite bold to say something like this to your student," you pointed out.

"And yet here you are, in your professor's car, in the middle of the night. Seems boldness is a trait we share."

Suddenly, Gojo's attention snapped to something outside the car. "There's a McDonald's up ahead," he said, a spark of spontaneity in his voice.

Before you could react, Gojo expertly turned the steering wheel, guiding the car into a sharp turn. The sudden change in direction caught you off guard, making you flinch and clutch your seatbelt.

Gojo quickly placed his hand on your thigh. His touch, firm yet tender, sent a rush of warmth through your veins as his thumb brushed soothingly over your skin. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice calm and steady. "Didn't mean to startle you."

As Gojo smoothly guided the car into the drive-through lane, his hand remained on your thigh. When it was your turn in the lane, Gojo ordered two coffees and a selection of pastries.

"You really do have a sweet tooth, don't you?" you said as you took the beverages and treats and placed them on your side.

He glanced at you with a playful smirk. "Yeah, makes me wonder why I'm so drawn to you."

You ignored his comment.

He drove off, searching for the perfect spot to park and enjoy the spontaneous snack. Finding a quiet spot, he parked the car and the two of you settled in, the rich aroma of coffee filling the interior.

The warm summer night embraced the city, its gentle caress making the decision to keep the car windows down an easy one. The balmy air flowed in, carrying with it the faint sounds and scents of Tokyo at night.

"So, when do you want to start with the new approach?" you asked between sips of coffee.

"After your exams," Gojo replied. "I want you to be able to focus without any added pressure. This project can wait until you're finished."

"Speaking of which," he continued, "what's the primary use of ACE inhibitors?"

"What?"

"What's the primary use of ACE inhibitors?" he repeated, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"They're used for hypertension and congestive heart failure," you answered after a brief pause.

"Good. How do antipsychotics like haloperidol work?"

"Too easy, Gojo. They're dopamine antagonists, so they block dopamine receptors, particularly in the brain's mesolimbic pathway."

"Now, explain the pharmacokinetics of metformin," he said, taking a bite of his pastry.

"Metformin decreases hepatic glucose production, reduces the absorption of glucose in the intestines, and enhances insulin sensitivity."

"And what about beta-blockers?"

"Beta-blockers work by blocking the effects of epinephrine and norepinephrine on beta-receptors. This results in a decrease in heart rate, cardiac output, and the release of renin from the kidneys, which lowers blood pressure."

"Perfect. Now, what's the mechanism behind the antibiotic resistance of MRSA to methicillin?"

You raised an eyebrow, considering the question for a moment. "MRSA develops antibiotic resistance due to a mutated penicillin-binding protein that methicillin can't effectively bind to. This mutation is encoded by the mecA gene."

Gojo chuckled. "I think we can dive right into the research project. You're more than prepared for this exam."

You couldn't help but smile.

After finishing the coffee and pastries, Gojo gathered the wrappers and empty cups. "I'll just get rid of these," he said, stepping out of the car.

You glanced at your fingers, noticing they were still slightly sticky from the pastries. In search of something to clean them with, you began rummaging through the car, eventually opening the glove compartment in hopes of finding some tissues.

To your surprise, the compartment was filled with an array of blisters and pill bottles. Specifically, painkillers and a few other medications whose names escaped you. You reached for one of the bottles and read what it said. Hydrocodone.

You held the bottle in your hand, a frown creasing your brow. Of course, Gojo was a doctor. But why would he carry such a stash of strong medication in his car? There must be some reasonable explanation for that, right?

Your stomach churned, uneasiness settling in.

As you were still processing the discovery, you heard Gojo returning. Panic seized you for a moment, and you hastily shut the glove compartment.

Gojo slid back into the driver's seat, his demeanor as easygoing as before. "All set," he announced, starting the engine. "Ready to head back?"

You nodded, forcing a smile.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, the earlier conversation replaced by a thoughtful silence. The streets of Tokyo passed by in a blur of lights and shadows. As Gojo's car finally pulled up outside your apartment building, neither of you immediately moved to get out.

The memory of the medicine in the glove compartment still lingered in your mind. Breaking the silence, you turned to Gojo. "You okay?"

Gojo's eyes flickered with a fleeting hint of surprise. "Yeah, I'm good. Why you ask?"

"You'd tell me if something was off, right?"

There was a brief pause as Gojo seemed to consider your question. Then, reaching out, his hand gently cradled the side of your face. The touch was tender, and you could feel the warmth of his palm against your skin. Without even realizing it, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes locked with his.

Gojo's thumb traced a soft path along your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, as if you were caught in a spell, completely captivated by the man before you.

You couldn't deny the growing attraction and connection between you, even if you weren't entirely sure what it meant. But at the same time, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, something he wasn't telling you.

"Of course," he finally said, though his response was quick, almost automatic.

His gaze then subtly shifted, settling on your lips. You could almost feel the weight of his craving in the intensity of his gaze. His thumb lightly brushed across your bottom lip, sending a ripple of warmth through you.

Finally, he withdrew his hand, though the lingering warmth of his touch continued to dance on your skin. "You should get some rest," he said, his voice carrying a soft, husky undertone.

You took a sharp inhale, just now coming back to your senses.

"Thanks for tonight, Gojo."

"Anytime."

You lingered for a second longer before finally opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air. It felt stark against your skin where his touch had been. As you walked towards your apartment building, you couldn't help but glance back. Gojo was still there, watching you until you were safely inside.

You forced a last smile before heading inside.

─── ·✧· ───

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

x a/n: this chapter was partly influenced by my upcoming pharmacology exam haha. Anyway, thanks for reading and feel free to leave your thoughts! :)

➸ taglist: @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk fanfic

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husbandhoshi · 2 months

Text

[9:17 PM]

"no." you close your eyes and force yourself to take a deep breath. "nononono."

you thought the worst thing that could happen already happened—you discovered your favorite noodle place wasn't open today, and you were forced to make your peace with that. (albeit with tears. and utter devastation.)

turns out that didn't even scratch the surface of terrible, no good things that could happen today, because now, your roommate junhui is at the front door and he's the absolute last person you want to see today.

on any other day, this would be fine. good, even.

when you first moved in with junhui, you never expected to become good friends. really, you were just happy to have a place to sleep—at first, he was just some guy, and the fact that he was a medical student was a cool bonus.

that is, until you sprained your ankle going down the stairs four months ago. he wrapped it on the futon in the living room and then proceeded to keep you company for the rest of the night while you wrestled with an ice pack. it was then when you learned what it felt like to fall in love, hopelessly and instantly.

you hear him jiggle the door handle again. he likely forgot his keys, and you would let him in until you consider the fact that you look no better than a mole rat at the moment. you woke up this morning with a fever and a wicked headache, and neither of those have gotten better since then. you don't even think you've left your room yet today.

"please don't tell me you're taking a nap," he whines, muffled by the door. "i got pizza."

fuck.

you peel yourself out of bed and catch a glimpse of yourself in your vanity. not good. if you had a choice, you would want to greet him in something other than your two-day pajamas. unfortunately, your only option at the moment is slapping on some lip gloss and calling it a day, and it's now that you begin contemplating the absolute death of a possibility of having a shot with junhui. hot guys like him don't date mole rats, even if they're wearing lip gloss.

finally you reach the front door, resigned to your fate. maybe you really should get back on the apps, as much as you hate to say it.

"sorry," you say as you let junhui in. "i was in bed."

he's in his scrubs, stethoscope round his neck. he must have had a long day today, but he still smiles at you with as much warmth as always. it makes your heart actually hurt, as if you aren't feeling sick enough.

"i figured— 's ok. it's pizza time," he chants. "you eat yet?"

you hide your face as you grab him a plate. the answer is no (soup or bust was your earlier conclusion), but you don't want to risk getting him sick, especially after he spent a whole day in the hospital. it's then when you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning you around.

"hey, you good?" you're met with junhui's eyes, now squinty as he looks you over. "are you sick, or are you just happy to see me? 'cause you look warm."

"um." you swallow hard, feeling bare. if you knew you would be this close to his face, you would have at least run a comb through your hair. "i might have a teeny, tiny little temperature. maybe."

that's all you need to say. he immediately brings the back of his hand to your forehead, and if you weren't already doomed, you sure are now.

"maybe a little more than tiny, huh?" he chuckles. "let me get you some meds."

you like how he doesn't scold you for not telling him sooner or guilt you for causing trouble after work. you watch him rifle through the cabinets, muttering to himself about this and that, and you start to feel a little silly about worrying what he thought of you.

"take these," he says, putting a couple of pills in your palm before opening a water bottle for you. "and follow my finger."

you watch him draw a square with his pointer finger before he brings it in between your eyes so they cross.

"i-is everything ok?" you squeak.

"yeah," he laughs. "it's just cute when you do that."

cute?! you thank god he wasn't using that stethoscope on you, because he definitely would have diagnosed you with something right on the spot. instead, you take your meds, grateful that he didn't ask whether or not you had more than a tablespoon of water today (spoiler alert—you didn't).

you're still mentally scrambling to decode what he could possibly be talking about when he bends down to meet your eyes.

"you're lucky. it's not terminal." you try to fight the corners of your mouth from turning up at his incredibly lame joke, but it doesn't work—instead, you smile, and you watch him smile back. "but you should get some rest. i need you alive this weekend."

"w-why?"

you feel your stomach drop to your knees, even though that's anatomically impossible, and you're not sure what a heart attack really is, but you think you just had one.

he needs to stop looking at you like that, or you will do some damage.

"you wanted to go to that new restaurant down the street, right? i have the day off."

"you mean, like a d—"

"like a date." he hands you your water bottle. "i'm asking you on a date. now get some rest, okay?"

you feel like a walking skeleton as he turns you around to face the door to your room. you want to fall to your knees and jump for joy all at once, but you plan to save that for when your bedroom door is shut tight behind you. if the bedhead wasn't enough, acting like even more of a fool in front of him would definitely scare him off.

"i like the lip gloss, by the way," he hollers after you. "nice touch."

you turn back to glare at him, because now he's just bullying you. you wonder how long he knew about your little problem, which would be humiliating if you weren't so down bad.

"what? you love me."

but he's right. you do, you really do. and you guess he just might love you back too.

#this is actually. like im not a jun girl but this would send me straight to the morgue #anyway june i hope ur feeling better <3 #mine #junhui #junhui x reader #junhui x you #junhui fluff #junhui imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #rq

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months

Note

"Stevie, I am begging you, please don't tell Wayne."

Eddie was bleeding.

He was on the floor and he was bleeding.

Steve was standing in the doorway, shocked into silence, watching Eddie try to put pressure on a wound that should have mostly scarred over by now.

His last checkup had been good, they'd even said the stitches could come out on his next visit, and he could officially start physical therapy.

So why was he fucking bleeding?

"Dammit. Can you grab a wrap from my room?" Eddie asked him, tone entirely too calm.

"Shouldn't I take you to the hospital?" Steve managed to ask.

Eddie's head turned to him, eyes widening as he seemed to realized what was happening.

"No, I- this is kinda normal? It's happened a couple times," he tried to smile, shrug it off.

"A couple of times?! Eds, this isn't normal. They gotta stitch you up better or something, c'mon I can take you," Steve leaned in and tugged on the arm he was using to hold himself up, ready to take his weight and help him out the door.

"No!" Eddie sighed. "We can't."

"I can call Wayne, then, and he can come get you-"

"Stevie, I am begging you, please don't tell Wayne."

Steve froze.

How long had Eddie been hiding how bad this was?

"You haven't even told Wayne? Eds, you should be mostly healed. You were mostly healed at your last visit! What's happening?" Steve was doing his best to stay calm, but calm went out the window when he thought about Eddie being taken from them long after the threat was gone.

"I ripped a stitch a few days ago, so I've just tried to be careful, but sometimes I move wrong. It'll stop bleeding in a minute. It looks worse than it is," his eyes were pleading for Steve to just drop it, let him handle it on his own.

But Steve was not about to let something go wrong, not when it came to Eddie.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. I'm calling Wayne. You can hate me if you want, but I'd rather that than have to tell Dustin that you bled out on your fuckin' bathroom floor." Steve put his hand over Eddie's on his side, applying more pressure. "Can't believe you ripped your stitches and didn't tell anyone."

