━ ACT 1: FIRST DAY, LET'S MEET ALL THE CLUB MEMBERS!
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"What...the hell?"
Where am I? What is this?
You look forward, your heart racing and your brain full of questions. The world around you...is animated. It's a residential area; there's houses, trees, a road, the sun ─ but it's not real life. You then caught sight of your hand. It's animated. In fact, all of you is animated.
You press your palms against the sides of your head, throat growing dry.
"I don't feel real. What the fuck? Why don't I feel real?????? Where's...my skin." You drag your hands all over your face, trying desperately to find the feeling of real flesh. But you don't. You just feel...smooth, in the most unnatural, horrible way possible.
"What is happening to me, what is this place??? Stop. stopstopstop. Oh gosh, please... anyone, make it sto-"
Before you can panic any further, a sudden upbeat track of music begins to play.
And then, you hear footsteps pattering behind you.
"Heyyyyy!!!! [nameeeeeeeee]!!!"
You whip your head around, seeing a boy running towards you. He looks...recognizable?
He has two spiky buns, the rest of his hair falling into wispy bangs that covered his forehead. His most obvious feature, a straight black mark running vertically across the bridge of his nose.
You stare at him and observe his appearance, up until he makes his way right in front of you. He lets out heavy pants as he catches his breath.
"Ohhhh...I overslept again..." he began to stand up straight, eyebags prominent and etched onto his face. "But, I caught up to you."
You blinked a few times, eyes running up and down his figure multiple times.
He's...cute.
"Uhhh...you..sure did...."
The boy raised an eyebrow at your lack of words, seeing your face go a little red.
"You okay, [name]? You're acting like I'm a stranger." He pouts, leaning down to your face. "That's no way to treat a childhood friend, you know!"
Your face heats up at the proximity of your faces, your body instinctively backing up.
"Oh..uhm...sorry. I'm not...feeling well..."
You rubbed the nape of your neck, looking down at the floor. His expression softens.
"Well, if that's all...but I don't want you to go to school sick. Let me know in advance so I could....take care of you properly."
He trails off a little at the end, clearly realizing how that sounds. His cheeks flush.
"A-anyways...we should start walking."
He mumbles, grabbing ahold of your hand and beginning to walk.
While you walk hand-in-hand with the mystery boy, you began to think.
This is...probably a dream. Last thing I remember is...me at my computer, so I probably fell asleep there.
"By the way, [name], have you thought of which club you're going to be joining?" The guy's voice cuts through your thoughts.
"A club? I..." Since your belief of this being a dream was now fully cemented into your brain, you decided that you might as well play along. Besides, talking to such a hot boy didn't seem half-bad. "...haven't thought of one yet."
"Oh. You really need to, [name]. I'm worried that when you're in college, you still won't have any social skills."
...What's that supposed to mean?
"I...have social skills." you argued, even though you knew damn well that you had like 4 friends max.
"...when you talked to my younger brother a few days ago you couldn't even get a 'hello' out." he sighed. "Your happiness is super important to me, and I know you're happy now...but I'd die at the thought of you becoming a shut-in because you can't talk to people properly."
He pauses. "You trust me, right? Please, don't make me worried about you..."
You saw the pitiful look on his face as he spoke. There was so much genuine worry on his face for you that it was adorable. This guy seemed to really care for you...
"Alright alright, I'll look at some clubs if it makes you happy."
He smiled warmly at that.
"That makes me glad." He squeezed your hand a little. "Thank you, [name]."
You nodded. A boy holding your hand like this, being so worried about you, smiling at you with such emotion...it was addictive. When's the last time you've felt like this?
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"Oh!"
You gasp in surprise as your vision fades to black. When you regain your sight, you're sat in a classroom.
A cutscene? Didn't even know dreams could do that.
You think, looking down at your hands. You think back to what your "childhood friend" said about looking at some clubs. Yet, even in a dream, you still can't seem to grasp onto an ounce of motivation. What clubs even are there?
"[name]?"
The boy from earlier pops his head into the classroom, his face lighting up once his eyes land on you. He walks up to the side of your desk.
"Goodness, you really aren't feeling well. I thought I'd catch you walking while on the way to my club, but you're just in here spacing out."
"You don't have to 'catch' me if it'd make you late to your...club."
You fidgeted with your fingers, feeling a little guilty for making this poor boy worry.
"Uh..well, I thought you needed a little encouragement to finally join a club, so..."
"So?"
"...I told all the members of my club that I'd bring in a new member. And...Sukuna ended up making food for everyone."
He looked away, looking a little worried. He knew he should've told you, but he didn't know if you say yes or no if he asked. Besides, he just wanted what was best for you!!!
"Food?" You perked up, standing up from your chair which left the dark-haired a little surprised.
"Sure, we can go! Let's go now!"
Safe to say, he knows that if there's food involved ─ it invokes a positive response from you.
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You follow the boy across the school and upstairs until eventually stopping at a classroom door. With enthusiasm, he opens the door.
"Everyone, I brought the new member."
You looked around the room, eyes widening in absolute delight.
"Ah, welcome to the Sweets and Creative Writing Club. It's nice to finally meet you." The sound of a male's calm voice fills your ears. Said male has a cool demeanor to him, with amethyst-colored eyes that draw in you. His hair is kept in a bun with a little strand hanging out in the front. "Choso says the sweetest things about you."
"So this is who you blabber on and on 'bout.." A deep, husky voice emits from behind you. You whip your head around just to be immediately intimidated by the appearance of this dude. He's absolutely huge, with tattoos inked into his skin and piercings decorating his ears and lips.
" [name]!! Oh, what a fun surprise!!!!"
Someone says to the right of you cheerfully. He has fluffy white hair and glittering, blazing blue eyes staring deep into your soul. He looks unreal, angelic in a way. The way he smiles at you like you're the only person in that room made your mind go a little blank.
All words escape you. Looking at all of them makes you realize something...
This club...
...is full of the incredibly cute boys that were in that dating sim!!!!!!
You can practically feel your heart exploding with pure joy.
What a gift, to have a dream about such sexy boys and have them look at me and talk to me and breathe the same air as me─
"What are you lookin' at?" The muscular, tattooed boy barked, noticing how your gaze lingered on them. "If ya want to say something, then say it."
"Ah..m-my bad." This guy was hot as hell, but gosh he was a little scary. Not that you disliked that factor in a guy though.
"Sukuna..." The boy with the bun said.
"...mmph." The boy, whose name is apparently Sukuna, crossed his arms.
Oh my gosh his biceps are fucking huge.
"You can just ignore him when he gets all aggressive.." Choso whispers quietly into your ear, his breath dusting the shell of your ear.
"Anyway. This is Sukuna." he leans back.
"And this is Suguru, the Vice President. And by far the most competent member."
Suguru chuckles, clearly a bit embarrassed by Choso's praise. "...everyone in the club is...competent."
"And it sounds like you already know Satoru, our President."
"Thatttttt's right!"
The albino says happily. "I'm so glad to see you again, [name]!"
He says while grinning sweetly.
Having this boy, who would be completely out of league in real life, smile at you feels so... "Uhh...nice to..s-see you again too, Satoru."
You don't notice the way he shivers when you say his name.
Choso puts a hand on your shoulder "Please, come sit. We made room for you at the table."
"I'll get the cookies." Sukuna speaks. "Since I know if I trust a certain president to do the job─" He turns to Satoru, glaring daggers at him. "─he'll probably eat them all."
The white-haired boy shrugged, sticking out his tongue playfully.
"I'll make some tea." Suguru chimed in.
Sukuna and Suguru walk over to the cabinet, where they prepare the food and drinks.
Desks are pushed together in the center of the classroom to form a table. Additionally, one desk is put between Choso and Satoru (which makes you do jumping jacks in your head).
Sukuna marches over to the table, a tray in hand. He then tears off the foil on top to reveal delicious looking chocolate chip looks!
"Woooaahhhh!!!"
The two boys in between you exclaim. Satoru, who seems to have a sweet tooth, hurries to grab one. Then Choso, and then you.
"Sukuna, it's delicious!!!!" The President chirps, who has his mouth full.
You turn and eye the cookie, trying to find which part has the perfect ratio of chocolate chips and cookie dough. Sukuna stays silent as he looks at you, waiting for your reaction.
You finally bite down, letting out a pleased sigh as you chew. "'s so good...thank you, Sukuna.."
"Why are you thanking me, it's not like I...made them specifically for you." He narrowed his eyes, turning his head away.
Oh, he's one of those.
Shortly after, Suguru comes to the table with a tea set. He places a cup full of purple tea down in front of each person.
"So, what made you consider this club, [name]?"
Satoru leans in, resting his cheek on his fist as he awaits your answer.
You wince at the question. You can't exactly answer with Choso making you come.
"Well, I just...like the atmosphere here.."
His expression didn't change, but you had a feeling that he knew you were kinda full of shit. "That's okay, you don't have to be embarrassed! I'll make sure you feel right at home, alright? It's my duty as the President after all."
"Speaking of being President, Satoru, weren't you the President of the student council last year?" Sukuna said.
"Yeah, I remember that too. Why'd you even quit in the first place?" Choso adds.
Satoru smiles, circling the rim of his cup with his index finger.
"Honestly, it all felt kind of meaningless. Major clubs like the student council only care about politics and popularity, and it bored me to death. If I want to be the leader of a club, I want to make it fun and exciting. And if it encourages others to be fun and exciting too...then that's what matters most."
Your heart began to thumb loudly. Seeing guys get so passionate about things like that was always so attractive. "You're...a great President."
Now it was Satoru's turn to have his heart race. "Thank you.."
"[name], what kind of things do you like to write?" Suguru suddenly buds in, resulting in a very subtle twitch of the eye from Satoru.
What's up with all these questions I can't answer without sounding like a geek?
Considering that the only thing you willingly write about is fanfiction, you don't really have a good way of answering that.
"...oh, you know...stuff...i guess..haikus..?"
Sukuna suddenly perks up. His eyes sparkle in a way that makes it seem like he's about to say something, but he ends up staying quiet.
"Oh? Well, that gives me an idea!" Satoru stands up. "How about we go home and each of us write something of our own? Say...how 'bout our favorite dessert? And then tomorrow, we'll share them with each other!"
Suguru and Sukuna both shrink a little, letting out a sigh. Maybe they have embarrassing favorite desserts?
"I think it's a good idea." Choso smiles at you.
"It's only right that we give our new member something to look forward to next time we see each other! Right, [name]?" The President tilts his head.
"Uhh..h-hold on. I...never said..I'd join this club. You guys are really nice and wonderful and all..but..uhh."
You lose your train of thought almost immediately. All four of the boys stare at you with downcast eyes.
I can't even speak, I'm totally defenseless against them...they're just too cute. I can't think straight when they're all looking at me like this.
Well, if I have to write in exchange to stay afterschool everyday with these gorgeous boys...then it's 10000% worth it.
"but...I already know my choice, and...I'm going to join the Sweets & Creative Writing Club!"
All the boys' eyes begin to light up. Choso wraps his arms around you, clearly glad that you said yes.
"Well, that settles today's meeting!" Satoru exclaims. As the boys begin to converse with each other, he walks over to you and leans down.
"I'm especially excited to see your work, [name]." He giggled a little before pulling away, leaving you to basically melt into a puddle of yourself from how flustered that made you. Will you really be able to impress everyone?
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As you walk home with Choso, (after he so nicely asked) your mind wanders back to the four boys from today.
Sukuna,
Suguru,
Choso,
And of course, Satoru.
All so interesting and so different from each other, yet they are able to bond over some club. It's adorable, really.
But it really is too bad that this is a dream. It was really fun to talk with them all. You secretly make a promise to yourself that when you wake up, you'll play the actual game...and you'll win the hearts of each one!
> _
act 1. day 2 implemented successfully.
a/n: hi everyone!! sorry it took me a while to make this one! [name]'s perverse side is definitely coming out now! also i have to say that sukuna is a little ooc for this story since i want him to be more like natsuki but tsundere kuna is so cute i wanna shove my tongue down his throat!! thank you so much for all the likes i got on my previous posts! i cant express how happy i feel whenever i get a new follower or like!! also MIGHT post a one-shot soon, most likely a modern! sukuna one yayy!!
Because not only did you get the full reincarnation package—new life, new body, and parents who love you deeply—you were also dropped into a world that seems….fine. Suspiciously fine. No demon kings. No collapsing empires. No ominous prophecies whispered at birth. No magic….no foreshadowing?
Well.
Except for one thing.
You were reincarnated as a Filipino.
But hey, you’re rich. Your parents are rich—not corrupt politician rich like Sarah fucking Di*saya, but rich because your mommy and daddy who's mommies’ and daddies’ mommy and daddy worked grinded to ensure they’d leave a thick wealth for the next 10 generations (who tf wrote this? Basically you have great grandparents that worked their ass off). Also your mom adores you, your dad is present and emotionally available and both of them are far too cautious for another kid.
So you're an only child with generational wealth and zero pressure to “be the chosen one.” On top of that, you kept your memories from your past life, which means you’re technically smarter now. Not genius smart—but smart enough to recognize narrative patterns and red flags. Smart enough not to STRUGGLE in school.
And smart enough to be deeply, profoundly afraid.
Because you’ve read enough novels, watched enough anime, and consumed enough trashy isekai media to know one thing for certain: no author lets happiness last forever. Somewhere out there is a sick, sleep-deprived writer just itching to ruin your life for character development.
So you stay cautious. You enjoy the good days carefully, like they’re borrowed time. You watch your parents closely to ensure there is no tragic accident, the sudden illness, the “this will shape you into the protagonist” moment.
THANKFULLY nothing happens.
Years pass. Life remains warm. Normal. Almost boring. Boring is nice, it's good, it's safe.
Until your parents announce they’re moving to Japan.
That’s when you panic.
Because everyone knows that all “organic encounters,” all destiny-altering coincidences, and all “for-the-plot"” events only ever happen in Japan. Transfer students. Chance meetings at train stations. Being in the wrong alley at the wrong time. Parents dying to kickstart a villain or protagonist arc.
You try to stop them. You really do. You argue. You plead. You cite extremely questionable statistics based entirely on your logic.
They think you’re being dramatic—and cute.
They move anyway.
So now you’re here, in Japan, bracing for impact—convinced this is where everything ends. Or begins. Or gets horribly worse.
But maybe—maybe—you can cheat the system.
Maybe if you keep your head down.
Maybe if you stay quiet.
Maybe if you refuse to stand out.
You can survive as a side character.
A background extra in a perfectly vanilla shoujo anime.
No tragic backstory. No divine trials. No existential suffering beyond the usual.
Nothing more.
Nothing else.
Right?
a/n: This story contains mentions of Catholicism, the yn being Filipino for purely comedic purposes (it doesn't matter in later chapters), a lot of low-key offensive/dark jokes, depression, insecurities, irrational fear, the whole fic is mostly written in y/n's POV and mentions of suicide. But I swear on everything holy, this is a crack fic. Probably. And as always, yn would be as blank as possible aside from her personality.
Suguru Geto x gn!reader II Suguru making it his mission to make kissing the worst experience ever - sfw, crack
People can’t seem to come to terms as to why Suguru is so chummy with Satoru. It just doesn’t make sense.
Smooth-talking Suguru, who entraps people with his silken tongue and otherworldly beauty, as opposed to how Satoru literally ropes new ‘best friends’ in with a strong-armed side hug. His purple eyes sparkle, while Satoru’s blues blind. Suguru traps. Satoru pounces.
So yeah, it’s a real head-stratcher – their friendship.
You are one of the unfortunate people who know exactly why they gel so well.
“Here I come babe, pucker up!” And you can all but shrink away from his increasingly tightening grip on your waist, and his rapidly approaching puckered lips (oftentimes accompanied with disgusting, smacking noises, because Suguru knows how to really turn it up).
Kissing you became a sadistic pastime Suguru Geto relished in. Kissing him became a herculean testament of your love for him, because some days, it felt like he wanted you to fall out of love instead.
“Our lips…are ready to rumble.” And his eyes light up at your panic-stricken irises.
Whispered against your lips, as he leans in. “My first kiss that isn’t my mum!”
And when you’re the one who finally leans in:
“Teehee! You likeee me. Gross!” Yes, he does the little finger pointing thing to the heavens. Giggles like a pre-schooler who just discovered what cooties are.
And after the kiss? He’ll pull back, nodding thoughtfully like he’s impressed with your mental fortitude.
“That was fantastic, our lips really mesh together! Let’s bring our connection to the next level.”
synopsis : you are the child of mermaid hunters. One day, they bring you on their boat, wanting to make you learn the family business that you’re supposed to take over. Until you meet a mysterious merman that lures you in. What will happen when you end up stranded on an island, all alone, with the threat of having a beautiful creature that wants to eat your soul ? A need of survival mixed with a strange love story.
warnings : supposed enemies to lovers, kind of forced proximity, violence, blood, killing threats, implied murder, doomed lovers, angst, fluff, some satosugu hinted.
words count : 17.k
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : it's originally a Finnick fanfic available on my account, but I changed many things to make it as a Gojo one ! Enjoy and don’t forget to comment and reblog xoxo
Mermaids are said to be the most enchanting and beautiful creatures you could ever lay your eyes upon. Irises reflecting the depth of the waters, skin glowing like the few rays of light diving in the waves, tails swinging in a tempting motion, voices vibrating like the heavens calling for you. But be warned. They’ll lure you in, slowly, in a chase you won’t even know you’re the prey of. Then, their mouths will open to chant the song of your death. Big teeth would tear apart your flesh, hands greedily bringing you away from land, then they’ll eat your soul in a feast.
That’s what your parents always told you, warned you of. After all, they’re not the typical sailors you could encounter on the land of Japan. No. They are mermaid hunters. Paid greatly by the elders to chase down these creatures, for their scales, hair, skin, and surely to eradicate any danger. After all, your clan is situated close to the sea, a business of fishing being the main income of the city.
In reality, you never really fully believed that mermaids were real. Not in the way that they’ll have the capacity to lure people with their beauty and voices. Creatures, yes. But idealized and romanticized to better sell their tails and flesh to high ranked elders citizens.
You only realized how entirely wrong you were when it was too late.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
“Do I really have to come ? These parts of the sea are too far away. I won’t be back on time for the weekend,” you whine, looking at your mother that is packing the necessities, brought by the sailors to the quite big boat meters away on the beach.
“Yes, you need to start to learn the basic skills of hunting. You can’t say no, it’s mandatory. In a few years, you’ll have to take the family business seriously,” retorts your mother, wiping her forehead. Today is a strange day in Okinawa. It’s hot, moist even. But the sky is grey, gloomy. As if something is brewing.
“I already know how to fish, I sell well,” you defend yourself, playing with the spear in your hand.
“Fishes, not mermaids,” corrects your mother in a deep frown. You sigh, rolling your eyes.
“Why do you need to be back for the weekend ? We’ll never be on time until Sunday in the evening,” suddenly says your father, behind you with thick ropes in his arms. You help him out by grabbing some, walking on the sand towards the boat.
“Maybe because the weekends are the only free days I have to be able to rest ? I’m already exhausted from this week,” you explain, groaning in pain at the ache in your back when you hand the ropes to the sailor waiting to put them inside the boat.
“Labor is normal in our Clan, even more so when being a mermaid hunter. No time to rest, or you’ll die. Worse, fall behind your competitors,” exclaims your mother. You can’t even answer her absurd reasoning because she’s already focused on discussing something with your father.
By looking at it, you know you can’t escape this situation. Actually, it’s after lunch that the boat already starts its journey on the sea, with you sadly inside. You look at the horizon, the land of your home slowly disappearing. You start to wonder, breathing in annoyance. Will you really encounter a mermaid ? Hunt one down ? You don’t even know how you’ll react in front of one. Your mother keeps saying to instantly kill them, and wear earplugs to not be lured by their songs.
Killing fishes for food purposes and half human creatures for aesthetic purposes are two different things. Will you even be able to end them, before they’ll end you ?
You don’t have much more time to ponder this existential question that you have some work to do on the boat. You’ll arrive the next day, in the early morning, on the territory of the mermaids and other sea creatures. Hours pass by, busy with preparing nests to lure them in, tying knots, fishing dinner, listening to the instructions of your parents by looking at a map and their usual plan to hunt them down efficiently. To be honest, you don’t pay much attention. Just wanting to sit down due to the exhaustion of this long day.
When the sun sets and some sailors retreat to rest, you stay on the deck to drink a bit. Your mother is the one that tells you to only consume one glass, as your mind needs to be clear at dawn. You simply let the wind caress your skin, the salty and seaweed smell fill your lungs while you sip on the alcohol. The moon reflects on the waves, their sound mixing with the laughter of the other sailors still awake. The atmosphere actually becomes kind of weird. Heavy but strangely light at the same time.
Your eyes that originally got lost on the water, suddenly catch some movement. Intrigued, you think you recognize the tail of a dolphin in the darkness. So you approach the bowsprit and stare, squinting your eyes while finishing your drink.
Here ! It jumps out of the water, then dives back. From the obscurity, you can’t see well. Only that the tail of the dolphin is shiny, so shiny it looks like the stars are sewn on its scales. But dolphins don’t have scales. Surprised, you hold your breath in an attempt to decipher the animal.
When two glossy blue orbs stare at you, your heart stops. For a solid second, the eye contact lasts like an eternity yet so fast. That can’t be a dolphin. You bite your lower lip, blood pulsating in your veins as it approaches slowly, making you able to understand better the depth of what you are staring at. Then, white lashes bat, and its eyes disappear again in the water.
You don’t know what happens to you, because you directly want to know what that thing was, that strange animal. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your organism that makes you see things, but you even start to wonder if it’s not a… Impossible, their territories would be attained only at dawn. Why would a mermaid or merman wander so far from their home ?
You stumble on the other side of the main desk of the boat, to be greeted again by the blue orbs staring at you. You try to recall all types of sea animals you encountered since you were a child, in an attempt to know what kind would have such eyes. Its face is half way in the water, down its -what you suppose- nose. Then, again, it swims closer. The light coming from the boat allows you to see better. Again, your eyes lock.
It’s face emerges from a wave, and you almost fall as you realize it’s humanish. Your legs shake, eyes widening open at the realization. A smile, so seductive, with dimples on the side from the way the muscles of its face move. Your heart pounds hard, thousands of thoughts in your head.
But clouded with alcohol, you panic, and freeze. They, your parents, told you to immediately kill if you encounter one, before they’ll kill you. But you’re bare, no weapon in hand, no earplugs, nothing to defend yourself. And the question remains, do you want to take a life for only aesthetic purposes, granted to greedy elders citizens ?
Suddenly, its mouth opens, and you wonder if you’ll hear the so-called song of your death.
“Come to me,” purrs the creature in such a tempting and appealing way, deathly charming, that you just want to throw every reasoning thought and jump head first in the waves to land in the softness of its voice.
“Y/n, what are you doing ?!” exclaims your mother, her hand landing on your shoulder and snapping you out of whatever just went through your mind. You blink, looking at her, then back at the sea. It’s empty, nobody in sight. Strange. Did you just hallucinate ?
“It’s already late, you need to rest before the morning. You’ll have to wake up early,” she reprimands, forcing you to follow her towards the captain cabin.
“I just…” you stutter in confusion.
“Are you drunk ? What kind of child I made to be drunk the night before such an important day ?! Hush, go to sleep now,” she snaps, annoyed, and pushes you inside before slamming the door at your nose.
As you stare blankly at the wooden wall, you can’t help but play again and again and all over again this strange moment that only you, the creature and the moon witnessed tonight.
You are sure now. What you just encountered was a merman.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
When dawn arrives, you’re already awake. Actually, you've been awake since you saw that merman. You couldn’t fathom closing your eyelids. The blue of his irises haunted you all night, hours, minutes and ticking seconds. In raw honesty, you didn’t see much of his face in the darkness. Aside from his inviting smile. Heard a charming voice, a kind of sweet that tickles perfectly your brain, so tempting that if your mother didn’t arrive in time you would have jumped in the waves and have your soul eaten alive.
On the deck, sailors and your parents fuss around, looking at the map and forcing you to calculate which part of the sea you are crossing. At the northeast of the mermaid's territory, you realize.
“Prepare the nets !” exclaims your mother. The fussing is becoming worse and giving you a horrible headache from the lack of sleep and your haunting thoughts. So once you are dismissed for a short minute, knowing your dad will call you back in thirty seconds, you sneak behind the mast. Your eyes roam around the waves, wondering when the mermaids will arrive. You don’t forget to put on the earplugs, so their chant won’t lure you in the depth of the sea. You take a deep breath, a strange hope of seeing that one merman again.
A glimpse of bright blue in the middle of the darker water catches your eye, and like a moth towards fire, you fly on the other side of the desk. You don’t have any backup plan when you arrive face to face with the merman of yesterday night. Under the sunrise, his white pearly hair looks orange, and he smiles when he realizes you came to him.
Nobody else notices him. Only you. And you’re left unknowing of what to do. Take your spear and dig his heart ? Call the sailors to throw the fishing nets on him ? Your parents for them to know the quickest way to kill him ? But do you really want to kill him because it’s what you’re supposed to do to defend yourself, or only because it’s tradition and your family business ?
His lips move, but with your earplugs you can’t hear anything. Yet you can make out his tongue and mouth gesture, recognizing the syllables of your name, then what seems like being “come closer”.
Unconsciously you do, and you realize it the moment you’re having your head on top of the water to lean towards the godlike creature in front of you, in an eagerness you didn't even know you possess. When you want to immediately back down, to get away from danger, the water and the merman, something happens. His wet and cold scaled hands ascend and caress your cheeks, his face intimately getting closer. You freeze.
Like this, you can stare at his face. The hair, his fluttering white lashes, akin eyes to enchant you, his eyebrows, the curve of his lips, smile lines, scales glistening on his cheek towards his pointy ears. He’s so shiny under the orange rays of the rising sun that he looks like a pearl. A beautiful pearl.
“Y/n,” he says again, and you know because you read your name on his lips.
“How do you know my name ?” you ask in a voice that looks like you forgot how to properly speak. He smiles, like his knowledge is obvious, as if you are dumb to even ask such a question. But he’s so charming, you never saw a man that handsome, you end up losing your train of thoughts like a toddler staring at something captivating.
“Merman !” screams one of the sailors on the crow’s nest, staring at the creature in front of you. It’s so loud that you hear it. That startles you that badly, you fumble and fall. On the last second, your hands catch on the wood of the boat, legs dangling halfway in the water and the sea wind. It’s so stupid, really. But the wood is slippery, you don’t know why, maybe because of the sweat on your hands. Your parents exclaim something, rushing towards you, while others take their weapons and the fishing nets.
But as if the god of the sea himself wants to avenge all his lost mermaids and mermans, a violent wave crashes against the main deck and makes many sailors, including your dad, fall down. Your mom is the one to grab a spear, your spear, focused on aiming at the merman below you that dove back in the waves and to surely dig the weapon into his flesh.
“I’m going to fall !” you scream in sheer panic. One problem, did I forget to mention that you don’t know how to swim ?
“Y/n !” she yells back, messily throwing the weapon towards the creature, and then instead focusing on you.
Your fingers slowly lose strength and their grip, your last hope of surviving slipping away when under a ray of sun you suddenly see the hand of your mother. You’re about to reach for it, but another wave, twice as big as before, crashes back down. You slip. It’s too late when water fills your lungs and you sink in the depths of the sea. You want to scream but you can’t. Your body is heavily rocked side to side, your vision becoming blurry from the lack of air in your lungs.
Red surrounds you, barely noticing a white fish tail swimming across you. Blood, but not yours. You can’t really focus anymore, dots of black all around. Are you really going to die like this ? Because you got lured by the enchanting beauty of a merman ? Is this your stupid end ?
When you give your last breath forming bubbles, the blue of the eyes of the predator that was the cause of your downfall is the last thing you see.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Water. You choke out the water that was stuck in your lungs. Soon, air is eagerly swallowed by your mouth, blinking and trying to see something else than a blinding light upon your head. But what your eyes focus on aren’t the sun, nor the afterlife, but like when you thought you died, it’s the same blue orbs blankly staring at you. The lingering feeling of lips on yours are what brings you back to earth.
You’re alive. You weakly back away in fear as you realize that the merman is on top of your form laying on warm sand. The earplugs aren’t in your ears anymore, so you can’t protect yourself if he chants you something to lure you into his toothy sharp mouth.
“What are you doing ?! Kissing a corpse ?!” you accuse in defiance, wiping the wet sand from your cheeks and forehead, frequently looking around in hope to understand where you are. The waves are crashing at your feet, you can see his white tail linger on the foam. It’s wounded, blood still flowing out of the big cut created from what you suppose a spear. Your mother. She’s the one that threw it.
“Easy now, I was doing mouth to mouth. I just saved your life. You’ll need to give me more than a deathly stare to have a real kiss from me,” he answers, raising an eyebrow, a mocking smile drawing on his face. You look at him, not knowing if he is joking or not. Instead, you try to get up on your shaky legs.
“I’m supposed to kill you,” you spat, looking down at him. But really, you’re terrified.
“I’ll kill you before you can,” he retorts, showing the weapon that was previously behind him. It’s only now that you notice it, and with how magnificent the trident is, you can’t help but be amazed at the delicateness of the handwork on the blades. Yet you snap out of your thoughts as an alarm of danger is blasting in your head, wanting to reach for something to defend yourself, but realize you’re bare of anything to protect you. Only your clothes, not even a knife. And the way his brows are furrowed, his muscles tensed, you know he’ll throw the trident at your heart the moment you’ll try something.
Your breath is ragged. You never faced death like this, not with someone that could end your life in a snap of fingers. The merman notices your fear, and slightly lowers down his weapon.
“Sweetheart, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now,” he says more seriously, the use of the nickname sweetheart being condescending rather than flirtatious. So you fall on your knees, legs unable to support your weight anymore. You pass your hand on your face.
“But you lured me in,” you protest.
“I wasn’t the one that made you fall in the sea,” he says as he scoops some water from the waves caressing his skin, and wets his neck. Surely to refresh himself from the burning sun up your head.
“Where are we ?” you ask carefully.
“On an island, it’s at the east of the mermaid’s territory,” he explains, but the way the droplets of foam fall down his golden skin, you remember again the seductive power this merman has. You can’t let yourself be lured again by his beauty, so you stare at your feet digging in the wet sand.
“And the boat ?”
“Oh, the boat seemed just fine when they all tried to kill me. Thankfully the waves made it move in the opposite way,” he answers in a mocking cheerful laugh. You throw a tiny rock in the waves.
“I need to go back,” you say.
“Good luck for that, you have no boat, and you humans would die quickly if trying to swim on this sea,“ he says with sarcasm, and you stop yourself from mentioning that you can’t even swim. So you’re completely stuck here. He plays with his trident before staring at the horizon, “but I guess with how eager they looked to skin me alive, they’ll follow my tracks and soon find you back on this island,” he adds. You kind of feel guilty, so you play with the sand in your hands, knowing you can’t do much right now aside from surviving until they’ll hopefully come to your rescue. You won’t be back for the weekend, and maybe not even alive. That’s for sure.
“Why did you save me ?” you end up questioning.
“Didn’t want my dinner to go to waste,” he simply says. You gasp, backing away and a hand on your throat, as if to protect it from his sharp teeth.
“Are you really going to eat my soul ?!” you shriek. You had no idea until now if the legend about mermaids eating souls is real.
“With how agitated you are, it doesn’t look tasty anymore. I prefer it sweet, not salty,” he shrugs, yet there is some attitude in his tone, meaning you can’t decipher if he’s joking or being brutally honest. A merman having a sweet tooth for the souls he eats sounds almost comical.
“Good for me then,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. There is some silence before you turn your head to slowly look at him, surely analyzing the creature in front of you. Maybe nobody had the chance to be this close to an alive merman without being killed.
“What is your name ? You know mine, but I don’t know yours,” you start.
“Satoru,” he ends up answering, locking his blue eyes with yours. Fearing to fall prey to his charms, you stare back at the waves.
“Well, Satoru, you've been bleeding to a certain death since earlier,” you announce as you grimace at the still open wound on his slightly shaking tail.
“I know, I just wanted to see how long it would take you to notice,” he answers as it looks like he finally acknowledges the pain, gritting his teeth and holding the part of his tail that is soaking the sand in red. You give him a look, and he answers it with a forced tempting smile.
“I did save your life. Maybe save mine ?” he adds, and with the reality of his words and knowing you’ll hate yourself forever if you end up not helping a dying person in front of you, you oblige. Even if he is a merman and that he joked about eating your soul. You rip a part of your pants, with some difficulty, but end up succeeding. It’s large enough to wrap it tightly around the tail and stop the bleeding. As you do the knot, you decide to continue to talk, ignoring his small groans of pain that he fails to suppress.
“You didn’t answer my question last time.” The way he takes a good five seconds shows that he recalls what you mean.
“That was a stupid question. I know your name because your mother was screaming it all the time since I started to follow your boat,” he explains after a ragged breath.
“You’ve been following us ?!” you exclaim, lifting your head to stare at his pained smirk.
“Chasing my dinner,” he corrects in a smile, wink. You glare at him and finish the knot in a strong grip on purpose, making him grit his teeth at the pressure, swallowing hardly his saliva. He lets out a strangled chuckle before sliding more deeply in the water.
“You’re kind of naive, y/n,” Satoru ends up saying.
“What do you mean ?” you scoff in disdain, feeling insulted.
“It shows I’m the first mermaid you ever encountered in your life. Last night, you blindly went towards me and weren’t wearing anything in your ears to block my voice from reaching you. You didn’t attack me, and now you’re wondering if I’ll really eat your soul,” he enumerates. You sigh, knowing he is saying only the truth.
“Well, I have to admit that you’re right… Maybe it’s for that that I’m stupidly helping you out so you’ll have the chance to eat me later,” you snap. “But, was I really supposed to be your dinner ?”
“That’s a secret,” he vaguely answers.
“A secret ?” you question back, annoyed at how evasive he is being.
“Yes, confidential. I am very secretive. So why don’t you tell me one of your human secrets ?” he purrs as he approaches you again, lifting his torso from the small waves licking your ankles.
“About what ?” you raise an eyebrow, wondering what Satoru meant by such a weird statement.
“I don’t know. Maybe about the land where you’re from. Or the people that buy the flesh, scales and eyes of my people. Perhaps the name of the person that controls this traffic ?”
Japan, land divided in Clans. Rich eccentric elders or heads of other clans. Elders again. These are the silent answers to his questions that you say in your mind.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you end up retorting before standing up. He simply looks at you rising from the sand, eyebrow arched in mocking attitude.
“For now, I need to survive until my parents find me back. So I guess, and hope so, that I won’t see you again. Goodbye,” you decide to put an end to this interaction, not trusting him to stay longer by his side. His answer is silence, and he dives back in the sea, soon disappearing from your eyes. You’re left alone on this unknown beach, with the desperate need to make it out alive. And it surely won’t be a merman that will help you on land. Even more if he threatens to eat your soul.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You left the beach to wander in the forest, seeking for the most important thing : water. Somewhere you can actually drink and hydrate yourself. While walking, you’re hyper alert of everything. Animal sounds, the leaves cracking below your feet, the wind, the ocean meters and meters away. After two hours, even if you don't really know how much time has passed, it’s by following a bird that you find a small, very small river. With your finger you taste the water, and sigh of utter relief when you realize it’s not salty. You know drinking it straight up like this might be dangerous from the possible bacteria, but it’s either that or dying.
Eagerly, you gulp down until you satisfy your thirst. You take some time to recover from your exhaustion, happy to have found somewhere to drink, and away from the sun. The trees around you protect you from it.
But you need food. You can fish in many different ways, and efficiently. But with nothing around you, not even a knife, you know the task at hand will be hard.
By looking around, you wonder if with the leaves you could build a fish net, but the lack of resources doesn’t guarantee success. If you had something sharp, you could take a stick, and try to make it as a spear. You grumble as you walk on the river, trying to find some stone you could use, wetting half of your legs. After many tries, you manage to find one, and with one more hour, sharpening it enough by throwing it on bigger rocks and rubbing it against the hardness in a hope to make it as sharp as a knife.
When looking up at the sky, wiping your forehead, and gazing at the beach behind the trees, you know the sun will soon set. You rush to find a stick, use the long leaves, and tie a knot around your sharpened stone to build a kind of rustic spear. Soon, you stumble on the sand, determined to have some dinner tonight. Maybe you’ll even find fruits, or anything else that could keep you alive until the boat will come back.