"I was handling it!"

"Poorly. Handling it poorly."

Eddie huffed, but surprisingly didn't argue further.

He actually stayed quiet for most of the ride to the ER, even kept his gaze lowered when Wayne walked into the room he was being stitched back up in.

He remained silent on the ride home, preferring to ride with Steve while Wayne followed behind in his truck.

He didn't wait for either of them before making his way to his bedroom.

"Thanks for callin'," Wayne said to Steve as he watched Eddie close the front door behind him. "You can head out, I'll stay with him until the kids come by tomorrow."

"If it's alright, I think I'd like to stay," Steve hesitantly replied. "I'll take the couch. Just don't wanna be too far."

Wayne looked him up and down, much like he'd done the first night Steve refused to leave Eddie's side in the hospital.

Whatever he found, he seemed to accept, smiling at Steve.

"Might as well stay in his bed. Gotta keep a close eye on that one," Wayne winked and walked inside without an answer from Steve.

A close eye was really all Steve had intended, but of course, when they woke up tangled together the next morning, his intentions started to shift.

They shifted more when Eddie, half-asleep and on some minor pain meds, pressed a soft kiss to Steve's chest before falling back asleep.

——————————————————————

I could have done anything with this line and I chose dramatics. Happy Tuesday.

ATTENTION: I reached 5! This is 1/5 and the rest will probably be posted throughout today.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #wayne munson

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stargirl-writes · 7 months

Text

denial

pairing : force healer jedi! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 1.5k

masterlist

summary

anakin skywalker confessed his love for you. except, you turned him down, reminding yourself of your duty to the jedi. weeks would have passed and you're reaching a breaking point where you can no longer deny how you felt about him.

tags : angst, mutual pining, fluff towards the end,

warnings : pretty much just denial of how reader feels, and angst with a happy ending (!)

notes : hi lovely people! this is the first thing i'll post under this blog! thank u for taking interest in my little imagine, i hope you like it!

likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated !

It has been a few weeks since Anakin Skywalker told you he loved you. For a moment, the cruelest thing to do seemed like the sweetest thing he could say.

For you both know that the Jedi Council will forbid you to delight in this feeling.

No attachments, live to serve the good, clear lines. No devotions.

You didn't understand how loving someone can be so corrupting, after all, the Jedi Code taught you compassion for all things. That in itself is an act of love. Living so detached from things just makes it all feel... meaningless.

Why hurt for love? Why hurt for not loving?

But now, ever since Anakin told you he wanted you, you are held by a ravenous grip that left you feeling breathless. Suffocated.

Because the truth was simple: You wanted to hoard Anakin in your heart and keep him there. You wanted Anakin.

Of course, you didn't mean it. Anakin Skywalker is the only one who truly knew you. He shredded down your walls to find you where you're most vulnerable and loved you anyway. He wasn't scared of the things about you he didn't understand. Things you, too, find difficult to accept.

But caught by the abruptness, you could only tell him "We can't" before storming out of the room that one night.

You were perplexed, because for the longest time you have resigned yourself to the idea that you were the only one feeling it.

And now he says he loves you. All along.

He loved you.

He loved you despite, despite, despite...

And you turned him down.

Because you can't....

You were bound by duty first. And your duty is to serve the Republic. You can't have Anakin, not if he is supposed to be the chosen one.

You still cried in your sleep; angry and tremendously sorry you turned the closest thing to love away.

You can't take the Republic's only chance of surviving this war. He was meant for something larger than you are. Larger than both of you. You understood this, but it didn't really make it hurt any less.

It fell into this odd... silence between both of you.

You'd catch yourself looking for him in every room you find yourself in. A force of habit. His force signature used to be a warm beacon of light to anchor you, now every time you sense Anakin, your heart aches.

Haunted by the images in your mind of what could be if you allowed him to love you. Terrified that you've allowed yourself to want to share a lifetime with him.

You can't. You wouldn't.

You shuffle in your bed, unable to find a spot so you can comfortably rest. You were becoming more frustrated, for your mind just won't turn itself off.

You grabbed your robe and pulled your hair away from your face, tying it back.

With a sigh, you sit up. It would be futile to attempt any sleep, dawn was already breaking from the windows of the Jedi Temple.

Force healing is something that not every Jedi practices, for it requires a deeper state of discipline and precision. Besides, there are medical droids that can take care of the wounded.

The council had briefed you on your mission for today, you're stationed at the med-bay to overlook the casualties after the recent attack on Kamino.

You valued healing; no matter how forgotten it may have been for the Jedi Order. So, this mission is equally important to you as fighting in the front lines.

The halls of the temple were still quiet, deep in sleep. You wander around, not really knowing where to head.

You hear a shuffle from behind, and instinctively, you turn.

You halt at a balcony— entranced by the rising sun. You breathed deep, wondering when all became so complicated.

A pair of blue eyes meet your doe-eyed gaze. You surveyed him, he looked like he just came from battle, his robes were covered in dust, and his eyes were glossy as if he had been awake for some time, too.

"Anakin" you breathed out, realizing it had been the first time you addressed him after the night he confessed.

"[Name]" He answers, sounding tired.

Your heart thumps, unsure, and half-terrified that if he calls your name again, you might fall to pieces.

"How did the mission on Kamino go?" You say, trying to find any topic other than—

Anakin steps forward, leaning against the balcony. You hold your breath. Being so close to him felt like all air vanishes.

"It went alright" Anakin answers, his gaze falling into the horizon.

Your eyes trail on his arm, noticing the dried blood, a gash maybe, you step forward, wanting to get a closer look, your healing instincts telling you something was off.

"You're hurt" You say, your hand carefully moving his robe.

Anakin sharply turns at your touch. Then his eyes bore into yours. You lifted your fingers, realizing you may have startled him.

Anakin always had you. Part of the reason you were persistent in learning healing. Because the anxiety of him hurting never settled, and you wanted to be equipped to take care of him.

"Let me do this, it won't take long" You insisted, because you knew Anakin too well, and he'd not get it checked until someone else forces him to sit down at the med-bay.

The wound started closing and after a moment, it was like it wasn't there in the first place.

Anakin nods, his eyes never leave yours.

You felt it, a ripple through the force. A very specific frequency. A jedi might mistake his hurt as that of a physical one. But you have memorized him too much to read through his pretenses.

The wounds hurt, yes. But he is carrying a lot more pain than he lets on.

So, you continued. Your fingers graze over his skin, channelling the force, willing it to heal the gash.

You withdrew your touch. The silence lingered. It's a silence that makes you feel mad, because it feels like this is how it'll always be for you and Anakin now. Delicately dancing around the elephant in the room.

The silence amplified the voice screaming in your heart.

You may as well just say it out loud because your force signature is latched with it. It involuntarily pours your heart out.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

"Anakin" you began, your lips opening and closing unable to find words to express how you felt.

He turns his head, standing straight, he had an expression you recognized. Some sort of braceness, like he was already anticipating for you to break his heart again.

"I'm sorry" was all you could say.

Even if you would've ran away with him if he asked you to.

Clear lines. No attachments. You'd cross them all if he asked you to.

This was the right thing to do, you think...

"Don't" Anakin shakes his head "Don't... I know you don't mean it" His eyes fall to his feet.

"No, I do" You answer swiftly— no longer able to deny how much it had hurted you too.

You felt tears threatening to cascade down your face. You've heard it said that love turns people soft, but you have never felt more broken now that you have loved something you can't have.

"Anakin, when I said we can't, it's because I can't take you for myself. You're meant for larger things. Only with the Jedi can you fulfill your destiny" You rambled, verbalizing the thoughts you convinced yourself to believe in at night.

Anakin's eyebrows furrowed, but you continued "It doesn't mean I didn't, that I don't—" You halted, your heart and mind tearing you apart.

"[Name]" he calls, "You are no small thing in my life" He tucks a loose strand of hair to your ear.

"I meant it when I told you I love you." His palm presses on your cheeks.

You thought you could crumble beneath his touch.

These weeks, the small amount of time you spent trying to convince yourself that his feelings will eventually pass, never faltered the way how you felt. His absence felt like half of you was missing. And now, he was here, insisting softly.

You can't hold it in anymore.

So, in the absence of words, you pressed your lips against his— slowly, gently, slipping into the intimacy you only ever shared with him.

I love you.

You say between the kisses, hoping it'd suffice for you can't quite bring yourself to say it just yet.

Nothing in the world belonged to you, just this love you were overpouring with. And this kiss— it felt like the beginning of something eternal.

Whatever that may be.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

Cold as ice II

a/n because why not take an opportunity to cry some more. I am so thankful for all the love honestly! You guys are the best!✨🤍

summary: what happens when Ellie stumbles upon a memorial that turns out to have both your and Joel's kids names on it. When the past pain is brought back to the daylight even the coldest of hearts finally break.

This can be read as a standalone but is written as a part two to Cold as ice.

warning: Killing, mentions of multiple death, loosing your kids, supplement use, mention of miscarriage, trauma but I think this is not as bad as the first part lol.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"How is she?", Tommy approached Joel in a tight corridor that was filled with both sobbing people and soldiers shouting. "The same," Joel ran a hand over his face, "They are moving everyone out of here today. To a different quarantine facility." Those words instantly sparked something in Joel. "What? Shit, she's still pumped up with meds", if the process of going there was as torture as it was getting here, you barely stood a chance.

"Joel", Tommy started, but Joel was all up at his face within a heartbeat, "Tommy, if you'll tell me one more fucking time to leave her by. I will blow out your brain's myself". The tone was anything but pleasant. Joel had been wanting to rip someone to pieces for some time now. He had beaten the stranger to a pulp here after the first day. The man was standing in front of the door that led to your room. Crunched down to look through the little window. Joel didn't ask questions; he just swung a punch. Nor did he remember much besides that when Tommy pulled him away, the man was nothing but a pool of blood.

"You know that's not what…", "She lost two kids…", Joel's words cracked mid-sentence as the thought of his two angels once again swirled in his mind. His biggest and most precious little bugs were taken away like that. "So did you, man", Tommy brought Joel closer to him. Joel's arms moved to grip the material of his brother's jacket. He didn't want to cry, but the sob had come out of nowhere. The past three days have been a nightmare and then some. Now Joel was sure that he was paying for all of his sins. Paying in the most brutal ways.

Dragging you away from the field was the second hardest thing Joel ever had to do. He could only pray that his arms would not let him down as he pressed you closer to his body. Joel wasn't sure what they injected into your neck once you reached an army van and practically ripped out the eyes of the soldier who tried to help you into the vehicle, but you collapsed immediately. Joel barely managed to catch you. He pressed your unconscious body against his. Just like he had for the past hour or so. Praying and hoping that you weren't gone. Joel couldn't lose all three of you. Now you were all he had to fight for. No matter how much pain he was in himself. Joel had to drag you both out of the darkness.

Then he sat in the chair next to your bed. If you could even call it that. When they had ushered everyone underground, Joel had bribed a nurse to give you three a room and make sure that a doctor would come to check you. At that time, the price didn't matter. He needed an answer. Needed to know that you were going to wake up. High dose of sedatives - the doctor had said. "But I doubt it'll keep her out for long. After two kids… My apologies. If I'll find any medication", he had placed a supportive palm on Joel's shoulder. Something that would also end up feeling so foreign soon.

If Joel thought seeing you unconscious was difficult, it didn't compare to the heartbreak he had to endure the moment you opened your eyes. You jolted with a gasp. Eyes jumped across the room as you tried to figure out where you were. "Love…", Joel stood up, slowly approaching you. "Sarah… Malakai," you murmured as you continued to look around. "How about a glass of water, huh?", Joel asked, hoping to sway the topic. But you pushed the blanket off your body. "Sarah and Malakai," you repeated. Joel clenched his jaw. "Sarah and Malakai," "Love, stay in bed," Joel put his hands on your legs, stopping you from pushing them over the edge. "Sarah…Malakai", you said once again, eyes looking up at Joel, "They killed them. I saw… I saw," you breathed out, pressing a finger to your forehead where the bullet had pierced your son's skull. "I know, baby, I know", Joel tried to gently hold onto you, but the moment his palms touched your arms, you let out the loudest scream. Pushing him away as you turned to the other side of the bed. You dragged your feet over the cold concrete. Sinking to the floor without even being able to take a step forward. Joel rounded the bed as he kneeled in front of you.