Being as easy as walking, you’re quick to know on which part of the beach you’ll find the best spot to fish. When you catch a glimpse of a bunch of your preys, you throw your newly made weapon towards your target. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for you to catch a good and quite big fish of the bunch. Even if most of them are supposedly small on this part of the island. You analyze the animal more closely, it’s strangely beautiful that you almost feel bad to eat it. You never saw such a fish before, in all your years of experience. Are they proper to this island ?
Your name is being chanted somewhere on your left, and you raise your head in confusion. Only to be met by, what you recognize, the blue eyes of Satoru staring at you behind rocks. You instinctively, with your dinner in hand, half wet and dirty, walk towards the melodic voice.
As your toe hurts on some rock, the pain snaps you back into reality and you instantly shake your head. Seeing you won’t come to him, Satoru swims closer.
“You’re quite good at fishing, for a human. But that tiny fish won’t be enough to keep you alive for long,” he says as he leans against a rock on the shore. Close enough so you can hear his voice, but far enough so you can’t touch him even if you extend your arm.
“Is it because it’s tiny ? I could fish a good ten of them, and it would fill my stomach,” you say in a scoff and with some disdain, showing the fish in your hand with some pride. Satoru’s tail flicks in the air. He smirks, surely wanting to laugh.
“I’m sure of it, but you’ll be dead seconds later. Their flesh is venomous, their scales too,” he answers in a sing-song voice, followed by a smile. Your eyes widen of surprise and horror, instantly dropping what was supposed to be your meal. You directly notice the redness on your hand, fingers looking like they have tiny pimples. Your skin tingles, and you try to wash the remains of the poison in the water.
“Oh my-” you suck up a sharp breath.
“Stay here,” he orders before diving back into the ocean and leaving you in your distress. Two minutes pass. Satoru comes back with what seems like a type of sea weed. He munches on them, then takes your injured hand in his. He applies the mixture on your skin, and even if you kind of are grossed out, you forget your disgust entirely at the relief it procures you. The coldness of his fingers add to the sensation, and you take a moment to look at him up close.
“I leave for an afternoon and you’re already dying on me,” he breaks the silence.
“I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” you feel the need to correct.
“I never agreed to it, and I’m still keeping track of what was supposed to be my dinner,” he corrects back, giving you a look. He drops your hand and you want to thank him, but the conversation being about you as his dinner doesn’t really make you want to be grateful.
“You’re still after my soul ?”
He holds a small laugh at your question.
“I told you, it’s a secret. I’ll only answer if you have something to give me in return,” he explains, leaning against one of the rocks under the burning sun.
“And I told you I don’t have anything to say to you,” you retort.
“Then I guess you won’t know. I only do fair trade,” Satoru shrugs. You sigh, and look around. You just lost the most important source of food you were supposed to have. And it’s not only some nuts or fruits -that you still didn’t find- that would be sustainable.
“I need to fish for my own dinner,” you whisper to yourself.
“You won’t find other types of fish on this perimeter,” he explains, holding his trident in hand, as a sign that you won’t be able to attack him if you suddenly had the idea to eat his flesh for your own food. Ok, that actually pains you to do so, but you realize you’ll need his help. Again. You take your deep breath to gather some courage.
“Can…” you bite your lower lip, “Can you show me where I’ll find non-venomous ones ?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, toying with his weapon then raising his head to look at you better.
“What do I get in return ? Remember, sweetheart. Fair trade,” he muses, now intrigued, but still firm on his rule of exchange, or payment. You ponder, and for the sake of your life, you don’t mind giving information to the enemy.
“I’ll tell you who rules over my land,” you end up offering, and he smiles.
“See when you want ?” he teases, “We have a deal. Come on, follow me,” he adds before plunging again in the water, expecting you to follow suit.
You walk in the waves carefully, and after some minutes as he sometimes turns around to see if you’re on track, the both of you arrive in a cove. The water is transparent, compared to how much darker it was on the main beach. Like a haven, it shines, and is as a paradise piece of land.
“Here, you’ll have enough bunches of fish to survive,” he explains, and in awe as the sun is setting, you stare.
“Non-venomous ?”
“Non venomous,” he affirms. You smile, pleased, and maybe you can trust him because he actually helped you twice. He surely wants to keep you alive to eat you better later, but at least you’re alive. With your homemade spear, you start to aim at the ones that look the best to choose, and start your chase of food.
“I’m waiting for our deal,” says Satoru after rising from the water, since he was swimming around, relishing in the feeling. His home. You then remember, and nod, still concentrated.
“Right. They are called the elders, a bunch of old wrinkled men that think they’re better than anyone else. But heads of Clans too have an important role in ruling the country,” you say.
“Clans ?” he asks, he doesn’t seem to know this word.
“It’s like small kingdoms of families,” you explain. He narrows his eyes, getting closer.
“So they’re the ones that order the genocide of my people,” he hums in bitterness, tighting his grip on his trident that for a second you think he’ll aim your heart by the look in his eyes.
“Genocide ?” you say unsure of what he meant by that.
“It is a genocide, what else did you expect it to be ?” he answers as he stares at you directly. With so much depth that you stop fishing.
“We-” only defend ourselves. But you know it’s not true, that what he just said makes sense, so instead you close your mouth and don’t answer. A long moment passes where you continue to collect your due dinner. You have no bucket so you have to improvise. You’re already thinking of trying to start a fire, and cooking the flesh, feasting on the flesh.
“It kind of pains me to see you struggle so much for just some fish. Are you that weak ?” Satoru suddenly says in a teasing fake pained manner. That catches your attention and you snap at him.
“Struggling ? I’m one of the best from my Clan !” you exclaim. And with all modesty, you are. Having parents like yours made it impossible to accept failure. Satoru laughs.
“Don’t tell me you’re crying,” he adds in such a teasing tone it makes you want to slap his face. Instead, you roll your eyes.
“Nevermind. Why am I struggling then ?” you decide to question him, since he seems mocking about your skills. And the way his eyes slightly light up, you know he’s feeling happy that you asked.
“I have to admit you are more efficient than I thought. But you’re too slow. Look,” he answers before holding his trident. He raises his arm, his muscles and scales glistening under the last rays of sun. Then, in an inhuman speed, because he’s no human, he aims at a fish and with the precision of a god touches the part of the body that would kill it instantly and won’t damage the flesh.
“Oh, you just wanted to show off,” you end up saying as you roll your eyes, trying to dismiss the awe you felt at such skills. He’s a merman, after all.
“But it worked,” he retorts, and grabs the corpse before analyzing it in a way that only a mermaid would understand.
“Then show me again, how to do it,” you say back as you show with your chin his trident. But by the look he gives you, you can already know that he is silently saying “fair trade, sweetheart,” so you sigh as your shoulders sag.
“Fine. I’ll tell you how Clans work,” you offer. And he smiles. The same smile that lured you in. So you need to stare at the wildlife of the beach instead of his lips and toothy grin. Sharp fangs shining as a reminder of their dangerousness
“I see we understand each other. Good. Here, let me show you,” he invites you to do. You stay on the safe depth of the beach, knowing you can’t swim, and follow his instruction.
The following thirty minutes are actually funnier and more interesting than you thought. Satoru explains to you the way he fishes and hunts smaller prey, a knowledge rooted in a culture that their species possess. They are very respectful of the sea as well. Each life they take has to be for a meaningful purpose, the food chain. And by the way he says it, you feel ashamed that your own people, parents, kill them for no real reason aside from aesthetics, greed, and vengeance. In a way or another, you’re part of this genocide, as Satoru explained. But it’s such a big part of your life, that you still struggle in entirely understanding the point of view of a merman you only met yesterday night.
In return, you explain to him the system of Clans and how each has a specificity. When the moon is up in the sky, you end up thanking him and retreat to start a fire. In hope to find dry wood. It takes some time to succeed, because aside from trying to start a few ones like in the past, you actually had the tools to help. You only are doing so based on very little knowledge. But with some hard work, you succeed, and sit next to the fire that is situated at the edge of the forest. Like this, the river is not very far, you’re protected from the rain and the sun, and can still have a watchful eye on the beach in case the boat of your parents arrives.
As you let your meal roast, you stare at the flames, then the stars. You feel the gaze of Satoru observing you from afar. It would have been creepy if you knew better. But you noticed during the past hours that he was more curious than he let it seem. You know that as much as you, he’s intrigued by you being a human. Maybe he never saw a fire up close before. Analyzing as well how you eat. After all, not like you saw him do, you don’t eat the flesh raw out of the animal with your bare teeth. The way he did it was quite impressive and considered animalistic. You feared he’ll do the same to your throat. His teeth looked sharper when digging in the meat of the fish.
It’s laying down on leaves you took from the forest, on top of the sand, that you have a weird sleep in between consciousness and rest. Suddenly waking up thinking you are in your bed, before the reality of your nightmare reality crashing back down onto you. Weird dreams of being lured in the sea by Satoru haunt you, then drowning into the depths of the ocean.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following day is filled with adventuring yourself in the forest, and bringing back your goods on the beach. You start to build a small shelter, with the very few resources you have to do a proper job based on your skills. Then searching for something else than fish to eat. You find some nuts, and even wonder if the roots you dug can be eaten. You spend some time as well in the river, washing yourself and just getting refreshed from the heavy weather.
When you go back to fish for lunch, Satoru is on the same spot as yesterday, behind rocks, to analyze you. He even comments on the way you throw your spear, like a teacher would do, and you ask him if he doesn’t have something better to do.
Looking at the water, you wish you had the ability to swim. Yesterday, Satoru went to search for seaweeds to heal your hand from the poison. They surely are edible. And you only found nuts and roots. Maybe there are even multiple crustaceans that would fill your stomach. Yet, your inability to do so keeps you from accessing a larger food resource.
You do your best to not ask help from Satoru, because you have precious knowledge about the human world, and you think that you shouldn’t waste those secrets for services you could pass on or do them by yourself.
So days pass. Three more, actually. Your mood gets worse and worse. No sign of the boat. Did Satoru lie to you ? Did your parents and their crew drown because of the violent waves ? Or maybe they’re not after you, and think you’re dead. Actually, that would be the smartest possibility. They know you can’t swim. And your mother would never believe that a merman saved your life. They must be persuaded that your corpse is somewhere in the sea. Meaning they won’t come to you. Unless they’re tracking down Satoru to avenge your supposed death, and like this, will find you alive.
So you keep some hope, that you’re not doomed to rot on this island.
During these days, you have a routine : fetch water, start a fire, fish, cook, occupy yourself by adventuring in the island and avoiding the possible predators. There are a few. Thankfully they don’t seem to approach the beach. You intend to make other utensils with wood and sharpen other rocks as knives or blades for your spear.
With Satoru, even if you refuse to ask for his help, he stays around. He keeps an eye on you, and you keep an eye on him. He’s not always here, but he’s never far. Sometimes you end up talking. Or silently acknowledging the presence of the other. He observes, you observe. Your human habits, his merman habits. Sometimes you exchange some words, information that seems meaningless. You’re kind of glad, actually, that he’s here. Having someone to talk to somewhat keeps you sane. Even if the threat of your soul being eaten looms over your head.
On the seventh day, you snap. You can’t continue eating the same thing every morning, lunch and dinner. You know it’s not healthy either. And if you want to survive well enough, you have to change some of the usual food you consume on this island.
You need to swim. To get weeds, crustaceans and sea shells. The ones you found on the beach were usually empty. And the crabs are actually extremely fast. Your spear is not sharp enough to dig on their shell-like-body-armor and kill them.
But you can’t swim. And the only option you have right now, is Satoru. After eating when the sun is not as high in the sky as at lunch, you walk on the burning sand before reaching the waves. You stand, looking around, and not seeing him, you call his name.
“Satoru ?” you raise your voice. Nothing. As you’re about to call his name again, he appears, sitting on the rock at your left, glistening. The way the sun shines on his hair, it looks like gold. Pearls of water akin to diamonds. Scales a vibrant white, sometimes a soft blue, depending on which angle you look at it.
“Need my help ?” he purrs, tempting. His tail flicks against the foam. Like a cat.
“Teach me how to swim,” you blurt out before rethinking how to formulate your sentence. But it’s so sudden, so blunt, that with the way he looks at you, you end up adding “please,” in a more ashamed voice.
“Do all humans not know how to swim ?” he asks intrigued. You approach to hear him better.
“A lot of people from my Clan know how to. Everyone, actually. So we all learn how to swim,” you explain. Seagulls scream up your head, and for a single second you look at them, wishing you could have a bow and try to hunt them. Some bird meat makes you drool at the idea. Your stomach growls.
“Then how come you don’t know how to ?” Satoru snaps you out of your thoughts. Knowing he looks genuinely curious, you can’t afford to lose his interest, not for a question so critical. So you continue.
“When I was young I had a lot of nightmares of the sea, with the tails my parents told me. I had severe thalassophobia and when all kids at school learned to swim, I didn’t because I was too scared. Since then, even if I overcame my fear of the sea, I never tried to learn how to swim again and nobody offered either to teach me. That’s as stupid as that.”
He nods, something in his eyes that shows he probably thinks of you differently than two minutes ago. You don’t know if it’s mocking, pity, understanding, maybe even some respect. Nothing really shows what he is thinking.
“That’s not stupid,” he ends up answering. Not knowing how to react, you add to convince him “At each lesson you’ll give me, I’ll tell you another secret.”
But the way he stares at you so intensely since you said this, you can’t decipher if from the beginning he wants to agree, or if he just got convinced now thanks to your deal. Then, how his lips stretch tells you everything you need to know.
“We’ll start now,” he announces, his strong tail making him swim and be at your side in an instant.
“Really ? You agree ?” you exclaim, shocked for it to be so… easy. Maybe for the counterpart, he’ll ask you to give him secrets on a deeper level.
“Hmm, approach,” he hums and nods, then his cold fingers trail on your arms and bring you towards him. His touch is sudden, a shiver parcouring your body at the contact. His fingers are as soft as the skin of a dolphin, which surprises you.
You follow a few steps into the water, slowly reaching your waist. You don’t protest and simply let him guide you.
“I guess swimming with legs is not the same as swimming with a tail, so we'll have to find what is best for you. For now, I’ll support your body so try to relax and float,” he instructs, as you stare at his said tail. The way it moves is so strong, yet now in such shallow waters it’s half still, showing he barely needs to do anything to keep afloat. You look back at him, and it always surprises you the way he switches from being playful to actually being serious when being on teaching mode.
“Float ? I’ll drown for sure !” you protest in an instinct of avoiding danger.
“You still can stand on your… things,” he tries to explain by showing it with his chin.
“Feet,” you correct. He nods in acknowledgement.
“You still can stand on your feet, here. Even if you fail, you won’t drown. Do you trust me ?”
“No,” you directly answer without thinking. Strangely, he laughs. It’s the first time you hear it coming genuinely from him. Soft yet deep. A melody that caresses your ears. You thought mermaids' laughter would be scary, because you always imagined some evil laugh as they’ll feast on their victims. It’s nothing of such when it’s Satoru’s laugh.
“At least you’re honest. But if you want us to work, then you should trust me for this. That’s the bare minimum,” he calms down, shaking his head.
You take a deep breath, and try to let yourself float. His hands slide under you, on your stomach, strong grip to keep you stabilized. The other maintains your waist. Clearly, he’s the one supporting your weight.
“Y/n, the first step it’s for you to learn how to float. If you can’t swim, at least that’ll keep you alive instead of drowning. So believe me, and now, turn on your back,” he orders, seeing that trying to make you be comfortable on your stomach doesn’t work. In a groan you turn around, the weight of your clothes from being drenched clinging to your skin. His hand supports your back, and your eyes meet his. The sun shines brightly behind his head, like a crown.
“Relax your muscles,” he orders.
“I can’t,” you say through gritted teeth. Your body is completely tense, and you’re not sinking only thanks to him.
“Do you need some help ?” he asks.
“What do you mea-” you get cut short by the way his pupils seem to grow bigger, and you immediately get drowned into the darkness of it. Not the sea. “Relax, y/n,” Satoru whispers in a melodic voice, and a breath escapes your parted lips. Enchanted by his words and irises, as if you are floating in a dream, all your muscles stop to be so tense. Guided by his hands, he keeps your back straight.
“Put your strength in your abdomen,” he murmurs closer to your head. You get lost in the contemplation of his face and do as he says. Gently, you start to float by yourself without realizing. Then, his hands, inch by inch, leave your waist and back. You only realize later that he’s not holding you anymore.
A hint of panic crosses your eyes, and as you’re about to stop all your efforts, his hand cups your cheek and makes you stare at the sky.
“Beautiful, isn’t it ?” he asks in a lovely tone. Instead, you focus on the bright blue similar to his eyes, the seagulls, the wind, the trees far away, the few clouds dancing in the air.
“Yes,” you manage to whisper. You don’t know how much time passes. Five minutes, or twenty, or hours, maybe barely thirty seconds. All but a mystery. Your consciousness is here but far away at the same time. You know it’s because of Satoru. His voice, his blue.
“Wanna try to move your limbs ?” he proposes after a while.
“Ok,” you end up agreeing.
“With your legs, not your arms. We usually simply move our tail up and down, but for you it’s different,” he states as one of his hands touches your leg, intrigued. You freeze.
“I’ll try to recreate what I saw back at my school when I was a kid. But keep your hands on my back ! Just in case, I don’t want to drown,” you exclaim. He gets back on your side to maintain your body structure, softly floating on small waves.
“When you’re ready,” he muses. You messily start to move your legs in a paddle, an attempt to recreate what you always saw. It actually helps you to move, even if you can’t really choose which direction to take. You think you look ridiculous like this, but Satoru doesn’t seem to think the same. You manage to actually… swim, on your back, with his help supporting your weight. And that’s already a good start.
Satoru is kinder than you thought. Much kinder. When he’s not threatening or mocking you. You don’t really know him, and maybe you’ll never really do because he is a merman. But, the way he diligently assures that you’re comfortable, your safety, and actually takes time to teach you, even if it’s a deal, kind of… it’s weird, but warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible.
Once your swimming session comes to an end, you’re sitting on the sand next to Satoru that is half way on the water. After all, you need to keep your deal. And tell him something, a secret.
“One of the elders that buy a lot of… mermaids scales and flesh… is someone that is part of a circle close to my Clan. All of them actually are the biggest buyer, because they resell it for an astronomical amount of money to well known stylists, or on the black market,” you admit. You actually know all their names and influence. You know other things too. Actually, a lot. Either from your parents telling you, or from hearing about it vaguely.
“Stylists ?” he asks confused, a gravely look on his face at the knowledge of this.
“People that make and design clothes, accessories,” you explain.
“So these civilians hunt my people but disguise themselves with our scales,” he scoffs at the absurdity of this information.
“Actually, some of them dream of being mermaids. They say that there are legends where humans could turn as a mermaid,” you add while looking at the sun slowly setting, very slowly.
“Ridiculous,” he mutters.
“Is it true ?” you ask, turning towards him. Satoru stares back at you, holding your gaze, before looking back at the ocean before him.
“Never saw it with my own eyes,” he vaguely answers.
“I heard it’s by a specific sea shell, some kind of magic,” you add in a thoughtful whisper.
“A sea shell,” he murmurs back.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following days, no signs of a boat. You continue to exchange swimming lessons with Satoru, and secrets. You get used to the feeling of his cold touch on your skin whenever he helps you. Long fingers and palms always securely around your waist, stomach or back.
Your tutoring is going slowly but surely. You started to learn how to hold your breath as well, because Satoru obviously wanted to show you how to swim under the water. Not with your head at the surface.
Once, he directly gave you seaweed, because you still can’t dive efficiently to go grab them yourself. You went to cook it by the fire, and Satoru stayed close at the shore to stare at this strange thing called flames. So once you finished roasting some fish as well, with nuts, you felt kind of generous and quickly approached his form.
“Satoru ! Here, taste it,” you exclaim as you extend in a leaf the cooked flesh along with the seaweed.
“That looks… interesting. You humans really don’t eat it raw ?” he comments, narrowing his eyes. Gently, he takes the leaf, analyzing from every angle the proposed food before staring back at you intensely.
“Not really. Depends. But try it,” you shrug. He takes the meat in between his fingers, and rolls it against his lips to feel the warmth of it. He shivers slightly, startled, then bites into it. His expression is neutral, before he licks his fingers, and swallows the seaweed. Yet, with how sinfully you look at him, entranced by such a simple task, you take back the leaf and stare at it instead.
“Do you have to always be seductive ? Even when eating ? Is it like a merman thing ?” you question with some disdain, but really, you’re just embarrassed at how easily you became eager to observe his lips.
“Did you get seduced ?” he retorts in a smirk with a voice that hints at the usual flirt it holds.
“That’s not what I meant,” you deny.
“I don’t know. You’re just weak to my charms, I guess. You’re a human, after all,” he shrugs in a chuckle. Oh, even his chuckle is charming ! That’s torturous. He can and will maybe kill you the moment he wants it, and yet you keep falling weak to his antics, to his voice, smile and eyes.
“I prefer it raw,” he comments, passing his hand in his wet shiny locks.
“Raw ?!” you exclaim in a blurt before you could realize how embarrassing that just was. He raises an eyebrow, eying you in a cocky way.
“The fish, and the seaweed. What did you think I meant ?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head and walk away, back on the beach as you can hear a “sure” from behind.
The next day, after another swimming lesson and some due secret sharing, with nothing else to do, waiting for dinner time to go fish your food, you decide to stay for once in Satoru’s company.
“Why are you always here ? Don’t you have some people to go back to ?” you ask, using one of your rocks you found next to the shore to do some ricochet. And at the same time, teaching Satoru how to do it as well, as he never saw such an intriguing thing before. But, at your words, he throws the small stone and it bounces nine times on the quiet still water of this part of the cove.
“Ask that to your parents,” he ends up saying in a neutral voice. Which is unusual from him. You frown, confused at first.
“What do you mea- oh,” your words die in your throat at the realization. You fail your ricochet, and slowly gaze back at him. His back is turned to you, busy focusing on the waves, and surely for you to not see the utter pain and bitterness etched on his face. Shame eats you alive, nails digging in your palm, and you stutter a pathetic apology because it’s your own parents and their crew that killed Satoru’s loved ones.
“I’m sorry…”
“Are you really ?” he says in a mocking tone, the kind that doesn’t make fun of, but doesn’t trust, doesn’t believe. And you actually wonder. Do you say that out of politeness ? Or because you genuinely realize the horror and hypocrisy of this whole family business that you’re supposed to take control of -in a future where you’ll come back alive.-
“I think I am,” you end up revealing. The way he looks at you changes, and a tiny smile of recognition goes on his lips before he leaves you alone for the rest of the day. Disappearing in the ocean with a building of mysteries following him. Because Satoru is an enigma. He doesn’t come back until the next afternoon.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Satoru kept you company at dinner, him asking you if he could try again the cooked fish and seaweeds. He even brought seashells, to cook too, making it a real feast for your stomach. Satoru is actually a merman with a very big appetite, and love for food. You know you lost weight, surely more than in a healthy way, but at least you’re still alive and kicking. Not mentally, but physically. Again, the loneliness and doom of being alone on this island is not as bad since Satoru sticks by your side.
Like right now. Laying on the foam, stomachs full, eyes locked on the stars and the moon. Next to each other in silence, aside from sometimes explaining the way navigators learn to read the stars to know where they are. Mermaids do the same. But call the constellations differently, each word part of their own culture and history.
Strangely, your skin gravitates towards him. Maybe because you got so used to being physically close during your swimming sessions, his body is like a part of yours when he guides your hips, legs, chest and arms to move around along the waves. The feeling of his dolphin like soft skin, his scales, his temperature. It’s all getting imprinted on your memory. Your new habit.
So, your arm touches his, his fingers flickering on yours. It’s weird but seems normal at the same time.
“You’re cold,” you say suddenly, turning your head to meet his.
“Are all humans that warm ?” he questions back, the edge of his digits sliding on your arm. Exploring his claim. You shiver head to toe. He notices it. The goosebumps an indicator that he learnt to know what it means.
“Compared to you, yes. Why ? You don’t like it ?”
Satoru’s hand slides up, then up, resting on your heart. Feels your pulse, your warmth. He can rip it apart if he wants to, but he doesn’t. The contrast with the coldness of his palm is soothing. He feels, closes his eyes to connect on a deeper level that only he knows with your beating heart. Maybe it’s a mermaid thing. But ô, it makes your organ flutter.
“It’s nicer than I thought. It feels like the sun,” he explains.
The sun.
“You’re cold as the moon, then,” you whisper in the quietness of the night. His eyelids open and the intense blue swallows your thoughts.
The moon.
“Can’t deny it,” he murmurs.
“Still after my soul ?” you suddenly ask.
His hand, nails, trail to your throat. Strangely, you don’t move, don’t protest. For a long second, it lingers on your jaw, then your cheek. Falls on your lip in a brushing touch.
“Maybe.”
Maybe.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You ended up cooking the roots you found, after testing them and waiting some days to be sure you had no stomach ache or something abnormal happening. Each day that dragged along, when not being on the beach, you'd carefully explore the forest, avoiding all potential predators, and continue to make some utensils, weapons, arrange your shelter, to the point that in a cope mechanism you called this part of the island your home. You referred to it like this whenever you had to go back there, and even if you know it’s not, it gives some sense of security in this strange routine of survival you had to develop.
There are nights where you cry of despair, hopping the boat, any boat, will come to you. You always make sure that the fire is big enough to create some smoke that would be seenable up in the sky. In those moments of solitude, Satoru is never far, and you end up joining him in silence at the shore. Nobody talks, maybe because he is tired of constantly joking and teasing around. But he’s here, and it starts to grow into you.
You are waiting for him one afternoon, to have your usual swimming lesson. He shouldn’t be very far, but even if you call his name he doesn’t answer. You climb on the rocks carefully to try to spot his tail somewhere in the clear blue.
“Satoru ?” you yell again, starting to wonder if he’s even here. But, is he still ? Did he leave, to your doom ? A wave of panic possesses your body and you rush to the rest of the beach, running on the sand in hope to find him. You haven’t seen him all morning as well. You genuinely start to think he left for good, but why ? Everything was fine until now, your deal satisfied both of you, and he seemed to enjoy your company. Did he stop being after your soul ? Even if considering yourself his prey, this strange relationship gave you much more comfort than you intended.
“Satoru, where are you ?!” you call again in despair, foot slipping on a rock and falling, but catching yourself just in time. You climb the slippery rock again to get a better look at the sea, in hope to see a glimpse of him. Somewhere, please.
Then, a faint groan, not very far from your left. You rush immediately, and stumble on a sight that makes your heart beat so much quicker in the spawn of a millisecond. He’s there, laying on the sand and half in the foam, all bloody and breath ragged. Trident in hand, trying to lift himself up and go back in the ocean.
“What happened ?!” you exclaim and fall on your knees at his side, only then he notices you. Your hand lands on his skin, and gets tinted by the bright red liquid.
“I need to go back to the.. ocean…” he mutters painfully. You look at your palms and feel your whole body tingle in fear.
“Why ?” you ask, not knowing what to do to stop his bleeding, aside from taking off your clothes and intent to tie a knot on his wounds and stop the bleeding.
“Seaweeds… healing,” he groans, but you stop him from attempting to move. You immediately understand what he means. You recall your first day on his island, and what he used to heal your hand.
“I’ll do it, don’t move !” you protest and push yourself on your shaky legs and rush in the water without a second thought. You vaguely remember where he always went to search for them, on the left of the clove. But your swimming skills are not very efficient, yet you have to rely on what he taught you. Even if you’re scared. So you go faster, towards the left, the water reaching your shoulders. You take a deep breath and dive.
You can’t see very well, even if it’s so clear on this part of the island. But you intend to move your legs and arms, adjust your body and strength like he always told you to do. You spot the seaweeds, deeper down. You go back to the surface to take another deep breath, then dive again. You struggle to manage to reach the depth, but still succeed in grabbing as much as you can. Seconds later you push yourself up again and paddle towards where he is. It’s messy, rushed, you struggle to breath correctly, but you do your best to do it as fast as possible.
You cough some water when you lunge yourself at his side, and he looks at you surprised and worried, whispering your name in a grunt of pain.
“Let me take care of this,” you exclaim. First, you put some water on the wounds to clean it. Since he’s a merman, you know that the salt isn’t aggressive to his skin or flesh. Then as you recall what you saw him do, you munch the seaweed. The taste is bitter, but you don’t stop. Then, apply the gross mixture on his wounds.
You don’t know if it will work, and normally, for such a situation he’ll need urgent care in a hospital or with qualified medics of your Clan, getting stitched. But he’s a merman, and he wanted to reach for this. So you try to believe in this supposed working magic. After all, it healed the poison on your skin.
He sighs of relief and lets his head fall on the sand, closing his eyes in surrender. You know he’s still alive at the way his thoracic cage moves up and down.
“Y/n…” he whimpers your name, while you continue to apply the munched seaweed on each cut and wound. His hand shakes and he tries to take your face in his hand. His digits manage to rub against your cheek, and you lock eyes with him.
“Thank you,” he whispers. You stop moving, relishing in his touch.
“You better not die on me. I still need your help,” you answer in a stressed and terrified tone.
“I didn’t plan to,” he murmurs, his hand falling from your cheek. His eyes close again, but he’s still breathing. You stay by his side, finishing to clean and apply the mixture on the wounds. You regularly put back water on him, to keep him refreshed. You don’t know how merman bodies work, but surely staying under the sun would do nothing good.
You realize he is asleep, clearly exhausted, and let some time pass as you anxiously stay next to him. When you think it’s required, you change the mixture that started to dry, and need to dive back in the water to collect more seaweeds. It’s as hard as before, trying to move correctly and swim, but you manage to do it faster. You quickly repeat the process, hoping it will continue to work. You have the surprise to see that the blood stopped, and the wounds slowly started to close by themselves.
Whatever magical or scientific mystery these weeds possess, they are working marvelously well. You munch and apply. Then once it’s done, you realize how your body is exhausted from all this panic and swimming. Softly, you lay down, catching back your breath next to his sleeping form. You mindlessly continue to apply water on his scales, and then just to make sure, let your head fall on his chest where his heart is supposed to be.
It’s beating. Not in the same way as humans, which startles you. But it’s beating. The sound of this live against your ear lulls you into a sleepy state, the coldness of his skin refreshing your burning cheeks. You’re sure you got sunburned with how strong the rays are on this island, but with no mirror it’s hard to know what you look like anymore.
Fluttering eyelids, you end up closing your eyes. Lips parted, sleep takes over and dreams dance in your head.
It’s a soothing hand, refreshing, that wakes you up. The sound of the waves softly crashing on your legs and middle, the seagulls up your head, the sun gently setting at the edge of the ocean. You lift your head, realizing you fell asleep on Satoru’s chest.
His eyes meet yours, caressing your face with a softness you didn’t know would make you feel so safe.
“You’re alive,” you whisper.
“And you’re awake,” he retorts. You rise and put your hands on each side of his face, sitting on the sand. Your eyes worriedly try to catch his, to see the truth they behold.
“What happened ?” you ask in panic and concern.
“I got attacked, but that was to be expected,” he vaguely explains.
“Attacked ? By what ?” you question, confused. Your brows furrow.
“Your parents,” he admits. Your world seems to crumble underneath your legs before snapping back to reality. Your fingers curl around his cheeks, and your breath is becoming erratic. You look around you. Nothing.
“My parents ?! What ? Where are they ?!” you exclaim.
“Kilometers away from here. I wanted to see where their boat was. It’s towards the north. I quickly realized they were after me, because when they saw me, instead of chasing a bunch of others of my people that were attacking their crew, they immediately went for my skin,” he continues in a calmer voice than you expected.
“But why did you do that ? Satoru, you could have died !” you snap, feeling tears of despair in your eyes but you shake your head to stop them from rolling down your skin. He rises too, lifting his torso, the setting sun’s ray glowing on your back and on his skin.
“Because you seemed devastated that nobody would come to get you back to your home. I wanted to know if they were going towards the direction of this island,” he admits.
“You did that for me ?” you blurt out in shock.
“Can’t have your soul being too sad,” he says. Fingers smoothing the dried sand on your cheeks, maybe a tear too.
“Or the taste will be bad, right ?”
“I prefer its taste when you’re happy, being sweet,” he answers, a small smile forming on his lips. You bite yours, and suddenly take him in your arms before you can realize what you are doing. Heartbeat against his, you feel his arms wrap around your body as well. Your face digs in his chest, worriedly. His smell surrounds you, and it’s like a cold sea yet a warm summer. So enchanting that you breathe in to it.
“Never do that again. They’ll get here when the time comes. Sooner or later. For now I’m surviving. I can still handle it. So don’t get yourself killed,” you shake your head ordering that.
“I think it won’t take them much longer. They’re still tracking me down, and they’ll quickly find this island,” he soothes your hair, talking against your head as his eyes are locked on the ocean. Chin tucked on top of you.
“Then why don't you go ?! Why don’t you hide, stay in safety in the depths of the ocean ?” you ask, lifting your face to be in front of his.
“You said you needed me.”
“I do. But I can’t… I can’t handle the fact that because of me you’re getting hurt or awaiting a certain death !” you cry out.
“Feeling pity for someone that wants to eat your soul ?” he gently jokes, and you put your hand on your heart.
“Satoru, we both know it’s not true. I figured that out. If you really wanted to eat me, you would have done so by now,” you end up saying. He simply looks at you. The way your eyes stare at his. Your lips twitching. Your eyebrows. Your facial expression. He doesn't say anything. Doesn’t need to.
“I think I can handle myself now. I managed to swim, to get these sea weeds. I can fish. I have water. Fire. And can cook roots too. So don’t stay here, and go back to your own home, to your people,” you tell him.
“I have nobody, y/n, nobody. They all got killed,” he answers more seriously, and you can’t help but remember what he told you some time ago. Days really went fast.
“Nobody at all ?” you whisper unsure.
“Not even Suguru anymore…” his eyes get lost in the waves with bitterness.
“Suguru ?” you ask confused. He doesn’t explain. Some seconds pass, his hand falling on your back, trailing your skin.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it ? The only person I have right now, is you. The child of the humans that killed my loved ones,” are his words. They are so harsh, so true, so intense and a painful reality that you have nothing else to say to this. What can you, really ? Excuse your parents ? No apologies would ever erase the fact that they are all dead. He almost died too today, because of them.
You even start to wonder if your life would ever be the same if you are reunited back with your own family. No. Not after this.
“I’m staying here. I have love and dreams too,” he finishes the conversation.
Satoru is staying here. You look at him. What are his dreams, for him to not go back ? And love ? You touch your heart.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Something significantly changed in your relationship between Satoru and you. But it feels right. You continue your daily routine with him. But when he was usually watching you from afar, now he stayed by your side. Unless when you went into the forest. You’ll cook him more fish, and sea shells. So he can try. He brings you things from the ocean, to help you eat better and make you gain back some weight.
His wounds ended up completely healing, pretty fast actually. As you get more used to swimming, thanks to him, Satoru brings you with him deeper in the ocean. But he’s always close to you, to help you just in case. When you’re tired and too far away from land, you do as taught. You float on your back, staring at the sky. Like this, you gain some energy before being able to swim again.
Tonight, after eating the usual, Satoru took your hand and is nos dragging you with him in the water. Because of the hotness of today, you’re only in your underwear, your clothes finishing to dry as you tried to wash them in the morning. But with no soap, it’s a harder task than you thought.
“In the middle of the night ? I’ll see nothing !” you protest, stopping straight, but he swims closer and faces you. Hands sliding on your waist, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.
“You really don’t ? I guess human eyes are weaker than I thought,” he mutters to himself, analyzing your pupils and irises with a certain devotion that you don't entirely understand.
“You see in the water during the night ?” you ask intrigued, taking a step closer in the water reaching your collarbones.
“Perfectly,” he confirms, smirking slightly.
“You’re just like a cat,” you comment in a chuckle.
“A cat ? What is this ?” he frowns.
“An animal on land,” you explain. He does a small hum of acknowledgement then his strong tails makes the two of you move forward without you can protest.
“Y/n, come on. Swimming at night is fun ! And you’ll have the moon to guide you,” he tries to convince you. It’s quiet around, and the stars reflecting on the waves actually is a beautiful sight. It makes you want to fully engross yourself in this experience.