"They are dead," you cried out, pulling at Joel's shirt, "My babies… I need to go, I need to…", you tried to pull yourself up by using Joel to brace yourself, but that only made you glance down at your hands, which were still slightly stained by the dried blood that had been on them. "Y/N, you need to calm down. Or they will come in here and", but you paid Joel no mind as you pulled your hands up so you could look at them.

"Get it off," you whispered, "Get it off," pushing your arms towards Joel as you screeched. Joel had scrubbed your unconscious body for hours. There was nothing more he could do. "Joel, get it off," you said once more, tears spilling from your eyes, and Joel couldn't bring himself to do anything. "It's everywhere, get it off", you moved your hand to rub at your skin. All you saw was blood. Blood everywhere. Rubbing turned into scratching, and soon your nails were raking over your skin. Joel quickly caught both of your wrists in his hands. Shaking you slightly as if in hopes of making your return to your senses. "Make it stop", you cried out, hallow eyes looking at Joel. "There's nothing on your hands, love", he barely managed to sound somewhat like himself. But you just shook your head at him, "There's blood all over them. Our kids' blood, Joel."

That was a day ago. Now you just lay there. Leafless. No movements. Eyes blinking once in a while. The only indication that you were still alive. Now Joel wished you would scream. The silence was torture. It was too loud. It pulled you so far away from him. Tommy clapped his brother on the back a couple of times before pulling away. "Get her ready. I'll look at how to get the best spot for you and make sure you two stay together," Joel said nothing. He hoped his eyes said enough. "You look after her. We'll get her back up on her feet," Joel could tell that even if Tommy tried to keep it somewhat positive, he didn't fully believe it himself. Didn't believe that there was any coming back from this. Nor did he believe that you would ever be the same. But Joel nodded anyway.

"Hey", Joel ran a hand over your forehead, once he stepped back into the little room, but didn't get a single movement in return. Not that he was expecting it. "We will have to get you dressed, okay? Then we'll need to go somewhere," Joel said, carefully pulling the blanket off your body before reaching for your clothes. Clothes he had washed. Wash off your kids' blood. Blood that seemed never-ending.

You were shivering. It hadn't stopped ever since you were brought in the first QZ. It had died down a bit. But there wasn't a moment when the quivering stopped. Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead as he walked through the corridor. Everyone was on high alert, and the soldiers were tired. Jumpy even. More than one person was killed here simply in the aftermath of unimaginable stress and anxiety. They only let healthy, strong people stay. Anyone with any injury, even the slightest one, was shot. You needed to stand on your own two feet. Walk through the lines of different specialists. Prove yourself worthy of surviving. And even that didn't guarantee you anything. You could have been hit by a bullet at any point.

You, however, were in no condition to stand. There was no way you could walk, much less talk. "Keep your head at the crook of my neck, love", Joel guided your head to rest there, "I will not let go of you even for a second. No one who will approach us will take you away from me," and at this point, Joel wasn't sure if he was still reassuring you or if it had turned to self-reassuring now. With the help of the doctor who assisted you just as you were brought here. They filed the documents of you having a miscarriage. Right here at the QZ. A piece of paper that had the main doctor's signature and forbade you from walking. That had high dosages of medicine marked as a fallacious move by the doctor itself. That you were more than a healthy female before that, and that you would regain that strength once the medication wore off. The only hope Joel had of getting you out of here alive was that piece of paper. And if that didn't work… Well, Joel was ready to kill anyone who stood in his way.

"Joel," Ellie's sad voice pulled the male out of the trance, "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." Joel rested his palms on his knees, ready to stand up, but Ellie quickly inched forward. It seemed to her that the man in front of her was no longer the same Joel she knew. "How did you… how did you get through that?", she knew the question was stupid. Joel let out a sad chuckle followed by a painful sigh, "You don't even have an idea how much strength you have until you are forced to use it. That's when you truly see your power". Joel had locked his pain away. Behind a plethora of locks, doors, and crevices. So no one could see it. No one could access it. Draped a shield of coldness on top of it. The coldness made Joel seem more like an animal than a human. He had to become a monster in order to protect the only thing that kept his heart beating. Nothing was off-limits when it came to you.

"I felt like I was failing every day. Every day that I saw her lying there," Joel shook his head at the images that haunted him. The feeling of helplessness flowed through him. Joel had found a woman who could pretend to be you for the time being. Who could take your evening shifts. Who kept the target off your back. No one was allowed to lay around in the QZ, there was too much work as it was. "Joel you were far from failing her", Ellie said putting her hand on Joel's palm, "It feels different kiddo when you see someone you love drifting away".

All the worried looks that Joel would give you made sense now. All the times he would walk up to you. Taking a hold of your hand as he looked at you. Moving to kiss your hands at the time, if not that then, Joel would just hold them in his much bigger palms. At the time, Ellie thought that by doing that, Joel was just trying to warm them up during the cold evenings, but now it had a way bigger meaning behind it. That was Joel's silent attempt to make sure that you stayed with him. That you wouldn't drift away. Like a true guard at night, standing his watch. Always ready to fight for you.

"And I felt horrible that I left him all alone", the sound of your voice made the two of them turn toward the door. "I kept on telling myself to get up. You need to do that for Joel, but…", you shrugged your shoulders. Joel reached his arm towards you, and you instantly walked close to him. Settling down on his lap. His arm snaked around your middle as Joel pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. "I never blamed you for it," Joel whispered, looking straight into your eyes. "I know because you're an angel." You cupped his face gently. Leaning in to press your forehead to his. Brushing your fingers under Joel's eyes as you wiped away the last tears.

This man was everything. If you'd fallen for him and his sense of humor back then. The fact that there was never a dull moment with him that even the most serious moments could be turned into fits of laughter. If you had fallen for how attentive and caring he was toward your kids. The way he always put them first. The way he sat in the bathroom for hours learning how to braid Sarah's hair or how he played astronauts with Momo even after the longest shift. Putting him over his shoulder or back as he ran around the living room making all sorts of noises. Then Joel turned into a rock—a whole mountain that shielded you from the restless sea that threatened to drown you. Never moving. Never scared.

"I don't want you to feel like we've been using you as some sort of… as our kids' replacement. The love I feel towards you…" you started, but Ellie quickly shook her head. "How could I? No, Y/N never," she said quickly, and you reached for her hands. "You are a special girl, Ellie, so special," you said as you brushed your fingers over her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. Trying to savor it for as long as possible. "You both are like my parents and I've never felt that..", Ellie's bottom lip trembled. Joel reached out to her as well.

"And you are our girl," Joel said, his voice shaky, but he knew he had to say it. Had to let her know that his coldness toward her at the start was just his defensive response. His fear of the unknown. The fear of it all ending the same. But Joel knew that once his nightmare shifted and he started to see Ellie dying in Sarah's or Momo's place, he knew that she had sneaked past his guard. Ellie had managed to find that well-hidden spark inside Joel's heart. And there was nothing that could have been done about it.

Ellie wrapped her hands over both of your shoulders, pulling you both into a hug. A light cry slipped from her lips. Your hand instantly moved to rub her back in hopes of soothing her. Joel pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head before turning his eyes to you. Your teary eyes were already looking back at him. You mouthed a silent "I love you" to him, which Joel returned straight away, followed by a light smile.

Once Ellie pulled away, you both looked at her with fondness. "Thank you for sharing this with me. You didn't have to, but you did," she said, as you rubbed away her tears the same way you had done before. "You are a part of the family now. Family doesn't have secrets," you said softly. "Plus, I think me and Y/N both needed closure", you nodded your head at Joel's words. You had told him multiple times that it was eating you alive that you were keeping this way from Ellie. You could tell that she sensed that something was wrong; she just never asked.

"Do you want to see a picture of them?", you asked, turning to Joel, who you knew had kept a picture of you four. The one he always carried around with him. Tommy had taken it on Momo's second birthday. The summer was in full swing, so you decided to have a barbecue outside. You stood there in a flowy dress, laughing at Sarah, who had a surprised look on her face since Joel had rubbed barbecue sauce on her cheek. Joel's head was thrown back as he laughed. Even Momo, who was nestled in your arms, had somewhat of a grin on his face.

"Sarah would have loved you", Ellie lifted her eyes away from the picture to the sound of Joel's voice. You hummed in agreement, "Momo would have been all over you as well you two cheeky bunch would have gotten into so much trouble". Ellie glanced back down. The image that she saw frozen in front of her seemed almost impossible compared to the two people she had met. But now she knew more than better to not judge the book by its cover. The deepest and most painful scars were always hidden the deepest.

"I would have loved to know them", Ellie said dragging her finger over their faces, "Momo, looks like a minute version of Joel". You let out a little laugh, "That's what I said. Imagine how mad I was after carrying him for nine months and he popped out looking nothing like me". Joel cracked a smile, looking down at the photograph himself. The one he barely pulled out these days.

"If we stay in Jackson, we must build them memorial stones and plant flowers all around them," Ellie said firmly. The tears picked up at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at her. "That's a really beautiful idea, Ellie bear," you said, running your fingers over her hair. Joel nudged Ellie's side playfully, making her let out a chuckle before he brought you closer to him once again. Time healed scars, even if slowly. But you two were here and now you had Ellie by your side. Your hearts, even if covered in scars, still beat for one another. Together, you were capable of anything and everything. Life has already proven that.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal imagine

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 2 months

Text

You and Eddie make plans to meet but you're struck down with a headache and flu like symptoms. Eddie surprises you when he comes to take care of you.

Part Three 💕

Fluff, part of the Older Eddie x Reader series. 18+ only

Part Four is in the works, some jealous Eddie 🤭

Part one

Part Two

🖤💫

Friday was one of your usual days to meet Eddie and you'd been looking forward to it since you last seen Eddie five days ago.

The urge to be with him grew stronger and stronger each day, no matter how hard you tried to bury down what you were feeling. Even at work you were distracted and moony or at least according to your friend Grant.

Today had been a long day. You had woke up feeling out of sorts, just tired and achy, an inetsnse building pressure in your temple- a majorly bad headache threatening to ruin your day.

Then you had a run in at work with your ex, he was as charming and cordial as ever which left you feeling worse. You couldn't wait to get home, shower and attempt to nip this headache in the bud before you met Eddie.

All of your plans fell apart as soon as you stepped foot inside your home. You did manage to shower, find some pain meds and change into your comfiest clothing, then you made a nest on your bed, could feel the headache pounding now and just wanted to sleep.

The pain was making your vision blur and your stomach turn with nausea. You decided to just try and sleep for a little bit, meet Eddie later. So you set an alarm and promptly feel asleep. Not even the alarm woke you up hours later.

🥰🖤

Eddie looked at the time, it was past eight thirty. Usually you and him met at seven but there was no sign of you. He knew you were home from work because when he was fixing up his bike outside you had arrived home from work.

Something didn't seem right then but Eddie pushed it aside. Attempted to clean up some of the shit laying around before your visit.

But then you didn't show and there was a feeling building up inside of Eddie, worry. It was gnawing at him that something wasn't right, like there was alarm bells in his head.

This wasn't good... he wasn't supposed to feel like this, wasn't used to anything beyond sex with someone so the worrying was new and unsettling.

Swearing under his breath he heads out and goes to check on you. The anxiety is heightened even more and he wonders if you had a run in with that shitty ex of yours.

Oh how Eddie would love to scare the shit out of that dickhead...

Your door is unlocked and he makes a mental note to tell you to lock your fucking door. Honestly you'd be the death of him at this rate.

He heads into your bedroom and stills. Finds you sprawled across your bed fast asleep, even still there's discomfort in your face. What the fuck had happened? Seeing you hadn't helped the worry one bit. Now he was more on edge than ever.

Cautiously he settles on the bed and gently feels your forehead. Winces at how warm to the touch you are, you moan and your eyes flutter open.

"Eddie" your voice is a little croaky, there's a small pout on your face as you feel your forehead and groan. "Shit, I need to get up, get some meds"

Woah. He guides you back into bed and you stumble a little bit "Easy sweetheart. You need to rest okay" he soothes you.