“Ok, but stay close,” you agree. He smiles and guides you to swim at his side. As you asked, his body doesn’t leave you. Arms wrapped around your middle to bring you with him. You barely paddle, his tail doing all the work. With no clothes on, you realize how each centimeter of your skin is rubbing against his scales and torso.
“You told me you can’t see ? I have the perfect solution. Hold on to my waist, and hold your breath,” he suddenly says, excitement crossing his eyes. You nod, and instantly swallow enough air to keep yourself as long as you can underwater. He brings you with him, this time in an inhuman speed swimming. You have to squint your eyes, but really, you see nothing. Even more with the pressure.
Then, as you hold yourself more strongly to his waist, chest glued to his, he turns in a loop. Suddenly, the whole ocean all around you lights up in tiny sparkles of shiny blue. Like his eyes. You want to exclaim of amazement but you can’t, so you wait for Satoru to bring you back to the surface to express it.
“Oh, that is amazing !” you laugh in ecstasy, looking around at the waves rocking your body shining by the sparkles of blue. “I saw this phenomenon a few times when going fishing back in my Clan. But I never… had the opportunity to swim in it. We call it Noctiluca. The name of the plankton,” you recall. He stares at you, deeply.
“We call them the stars of the sea,” Satoru explains, and moves his tail on purpose to make it shine even more. You chuckle again in happiness at this piece of art painting itself in front of you.
“Now you see. Come underwater with me again,” he says, bringing you down so you gasp and catch your breath quickly before having your face submerged. He makes you go deeper, faster and more impressively when you explore part of the oceans at night you never thought you would ever see up close in your entire life. Satoru stays attentive to your needs, and whenever he notices you need air, he brings you back to the surface in time.
“Not so scary anymore, right ?” he asks, wiping the hair from his forehead.
“I wish I could hold my breath longer,” you admit, gulping some air.
“Why ? You want to stay longer underwater with me ?” Satoru asks, moving his eyebrows in a jokingly flirtatious manner. You roll your eyes.
“It’s fun, and it feels good,” you confirm, wondering what it would feel like to have the same capacity as a mermaid. Swimming as fast as you can, breathing in air and water, luring people with your charms and voice.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Do you trust me ?” he then asks, a tempting smile on his face. So you look at him, recalling that one time he asked if you trusted him and you answered no with fervor. So you smile back, and answer.
“Yes.”
Something in your chest flutters, and Satoru seems surprised before relief and appreciation wash over him. He licks his lips, and gets closer, his arms slowly guiding you towards him.
“That’s a nice change of heart,” he muses. “Hold your breath,” he whispers in his sing-song voice that always seemed to lure you in. So you do so, and again you find yourself under the water. The planktons shine all around you, glowing in your hair, your eyes. Satoru looks unreal like this, his irises never leave you. He brings you in a dance, diving deeper, keeping you close. You let yourself follow his lead, until he turns you around. When you face him back, his beauty strikes you all at once.
You almost forget that you need air. But when you’re about to express it, his lips melt on yours.
Satoru kisses you, eyes closed, while yours are wide open. Everything brightens around you, and your heart seems to wildly hammer in your chest. It’s soft, warm, yet cold. His lips are fresh, and a new sensation swallows you whole at the contact. You end closing your lips and time stops.
“Now you can breathe,” he whispers so clearly, you hear it like an echo at the back of your mind. You open your eyelids, a bubble of air escaping your parted lips as his mouth slowly parts from yours.
Indeed, realization hits you as you can really breathe in. Even if you’re underwater. You touch your throat, your chest, where your lungs are supposed to be. Fascination overcomes everything as your smile stretches and stretches even more.
“I can breathe… and I can talk clearly too !” you exclaim. “How is that possible ?!”
Satoru swims around you, round and round, taking your hands to make you spin as well.
“Mermaid kisses offer the ability to breathe under water. I guess no humans know that, because if they did, they’ll for sure capture and assault my kind,” he explains.
You then realize something, something that proves you and Satoru are more than just a survivor on an island and a merman that made a deal with. No, so much more than that.
“So I’m the only human to know,” you swim closely while confirming this, and he does the same.
“You’re the only human to know.”
He trusts you. Satoru trusts you. Your eyes light up, and you touch again your heart, your throat. You can breathe, you can talk, all underwater without any problem. Your eyes see better as well. It’s purely magical. Almost unimaginable. Are you dreaming ? Maybe.
“Thank you. That would be our secret,” you say with devotion. His smile becomes so genuine, so full of a strange feeling you’re not sure to understand.
“The first secret that we share, then. There is always a start to everything,” he brings your hand to his lips and kisses the palm instead.
The night ends on this note.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following days are full of kisses, frequent, allowing you each time to explore the depth of the ocean at Satoru’s side. Places you would have never seen with your own eyes before. Being able to hunt new kinds of seafood, finally having a new diversity of dishes.
Each time his lips fall on yours, it’s a breath of life. Soft, cold, electrifying. Your body freezing then melting. Yet, what your relationship is, remains unknown. After all, these kisses are only made for you to live in the depth of the sea. For a limited amount of time. Around two hours each.
Maybe you want more. Something real. You don’t really know anymore. You even start to forget about your life back at Okinawa. Your parents. The boat. Your job. Everything.
Aside from this island. This place is the only thing you have with him.
A piece of land, where all your secrets are hidden. Your bodies on the sand. Your kisses in the water. His arms around your waist. His eyes, blue, always analyzing every little muscle movement of your face to decipher what you are thinking about. As if you are an enigma. But Satoru is the enigma.
He still didn’t eat your soul. You’re sure he won’t. But at this point, it’s like he already consumed every bit of it to nothingness.
Head laying on his chest while the waves softly crash on the warm sand. His hand touches the edges of your hair, then the curve of your nose, to the plump of your lips. It’s still the morning, the sun rising. A night spent exploring the sea and the cove at his side.
It’s so silent. Really. But you don’t mind it. You just relish in the intimacy of the moment. Your left hand busy caressing his tail, admiring the scales shining under your digits. Nails softly grazing the hardness of it.
“You’re an enigma, Satoru,” you end up commenting after some minutes of mindlessly caressing. You don’t see his face because of looking at his tail, so you don’t know what kind of reaction or facial expression he’s having. But you’re sure he’s having his usual charming smile right now.
“Am I ? I could say the same thing about you,” he chuckles slightly, musing his words.
“Why were you so far away from your territory when we first met on my family boat ?” you end up questioning.
“Asking hard questions, hmm ?” he answers, fingers stopping on your jaw to instead trail on your shoulder, then arm.
“I always wanted to know,” you defend yourself. You hear him sigh, the conversation taking a more serious tone.
“It was careless of me. But, I didn’t really lie to you. I was tracking down your family. The ones that killed Suguru in front of me. I wanted to avenge him,” he ends up admitting in all honesty.
“Who is Suguru ?”
“Someone I loved very much,” he says in a pained voice, hand tightening around your arm before he realizes it and immediately loosen his grip.
“It’s for that you went so far away from your home ?”
“Yes. And then I found you. Kind of an anomaly. It has been some time since I was following your parent’s boat, planning the ideal time to kill them with my trident. Until I saw you for the first time. You weren’t supposed to be here. Were you a new threat ? I just needed to know who you were,” he continues. You stare at the sun lights in his tail, being extremely captivating.
“So you lured me in ?”
“I did. And I never expected you to fall and drown,” he adds.
You recall this moment, the feeling of dying that haunted your dreams every night since then. You inhale a big breath to steady yourself.
“You could have eaten me a long time ago,” you whisper with acceptance.
“I did think about it when I learnt your identity when your mother called you her child, screaming for you to go to sleep so you’ll be awake at dawn. I thought that I'll take a life for a life, so they’ll know what it feels like to lose someone they love,” Satoru confesses. You blink, biting your lower lip. Strangely, you wonder what it would have felt like feeling his mouth on your throat, diving on your heart, then on your mouth to consume your life essence.
“But after all this time, you still didn’t,” you comment.
“I didn’t,” he confirms. You’re sure he’s smiling now.
“Why ?” you ask. He doesn’t answer. Two seconds pass. So you finally turn around to face him again since the two of you laid on the foamy waves.
“Satoru ?”
Your question is met by his lips. Hands cradling your head, tilting it to the side to deepen the intimate exchange. It’s so raw, bare of any barriers, or excuses of allowing you to breathe underwater. No. It’s real, authentic. It’s him and you. Sharing something true to your heart.
“Because I learnt to love you,” he confesses against your mouth. You think you just died then went back to life. He parts slightly, locking eyes with you. Your heart is hammering in your throat, and you take back his face, diving on his lips once again.
“I do too,” you confess as well, his eagerness answering your kiss. It’s soft now, hot and fresh, steamy and passionate. His hands explore your back, bringing your legs closer, still amazed by these strange body parts foreign to him.
“You’re the only person I have now, y/n. I can’t lose you,” he whispers against your lips.
“I don’t think I want my parents to ever find this island,” you admit.
“I can’t stop you from going back to your home, even if I wish to continue to spend everyday by your side,” he sighs.
“Where I’m from, I work all the time to exhaustion. When I have my weekends, I still have to help them with the preparation of their boat before leaving on Monday. When do I really rest ? Never. Work, work, work to the bone. I had friends, but with our jobs, my Clan, I can barely see them anymore, them neither. My whole life is forced to follow a path my Clan wants. What the elders want from my family. And I don’t want it. I don’t. If that’s home, then I prefer to not have one anymore. Not after I tasted what freedom tastes like. By your side,” you exclaim, expressing a mountain of feelings you kept inside.
It’s only by being here on this island that you finally grasped what it feels like to be human. To be alive. To not be controlled by a government. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, you have to survive each day. But Satoru significantly made you able to be alive every hour of passing weeks. So freedom but harsh survival ? Or captivity and eternal suffering ?
Maybe you’ll die young, because of a complication. It’s not like the magical seaweed can even stop all diseases including death. But at least you’ll be free. Back at your Clan, you’re sure you would die at work. Or from exhaustion.
“Then let’s stay together. Here, in the ocean,” he says, cradling your cheek tenderly.
The choice is quickly and easily made.
“Let’s hope for it,” you swallow your saliva, anxiety building up at the gore possibilities of outcomes.
“I told you, y/n. I’m not leaving this island. Even if the boat comes back,” Satoru assures you strongly. So you have to believe him. You nod.
“What will you do then if they do ? Will you kill my parents ?” you ask in a wavering voice. You don’t know what to think about this. They are your parents. But they killed his. What can you even try to rationalize in this situation ? You don’t even know what will happen.
“I can’t tell you. But you’ll know what I’m planning soon enough,” he ends the conversation by kissing your forehead with devotion.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Satoru left that morning and said he’ll be back for sunset. A last kiss on your lips allowed you to go fish for your lunch, even if it felt weird to swim alone in the depth of the sea without Satoru showing you around.
You did your best to occupy yourself. Going back into the forest, drink water, wash your clothes and let them dry in the sun, sharpen your rocks, and apply some seaweed on the small injuries you had. Like tiny cuts, or hematomas.
You are left waiting at the beach of the cove to look for the arrival of Satoru. The sky is orange, and pink. The sun slowly hiding at the horizon behind the sea. So you sit, playing with rocks, the sand.
You even try to arrange your hair. Smooth the wrinkles of your dried clothes. Wipe the sand off your cheeks. Make sure that your hands are clean, the cleaner you can actually feel as you only have water and no soap. You try to peek at your reflection on the waves, wondering what you really look like right now. It’s stupid. Satoru already loves you for who you are, the way he sees you. There is no need to try to make yourself look prettier. You don’t even know what image of yourself you give him. But it’s you, wild and raw of everything else. So it’s alright. No need to change for someone else.
Your name is chanted. You know it’s his call. So you rush to the side of the beach, and see him waiting for you behind rocks. He gestures to you to join him in the water. You smile, relieved to see him back, and hastily take off your clothes before jumping in the waves. He arrives halfway and immediately his lips melt on yours the moment you’re in his arms.
“Where did you go ?” you breathlessly ask eagerly.
“That’s a secret, y/n,” he answers in his usual charming voice, smiling against your lips when he kisses you again.
“Come on, I’m curious now,” you try to make him talk. He raises an eyebrow, finger gently tapping on your shoulder like a reminder.
“Fair trade, sweetheart,” he says. Like a small nostalgia of your swimming lessons, you sigh playfully.
“Ok ok… what do you want in return ?”
“A promise,” Satoru admits. Curious, your head tilts on the side.
“A promise ? Then tell me,” you nod.
“Promise me you’ll seriously consider your answer. That’s all I want. Think you can do that ?” he caresses your cheek tenderly.
“Well yes, but consider my answer of what ?” you look into his blue eyes. Satoru then, with his other free hand, raises it up towards your face and slowly opens his fingers. Lies in his palm a necklace, the lace made in a kind of seaweeds tied like ropes, so beautifully in meticulous handwork. Then, a seashell. So vibrant it looks unreal. You gasp, fearing to even touch what is in front of you, as if it would break. You look back at him, a smile on your lips.
“Wow, that’s beautiful… is it why you took so long to come back ? You went to search this for me ?” you ask in awe, not believing that Satoru really did that just for you. He chuckles ô so softly, his thumb gently rubbing on the seashell. And you swear, it shines like magic at the gentle contact.
“Yes. It’s not any necklace. It’s made with a special seashell. The one of the legend,” he explains in a calmer tone. To emphasize the truth of his words. You open your eyes widely in disbelief, not quite sure that you heard right.
“What- the legend is real ?! Are you serious right now ?” you exclaim with pure shock.
“When putting it on, it allows humans to transform as mermaids. Only when it’s on, though. So, if you do put it, we could truly live our life together, free of our problems,” he confirms, and you can’t even form coherent thoughts, flabbergasted to the point of going mute. So this is true. It’s not a legend.
“Promise me you’ll consider your answer. I’m not forcing you to say yes, to commit to me, to leave everything behind. It’s your choice,” he adds with seriousness, making sure you have your claim in this.
At his words, you finally snap out of your thoughts and throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tail supports both of your weight in the water, and his face digs in the crook of your neck to relish in your closeness.
“How could I leave everything behind when it is already behind me ? The boat never came back. You’re all I have left,” you say, hugging him tighter. After all, you got used to this new life. You accepted the fact that you’ll never go back to Okinawa. And maybe it’s better like this. To be far away from your Clan. From the elders. Here lies your freedom, with him.
“I think, from what I saw during my trip, that the boat is already coming this way. Towards our island. It’s for that, y/n. I’m being serious about this. For you to truly consider your answer,” Satoru says. You stop dead in your train of thoughts and look at him. All your future possibilities crashing down at this news. The boat is coming this way. Your parents are. Meaning, you’ll have to leave Satoru if they do find you. Maybe to never see him again, because what if they kill him ? What if you witness Satoru being skinned alive ? Taking his eyes, his scales. Everything that you learnt to love about him, being reaped away.
Will you be forced to look at his remains being worn by fancy heads Clans ? To stare at his scales that you used to caress with so much love, used to decorate the coat of an old man ? To see his eyes as a necklace ? Or in a jar as a trophy ?
“I understand…” you whisper in anxiety. Your trembling hands gather around your throat, to softly take off one of the accessories you had on you since you left Okinawa. A necklace with a symbol of a fish delicately carved on a pearl. Gently, you take it off.
“Here, take this necklace too. It doesn’t give any magical power or anything. It’s just one from my Clan. So you’ll have a piece of me always,” you explain while lovingly wrapping it around his own neck. He uses his free hand to roll the pearl against his fingers, staring at it with so much care. He kisses it.
“I don’t think I can live without a piece of you now,” he murmurs. You lean towards him to kiss him again, but you freeze when your eyes notice meters away something that the fog kept hidden until now. Your parents. They’re back.
“Satoru ! The boat !” you scream and make him spin around. He positions himself before you. Surely to hide you or to protect you, maybe both.
“They’re here earlier than I calculated,” he says to himself with a deep voice, characteristic of the seriousness and gravity of the situation.
“Leave the island !” you exclaim and try to push him away in panic. You don’t know what to do yourself, aside from first making sure he’s safe and sound.
“I told you y/n, I won’t !” he protests, which makes you twice anxious. Quick, you have to think of something that will both save you time.
“I’ll put the necklace then, and we both run away,” you affirm. He nods and hands you the necklace. Opening it to wrap it around your neck.
A scream of vengeance coming from the boat. Spears are thrown. It hurts his hand, making the necklace flying and falling back down, sinking in the waves.
“No !” you scream and directly turn around to catch it before it disappears or gets rocked away by the water. You manage to grab the lace, before turning around to check on your lover.
“Satoru ?!” you exclaim when you notice that the water is red, and he’s holding his side in a panting. Another spear did touch his hip. You immediately wrap the jewelry around your neck by yourself, and rush to his side.
“Quick, let’s go-” you yell, grabbing his hand and ready yourself to dive underwater. But he stops you.
“It’s broken, the seashell,” he comments with sorrow, holding it in his hand.
“What ?! Oh fuck- Fuck ! It won’t work anymore ?” you cry out in fear. Your plan is getting doomed in front of your own eyes, and in the panic you don’t know what to do anymore.
“I don’t know. Maybe, I don’t know- ugh, y/n,” he grunts in pain at the blood loss.
Voices are heard in your back, closer now, so much closer. You lost time. When you lift your head, you see a net falling down towards the two of you. Satoru is quicker, and drags you with him inside the water to the left, avoiding the attack. The net falls and sinks in the depths, with no merman caught. As Satoru continues to drag you with him as fast as possible, even though he’s in strident pain, you do your best to not freeze of fear. Being chased by your own parents, taking you for a prey, is scarier than you ever thought. So is that what mermaids and mermans went through ? Felt before dying ? Raw instinct of escaping to survive ? Or fight back with dignity and vengeance until their assassination ?
Thankfully, since the two of you kissed, you still can breathe underwater. Allowing the escape to be more efficient. The necklace is shining, but the broken piece that is missing, it only sends a strange wave across your body. Everything tingles. You don’t know what is happening. You even forget to swim for a second because of the weird feeling you’re experiencing. But that is your mistake.