You mumble something under your breath and head back into bed. He smiles at the stubborn set in your eyes, normally he finds it cute and endearing but right now he just wants to make sure you're okay.

"What happened sweetheart?" he asks softly as you wince a little bit as you settle into bed.

"Headache, sick... You should go. I'll be okay" you stumble over your words, he shakes his head and find you another blanket and gets you a fresh glass of water and some meds.

"I'll make you some soup. It's my Uncle Wayne's recipe. Cure for all ailments sweetheart" There's a ghost of a smile on your face but you still look a bit out of it, still in pain.

He doesn't like seeing you in pain, it aches right down to his bones and he's surprised by the fierce urge to look after you, protect you from stupid flu bugs, the latter part is irrational he knows that but he can't help feeling it.

"Hey princess you gonna be a good girl for me and sit up? See if we can get you some food" you groan, pout (which is cute as fuck) and sit up all grumpy and tired.

"Just some soup princess okay? Then sleep" you nod and snuggle back under the covers while he proceeds to make the soup and listens incase you need anything else.

Once the soup is ready and you've ate your fill, Eddie makes sure you have more water.

"Just sleep sweetheart" he orders and you gently tug his arm, look at him all soft and hopeful.

"Can you stay with me?" he softens. He was planning on staying anyway but that look you're giving him tugs at his heart and he settles beside you.

It isn't long until you're fast asleep on Eddie's chest, Eddie keeping a close eye on you long into the night.

And that feeling of you being so close to him? Your head snuggled into his chest? He can't ignore the way this makes him feel.

A warmness spreads across his chest and he can't help the smile that stays with him all night.

❤️

🫶🏻

#eddie munson x reader #older eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n

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mrsparrasblog · 23 days

Note

hi srry if you don't do requests but I have to ask cuz I love everything about your writing.

Can u write a fic where the mc is strictly monogamous but 141 are SO madly in love so they fight on who gets to be with her and it's causing actual problems between them?

Ignored this if u don't want to. Anyway stay slaying✨

Hey ☀️🩷 Ofc I take requests this is my first one tho, I hope you like It, and it's like you imagined because I always have like a little movie in my head when I write a scene and with requests. I don't know if my thoughts match with yours- performance anxiety lol. Still thank you for supporting me 🩷☀️

Fighting for you

TF 141 x Reader

You always had that one plan in your life: meet a nice guy, date for 2 years, marry him with the most extravagant wedding dress someone could imagine, and after that, you get three fat babies whom you will love and dote on.

The only problem was, as a nurse on a military base, you didn't meet guys capable of this lifestyle. You hated to see all these men trying to get in your pants while they were married.

"Why are you in the med again, Johnny?" You scolded him. Of course, you found the Scotsman funny and liked his daily visits, but still, having him here all the time felt like a lost puppy when you had work to do.

"Look, Bonnie, have a mean scratch, need stitches from ya."

"Is that so, Mr. MacTavish?"

"Yes, Bonnie, look." He showed you a scar on his biceps, and you sighed. You knew he was only coming for something else; no soldier went to the medical just because of a scratch. He started to flex his biceps.

"Johnny, that's barely anything."

"But ya always fix me good, lassie." He looked at you with puppy eyes, and you sighed, disinfecting his nonexistent wound. "Such a good caretaker, lass. Need to put a ring on ya before someone else does." You blushed at the thought of marrying someone like Johnny. He was handsome, funny, and super strong, but he was a flirt, probably flirting with every other nurse. Besides, you had a date today.

"Johnny, stop flirting. I have a date today."

"Just a date, lass. It's not like you'll marry him."

You stared at him with a dead glare. "For some people, dates are important, Johnny!"

"Who is it?"

"None of your business, and now leave," you scolded him, annoyed by his noisy behavior.

-----------

"Who of you bastards broke the agreement?" Johnny started to scream at his teammates.

"What do you mean, Soap?" Kyle asked, confused.

"We agreed that no one can have her since she doesn’t want to share, so who of you tossers broke the agreement and goes on a date with her?"

"How do you even know that mate, if you didn’t break the agreement too?"

"I just needed her to take care of my injuries, Kyle."

"Bullshit, you barely got a scratch. Admit that you wanted to break off the agreement too. Admit it." Gaz barked, walking towards Soap to pick him up by his shirt.

"Enough of you, Muppets!"

"You broke the agreement, Captain, didn't ya? Telling us all about the agreement and then taking out my future wife."

"I didn't, and even if, she'd be more happy to become Mrs. Price than Mrs. MacTavish."

They were so close to fighting; everyone accused the other of taking you on that date. They remembered the first day they saw you; all of them were smitten. You were just too precious, full of love and excitement. Perfect hair, perfect body, everything about you was perfect for them. You could walk with your greasy messy bun, and they’d kneel for you, promising you’re the most beautiful woman on earth. After a while, they noticed how every one of them was smitten, how Johnny spent every minute in the infirmary, Ghost becoming your shadow, protecting you from every danger of the world without you even knowing, the Captain always treated you better than every other staff member, you had more off days, better shifts, and even better pay, and Kyle bringing you always your favorite coffee and a bunch of pastries when you overworked yourself again.

Johnny was the first one to ask the rest if they’d be open to a poly relationship. He was the most open about his sexuality, and having Simon and you was the perfect thing for him. Whether the reasons why they agreed to try to court you in this relationship, every one of them thought you only deserved the best, and that included being worshiped by four muscular men.

Unfortunately, your best friend, who noticed their goal while you still stayed in your naive bubble, popped their bubble, telling them to sod off. You weren’t made for this kind of relationship; you were jealous and liked the idea of monogamy way too much. You only wanted to have one husband. That's how the agreement started none of them will pursue you, and they will only start something with you if you approach them, no more flirting, favoritism, or looming over you.

Nonetheless, they gave a fuck about their agreement, behind closed doors still trying to court you in various different ways, but how could they not? You were perfect, and they were obsessed and way too much in love with you to let someone else have you.

"Where the fuck is Ghost?" Kyle asked, looking around for the scary man with the skull face mask.

"Fucking hell, he is her date."

"Sick bastard."

------

Soap walked into Ghost's barracks, eager to scream at his best friend. He was the first to love you, so Ghost should not have gone on a date with you without telling him. The betrayal felt immaculate, his best friend with the love of his life.

"Aye, Lieutenant, heard you're going on a date with the lassie."

"Johnny, it just happened."

"No hard feelings, LT. Where are you taking her?"

"Alfredo's."

"Oh, okay."

Simon looked confused at Johnny. "What's wrong?"

"Take her to a better place a steakhouse or a fish restaurant. Give her a real meal, not something cheap. Lassies love this fancy shit."

"Thanks, mate."

---------------

Your date with Ghost was okay. He was brooding over something, and as he insisted on ordering something for you as a surprise, despite you telling him no, he did it, wanting to be a posh bloke who knows what his lady wants. Soap said you liked this fancy shit and heavy meat and fish.

As you looked disgusted at the filet steak, trying not to be rude by saying you're a vegetarian, he lost it mentally, not with you but with his best friend, who betrayed him just for you. He'd do the same, of course, but it's still different, right?

The date went on way too cringy, Simon spent most of the time apologizing to you for the messed-up date, and you tried to reassure him that it was okay. When he brought you back home, he asked if he could stay the night, and you politely declined.

"Johnny, I'm going to rip your fucking head off."

"Aye, shit," Johnny screamed as he began to run.

"The date went shit, I guess?" Kyle asked, unfazed by all the screaming from the two men fighting. He acted as if he didn't let slip the information that she is vegetarian next to Johnny or told Price she liked roses after she told him for 20 minutes straight how they are overrated. The best part was no one even suspected him; he was calm about the situation, not trying to solve it with violence like Johnny and Simon. While the others played checkers, he played chess to get you.

"Yes, it was."

"I told you muppets, I'm the one who deserves her."

"Shut up, Price," Ghost scoffed.

"I think so too, Captain should have her. At least he treats her well," Kyle said with a boyish grin.

So the Captain asked you out on a date, and after some convincing, you agreed, making yourself ready and waiting for him in desperation. You looked great, hair curled, mascara applied, and in a dress that was classy but a bit sexy. You knew Price could be a guy for this, maybe a bit too old, but still, you could grow old with him, and maybe he would give you everything your innocent heart desires.

After waiting for an hour, you were sure he wouldn’t come. If only you had known that Ghost was faking an accident and Soap's promise to tell you about it, not to let the sweet angel wait for the Captain. Soap was already on the way to play the knight in shining armor, fully confident to finally sweep you off your feet and make you the future Mrs. MacTavish, his sweet little angel. Oh, how the boys would look to know that he got the heart of their sweetheart finally.

Too late.

"Hey, lovely, why are you sobbing? Do I need to punch someone for you?"

"It's embarrassing, Kyle."

"Tell me about it."

"Just had a bunch of weird dates. One wanted to only bed me, I guess, and the other stood me up," you sobbed, looking into Kyle's pretty face.

"Oh, love, you know that all these guys around the boys are head over heels fighting over you like wild animals."

"Never."

"They are, how couldn't they? You're perfect."

"You're a flirt, you know that."

"And you're too pretty to cry, you know that?" He winked at you, removing the tears from your beautiful eyes.

"You think so?"

"Mhm."

"Kyle," you asked him shyly, looking deep into his brown eyes.

"Yes?"

"Are you one of the boys who fight over me too?"

"Sure as hell, love!" He almost shouted, full of enthusiasm.

"You wouldn’t want what I want."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just want you, to know all, exclusive dating."

"Mhm, I'd give you that without a doubt, love. Just let me prove to you that I'm the right one for you, love." His hand slowly went to your face, caressing the soft skin that was still tinted by your mascara tears. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen." And when you looked at him with your doe eyes, he lost it, slowly pulling his rough lips on your soft ones, holding your head for dear life as if you could vanish any second. He was afraid he did something wrong, maybe scared you like a deer, but you didn't shy away; you pulled him closer, letting his lips intertwine with yours and slowly opening your mouth to let his tongue explore yours. It felt like a firework in your body; every fiber burned with pure passion as he kissed you. You didn't want to stop; you needed him as deeply as he longed for you.

"Fucking Garrick, I didn't think he’d win her over," Ghost murmured behind the wall, watching you with the others in jealousy as Kyle got their girl.

"He played us like fucking fools, telling us it's okay if we win her over," Price muttered, annoyed and kinda proud at his sneaky bastard.

"I'm more of a looker than fucking Gaz," Soap said, annoyed.

As happy as you were right now, all of the boys knew the fight for your heart wouldn’t stop until there was a ring on your finger.

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emmyrosee · 11 months

Note

are u down 4 sum lil angst?? well, i'm just curious how would it be being the famous star volleyball player, Sakusa Kiyoomi's TOTGA?

YOU HAD N O RIGHT MATE

ok so fun emmy history, back when I was a wee child and before the miya twins were even a thing, i wrote a self insert that I’m still weirdly proud of today so congratulations, you scratched that memory HHEISBSOSN-

Hey! Future Emmy here. so... major tw; kiyoomi is very mean, extremely toxic, and i for sure went overboard, but there's a lot of blaming and yelling and just. ugh. this piece hurt my own heart smh.

But listen. You slipped into Sakusa Kiyoomi’s life surprisingly. He wasn’t expecting you or even just to date at all, you were just at the right places in the right times where he finally felt at ease in your presence. You just understood who he was beyond surface level, and he’d never had that in someone before.

You loved him before he was cool, before he was anyone other than a top ace in Japan. You were the first to tell him it was okay to mess up, do something other than eat drink and sleep volleyball, even if he wants it to take up most of his time.

Time, he no longer has, when he gets injured.

It wasn't like it was an inopportune time- though, as a college athlete, there really is no good time to get injured- if anything, it was spontaneous and had he not had dreams of making it big, he'd never think twice of it.

But he gets injured. Junior year of college, just as his name starts to grow in the industry, and he gets injured. Bad ankle, it’s actually a former injury from his childhood that apparently didn’t heal right.

There’s articles that spread about Bokuto Koutarou, how he’s climbing the ranks and how Miya Atsumu, the same little rat who bothered him in high school received an offer from god knows what team, and he’s fuming.