Another net falls, it touches you, and the technology of it immediately wraps your body and lifts you off the water as you scream of fear. Your hand extends towards the waves, where Satoru tries to do something, invoking his trident that rushes to him. He throws it towards the net, in an attempt to cut it in two. But it doesn’t work.
“Kill him !” the voice of your mother, that you never thought you would hear again, resonates behind you. Another spear, your spear, you recognize it, is aimed at his heart.
The impact is so brutal, and Satoru screams your name one last time before he sinks in a pool of blood. His blue becomes dull, his shine disappears, your name is the last word on his lips. You yell in agony, crying and trying to get away like a wild animal in a cage. The net is brutally thrown on the deck of the boat, and all the sailors, including your parents, lower their weapons when they realize it’s you. Their child. Alive.
“Y/n ?” asks your father in disbelief. Everyone exclaims in surprise and happiness to see you back. But all you see is red. His red. His blood.
“What did you do ?! What did you do to him ?! You monsters ! You killed him ! You’re all but monsters !” you cry in pure rage and madness, standing back up on your feet with pain. You feel dizzy, your legs barely able to hold your weight.
What they say to you, their words, are replaced by a horrible ringing. You don’t hear anything. Hands and arms wrap around your body that tries to jump back down in the ocean, seeking your lover’s body.
“You’re all monsters ! He’s dead because of you !” you continue to yell in agony, seeing blurry all around you. Black dots cover your vision. You don’t know if it’s because of the necklace, or the brutality of what just happened in barely five minutes of pure chaos, or maybe because they use a syringe in your arm, but you soon are knocked out.
Blue. The blue of his eyes. Red. The red of his blood. The chant of your name. His voice lures you in the sea. You wish you could join him one last time.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
A month has passed since your parents found you on the island, and made you come back to Okinawa. You’ve been under medic care. Not going to work. Staying at home. Not talking. Nothing. Really, since Satoru’s death, you have refused to eat, to talk, to sleep, or to do anything other than wanting to go back to the sea. Just once. That’s all you wanted. But they didn’t let you.
The only thing that kept you sane was the necklace. The shell, placed where your heart belongs. You caressed it, recalling Satoru’s touch. His lips. His hands. His scales. His hair. Or his smile, his voice, his teasing, his charming shenanigans, his care for you, his teaching, hell, everything about him !
You wish Satoru would have never fallen in love with you. He would have been alive. Unbroken. Untouched by the spear. Your spear. It’s as if you were the one that did it. That aimed at his heart.
Satoru was the one supposed to take your soul. Not you. Not the other way around.
So, that night, when everybody is sleeping, you vanish. The necklace is making you have hallucinations of his voice, his eyes, him, somewhere close to you. You make sure that nobody hears you. The door is locked, of course. So you open the window, and manage to fully escape. A few steps, you’re in the street. It’s quiet. Your head hurts. You hear his voice at the corner of a house, but you know it’s not him. So you run.
Why is it so painful ? Why are your legs killing you ? The sand is fresh under your toes. You sigh of relief. Before you, lies the ocean. You hear its call. Luring you in. Step by step, you approach with dizziness but strong will. The foam caresses your ankles. You don’t stop. Walk, deeper and deeper in the ocean. Staring at the moon shining on the water. Your necklace is vibrating, glowing. You hear your name, his voice. It’s coming from the seashell on your skin.
You dive in the waves, swimming, like he taught you. You don’t stop. Breathless. You don’t stop. Body tiring. You don’t stop. Sinking. You don’t stop. Chasing a future you wished to have. A dream. Satoru, somewhere.
You don’t feel your legs anymore. You don’t know if you’re breathing underwater. Maybe you’re dying. But it’s the call of the sea. You can’t escape it. Maybe you’re crazy.
You drown in blue. Satoru’s eyes. His lips fall on yours. His arms wrapping around your body to reunite with you again. You don’t know if he’s really here. Maybe he didn’t die. You hear your name again. Or maybe it’s a hallucination. You don’t know and don’t wish to know the truth.
“Satoru… eat my soul,” are your words. He does.
And like this, you vanish into the night, into the waves, into his heart. For all eternity. Nobody ever found you again. Only the sea knows the secret of what happened.
Hello, considering how @sugurusbeloved reacted to my attempt of trying to dissolve the situation peacefully by DM and they end up BLOCKING ME.
I decided that I’ll come out with every evidence that they almost plagiarized my work on J.ai and posted it on Tumblr thinking they could get away with it before they could delete the post and takes no accountability.
Update: They deleted the post…lol.
Here’s the link to read what we talk about not on Tumblr, hurry before it gets deleted too. 😭
janitor is a platform for creators building immersive worlds and readers seeking living stories, we are where human creativity meets ai magi
I know that this is a heavy topic and I didn’t wanna do this but please bear with me.
This is their fic posted on 7th September:
(Sorry for the ass screenshot)
And this is my bot posted on April 30:
And here are the chats we had
This is a very hard pill to swallow for me because I LOVE this person’s bot on Janitor. To think that they would take my bot into a fic and posted it here. WITHOUT A SINGLE MENTION OF ME. As you can see in the chat, they denied the heavy inspo they took but the fic is almost word to word.
The physical touch mentioned to build up Satoru as a clingy fake gay bestie, why did it had to be kissing user/reader’s cheek?
The “Shower together to save water” comment is also there.
Plus the walking past a man part.
And this is what happened this morning.
Please, everyone. Do NOT condone this behavior!! If I knew I could turn my Fake Gay Satoru bot into a Tumblr fic and I’d get attention, I would’ve done it LONG AGO.
I do not claim that I am the only one who could write about fake gay Satoru, BUT LOOK AT THE FIC AND MY BOT AND TELL ME IT’S NOT ALMOST IDENTICAL.
I am crashing out, yes. I am jealous, yes. I admit it.
If I knew the first message I did for my bot is almost good enough to be a fic, just that I add something more and it will get 3k hearts. I will do it.
If you’re a writer and you still don’t empathize with me. I hope you get this done to you and no one cares just like me.
This is probably @sugurusbeloved J.ai profile. https://janitorai.com/profiles/018cbcbb-75ad-43cd-a598-5d794ec1900c_profile-of-my-dear-monika
I didn’t wanna debut on Tumblr this way because I want to be a fic writer someday but eh…
Before some of y’all defend it! I don’t even read this shit. YES, I see the damn warnings 🧍🏻♀️ but seeing fics like these going around the internet is disappointing and disgusting. Like I genuinely don’t understand how some of y’all writers write taboos like this + readers who encourages and reads it. It doesn’t matter if it’s fictional, what’s worse is that you insert yourself in this scenario.
I want to say yall should be ashamed and go get help ASAP!! but y’all are GROWN and probably too stubborn to even understand the problem so I’ll hold y’all accountable for that. I genuinely can’t believe I’m breathing the same air as y’all who fetishized and fantasies things like this.
*sorry for the random tags I just want to spread my words*
people need to stop tagging their ‘x oc stories‘ as ‘x reader‘. it’s so ANNOYING bc I am searching for ‘x reader‘ and all I get is the „reader“ having a first name and blonde hair with blue eyes. like I don’t want to read that shit. just fucking tag your oc stories as ‘x oc‘.
and don’t get me startet on them just tagging random characters that aren’t even mentioned in the fanfic. When I search up fics for a specific character I do NOT want to find fics of a different character. just let me read that ‘character x reader‘ and leave me alone
LEARN TO USE TAGS CORRECTLY. IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD
i love when i read a xreader fic and the reader is not described as an "outstanding beauty", doesn't have a prestigious work , not good at everything and basically the most common person like yeah that's me!!!
summary: Satoru and Suguru, the two strongest sorcerers alive now bite-sized. After a run-in with a cursed spirit gone wrong, your boyfriends are no taller than your middle finger, and now you’re the one stuck taking care of them.
content tags: sfw, crack treated seriously, comedy, fluff, romance, established relationship, mini!satoru, mini!suguru, tiny boyfriend shenanigans, possessive tiny men, protective tiny men, helplessly in love, gojo is an idiot, idiots in love, no use of y/n, domestic fluff, tooth rotting fluff, wholesomeness, no angst, happy ending
w/c: 8.3k | x-posted on ao3 | main masterlist
a/n: i was inspired to write this after seeing this fanart and fell in love. I CANNOT UNHEAR THEIR CHIMPUNK VOICES. I MIGHT MIGHT MIGHT TTTT do a whole mini satosugu x reader series with a whole plot and everything if it gets enough engagement
You’re only ten steps away from your apartment building when you hear two tiny, high-pitched voices shrieking over the city din. You freeze in your tracks, heart skipping. Did someone just yell out your name?
Spinning around, your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you scan the quiet evening street behind you. Nothing. Other than a cat tiptoeing along a fence and a few parked cars gleaming under streetlights, there street is empty. No people.
You shake your head. Maybe you imagined it?
You’re about to turn back–
“Down here!”
Your head snaps downward, eyes wide when you see something moves near your feet. Two very small somethings, each no taller than your middle finger. They wave their arms frantically to get your attention.
Your brain stutters. Those small figures… one with spiky white hair and a little black blindfold pushed up on his forehead, wearing what looks like a shrunken version of a Jujutsu High uniform. The other has dark hair pulled into a half-up topknot, his tiny face set in a mix of hope and irritation.
“Satoru? Suguru?” You blink, incredulous.
Relief floods the little faces upturned toward you.
“Finally!” Your boyfriend Satoru, squeaks.
He plants his hands on his hips, trying for his usual confident stance, though at his new size it only makes your heart lurch with a strange mix of adoration and disbelief.
“We’ve been yelling our adorable little lungs out for ages!” He complains in a voice so high and squeaky it’s like he’d inhaled a balloon full of helium.
Beside him, tiny Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, which on his tiny face makes you want to coo at how adorable the gesture looks.
“We only shrank a few minutes ago, Satoru.” He mutters, his voice also comically high though a bit calmer than Satoru’s. He looks up at you with a small frown. “We had to run to catch up. You walk fast.”
You drop into a crouch on the sidewalk, your purse sliding off your shoulder and landing with a thud beside you.
“Oh my god… You’re so… small.” You mumble.
Satoru crosses his arms, tilting his head up at you. Even at a few inches tall, he somehow manages to pull off his cocky smirk. “Yeah, no kidding. Thanks to that curse.” He huffs.
Suguru shoots Satoru a sharp look. “Well maybe if someone hadn’t insisted on toying with it instead of finishing it off immediately–”
Satoru whirls toward him. “Excuse me? I did finish it off! It just got a lucky shot in first.” He retorts, voice cracking even squeakier.
You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. The two of them arguing like this, in chipmunk voices, looking like action figures come to life, it’s just so ridiculously funny. You press a hand over your mouth, and take a deep breath to try and regain some composure.
You need to get them out of sight before someone else comes along.
“We should get you off the street. Let’s go inside.” You say, extending your palms out to them. “Can I pick you up?”
They exchange a glance, then Satoru gives a dramatic sigh. “As long as you don’t drop us.” he teases, stepping onto your right palm without fear.
His tiny shoes barely dent your skin, like holding a leaf. Suguru steps onto your left palm more cautiously, steadying himself by holding onto your thumb. His touch almost tickles you like a feather.
For a brief moment, your heart squeezes at how vulnerable they both look.
Slowly, you rise from your crouch, cupping your hands around them protectively, the strap of your bag hanging from your elbow now. They’re so small that you could curl your fingers entirely around each of them and enclose them completely.
Not like you would even try to do that of course. The thought of accidentally squishing them makes you queasy. Instead, you keep your hands curled slightly, close to your chest as you hurry toward your apartment entrance.
“Wow, this view is wild.” Satoru chirps from your right palm, peering over your fingers at the looming front door of your building as you approach. “Everything’s so big.”
You fumble with the lobby door and slip inside without jostling them too much. Luckily, it’s late enough that no neighbours are around. You head straight for the elevator. Inside the lift, you finally take a proper look at the two miniature men cradled in your hands.
They look up at you with trusting expressions that mirror their normal personalities: Satoru’s blue eye (only one is visible now, because his blindfold is half pushed over his forehead) sparkles with mischief even in this situation, while Suguru’s dark eyes are steady, concerned for you even though he’s the one in a dangerous state.
“Boys…” You sigh, shaking your head in amazement. “How on earth did this even happen?”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open on your floor.
You step out and head for your apartment while Satoru launches into an explanation. “So, there we were, heading back from that exorcism job downtown–”
“We exorcised the cursed spirit, no problem.” Suguru interjects from your left hand.
“Yeah, but after we exorcised it,” Satoru continues pointedly, “turns out the curse had one last trick up its nasty sleeve. Some kind of cursed technique that didn’t die with it. Next thing we know, poof! We’re bite-size.” He huffs dramatically, personally offended.
Suguru nods, frowning. “It must have been a failsafe. A curse that triggers upon exorcism to shrink the threat that defeated it. I’ve… never heard of one like that before.”
You gently nudge your apartment door open with your hip. “Me neither.” Being someone who is deeply familiar with the jujutsu world thanks to them, you know this is a unique situation. “You’re both okay though, right? Not hurt?”
Satoru waves a tiny hand dismissively. “We’re fine, just smaller. My cursed technique still works. I’m still the strongest.” He flashes a grin that in normal circumstances would be blinding, but at this scale it’s simply adorable.
Suguru adds, “We managed to avoid any real injury. Just had to watch out for being stepped on while we came to find you.” He shoots Satoru a sideways squint. “Someone insisted we walk all the way home on foot rather than call for help.”
Satoru throws his arms up, which makes him wobble in your palm, your hand automatically twitches, ready to catch him if he falls. “Our phones are useless now! I tried mine, but I don’t think the signal works for ant sized technology. And would you have believed us if we somehow called? Oh hi babe, we’re the size of an action figure, mind coming to scoop us up?”
He’s got a point. If you hadn’t seen them with your own eyes, you might’ve assumed any call like that was a weird prank.
You carry them into your living room and setting your hands down carefully on the coffee table. They both step off onto the table’s wooden surface. The two of them standing there make an oddly charming picture, a pair of tiny sorcerers in matching black uniforms, only a few inches high, looking up at you like that.
You sit on the floor so you’re more at eye level with them. Well, even so, they’re still a couple of centimetres below your line of sight. “Okay. So you’re stuck like this… for how long?”
Satoru shrugs, exchanging a glance with Suguru. “Not sure. The creepy thing cackled something about ‘three sunrises’ before it fizzled out. So maybe a few days?”
Suguru nods. “It could wear off on its own in 72 hours. Cursed transformations sometimes have a time limit.”
A few days. You exhale slowly, nodding. “Alright. A few days.” They’re safe. This is temporary. You can handle a few days of… of tiny boyfriend caretaking. Why not? Stranger things have happened in the jujutsu world, right?
Satoru gives you a pityingly sweet smile, as if you’re the one needing reassurance. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll be back to our devastatingly handsome, full-sized selves before you know it.”
Suguru folds his arms, an amused glint in his eye. “Yeah, Satoru will try not to cause too much trouble.”
That comment earns a snort from you and a pointed look from Satoru to Suguru, as if the very suggestion that he would cause trouble is offensive. Suguru just smiles serenely.
You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips.
“Trouble. Right.” You reach out and gently brush the pad of your index finger over the top of Satoru’s head, ruffling his miniature snow-white hair. He sputters at the sudden gesture, batting at your finger.
“Hey! This hair is a prized national treasure, you know. Handle with care.” He protests, but he’s grinning.
You chuckle, drawing back your hand. Then you look at both of them, taking in their tiny forms under the light. “So are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need a… uh… place to rest?” You aren’t exactly sure how to accommodate two shrunken minis in an apartment built for normal-sized humans.
They glance at each other. Satoru plops down onto the table cross-legged. “I could eat.” He announces. Of course he could, Satoru’s appetite for snacks is insatiable at any size. “Got any sweets? Ooh, or those little gummies? Wait, everything is gonna be like jumbo-sized for us!” He lights up at the thought.
Suguru sighs, but he’s smiling softly. “Maybe something simple, please. I don’t think I could handle a crumb bigger than my head right now.” He rests a hand on his stomach for emphasis.
“Alright, I’ll see what we have.” You head to the kitchen, which is open-plan and within sight of the coffee table. Not to be overthinking, but the image of one accidentally toppling off the table’s edge flashes through your mind and makes you worry.
After a moment rifling through your cupboards, you set out an onigiri on a plate, pull out few gummy bears for Satoru, and fill a clean bottle cap with water. When you return to the living room, they’re in the same spot, though Satoru is now standing, his arm around Suguru’s shoulder while muttering something you can’t hear. Suguru swats him away, rolling his eyes.
You set down their food and tiny water bowl in front of them. Satoru immediately goes for the gummy piece, lifting it up with both arms like it’s a heavy sack. You bite your lip, holding back laughter as he dramatically topples onto his back under its weight.
“It’s heavy!” He complains, legs kicking in the air.
Suguru, grinning, steps over and breaks off two smaller bits of the corner of the onigiri for both the of them. Then he helps Satoru push the bear off, before the latter sits up and dusts off his uniform. “I had that, you know.” he insists.
“Of course.” Suguru replies mildly.
They nibble on the rice ball while you take the chance to text your supervisor at Jujutsu High that an “incident” has come up and you’ll be working from home for a couple days. You’d rather not explain why.
Later that night, you all settle in.
It takes some ingenuity and a lot of protesting from Satoru, but eventually you convince them to sleep in a cushioned little nest you created in a shoebox. You lined it with soft socks and cotton pads, fashioning a cozy bed, which if you were being honest, doesn’t look so bad. You even cut a piece off a clean sock to make a blanket.
Suguru thanks you quietly for the effort, testing the makeshift mattress by pressing a tiny hand on it. Satoru, on the other hand, lounges against the edge of the shoebox with his arms behind his head.
“You know,” He says lightly, “we could just sleep with you. Just like, squeeze into your bra.” He waggles his brows.
Suguru’s cheeks tint a subtle pink. “Satoru.” He half-scolds, half-groans, but you doubt he’s not as equally interested in the idea.
Satoru just grins wider. “What? I miss full-size cuddle time. This is the next best thing.”
“I am not letting you two tiny idiots loose in my bed.” You declare, but you can’t help laughing. The mental image alone is ridiculous. “This is for your own safety. And my sanity.”
Satoru pouts dramatically, flopping onto his back in the sock-lined nest. “I mean, death by tit crushing is a dream, but fiiiine. If something comes and snatches us in the night because we were all alone in a shoebox, don’t blame me.”