That should be him and his setter getting those offers and climbing that ladder, it’s been him and him alone for years, and he knows it's bitter to hate people for their successes, but its not fucking fair, he deserves more than this.

He deserves more than doctors trying to encourage surgery to heal at the sacrifice of volleyball, he deserves more than flowers and cards of best wishes, more than Miya Atsumu texting him to see if he's okay, he deserves more than any being on earth could give him.

And that includes you.

"Baby, did you finally call the surgeon?" You ask, coming in with a water bottle and a cup of his meds.

Apparently, that's more than enough to set him off.

"I don't need surgery."

He hears you sigh, "the doctor says the tear is too big just for physical therapy, you'll need the extra support-"

"In case you forgot, I was fucking there."

His breath becomes hot, and he can't peel his eyes from the commercials playing on the tv. The room suddenly feels suffocating, and of he could will himself to do it, he'd apologize and tell you he loves you, he's just tense and hurt, and he's grateful you're here, and-

"I'm the one who's life is going down the tubes. Fun fact."

The other thoughts in his mind are static. merely an incoherent buzz. You're his victim now, to his ugliest sides that therapy and his family prodded back years ago.

There's no one to prod it back now.

"I... I didn't mean any harm, I promise-"

"You really shouldn't talk to me right now," he snarls, rage bubbling and clawing away at his soul. There's a bubbling of tears that rip at his waterline in a demand to fall, but he's blinded to anything else.

He hates his life. He hates his ankle. He hates his doctors for telling him it may not heal right ever.

He hates you.

"Kiyoomi, please-"

He bears his teeth like a dog in an attack, and you flinch back slightly. "If you hadn't fucking distracted me, this never would've happened." He hears you whine in your throat.

he ignores it.

"I was fine," he barks. "I was happy before you. I was strong, I was powerful, I was a damned force to be reckoned with." He crawls closer to you on the couch, and when you cower to try and get away, he chases your body with his torso.

When you stand up, he does too. His leg lights every single nerve up in a blaze of agony, but he's too gone in his own rage to think about it.

"I... I know you're mad, but please, sit down Kiyoomi-"

You're right.

"Shut the hell up!"

Even on one foot, he towers over you threateningly. You bring your hands up to try and force distance between you both; your touch does ground him slightly, but not enough to stop his scorn.

You sniffle softly, clearly uncomfortable, "you're just mad... and that's okay. Please stop shouting at me, we can make this work, kiyoomi."

Now, his eyes are scalding with furious tears.

"I want this to work, oomi... please, stop shouting-"

“It doesn’t matter if you want it to work,” he snaps. “I’ve got a plan to stick to that’s already been screwed because of us, AND IT'S YOUR GODDAMNED FAULT!"

When you sob and crumple to your feet, there’s a small part of kiyoomi that comes to, the words suddenly sour on his tongue. He feels… confused, he doesn’t know where it came from inside of him, but the way your eyes water from his words snaps him back to reality.

“I’m… im ruining your plan?” You choke, and god kiyoomi wants the floor to engulf him whole. Because duh, of course now you’re not he’s just the scum of the earth, you’re all he can think of wanting in this shitty life, but he can’t say that, not when your hands cover your mouth in distress and horror, tears slipping over your fingers. He feels the blood leave his face when you take a step back, followed by another, then one as you turn on your heel to leave.

“Wait-“

“No, Kiyoomi,” you snap, and its his turn to feel your rage, your head whipping to look at him in betrayal. “No. I’m officially done waiting for you.”

And despite the fact that he wants to chase you, wants to gather you in his arms and pin you to the wall and demand you listen to him, listen to why his plan has changed and how you’ve completely ruined all of it in the best ways, he can’t. His leg throbs at the mere idea.

He just. Stands there, frozen for god knows how long, staring at the long slammed door, wondering if you’d come back for something you’d forgot in your exit. Something dumb, like a charger or a water bottle, something easily replaceable but you wanted from him just as a last chance makeup.

But you don’t. And once his good leg starts to cramp from standing there, he slowly moves his way to his bedroom.

And he’s fine. Honest!

Sitting by himself in the cold of night gives him more time to think about the future. The one without you, of course. Limping around the dorm on crutches makes his arms ache and knees weak, and the backpack on his shoulders making him fall forwards is plenty to make his elbows strengthen up (they’re withering away) and his breathing circulate (he’s breathing back tears of pain and frustration.)

He can’t… he can’t do this without you.

Call him selfish, but his life was not only easier with you around, it was better, it was fun to love you and have you scream his name from the stands, but now that seat is occupied by someone else when it should be yours and yours alone.

He’s tried to get over it. He’s tried to get everything in line, get you the hell out of his mind but he can’t.

You’re different. He hates you for it. There’s something about you that refused to leave his mind and soul. Every time someone is interested in him, he feels disgusted because every crush is based on appearances now; it never was with you. Every time someone laughs, his first thought is how much he misses yours. When one of those stupid fast food commercials comes on in the late hours of night, he smiles sadly as he remembers the way your eyes would meet his and you’d beg him for some fries at ungodly hours.

He has to move on. It’s been fucking years. Why hasn’t he moved on?

Any sane person by now would have moved on, passed through his heartbreak and try to find another, but he’s so emotionally unavailable at this point. Every thought and every reminder that plagues him continues to hit like a ton of bricks every time.

Maybe it's guilt.

No, its definitely guilt.

He loved you, more than you could imagine, he appreciated you more than he can express, and to show you how much you mean to him, he blamed you for his failures.

No wonder he deserves to be alone.

And just when his exhaustion can't grow, his self destruction and crumbling self worth can't get lower, he gets thrown in another circle of hell that he seems to find himself in; this time, in a coffee shop he frequents. Not too many familiar faces, just a couple blocks from the train, and up until that point, only having known him as an alias.

Until today, when the Gods decide to torture him a bit more.

“Name?”

“Sakusa,” he says, not even thinking as he scrolls on his phone. There’s a high pitched gasp from the girl, and it makes his eye twitch.

“NO WAY!!! Oh my gosh, you’re THE sakusa kiyoomi?! Oh my gosh, wait, hold on- can I get a picture? No, wait, you’re not into those- can I get an autograph? I knew you looked familiar, my sister and I watch you play all the time! I’m such a fan!-“

“Uh… thanks. Can I have my tea-“

The girl doesn’t answer, instead, she calls for her co-worker who barrels out in equal excitement.

On any normal day, kiyoomi would snap. He’d scold and snarl about how rude they were, how he’s still a fucking person who just so happens to be good at volleyball, but he’s like a deer in headlights. He’s too surprised at his own stupidity of not using his usual alias, how damn tired is he?

There’s a weight that feels like a ton of bricks that settles on his chest once he hears the line behind him complaining about how long it’s taking, then people behind the register flashing pictures that have him blinded and asking him questions he doesn’t want to answer, he just wants his tea for God’s sake and-

“HEY!” There’s a snap from someone at a table, and it breaks up the small, impromptu paparazzi at the front. “People are trying to work here, and not get a damn seizure from your damn pictures!” He feels all that anxiety break on his shoulders once they cower away. “And shame on you all!” They continue, the line slowly parting to let them continue shouting. “He may be famous but he’s still a damn person! Make the fucking drink and GO!”

Kiyoomi doesn’t want to look. Even if he’s eternally grateful for them, he knows that scold and he knows that bravery to call out random people for their shiftiness.

Because it’s the same thing you used to do all those years ago.

He winced and pulls the mask higher on his nose to keep himself concealed- as if he’s not a 190.5 cm monster. But you don’t say anything about anything that just happened, you must be deep in your work to not process just exactly who you were defending.

He gets his tea with a quick apology from the baristas, and he heads to the door to leave.

….

…right?

He’s gone. He’s on the bus, headphones in and heading to practice, audiobook putting him in a new world where his only current connection is the hot tea in his hands.

Right?

There’s always been a table on the bus, a table he rudely stalks up to, where you’re sitting and typing away furiously at your laptop and massaging one of your temples, too engrossed in your work to notice the outside hitter standing just in front of you.

“Uh…” he chews his lip nervously. You don’t look up.

This is the chance Komori’s been talking about. If he doesn’t take it, he’s going to hate himself forever.

“Thank you for standing up for me back there.”

“You’re welcome.”

He sighs staggered, “can I… uhm… repay the favor?”

To his extreme relief, you offer him a small chuckle, “maybe you can recommend a coffee shop where random cele…” your voice drifts off when you look up at him, jaw frozen open and eyes wide and dancing all over his face. You’re both just staring at each other, breathing ragged and tense, and his brows furrowing to try and hide the guilt and absolute need he has for you to continue the conversation.

You clear your throat, “your uhm… your foot healed uh… well.”

He wants to, but can’t, fight the snort that sneaks past his lips because that’s about the last thing he thought you’d say. But he sees you crack a smile too, and it’s worth it.

“Yeah,” he says after he clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m playing professionally now. Minor aches here and there, but nothing unusual.”

“So you got to stick with your plan,” you hum sadly, and his heart stops. “That’s wonderful, Sakusa. Im glad to hear it-“

“But my plan never felt complete,” he interrupts, and he sees your nostrils flare in annoyance. “I-I-I thought I knew what I wanted, but god, I didn’t. I don’t, I’ve always only wanted you.”

You offer him a shrug, “Kiyoomi, I was an intruder in your life; I can’t blame you for that, I shouldn’t have been there-“

“I wanted you there.”

“Clearly you didn’t,” you snip, and finally, he sighs in defeat. “You made it just fine without me in your plan.”

Fuck it.

If he’s here, he’s gonna lay all his cards, give you every last thought of his and leave you one more time to pick up your shattered pieces.

“I miss you.”

You freeze, but there’s a glazing of your waterline before you slowly, tensely, turn up to look at him.

“Don’t,” you snap. “Don’t do this, Sakusa.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, own voice twinging raw. "I hate it too. I hate that I've had to carry this weight with me for all these years, years I should've been with you, kept you safe and happy, and I couldn't even do that."

"You shattered what we had. Don't ever forget that."

"I never have been able to."

There's another silence surrounding you both, suffocating and hot and thick, and he gets flashbacks of a scenario not too dissimilar, where you're looking up at him with those same, betrayed eyes.

But your gaze doesn't last. It crumbles before you let out the breath you'd been holding, a sign that you're not going to waste your energy on him anymore, "you're too late, Kiyoomi. You don't get to miss me anymore."

When your hands shift to close your laptop, he sees it. The massive, heavy rock on your finger, glimmering under the soft lights of the coffee shop.

Kiyoomi feels sick. He could faint right now if his pride would let him. Instead, he swallows the bile in his throat and grits his teeth, giving you a smile and a casual scratch of the back of his head, "that's... that's awesome! I'm happy for you."

"Don't be," you smile sadly.

"Why?"

You shurg, "you don’t have to be happy for me. I’m happy for me. He's a friend of Bokuto-San's. Set us up not long after we broke up." Then, you sigh shakily, "I'm just here for work, I won't taint your coffee shops for much longer." It was an attempt to break up the heavy silence.

He could puke right now if he didn't feel completely defeated. He could strangle Bokuto in devastation.

In his younger, naïve efforts to drive you away, he drove you straight to someone else's arms.

He nods and chokes out a small "alright," before spinning on his heel away from you

He makes move to leave the coffee shop, but before he does, but before he can, he turns back to face you, trying to get one final look at you, soaking in your presence and soul before you vanish from his life forever. He calls your name, and you look at him one more time with that big, beautiful gaze.

"Do you believe in the one that got away?" he asks, and you process his answer before slipping your computer in your bag.

"Yeah. And I believe I'm yours- but you were too worried about losing volleyball. Now, I guess we all got what we wanted."

His veins turn icy as he tries to blink back the hot tears searing his waterline, turning his head to dodge your knowing eyes.

Everyone got what they wanted.

Except for his broken heart, of course.

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 5 months

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lmao idk if this is even any good but all i want is levi ackerman taking care of me during the times that my brain's being mean to me :(

Who You Are | Levi Ackerman Hurt/Comfort Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1.7k ✧ notes ➼ hurt/comfort, negative self-talk, levi being comforting in his levi way, explicit descriptions of depression (specifically the catatonia)

You could tell it was another one of those days.

You weren't surprised, but you sure were disappointed. You had gone to bed telling yourself that today would be better, that this recent episode had finally passed.

Your body felt heavy, like you could barely move. Even adjusting the blanket when you got too warm, and peeling your eyes open to check to time felt as effortful as dragging an oversized briefcase up the flight of stairs to your apartment when the elevator was down.

Now that you thought about it, you noted that the briefcase might actually be easier than this.

Not only did you feel heavy, but you also felt numb. You were barely present and you felt like the world was passing by around you, as if you were an outsider simply watching. You could likely receive devastating news and not feel a single thing.

You couldn't get yourself to cry. Oh how you wished that you could finally cry.

Getting up was impossible. You felt like your bladder was going to explode. The bathroom was only a few steps away—but you couldn't get yourself to move.

You were miserable. Getting up was miserable. Lying in bed was miserable. Falling asleep was miserable. Everything was just miserable.

Things had been getting better for a while. You would convince yourself that it was over, that you had finally 'beaten' your depression, that you were on the right meds, doing the right things, taking care of yourself, and practicing all of your therapy skills.

Then out of nowhere, it'd hit like a truck. The monster known as depression would engulf you in the blink of an eye, and you'd find yourself suddenly confined to the four walls of your bedroom, wrapped inside your blanket as if you were in a cocoon, begging to yourself and counting down the seconds until the depressive episode passed.

Sometimes it did. Other times it didn't.

You peaked one eye out of the blanket as you heard the door to the bedroom open, watching as your boyfriend sat down next to you.

"Rough day?" Levi's voice was gentle and quiet. He had seen you like this for the past few days, so he wasn't all that surprised when he came home and noticed that you were still in bed.

You buried your face into the blanket, ashamed to tell him that you've yet to actually get up even though it was late into the afternoon.

Levi's eyes scanned your body, noticing that your hair was still messy, and that you were still wearing the clothes that you had gone to sleep in the previous night. His gaze wandered towards your nightstand, seeing that the water he had left out for you that morning was untouched, which likely meant that you couldn't get yourself to take your meds for the day.

His eyes furrowed together with concern. Although he wanted to, he knew that asking you about if you had taken your meds or grabbed a bite to eat was just going to make you feel worse.

"Wanna go on a drive with me?" he finally spoke up, gently lowering the blanket away from your face so he could see you better. "Gotta pick something up from the office."

You remained silent as he cupped your cheek with his hand, gently running his thumb across your cheek.

You did usually enjoy your drives with him, even if it didn't feel like it right now.

"You don't even have to change. Take the blanket with you if you wanna keep being a burrito."

You saw the edge of his lips slightly tug up as he playfully commented on your cocoon. If you were feeling better, you'd chuckle with him, but you instead just stuck your bottom lip out in a small pout.

Still, a pouty look in your eyes was better than an empty one. That counted as progress.

"...it'll get dirty," you finally spoke up, your voice hoarse from the fact that you hadn't had a drink of water since the night before.