Suguru actually laughs at that, a bright sound that makes your heart melt. “I think we’ll be alright, Satoru.”
You set the shoebox bed on your nightstand, close enough that you can hear them and they can see you. It seems to comfort them to be within sight of each other. Before turning off the lights, you lean down close to their little bed. “Good night, my handsome minis.” You whisper.
Satoru stretches his arms up, and you offer your index finger. He wraps his arms around it, hugging it to his chest and nuzzling his cheek against it. “Good night baby! Don’t let the bedbugs bite. If they do, wake me up, I’ll exorcise them.” He jokes.
Suguru, still chuckling, leans over and presses three tiny kisses to the pad of your finger. It’s such a small, soft sensation it barely registers, but the sweetness of it sends warmth blooming through your chest. “Good night, my love.” He says softly. “Thank you for taking care of us.”
Your throat tightens with affection. They both look up at you with such fondness in their miniature faces that your heart practically melts. You chuckle and whisper, “I love you.”
“I love you more~” Satoru sings back in a whisper. Suguru echoes him “I love you most.”
As you crawl into your own bed, you can’t help but peek one more time at the shoebox. Under the dim glow of a nightlight, you see Satoru scoot closer to Suguru, resting their foreheads against each other. It’s oddly one of the most adorable things you’ve ever witnessed.
Eventually, you turn off the lamp and settle into bed. It takes a while to fall asleep, but knowing your miniature boyfriends are safe beside you, you drift off.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Morning comes and you wake to the sound of giggling and the sensation of something tickling your face.
Squinting against the early sunlight, you find Satoru standing casually on your pillow, leaning over to poke your cheek. His blindfold is off entirely now, revealing those brilliant blue eyes, even at this size, they’re striking.
Suguru stands just behind him, one hand gripping the pillowcase for balance. Both of them are grinning.
“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Satoru chirps.
At some point he and Suguru must have climbed out of their shoebox bed, or maybe Satoru just pestered Suguru up. It’s a short distance for you, but for them it’s like scaling a mountain. The thought of them working together to clamber onto your pillow while you slept is equal parts adorable and concerning.
You rub your eyes, careful not to jostle the pillow. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to make us breakfast!” Satoru declares, flopping onto his stomach dramatically like a star. The motion makes him slide a bit down the slope of the pillow, and Suguru grabs the back of Satoru’s uniform just in time to stop him tumbling off the edge.
Suguru sighs. “It’s around 7. I didn’t want to wake you too early, but someone got bored.”
Satoru wriggles free of Suguru’s hold and sits up. “I was careful! And she was already waking up. Besides, I am hungry again.” He pats his tiny belly.
You can’t help but smile. Even miniaturised, they’re so them. You carefully slide your hand beside your pillow. “Taxi for two?” you offer. They both step onto your palm, and you lift them and set them on the nightstand while you get up.
A short while later, you’re in the kitchen with two little spectators on the counter. Making breakfast is a challenge: what constitutes a portion for someone three inches tall?
After some debate, you end up scramble two eggs for all three of you to share. They each get a spoonful of fluffy egg, which is plenty for them, plus one grape sliced up in half.
Satoru eyes the grape slices with suspicion. “No sweets?” He complains, to which Suguru reminds him that he had a whole three gummy bears for dessert last night and that’s enough sugar for now.
Breakfast goes smoothly enough, aside from Satoru getting a bit of egg on his face as he enthusiastically devours his portion. He insists on washing it off himself, pushing away the corner of a napkin you offer and instead scooping water from the bottle cap to splash his face.
It turns into him pretty much dumping water over his head, soaking his hair and the front of his uniform. He shakes his head like a wet puppy, spraying droplets. Suguru shields himself with a torn piece of paper towel and gives you a long-suffering look.
“I have two children.” You say to Suguru with a mock sigh, dabbing up the mess with a napkin.
Satoru sticks out his tongue at you, hair dripping. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks like a half-drowned baby chick.
You wrap Satoru in a tissue and patting him gently until he’s mostly dry, despite his squeaky protests of “I’m not a pet, stop that!”
Once everyone’s cleaned up and dried, you start thinking about the day ahead. You have errands to run, groceries to buy, but can you really just leave them at home alone? The idea of them unsupervised has you hesitating. Who knows what trouble these two devils in disguise would get into, or what could happen while you’re away.
But taking them out in the big wide world… that has its own risks.
“We’re coming with you.” Suguru says firmly when you bring up the grocery trip. He’s sitting on the rim of an empty coffee mug you laid on its side for them to lounge on. “It’s safer if we stick together.”
“Yes! An outing! We promise to behave.” Satoru adds, all innocent smiles.
That expression might be more convincing if he wasn’t currently attempting to swing from the cord of the window blinds like a playground rope. You clear your throat and he immediately lets go, dropping onto the counter and landing in a crouch. “Totally will behave.” He repeats, nodding rapidly.
You narrow your eyes playfully. “If I take you with me, you have to stay hidden. And no using cursed techniques or causing a scene unless it’s an emergency, got it?”
They nod earnestly.
“Got it.” Satoru says, drawing an X over his heart.
Suguru places a hand over his chest. “We’ll be as discreet as two devils on your shoulders can be.”
His choice of phrase makes you laugh. “Devils on my shoulders… that sounds right.”
You have a feeling you’re in for some mischief whether you agree or not, so you relent. “Okay. But you both stay in my pocket.”
Not five minutes later, you step out of your apartment building with Satoru and Suguru nestled securely in the single pocket of your hoodie. They’d insisted on a hoodie with a long pocket.
“We need space.” Satoru argued, not wanting to share a pocket with Suguru’s elbow jabbing him, and vice versa. So now you have one tiny boyfriend standing on either end.
It’s early enough that the streets aren’t too crowded. You head for the nearby supermarket, occasionally feeling the slight weight and movement of the two in your pocket as they adjust or peek out. Suguru seems content to stay still, but predictably, Satoru can’t resist popping his head up every so often to commentate.
“Woah, that dog is huge!” He gasps at one point. You glance down to see him peering wide-eyed at a leashed great dane passing by, its owner unaware of the miniature man marvelling at their pet.
“Shh!” You gently nudge Satoru’s head back down with a finger. He laughs and disappears back into the pocket.
At the store, you grab a basket and begin browsing the aisles. Every so often, you feel a tiny tug from inside your jacket as Satoru shifts around.
“Are we there yet?” Comes his muffled quip.
“You realise I can hear you perfectly, right?” You mutter under your breath, pretending to examine a box of cereal.
“Just checking.” Satoru snickers. “It’s stuffy in here. Hey, go down that aisle! I smell sweets.”
You bite back a smile and murmur. “We’re not here to buy sweets.”
Yet, when you pass the snack aisle, you hesitate, eyeing a bag of mochi. Immediately, the little devils pounce on your hesitation.
“Ohh, those look soooo good.” Satoru practically sings, peeking over to look at the bag. “You know you want them. Life’s short! Eat the chips!”
Suguru nods sagely. “Why deny yourself? You’ve been so good lately. And we’ll even help you finish them.”
You laugh and resign, reaching over to grab the package. ““Fine, fine. Just stop making a scene, you little imps.” You roll your eyes. “Mochi and maybe some kikufuku.” You know Satoru’s favourites well.
There’s an excited whoop from the right side of your pocket and a triumphant “told you she’d cave” from the left. You shake your head with a grin, before you catch a passing shopper giving you an odd look since you look like you’re talking and laughing to yourself.
You cringe, giving them a tight-lipped, polite smile and move along, except you nearly bump into a stranger who steps into your path.
“Hey, excuse me.” The young man says, flashing what he probably thinks is a charming grin. “I don’t mean to bother, but I just had to say hi. You from around here? Maybe I could get your number?”
You inwardly sigh. This is not the time. You try to brush him in a friendly manner. “Oh, that’s kind of you, but I’m actually in a hurry and–”
Before you can finish, the right side of your pocket where Satoru is hiding, starts wiggling. A tiny yet furious voice squeaks out. “Hey, hey, hey! Back off, dude!”
The man blinks, looking around in confusion. “Uh… what was that?”
Your eyes widen. Oh no. “Huh? I–I didn’t hear anything.” You lie, trying to play it smooth.
But of course, Suguru peeks his little head out just enough for the guy to see a small moving figure, and barks in his small voice. “You heard him. Back. Off.”
Satoru, not to be outdone, pokes his head out too.
The man steps back in alarm, staring at the pocket where the tiny men’s heads are now visibly poking out. “What the–?!” His sentence drifts into stunned silence as he spots Satoru and Suguru, each glaring at him with comically tiny scowls.
Satoru clambers up a bit higher, propping his little hands on the edge of the pocket. “She’s taken, buddy! Move along!”
The poor stranger looks positively freaked out. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times in shock. “I… what… are those dolls…?”
“Dolls?!” Satoru’s indignant squeak could almost shatter glass.
“We’re her boyfriends, you idiot! Now beat it before you really piss us off!” Suguru raises a tiny fist.
That’s when you notice a faint crackle of blue energy. He’s actually summoning a smidge of cursed energy to make a point. A small crackling orb materialises into existence in Satoru’s palm. It’s meant to be his fearsome technique, but at this size it just looks like a tiny sparkler.
“Oh my god! What the hell–?!” The guy nearly trips over his own feet as he stumbles away, deciding that whatever this situation is, he wants no part of it. He power-walks out of the store without a backward glance.
Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“Oh my god.” You mutter, ducking your head and quickly shuffling out of that aisle. Thankfully, the store is nearly empty this early, and no one else caught that little scene.
You glare down at your two troublemakers. “I told you no scenes!”
Satoru looks entirely unrepentant, crossing his arms. “He was trying to flirt with you. That’s an emergency!”
Suguru nods, though a touch more contrite. “Baby, you looked uncomfortable. How do you expect us to just sit back and watch?” His tiny hand pats your stomach through the jacket in a soothing gesture.
It’s hard to stay mad when they had good intentions.
You sigh, the annoyance bleeding away into reluctant amusement. “You two are impossible.”
They both chuckle at that, and you gently nudge them back down into hiding. You finish your shopping, staying clear of any more unexpected encounters.
By the time you return home, you are utterly spent from the constant vigilance required to keep those two in check.
You set the grocery bags down on the kitchen floor and release them from your pockets onto the counter. They hop out, stretching their limbs dramatically as if they’ve been cooped up for hours. It was forty minutes at most.
“Home sweet home!” Satoru hollers, flopping onto a loaf of bread like it’s a plush sofa.
Suguru steps aside just in time to avoid being knocked over by Satoru’s dive. He shakes his head. “Do you have to throw yourself onto everything?”
“It’s called joie de vivre, Suguru. Learn it.” Satoru retorts, making himself comfortable on the plastic-wrapped loaf.
You chuckle and begin unpacking groceries, placing items far to one side of the counter to keep a safe space for your tiny boyfriends. “You two must be worn out from all that, covert ops.”
“Protecting your honour was hard work.” Satoru agrees, grinning. He bounces back onto his feet with sudden energy. “Actually, I could use a snack after all that.”
Suguru gives a suffering sigh. “You just ate, Satoru.”
“Breakfast was ages ago! Pocket travel makes me hungry.”
“You’re as bad as a stray cat.” You tease Satoru. You pluck a single potato chip from a newly bought bag and give it to him. “Here, mighty protector. Enjoy your war spoils.”
He cheers and grabs the chip shard, biting into it with a loud crunch. You can’t help but smile at how pleased he looks. Meanwhile, Suguru politely nibbles on the edge of a sunflower seed you give him.
As the afternoon goes on, you find that “relative peace” still involves plenty of antics.
For one, you catch Satoru attempting to climb up the living room curtains “for exercise.”
He barely makes it halfway before his tiny grip slips and he begins to slide down. With a yelp, he ends up dangling precariously from a curtain tie. You rush over to pluck him off before he can fall. Dangling by the back of his uniform pinched between your fingers, he crosses his arms and pouts.
“I had it under control.” He claims, which earns a soft laugh from Suguru, who was somehow already perched on the curtain rod above, balancing with ease as he looks down at the two of you with an amused expression.
When evening rolls by, you decide to tackle the work emails you need to catch up on, so you set the boys up on your desk with strict instructions to stay put.
“We’ll be right here.” They promise, which obviously, holds true for maybe twenty minutes.
You’re typing away on your laptop when a tiny pale head pops up over the top of your keyboard. Satoru has crawled onto the desk and is now strolling across the keys like it’s a giant playground. His little feet tap across the keys, causing random letters to scatter across the email you were in the middle of typing.
You pinch the back of his clothes and lift him into the air. “Satoru, I can’t work if you’re stomping on the keyboard.” You delete the gibberish he input.
He wriggles his legs a little in your grip, giving you wide, watery blue eyes, the picture of innocent pleading. “I’m boooored.” He whines. “You’ve been staring at that screen forever. Pay attention to meee.” He draws out the last word like a little grumpy.
Suguru climbs up onto your notebook nearby, sitting cross-legged. “We could all use a break.” He suggests diplomatically, though you’re guessing he’s a bit bored too.
You sigh, glancing at the half-finished email. Maybe a short break won’t hurt. These two have been cooped up all day. “Fine. A ten minute break. What do you guys want to do?”
Satoru’s face lights up mischievously. “Open a new tab. I want to show you something.”
That gleam in his eye… you’re immediately suspicious. “What is it?”
“Trust me, you’ll love it.” He says, which does nothing to reassure you.
Still, you humour him and open a fresh browser tab. “Alright, what now?”
“Put me down, please.” Satoru says sweetly. You do, placing him in front of the keyboard. Suguru stands as well, curious but wary. Satoru points to the keyboard. “Now, behold my technological prowess!”
And just like that, Satoru breaks into a sprint, darting from key to key. He uses both feet and hands, hopping around to hit letters in sequence. Suguru gives a loud whistle and claps when Satoru somersaults to reach the enter key with a flourish. You press a hand over your mouth to hide a huge grin.
You watch as he types out “o-t-a-k-u h-o-t g-i-r-l” into the search bar.
The top result reads: “Megan Thee Stallion – Otaku Hot Girl (Lyrics)”.
“Click that!” Satoru says, bouncing on the spot with excitement.
You click, and a video pops up. Instantly, a rap beat plays from your laptop’s speakers. Satoru strikes a pose as the lyrics begin and starts to dance.
He busts out moves like he’s on a stage, although it’s more adorable now that he’s shrunk.
He shimmies his shoulders, pumps his fists, and bobs his head in perfect rhythm. Satoru slides to the center of the keyboard and uses it as his dance floor.
And then he sings along in a squeaky falsetto at the top of his lungs. “Ayy, can’t touch me like Gojo, look good in all my photos!”
On cue, he tips an imaginary pair of sunglasses down his nose and pointing at himself with his thumb when he says “Gojo.”
You can’t stop the burst into laughter that escapes you, nearly doubling over.
Suguru is laughing too, bracing his hands on his knees as he watches Satoru rap about himself with utter commitment.
Satoru doesn’t miss a beat. He moonwalks from the “S” key to the “K” key, then spins around. When “Gojo” comes up in the lyrics again, he tiny cartwheels across the number keys.
By the time the song is over, tears of laughter dampen the area under your eyes. Satoru finishes with a flourish, striking a final pose with both arms crossed over his puffed-out chest, but he’s panting from the exertion of his performance.
“How… was that?” He asks between breaths, slicking back his dishevelled hair with a self-satisfied grin.
You and Suguru share a glance and give an enthusiastic round of applause. “Encore! Encore!” You both cheer.
Satoru beams, clearly pleased with himself. “Thank you, thank you, my most beloved audience.” He squeaks, doing a dramatic bow. “Encore later, autographs after the show.”
You giggle, and let out a sigh as your laughter dies down. “Alright, superstar, break time over. I really need to finish my work.”
“Boooo, work.” Satoru groans, but he lets you gently scoop him up and move him aside so you can reach the laptop again.
“Tell you what.” You say, depositing Satoru next to Suguru by the notebook. “If you two let me finish without distractions, I’ll have some spare time to spend with you.”
“Deal.” Satoru chirrups, plopping down and bending his legs off the edge of a notebook. Suguru nods in agreement, settling beside him. They start chatting quietly, and you catch something about “duet career” and “world tour in a dollhouse,” which makes you smile and shake your head.
You don’t know how long it takes you, but when at last you finish the remaining emails, you close your laptop with a satisfied sigh. “All done.”
You look over to where the boys where sitting, only to see that Satoru has dozed off, sprawled on his back on top of a post-it note, using a bit of the folded paper as a blanket. Suguru is laying next to him, eyes half-closed, as if he was waiting for you.
You check the clock hung up on the wall. It’s late now. The lamp casts a soft glow over the scene of your two tiny lovers, and your heart just about melts. The day has clearly worn them out.
They’re so cute like this, you think, smiling. Your tiny men. Big personalities in little bodies, and a wave of affection and protectiveness washes over you.
As if sensing your gaze, Suguru opens his eyes and sits up. A tiny smile touches his lips. “Finished with work?”
“Finally, yes.” You whisper. “Sorry it took so long.”
He shakes his head. “It’s okay. We had fun earlier.” He looks toward Satoru’s sleeping form and adds, “Today was… actually enjoyable.”
You carefully lift Satoru, post-it and all, trying not to wake him. He mumbles something incoherent and snuggles onto his side, drawing his knees closer to his body. The sight nearly makes you squeal out loud. You transfer him into the shoebox bed on your nightstand. Suguru climbs onto your offered hand, and you set him down beside Satoru.
You lean down close to their little bed. Instinctively, you press a soft kiss to your fingertip and then gently tap it to Satoru’s tiny forehead, then Suguru’s who flushes and rubs the spot as if you’d booped him.
You smile. It’s getting hard to remember that these two miniature beings are the two most powerful sorcerers alive.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The following night comes by faster than you expected, and you’re starting to get irritated by the pile of clean laundry in your bedroom.
However, the moment you toss some clothes onto the bed to fold, you suddenly feel two small weights scrambling onto your shoulders.
Satoru and Suguru have shimmied up your body like two determined squirrels and now each of them is perched on one of your shoulders, dangling their legs and leaning in close to your ears.