"We have other blankets," Levi reasoned. "Take the fucking blanket."

~~~~~

You compromised and brought the throwover blanket from the couch with you instead. You were surprised that you had the energy to make the swap instead of just dragging yourself out with the duvet that had been providing you shelter for a few days straight.

Levi had said he needed something from his office, but you knew he was lying. It was likely that whatever he needed to grab wasn't actually that important and could've waited until after the weekend. You knew he was already busy enough as is, which only resulted in you feeling terrible about the fact that he was putting in extra time and effort to attempt to help you feel better.

You sat in comfortable silence as he drove, with you snuggled up in the blanket on the passenger's seat. Your chair was reclined enough so that you were leaning backwards, but were still sitting. The gentle hum of the car helped provide some comfort, although it was barely noticeable.

You eventually looked over at him as he pulled to a stop. You were now at the drive-thru at the local cafe. You listened passively as Levi ordered himself a fresh cup of Earl Grey, shaking your head when he glanced over at you to see if you wanted something.

Levi placed his tea in his cupholder and then placed a small cup of yogurt in yours, indicating that it was there for you if you could get yourself to eat without making you feel too pressured if you couldn't.

When the car came to a stop again, you sighed. He had driven the two of you to the park where you first met and a slight hint of light appeared in your eyes as you were able to pull up the happy memory despite the depressive funk you currently found yourself in.

The back windows of the car were cracked open to let in some fresh air. While you had a brief moment of respite upon seeing that you were at the park, the thoughts of inadequacy quickly returned, swirling in your head like a storm that refused to let up.

Levi looked over at you, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion once he heard you mumble an apology.

"For what?"

Your voice was barely audible and you weren't even looking at him as you spoke. He vaguely heard you say something about being useless.

Noticing that he wasn't responding, you looked up at him, seeing a look in his eyes that resembled one of exasperation, but not quite so. The expression communicated that while he wasn't expecting the comment at this moment, he wasn't surprised by it either.

"Is that you," he began, poking at your forehead, "or that little voice in your head talking?"

Your lips downturned into a pout, both at his question and the way that he was reacting. You knew that he was being gentler since he knew that you weren't in the headspace for his usual commentary. While Levi Ackerman was not one to sugarcoat and say things for the sake of appearing affectionate alone, he also wasn't a dick. He wasn't going to put more distress on you when you already felt like you were drowning.

"You're not useless," he eventually said with a sigh. "I know that feels like a wild concept right now, so you don't have to believe it—but you're here."

He gestured towards your body, including the blanket that was wrapped around you.

"You dragged your ass out of bed and into this car despite feeling like shit," he continued, "and don't start with saying that I forced you because I didn't. You did that on your own."

The little things counted, even if it really was just moving from laying down in bed to sitting in the passenger seat of Levi's car.

"...'m sorry for being a burden," you whispered.

"You're not," Levi interjected, barely allowing you to finish your sentence. "Even if you were, I love you for who you are, not just what you can do or accomplish."

He leaned forward once he noticed that you weren't responding and grabbed onto your hand, gently shaking you to get your attention.

"Hey, look at me," he commanded, his tone of voice a bit more firm.

He gestured towards the blanket and the fact that you were wrapped up in it.

"This does not define who you are. It's a part of you, and we've accepted that," he said before poking at your forehead again, "but it doesn't change who you are."

You felt your eyes begin to heat up as he spoke the words that you needed to hear—that you were more than just your depression, and that no matter how much your depression was weighing you down right now, that he still, and always will, see you as the same person that he fell in love with all those years ago.

The tears threatening to gather in your eyes was a sign of progress. At least you were feeling something now.

Noticing that his words had struck a chord within you, he pulled you into him, placing his hand on the back of your head as you buried your face into the nape of his neck, giving you the space to simply exist and process those emotions you were finally able to get yourself to feel again.

Depression was a bitch to live with. The moment you were told that this could be something you'd always have to deal with from time to time, and that it's hard to say if it'll ever truly go away—you were mortified. The idea of having to do this randomly, with there being nothing you could do to stop it made you want to cry and give up—but Levi was always there to pick you back up.

Although you were still the one that had to drag yourself up, Levi kept you from falling further into the trenches. Unlike everyone else that either looked at you with pity or continued to mutter empty phrases like "it'll pass" or "you'll get better", Levi just accepted you for who you were—because as he said, whether you lived with depression or not, he would always love you for who you were.

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @emiwhore @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @grav3bab3 @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @nixie-writes-aot @la-undercover-latina @v4mp-wife @darkstarlight82 @professorweezy @braunsbabe @lovedbylevi @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @deepzombieyouth @evas-leslas join my taglist!

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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darknight3904 · 28 days

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Freedom

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇɢʀᴜᴅɢɪɴɢʟʏ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴀᴏʏᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀɢᴏ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴊᴊᴋ ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ. ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ. ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx. ᴏᴜᴛᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴢᴇɴɪɴ ᴄʟᴀɴ ɪᴅᴇᴀʟꜱ

ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴢᴇɴɪɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6ᴋ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ @starryparkrr ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɴᴛʟʏ.

ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ! ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ…ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴜʟᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴄᴜʙᴇᴅ ᴏᴋᴀʏ?

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

2018

November 4

The light is the first thing you can register when your eyes open again. You want to yell at Satoru for not shutting the curtains before falling asleep. Of course, you can't, the room you wake in is foreign yet familiar at the same time.

"Jeez, finally." An all too familiar voice says

"Where am I?" You mumble while the voice laughs at you

"What's supposed to be our shared room after we marry."

Your eyes snap open immediately. you know that voice, how could you ever forget it?

"Naoya." You greet, sitting up from the futon you had been tucked into

"Good, you have your memories." He smiles from his seat across the room.

"Why wouldn't I have my memories?" You roll your eyes

"Dunno, that doctor said the meds she gave you were heavy. I thought you might've been on death's door or something." He shrugs

Naoya is surprisingly calm. What the hell was up with him? He still hadn't attempted to insult you.

"You should thank me." He says

"Excuse me?" You ask baffled

"Those higher-ups wanted to execute you for being a collaborator for whatever happened in Shibuya." He explains

"Why the hell would I be a collaborator?" You ask

"Your relationship with that white-haired fool must've tipped them off." Naoya says, "Don't cut me off again"

You want to tell him to shove his words up his ass but he seems deadly serious and your head is hurting terribly, you doubt could take him in a fight right now. So, instead, you just roll your eyes and he seems content with that.

What even happened? The last thing you remember was Nanami pushing you away from that curse...

"I stepped in of course. Our engagement contact came in handy for once, by the way. I said you'd retire from being a sorcerer and marry me. Pop out a few brats and live the housewife life."

You want to run across the room and tackle him out of that dumb tatami chair he's sitting in.

"Before you freak out, don't worry I didn't marry you in your sleep." He smiles, "Now can I get a thank you? After all they wanted to appoint that Yuta Okkotsu kid as your executioner. He's stronger than you if I'm correct?"

"Yeah, he is." You admit, thinking of the kind-hearted dark-haired boy who had been sent off to Africa with Miguel.

"Right, so a thank you then?" Naoya smiled

How annoying he was today. Of course, it could've been worse, He hadn't insulted you or called you any rude names, yet.

"Whatever. Thank you." You say quietly

Naoya smiles with glee, and then motions for you to join him at the table.

You shuffle your way across the room to him. Your body was incredibly sore. He said Shoko had given you medicine but they didn't just use her technique to heal you? You felt like a bus ran you over.

"That doctor wasn't allowed to use her technique on you. The higher ups were hoping you'd die of your head injury. I had her cook up some drug cocktail and the Zenin doctors have been in to see you and to stitch up that stomach wound," Naoya says as he watches you stiffly sit next to him, "Attendants have been feeding you this disgusting soup that's supposed to help you recover quickly. I tasted it earlier, its basically dog shit."

"Alright, cut the bullshit." You glare, "Why're you in such a good mood?"

"Me? I'm always in a good mood." He says, " Although I guess I am being nicer than usual."

That was the understatement of the year!

"My father died last night."

Naobito? Didn't that mean Naoya was officially the head of the clan?

"The injuries he got from Shibuya were too much for him. And the reader of his will is due to arrive soon. I'm certain I will become head of the clan." He smiles at you

Naoya reminds you of a child, giddy for a present like it was Christmas morning. Except the present is his father dying and the fortune that the family sits on.

"Why should I care about any of this?" You ask, wanting to lay back down

"Once I'm clan head my first act is to dissolve this stupid contract," Naoya says, pushing a folder to you

You don't even have to open it to know what's inside. You know it's the engagement papers both of your fathers drew up years ago.

"I'd do it now but only the contract signers or the clan head legally have the power to end it. I doubt your dad will be interested and mine just kicked it." He explains

"Why do you want to do this? I thought there was some genetic advantage to us having kids." You say, skeptical

You remember the night you were told that the engagement was finalized. Your mother had sat you down and told you that because you and Naoya were the strongest sorcerers of the family, you'd most likely create amazing kids.

You had stopped speaking to her after that night, not interested in a mother who would sell you like a piece of meat.

"Oh, there is. But I don't want to be chained to you for the rest of my life. Even if it does mean my kids would be amazing. You're disgusting. I doubt you'd walk three paces behind me and your ass certainly isn't big enough. Not to mention you've been broken in by Satoru Gojo of all people."

His words are wildly insulting and normally you'd want to punch him in the face for his insults. But, for once your imperfections are paying off.

"Thank you." You say "For letting me go."

"I'm not doing it for you, woman. I'm doing it for myself." He says

Before you can tell him to die, a knock sounds and the door slides open. Ogi and Jinichi Zenin enter. Ogi is sporting a long ponytail that seems to have doubled in length since you last saw him on a visit to Maki. As for Jinichi, he's as rough-looking as ever, the whispers about Toji being the better-looking son were certainly true.

"You've been sitting around with your fiancee instead of mourning your father? What's wrong with you?" Ogi scolds

"Why would anyone want to mourn him?" You say

"You haven't taught her to hold her tongue? I'm surprised Naoya." Ogi says, ignoring you

"She doesn't listen to me. She's right though, why would I want to mourn? I'm the next head of the clan. You haven't amounted to anything, Ogi." Naoya laughs, "As for you Jinichi, you're just..."

Naoya trails off like he isn't quite sure what to say.

"You're too ugly." You blurt out

Oh crap. You shouldn't have spoken up.

Jinichi grunts out of anger, and you see him lunging for you. Your instincts are dulled. You're reacting slowly, a side effect of all the medication from Shoko? Ah, he's going to tackle you to the floor. Jinichi's smelly self is going to crush you.

"Now can't we get along? What if she's the one sitting by my side? Don't you want to get along with my wife?" Naoya says, easily pinning Jinichi to the floor before he can reach you.

Jinichi's ugly face is a few inches from your feet and your brain says to step on him. Something wasn't right though. Why did he decide to stop Jinchi? And why was he pretending he planned to marry you?

A clink of a sword is heard as Ogi draws his blade to press it to Naoya's throat.

"I'm in mourning! You wouldn't kill a man whose daddy just died would you?" Naoya smiles, sitting back down next to you, a bit closer than last time.

Your eyes widen as he reaches and pulls you close so his lips tickle your ear when he talks. To the two old men in the room with you it probably looks like two love birds whispering to each other.

"Keep your mouth shut. These two will kill you if they find out I'm not interested in you. The higher-ups put your execution notice out, if you're not with me you're dead. I don't think you're in a condition to fight, Miss Special Grade."

Of course, he tells you that now...

Sure, he was right about the whole not being able to fight. You're pretty sure even Miwa from Kyoto could knock you out right now. God you wished you could figure out reversed curse technique.

"Flirt on your own time, Naoya." Ogi scolds as a small man with glasses enters the room.

"Oh, I plan to." Naoya smiles, tossing a big arm over your shoulders, which you shrug off and shoot him a glare that could kill him.

"Good, you're all here. I am Furudate. I have Master Noabito's will. I will read it now."

Naoya's lips quirk up in a triumphant smile as Furudate delivers the news that he is to be the head, and is set to inherit every asset the Zenin family has.

"Freedom awaits." He says, with a whisper to your ear

So close. You wished he'd back off, of course, you understood he had a role to play. You weren't interested in fighting Ogi or Jinichi.

"However, if Satoru Gojo has become incapacitated in any way...A written agreement concluded with Toji Fushiguro will welcome Megumi Fushiguro into the Zenin Clan...where he shall become head of the Zenin Clan...and all assets shall pass to him."

Oh shit...

"What?"

You quickly scoot away from Naoya, suddenly more interested in the floor. Ah, what a lovely shade of brown!

"Where is Megumi?" Naoya asks

"He is searching for Yuji Itadori in Tokyo." A female attendant says

"Who's that?" Noaya asks

"Sukuna's vessel." She says

Please do not let this be going in the direction you think it is...

Naoya shoots a glance to Ogi and Jinichi and motions for you to follow him out the door.

Who does he think you are? A dog?

You follow him anyway though, worried about his sudden interest in Megumi and Itadori.

A beat of silence follows as you fall into pace with an angry Naoya. You have no interest in following his stupid three-step rule like the attendant does.

"Tell the higher-ups that I will kill Sukuna's vessel for them...I'll kill both of them." He says and the attendant nods.

"They're kids, Naoya. Megumi doesn't even want to be the clan head. I'm sure he will hand it over willingly if you just talk to him. " You try to reason with him, worried for the kids' safety if he goes after them.

"Make sure she doesn't leave my quarters. There's the drugs from that woman from the school. Give them to her on schedule until I return." He says, before grabbing you by the arm and dragging you down the hall as you trip on your feet in the long traditional garb you're wearing.

Naoya pulls you along until you're in another room on the other side of the estate. This one is tastefully decorated, more lived-in than the last one.

"You'll stay put if you know what's good for you." Naoya says as he tosses you onto the ground.

You might be a match for him when it comes to techniques but physically he's bigger than you and easily stronger.

"Stay put while you kill the kid I helped raise and his friend? You must be delusional." You laugh, standing back up

"You'll lose if we fight right now." He chides

"Maybe, but that doesn't matter." You huff, ready to activate your technique

"I'm not interested in fighting a weak version of you. If we fight, I want you at full power, so that when I beat you, you'll know I'm truly better." He says

"Then stay. We can spar like we used to when we were kids." You tempt him with nostalgia

"That wasn't sparing. That was you beating me every day so I could go to dinner and listen to my father mock me." He glares

"Prove you're better then." You smile

Perhaps you can get him to forget about Megumi with a little healthy competition. You don't want Naoya messing with Megumi or Itadori. After Shibuya, there was no telling what condition either of them was in. If they weren't at their best, he'd win and kill both of them.

You weren't interested in burying either of them. Megumi meant more to you than you had ever thought he would.

"Our little blessing."

Satoru's teasing voice echoed in your brain. He called him that as a joke but it was true. Megumi and Tsumiki were one of the most important things in your life.

"You're injured. You won't be healed for another few days. Plenty of time to kill the kids and then spar." He says, beginning to walk for the door

Shit. You couldn't let him run off!

"Fine then, no sparring then..."

If there was a God, you prayed that he would step in before this went too far. You slowly cross the room to where Naoya is. Your hands gently tug at your robe, pulling it so your chest pops into his line of sight.

"Instead of sparring, why don't you stay here with me..." You put on your best smile, hoping you don't gag as you speak, and press yourself against him, "Aren't you interested in why Satoru has kept me around for so long? I'm good with my mouth..."

You'd do anything to keep Naoya away from Megumi. Even sleep with him if that's what it took...

"Looks like I was right, you're nothing but some cheap whore." Naoya laughs, pushing you off of him "Cover up. Maybe when I'm back I'll take you up on your offer. I'll bring you Megumi's head, too. He can watch as we fuck."

His words are so crude you activate your technique, hoping you have enough in you for a duplicate or two.

"Stop that." He smiles, mockingly

A flash of color from Naoya's clothes floats in front of your face and a hard fist is the last thing you see.

March 1995 (You and Naoya: 4)

"Naoya, you could've dodged that!"

The angered voice of his father's voice carrys across the training grounds.

What the hell did he know? It wasn't even fair for him to be fighting, after all his technique hadn't manifested yet so how come he was fighting some girl who already had hers? Did his father like watching him get sent flying by her or her stupid doubles?

"Can we stop now? My mom is making rice balls at home and I want to help her!" The girl who stands above him asks

"No! I don't care about stupid rice balls, we're sparring until I beat you!" Naoya demands, brushing dirt from his pants as he stands up

"But aren't you tired of getting punched?" She asks him innocently

Sure he is, but he's more tired of listening to everyone blab about this girl across from him and her technique and skill. He was born a week before her so why was she so much better than him? It wasn't fair!

"We're fighting until I win!" He demands

July 1997 (You and Naoya: 6)

"Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible person, Naoya?" You ask as he pulls you through the maze of hallways that was the Zenin estate

"Huh? What are you blabbing about now?" He asks, clearly uninterested in what you had to say

You wouldn't venture to say that you were friends with the dark-haired boy. More like both your parents were constantly pushing the two of you to spend time together. Whether it was training or school work, or even just a normal day, you were stuck with Naoya Zenin. Why? You weren't quite sure yet.

"You're dragging me to go see someone who doesn't have any cursed energy just so we can go make fun of him. That's rude don't you think?" You ask

"Why does it matter? This man must be pathetic anyway. Just some weakling." He responds but his voice falls quiet at the end as you both reach your destination.

The man Naoya had dragged you around all day for was right in front of you. Messy dark hair was on his head and a healed scar adorned his face right where his lips met.

You glance at Naoya who seems frozen by the sheer intimidation the man, Toji Zenin puts out. He passes by silently, one big arm suspended by a sling, the other resting idly by his side.

"Still think he's pathetic?" You ask once Toji is out of earshot

"Shut up." Naoya commands

September 1999 (You and Naoya: 8)

"You're crushing me!" You gasp as Naoya tries to use you like some ladder and sits on your shoulders

"You're the one who was saying that you were stronger than me the other day during training. Suck it up." He says

"I didn't think I was going to have to lift you up to a window like a personal step stool." You groan

"Shut up. Someone just opened the door to the room." Naoya says

You roll your eyes but stop speaking anyway. Besides, you were interested in what was happening too. Rumors had been swirling the past week that members of the Gojo Clan would be visiting the Zenin Estate.

Apparently, the new clan head was a child, only a year older than you and Naoya. Satoru Gojo was supposed to be in the room Naoya was trying to peer into atop your shoulders.

"Lift me higher." He whispers

"I can't! You gained weight since the last time we did this!" You say, trying to straighten your knees so he could be taller.

The last time you had held The slightly shorter than you Naoya like this was in July. His mother had yelled at him for eating too much sugar and you helped him steal a bag of sweets he knew she hid ontop of the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" A voice asks

"Shit..." Naoya says

Yor turn your head slightly to see where the voice was coming from but Naoya interrupts.

"Put me down!-" Naoya commands, struggling

"Wait! I need to-"

You don't get to finish as you lose your grip on him and the two of you fall backward.

"Idiot!" Naoya scolds as you try to ignore the pain in your back as he gets to his feet first

"It's your fault!" You argue back looking at the hand Naoya has extended to help you up.

A soft laughter fills the air and you look up to the person who had snuck up on the two of you.

Hair whiter than snow glitters in the sun as you watch as he covers his mouth while laughing.

"You can't laugh at me! I'm the heir of my family!" Naoya says, angry that he fell over.

"Naoya I think that's..." You trail off as the white-haired boy opens his eyes

Dazzling blue meets your eyes and Naoya freezes next to you. Satoru Gojo is just six feet from the two of you. The boy you had heard about for so many years was looking right at you.

Suddenly, a bustle of female attendants interrupted whatever this was and Satoru Gojo was led away.

"What an idiot." Naoya deems as he watches the other boy who disappears into a room.

"So rude. You know, no girl will want to date you if you're mean like that." You say

"Good!" Naoya scoffs "Let's go get some ice cream, I'm hungry.

June 2004 (You and Naoya: 13)

"Mom, where is Naoya? I thought we were supposed to train today. I got stuck with one of the other guys and he smelled like old fish." You groan

"Noabito-san has sent Naoya away. He's spending some time training with the Hei." She responds "I heard he'll be gone all summer."

"What? No fair! I'm better than Naoya is at everything! How come I didn't get to go?" You whine as you enter the kitchen

"The training was set up just for Naoya. Besides, I think it's a men-only thing. You understand right?" She says as she cuts vegetables for dinner

You let out a scoff at that. Men only? Naoya hasn't won a single fight against you yet he gets special time with the Hei!? Whatever. Once he comes back you were going to beat his ass into the ground for leaving,

November 2004 (You: 13 Naoya: 14)

Cold wind threatened to knock you over as you ran from the car to the house. When the hell did it get so cold so early?

"I'm home! They didn't have any white onions so I got some yellow ones!" You yell toward the kitchen where your mother was surely awaiting your arrival with the extra things she needed for the food.

"You got taller."

You turn from where your face was buried in the overflowing coat closet where you had shoved your coat.

"Naoya!" You greet

He certainly looked different...dyed hair, piercings...shit was he actually taller than you now?

"Looks like you actually have to wear a bra now. Guess your height isn't the only thing that's changed. " He mocks, staring at your chest

Your face heats up with embarrassment as your mother urges the two of you to come sit down.

"Would you like tea?" Your mother asks

"Yes," Naoya says he seemed almost bored

"How were your private tutoring sessions with the Hei? Think you're finally strong enough to beat me?" You tease, hoping he'll fall back into your usual pattern.

Maybe that bra comment was just a fluke. He was 14...your mother had said boys got like that as they got older.

"Shut up. I didn't come here to be insulted by a woman. Go help prepare tea if you're going to run your mouth. I'm not interested in answering questions from you. I don't have to tell you anything."

What. The. Fuck.

You're sure you scare your mother half to death when she opens the tatami doors to find you wrestling with the heir of the clan. She tries to peel you off him but you're set on pounding his obnoxious face into the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You yell when she finally is able to move you enough that Naoya scampers out from under you

"Your daughter has become an animal!" Naoya shouts to your mother and father whose hands are full with the rest of the groceries, Naoya's hand is clutching his injured eye, "If she ever presumes to lay a hand on me again I'll kill her. I don't care about the potential she has, she's just a stupid whore who can't keep her hands to herself!"

You watch an enraged Naoya storm out of your home, brushing past your father, who rushes after him.

The way he carries himself is starkly different than the boy you grew up with. His words hurt your heart as your parents yell at you for what you've done but you can't bring yourself to care, you're mourning the loss of a childhood friend tonight. Sure he wasn't the best but he was the only one you had to begin with and now he was gone, buried by blonde hair and a confusing persona you thought he'd never develop towards you.

November 8, 2018

"Did you OD while I was gone?" A voice asks as you're shaken awake

Naoya sits next to you on the floor as a doctor is looming over you. Your shirt has been pushed up and you can just barely feel some pinching on your abdomen.

"Master Naoya. Removing stitches can be rather graphic. You may want to wait outside." The doctor suggests.

"Just get it over with. I have business to attend to with my future wife here." He grumbles

"Of course." The doctor says, "You'll just feel some light pinching."

A few moments pass and you don't miss the way Naoya looks away when the doctor goes to work. You want to tease him for being a wuss but your brain feels a bit foggy, most likely a side effect of whatever drugs are in your system and the fact that Naoya knocked you out before he ran off.

Wait a moment...if he was back, then where the hell was Megumi?

"Where is Megumi?" You ask, fearing the worst.

"He's alive. Yuta Okkotsu killed Sukuna's vessel though. Megumi never showed up so I came back here." He says

Itadori was dead? Sukuna just let Yuta kill him? That didn't sound right...

"Alright, I'm done. Keep the area clean and take it easy for a day or two." The doctor says as you sit up.

"Thank you." You say as you fix your shirt

Naoya waits for the doctor's departure to speak again.

"Megumi will turn up eventually. If not I'll get ahold of Maki or Mai and then he'll have to show." He says

"They won't come back here willingly." You say

"No? What about when Maki needs a cursed tool? We cleared the stock that we kept at the school. If she wants one she'll have to come here." Naoya smiles

He's probably in the right for once. Megumi would show up if it meant danger for another. Not to mention if Naoya said that you were at the estate as well...

"Stop thinking so hard, you'll hurt yourself," Naoya says before grabbing your arm and hauling to your feet

"You promised a sparring match." He says as he leads you down the hallway

The scene before you is oddly familiar. Naoya has dragged you to the training grounds against your will and is now preparing for a fight he expects to go his way. It's nostalgic and makes you feel like a child again.

"Before we start...I want to ask you something." You say

"I'm not pulling my punches. This is our first match since we were 14, I intend to go all out." He glares

"I know that. I wanted to ask why you bothered saving me from execution and from Jinichi. Letting me die would be easier and it would get you out of the contract easily." You say

"You're smart for a woman. I kept you alive because I wanted to be the one to kill you. I can't let you go to the grave without having won a fight against you, simple as that." He shrugs

You should've known it was something as petty as that. Of course, Naoya only cared about his ego.

"So is this my death sentence then?" You ask warily

"Sure. After you it'll be Megumi and then Maki and Mai. I can't have any competition for the clan head. I'm the sole heir." He says

"Yeah those 15-year-olds, they pose a big threat, huh?" You laugh and pick up the training staff that rests on the stand of weapons

"Shut up." He says

"So are we using techniques? Or just hand to hand like when we were kids?" You ask

"Both. I want to beat you at your best. Besides we already know I'm physically bigger than you. I don't want to cheat my way to victory."He says

"Right. You're a Special grade one right? Last time I checked that means I still rank higher than you." You smile

"Do you ever stop running your mouth?" Naoya groans

"No, I in fact quite enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice."

You're taunting him and he's falling for it like he always does. It sucks you never got married, the fights would've been legendary!

Naoya makes the first move, and like always he swings right for your head.

"So predictable." You huff and easily jump back.

The medicine that was clogging your brain has worn off and you feel better than ever. Perhaps it was that strange soup the attendants had fed you as you drifted in and out of consciousness waiting for Naoya to return from his murder mission.

"Head of the Hei, and I can still read your every move." You say

"Shut up!" Naoya yells and stomps his foot like a small child

"I don't think I will." You say

Perhaps you should start with four duplicates. One to hold each of Naoya's limbs.

"Activating your technique so early? Are you scared?" He asks as he swings at you again

"Nah, I'm interested in wrapping this up quickly. I wanna go see Megumi, make sure you're telling the truth." You say

"You leave me and the higher-ups will have you killed. Can you truly win against Yuta Okkotsu?' He asks

"Probably not. I don't mind dying though, just as long as it's not by your hands." You say honestly.

A loud bell interrupts Naoya before he can speak again.

"The alarm?" You ask dropping the staff

"What the hell is going on?" Naoya asks looking at you for an answer

"You seriously think I'd use a cheap distraction to beat you?" You roll your eyes

"You've become quite the conniving bitch over the years, I wouldn't put it past you." He snaps "Come, let's see what's going on."

"I'm not a dog, Naoya." You scold

He doesn't reply as you walk next to him, interested to see why the alarms would be ringing, Has Megumi come to challenge Naoya? Was he seriously that stupid?

You're nearly mowed over by Ranta, another member of the Hei as he turns a corner.

"Master Naoya! Its Maki! She's gone mad!" Ranta says "She killed Master Ogi!"

Maki killed her father? What the hell was she doing? More importantly, how did she do it?

"She killed Ogi..."Naoya asks slowly

"The Kukuru are off to confront her," Ranka says

"Good. Bring her to me when they get her." Naoya says, cooly

"She's a kid, Naoya." You say, "Ogi must've provoked her if she went after him."

"I won't let your student run around murdering members of the clan. You can either hold your tongue like a woman should or die with her. I've already been lenient with you, even now you're standing next to me like you're my equal. Don't forget what you are." Naoya says

You think of Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki...was it worth it trying to resist Naoya for your own pride?

"Fine. But once Maki is here I expect you to talk to her, not just cut her down right away." You say

"It's a deal," Naoya says

Loud shouts are coming from across the estate, none of them sound promising as Naoya paces in anger.

"Where the hell is Jinichi and Ranka? They should have grabbed her by now." Naoya says

You follow him towards where Maki is supposed to be. For once you listen to his three-step rule, after all, being behind a person is the best way to get the drop on them.

Your eyes widen when you see what is taking place, Maki has cut down all of the Kakuru and she holds Jinichi's head in one hand, a cursed tool in the other. Ranka is there as well, blind from who knows what.

A smile streches arocss your face when you see what she's doing. How she's doing it, you're not sure but right now she's fulfilling everything you saw in her all those years ago.

You have potential to be amazing,

Looks like you were right. Maki's moving at a speed that rivals most special grades as she cuts through the last of the Kakuru and sets her sights on Ranka.

"Looks like my student won't be dying today." You laugh as you quickly deliver a kick to Naoya's back.

"What do you think you're doing? You're a member of this clan. Go down there and stop her, special grade!" He says pointing at Maki.

"Nah, Don't want to." You say

"You'll become an exile then." Naoya seethes "And just when I was beginning to think you weren't so bad."

"You talk a lot." You point out and activate your technique, "Think you can beat me and Maki?"

Naoya seems slower than usual or maybe he was just slow in general as your four duplicates grabbed him on all sides.

"Maki?" You call to the girl who readys a finishing blow

Naoya lets out a loud call, he reminds you of an animal who know's its trapped.

And then suddenly a blade is in his hands and he cuts through your unsuspecting duplicates.

"I hate sorcerers who only rely on blades." He declares " I'll be beating the two of you without this."

You watch as he discards the once-hidden weapon. Naoya easily closes in on Maki and sends her flying with a good punch. Ah, so that wasn't his top speed.

"You. I can't believe you're betraying your entire bloodline for a teenager." He says

"Believe it. I don't feel any allegiance to the Zenin. Why should I? I haven't felt welcome in the clan since you came back from that training when we were 14." You say blocking the punch he sends your way

"You're still upset about that? What a stupid woman you are. Fawning over the past." He berates and slaps your arm to activate his technique.

Dammit, his technique was so annoying.

He easily kicks you through a wall or two and you stand up, your duplicates are back running behind him, ready for an attack.

"Looks like this is our final act then, Naoya." You say

"Let's make it a good one, then." He grins

He's a blur as he sends a barrage of punches to you. Your duplicates take some of them and melt away as you think of a way to stop him. You can hear Maki fighting again, the rest of the Kakuru must have come after her.

"You're weak. I don't know why I wasn't able to beat you before." He says when he finally stops

You're out of breath and bloody from his well-timed hits. He targeted the spot where your stitches had just been removed and the blood was flowing from it again, staining the concrete of the walls the two of you had broken through.

" I'm not the weak little boy you used to beat up on the training ground anymore. Too bad my dear old daddy is dead. He spent a lot of time comparing me to you when I was young, Made me sick listening to it all." He says

"Yet you spent how many years by my side?" You laugh, ouch that hurts your stomach

"It wasn't voluntary." He dismisses

"You're a piece of shit, Naoya, I didn't know you were a liar though." You say "I know you didn't mind being around me when we were kids."

"You spend too much time mourning for the past." He says

You were right. That's all you need to know as you let more duplicates out. Naoya is nothing but a kid who views you as a rival. Perhaps that's all it ever was, maybe you were wrong for thinking he was a friend all those years ago. Oh well, it doesn't matter now.

None of it ever has.

You smile as your duplicate grabs Naoya from behind, pinning his arms against his back. Another grasps his legs and you get ready to finish him for good.

"No." Naoya orders, his technique doesn't work on the new duplicates since they weren't active when he slapped your arm earlier, "Stop it, now."

"Why should I? You're nothing to me. After all, you just said you didn't want to spend time with me. Why should I want to spend any more time around you after that confession?" You ask

"We have history. You don't want to let it go. You're sentimental." He says

He's trying to weasel his way out of this, he must be scared of death.

"You're right, I am sentimental. Just not for you." You say, "Getting rid of you means getting rid of everything I've hated for so many years."

A discarded knife sits on the ground. It's not a cursed tool, just a normal kitchen knife and it'll do just fine.

Naoya lets out a string of pleas and struggles against your two duplicates. He even calls your name for the first time in years. Not whore or bitch, or even woman. He's scared and he's calling to your humanity with your name.

Too bad for him though. he doesn't matter to you anymore.

You ignore his words and pour your cursed energy into your duplicates, strengthening them both tenfold.

"I'll see you in hell, Naoya." You sweetly say into his ear

There's a slick slicing sound and warm blood pours onto your hand and down your arm as you slowly slit his throat.

You release your technique and your duplicates are gone. Without them, he collapses and claws at the wound.

You watch as Naoya Zenin, your wonderful fiance, drowns in his own blood, clawing at his throat like an animal. His last words are a gurgle of unintelligible sounds. A smile is tugging at your lips as his hand reaches for your ankle, his blood smearing across your skin.

What a wonderful sight. You can taste the freedom already.

I didn't really spend too much time editing this one. If you saw a typo, no you didn't.

More to come! Comment to be tagged!

Taglist:

@laviefantasie @kiya-things @dann-acalle @bakedpotato12 @pweewee @lysaray @midnightwriter21 @exprimidordefresas @ariiiii0938

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