“Whatcha doing?” Satoru chirps into your right ear, feigning innocence. Before you can answer, he continues in a conspiratorial whisper. “You don’t really want to fold laundry now, do you? Boooring. Wouldn’t you rather do something fun?”
On your left shoulder, Suguru chuckles. “You’ve been doing so much already.” He coos, voice honeyed and persuading. “You deserve a break. The laundry can wait.”
You recognise exactly what they’re up to, trying to get you to procrastinate. You fight back a smile and put on your best stern tone. “Nahh, I think I really need get this done–”
“Oooor,” Satoru drawls in your ear, stretching out on your shoulder like a lounging imp, “we could all cuddle up and watch a movie instead. Doesn’t that sound waaaay nicer?”
“We can crack open that bottle of wine you like.” Suguru adds enticingly. “And I can even press the play button with my amazing strength, you wouldn’t have to move a muscle.”
They both dissolve into snickers at that, clearly amusing themselves. Your resolve wavers. They make a very tempting case, and their tiny, chipmunk persuasive voices are undeniably cute.
But you also know if you give in to every whim, you’ll be buried in chores later. So you sigh dramatically. “Nice try, little devils.”
Before they can protest, you bring your hands up and flick each of them lightly off your shoulders with your fingertips, first Satoru, then Suguru. You don’t do it that hard, but they’re light enough to get sent flying and tumbling into the soft pile of clothes on the bed.
They go down with unified startled squeaks. Satoru’s is a shrill “waahhh!” while Suguru’s is more of a surprised “oof!” They disappear into the laundry heap.
You peer over to make sure they’re okay, unable to hide your grin. Satoru pops up from under a crumpled sweatshirt sleeve, his white hair mussed and his pride clearly wounded. He looks absolutely indignant.
“Did you just flick us?” He squeaks, as if he can’t believe you dared.
Suguru sits up, shaking off a sock that draped over his head. He doesn’t seem hurt either, just mildly disgruntled, though there’s a reluctant twitch at the corners of his mouth that suggests he almost found it funny.
You cross your arms. “You deserve it.”
Satoru climbs to his feet atop the mound of clothes, puffing out his chest like an angry sparrow.
“Oh oh, you’re so gonna get it now.” He declares, bristling with dramatic fury. “Nobody flicks Gojo Satoru and gets away with it!”
Suguru, recognising the tone, rolls his eyes. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do? Hollow purple her pillow?”
Satoru let’s out a gasp. “You know what? That’s exactly what I’m gonna do!”
He lifts up his tiny hand in a familiar gesture, the crackle of energy gathering between his palms is one you’d recognise anywhere.
“Satoru–”
“Cursed Technique: Hollow Purple!” Satoru shouts, thrusting his hand forward.
Normally, this move from him would create a devastating orb of annihilation.
But in his current state, a flash of purple light glows at the tip of his finger, the size of it no bigger than a marble ball. It floats forward with an almost pitiful slowness, leaving a shimmering trail before colliding with the pillow at the head of your bed.
Poof! The miniature Hollow Purple fizzles on impact, barely scorching the pillowcase and dissipating into a faint puff of smoke.
There’s a beat of silence, you could almost picture the sounds of crickets chirping awkwardly.
You, Suguru, and Satoru all stare at the pillow, which now bears a tiny blackened mark no larger than a coin.
Satoru’s jaw drops. “What?! What was that?!” He squeaks in dismay. Clearly he expected a much grander result.
Suguru presses a hand over his mouth, but you can see his shoulders shaking. A high-pitched sound escapes him, and soon he’s doubled over laughing. “Your… your almighty Hollow Purple!” He manages between squeaky giggles, pointing at the barely singed pillow.
Satoru turns bright red, or as red as his tiny face can manage.
“It’s not funny!” He whines, stomping a foot on the sweatshirt he stands on. “It’s supposed to be huge and impressive!”
A laugh bursts out of you too, both at Satoru’s affronted expression and the silliness of that small Purple attack.
“I mean, it was impressive.” You say, trying and failing to stifle your laughter. “Very… uh… cute.”
“Cute?!” Satoru looks positively scandalised. He flops onto his back on the clothes pile, throwing an arm over his eyes in despair. “This is the worst day of my life.”
Still chuckling, you reach over and gently scoop both of them out of the laundry and into your hands. Suguru is wiping mirthful tears from his eyes. Satoru pointedly refuses to look at either of you, clearly sulking.
“Aww, don’t sulk, my terrifying little sorcerer.” You coo at Satoru, lifting him and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, a blush rises on the tips of his ears, but he only pouts and turns his head away.
Suguru smiles up at you from your other palm. “It was a bit funny.” He says to Satoru, still grinning.
Satoru narrows his eyes at Suguru. “Keep laughing and next time I’ll aim it at you.”
Suguru just pats Satoru’s knee, reaching over easily since you’re holding them close together. “Glad to see your ego’s intact.”
You shake your head, thoroughly charmed by them. “Alright, you two. I liked the little movie date-night idea. I think we have some left over dango in the fridge.”
Satoru’s sulkiness melts almost instantly. He sits up. “Dango and a date-night? I suppose I can accept that apology.” He acts as if he’s doing you a big favour.
You carry them onto the other end of the bed. You prop your laptop up on a stack of books on the bed and queue up a movie you know they both enjoy.
They make themselves comfortable on a pillow you’ve positioned in front of the screen. As the movie starts, both tiny men sprawl out on their stomachs, chins in hands, looking for all the world like two kids at a sleepover.
Satisfied that they’re settled, you head over to the kitchen to grab the dango. A few minutes later, you step back into the room and immediately pause. Something’s not right.
The tablet is still propped up on the bed, Suguru is sitting on the pillow alone, facepalming. And there’s a peculiar giggling coming from somewhere low to the floor.
You follow the sound, raising an eyebrow when you realise it’s coming from… your slipper near the bed.
Slowly, you approach the slipper.
“Where did Satoru go?” You say aloud.
A muffled snicker emerges from inside the fluffy slipper.
Suguru looks up from the pillow, shaking his head.
“I tried to stop him.” He calls over, his tiny voice weary but amused. “He said something about a ‘surprise welcome back from your journey to the kitchen’.”
You smile, playing along and pretending to be oblivious.
“But he’s so small. What if we lose him?” You continue dramatically.
The slipper erupts with squeaky laughter, and before you can react, Satoru springs out of it. Well, “spring” might be generous. It’s more of an energetic hop that sends the slipper tumbling and Satoru rolling onto the carpet at your feet. He’s laughing uncontrollably at his own prank.
“You should’ve seen your face!” He squeals, pointing up at you, tears of mirth in his eyes. “Priceless!”
You stand over him, holding back a laugh. “Hiding in my slipper? That’s low, even for you Satoru.”
Satoru lies on his back, still cackling. “It was perfect! I had you going for a second there, admit it.”
You crouch down and he allows you to pick him up then place him back on the bed, still giggling to himself. He seems to have gotten the pranking out of his system, at least for now.
After the movie, in which Satoru fell asleep to half-way, they’re already settled into their shoebox bed.
“It should wear off by tomorrow or the next day.” Suguru says quietly. He’s sitting down, resting against a folded sock pillow. “As fun as it’s been, I can’t wait to go back to being normal-sized again.”
You smile, reaching to brush a stray strand of hair from his face. “Me too. I miss your real hugs. And it’s been a workout keeping track of you both.”
Suguru actually looks a touch guilty at that. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to make it hard for you.”
“I know.” You curl your hand around the shoebox in lieu of a proper hug. “I’ve honestly loved taking care of you guys. Even if you drove me a little crazy.”
He chuckles softly. “We appreciate it.”
From the shoebox, Satoru lets out a tiny sleep-mumble: “M’ppreciate youuu…” Still half asleep, he wriggles closer to Suguru and nuzzles into his side, seeking warmth. Suguru’s expression softens in that way it only ever does for you and Satoru. He puts an arm around Satoru instinctively.
You can’t help but softly coo at them.
“Good night.” You whisper, reaching out to gently stroke Suguru’s back with your fingertip through the tiny t-shirt of his clothes.
Suguru tilts his head into your touch, like a content cat. “Good night.” he whispers back. “Thank you, and… sweet dreams.”
You’re feeling a mix of exhausted and a little sad that this chapter is coming to an end. As much as you want them back to normal, a part of you is going to miss having Little Satoru and Little Suguru to dote on and laugh with.
You sigh, switching off the lamp and climbing into bed, feeling their presence small and safe beside you.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
You stir awake feeling strangely constricted and very warm.
Blinking groggily, you attempt to roll over, but something solid pins in place you on either side. Panic flashes through your sleepy mind, until a second later you recognise the familiar weight of a muscular arm draped over your waist.
With a gasp, you tilt your head up and find yourself nose-to-nose with Satoru. A full-sized, six-foot-three Satoru, eyes closed and breathing evenly in deep sleep. On your other side, practically sandwiching you, is Suguru, equally full-sized and peaceful in slumber.
Relief and joy surge through you. They’re back! And now you’re the one who feels tiny compared to their solid forms pressed against you.
You wiggle an arm free and gently brush a lock of snowy hair off Satoru’s forehead. He stirs, lashes fluttering. Those brilliant blue eyes blink open and take a moment to focus on your face. Then they go wide.
“Oh.” He croaks, his morning voice low and rough, and back to normal. A slow, dazzling grin spreads across his face. “Hi.”
“Hi.” you whisper, beaming.
He stretches the arm draped over you, flexing his fingers, then looks down at himself. “Did you see? I’m huge and gorgeous again.” With a gleeful laugh, he wraps both arms around you and rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him in one swift motion. “And you’re tiny now!”
You yelp at the sudden movement, then burst into laughter as you find yourself sprawled on Satoru’s chest. “I’m not tiny, you meanie, I’m regular.” You protest.
He just laughs and plants a big kiss on your mouth. “Same difference. God, I missed this! I can kiss you without tasting your giant skin cells or whatever.”
“Eugh, I don’t need that description!” You swat at him playfully, both of you giggling uncontrollably.
A deep groan comes from beside you.
Suguru, woken by the commotion, props himself up on one elbow. His hair is loose and mussed from sleep, cascading around his shoulders. He blinks at the two of you for a moment, then a knowing smirk tugs at his lips. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
“Get over here, grumpy.” Satoru says.
In one fluid motion, still hugging you with one arm, he reaches out with the other, grabs a fistful of Suguru’s shirt and yanks him over. You squeal as you’re suddenly smushed between the two of them, Satoru’s strong arms locking both you and Suguru in a joyous embrace.
Suguru’s surprised protest is muffled somewhere above your left ear. He ends up half on top of you, face buried in Satoru’s shoulder.
“Satoru!” He begins, but then he just sighs and laughs quietly, giving in. One of his arms wraps around both you and Satoru in return, completing the hug. “God, I missed this.” He admits softly.
Satoru peppers kisses on the top of your head, then turns and smacks a big kiss against Suguru’s lips as well.
“Finally.” Satoru sighs with immense satisfaction. “I can hold both my beautiful girl and my handsome man properly again.”
He nudges Suguru’s forehead with his own. “I love you, you sap.” Then turns to lightly nuzzle his nose on your own.
Suguru’s expression softens. “I love you too.” He then turns to you and leans in to kiss you sweetly on the forehead. “And you.” He murmurs.
You blush under the warmth of both their gazes. “I love you both.” You reply, reaching up to caress Suguru’s cheek and then Satoru’s.
After a lazy few minutes tangled in bed, you make the mistake of trying to slip out from between them. Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist immediately, dragging you back against his chest.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
“Breakfast.” you protest softly. “I was gonna make coffee–”
You cut yourself off when you notice Satoru and Suguru exchanging a glance. A silent conversation passes between them that usually means they’re plotting something.
You raise a suspicious eyebrow. “Okay, what’s that look about?”
Satoru rolls over so that he’s half on top of you like a very clingy human blanket. His hair is a wild halo against your cheek. “You’ve been running around after us for three days. It’s your turn to be taken care of.”
You blink, turning your head slightly. “But I was just gonna–”
“Nope.” Suguru interrupts, popping the ‘p’. “Denied. Blanket jail.” He shifts behind you, hand sliding along your hip to keep you in place. “You don’t move an inch today. We want to spoil you.”
You try to protest, but your voice comes out weaker than intended. “You don’t have to–”
Satoru leans back slightly to look at you, raising a brow. “We want to. We’ll do the laundry, and make breakfast, and even feed you ourselves.” He says, softer now. “So, stop fighting it.”
You pout at him, but way he brushes his knuckles across your cheek, like you’re the most precious thing in the world, makes your chest ache with affection. Behind you, Suguru kisses the curve of your shoulder.
“Okay, fine.” You sigh, unable to suppress your smile.
They grin.
You relax fully for the first time in days, melting back into the cocoon of limbs and blankets. Satoru tugs the covers higher, tucking them snug around the three of you, while Suguru draws lazy circles on your side beneath the sheets.
“Ghibli movie marathon?” Suguru mumbles against your skin.
Your eyes light up at the idea and you nod.
As the opening of the movie you settled on plays on your laptop, you gaze at Satoru and Suguru’s faces flanking yours. And as Satoru absentmindedly starts playing with your hair, and Suguru intertwines his fingers with yours under the blanket, you think that maybe tiny men or not, you wouldn’t trade them for anything.
end notes: *sighhhhhh* i love me a happy poly satosugu
sum!! After staying up late reading an emotional fanfic, a college student wakes to find the fictional love interest—Satoru Gojo—somehow real and lying beside her. Confused and out of place in the real world, Satoru begins to unravel. As they grow closer, they share laughter, secrets, and something deeper… even as time threatens to take him away. But sometimes, endings aren’t what they seem.
CW: MDNI, Romance,Contemporary Fantasy, Soft Sci-Fi, Magical Realism, Bittersweet, Angst with comfort, Temporary Love, Borrowed Time, Soft Smut, First Time Together, nerdjo cameo, soft dom, Memory Loss / Fading Reality Unexpected Second Chance. WC: 10.9k
It’s 1:41 a.m., your eyes are puffy, your nose is running, and you’ve just finished sobbing over a fictional man named Satoru who doesn’t even exist. And yet, somehow, he broke your heart like he did.
You’re curled up on your side in bed, blanket cocooned around you, the glow of your laptop screen still burning into your tired, emotional retinas. You knew what kind of fic it was going in—CEO AU, enemies-to-lovers, workplace drama. Classic. But nowhere in the tags did it say “character death.”
You sniffle loudly and scroll back to reread the last paragraph, as if torturing yourself again will somehow dull the pain.
“I should’ve said it sooner,” he whispered, blood soaking into the snow, eyes never leaving hers. “It was always you.”
The lights from the city faded behind him. And he didn’t blink again.
[End.]
You shut the laptop hard enough to rattle your desk.
“You’re kidding me,” you mutter out loud, nose stuffy and voice cracking. “You killed him? Seriously?! You made me sit through twenty chapters of slow-burn sexual tension, one shared bed trope, three almost-kisses and a forehead touch—just for this?”
You groan, throwing your arm over your face dramatically.
“God, I hate you, Satoru,” you whisper into your pillow. “I hate your stupid perfect face, and your ice-cold business demeanor, and your secretly soft heart, and the way you just died before you even got to live.”
You roll over, flinging a crumpled tissue at your desk.
You sniff, dragging your fingers cross the keyboard to angrily type into the comments.
You:
@shelovesosa HOW DARE YOU. Fix it. Fix it right now or I’ll manifest this man into my bed myself.
“Stupid author,” you add bitterly. “Oh Sosa. May your coffee always be lukewarm and your favorite show get canceled on a cliffhanger.”
With a final sniff, you curl deeper into your sheets. Your brain is spinning in post-fanfic grief. You mumble one last thing, more out of sleep-deprived delirium than real intent:
“…I wish he were real.” You fall asleep with the ache of unfinished stories in your chest.
The morning comes too fast. You’re groggy, head foggy from too many dreams and too little sleep. Your alarm bleats somewhere in the background as you reach to turn it off.
Except your hand doesn’t land on your phone.
It lands on something warm. And solid. And breathing. You freeze. Your eyes fly open.
There’s a shape beside you in bed. A weight. The blankets are shifted, your mattress slightly dipped like someone else is laying there. Slowly, you turn your head.
And the world tilts. There’s a man in your bed. White hair. Pale skin. Shirtless. Lean muscle. His face is turned toward the window, but even from this angle— It’s him. Your heart lurches.
Satoru. Not cosplay. Not a dream. Not just similar. It’s Satoru, exactly as he was in the fanfic. Down to the small scar above his brow the author described in chapter six.
Your lips part, no sound coming out. You're frozen. Shaking.
He stirs. Brows knit. Eyes flutter. And slowly, his lashes lift. Blue eyes. He sees you. And everything happens at once.
He jolts upright, sheets sliding off his bare chest. You scream. He flinches.
“Wh—what the hell?!” he chokes, eyes wild. “Where—what is this?! Who are you?!”
You scramble back, nearly falling out of bed. “Me?! Who are YOU?! This is my room!”
He stares at you, chest heaving. “No. No, this isn’t… This isn’t right.”
He looks around, dazed. Confused. His voice is raspy, like it hurts to speak.
“I was in Tokyo,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “It was snowing. I was bleeding. I was with—” He swallows, eyes darting toward you again. “Where is she?”
You blink. “Who?”
He stares. His voice breaks.
“…You’re not her.”
Something cold seeps into your spine. Because you know who he means. The her from the fanfic. The girl he loved before he died.
“But you’re not real,” you whisper. “You’re fictional. You died. I read it last night—I read your death—”
“I remember dying,” he snaps, voice shaking. “I felt it. I saw her crying. And then I woke up here.”
You both sit in stunned silence.
He presses a palm to his forehead. “This is a nightmare. I’m dreaming. Or— Or I was rewritten. Or this is some kind of punishment—”
You crawl slowly to the edge of the bed, still watching him like he might vanish.
“I think I summoned you,” you say weakly. “I cursed the author. As a joke. I said I wished you were real.”
He glares at you like you’re insane. But underneath it all—his trembling fingers, the way he keeps glancing around the room, the panic in his breathing—you see it:
He’s terrified. And it makes your heart hurt.
“…I want to go back,” he finally says.
Your throat tightens. “I don’t know how.”
He stares at you like it’s your fault. Maybe it is.
You clutch your sheets and whisper, “You’re not supposed to be here.”
His voice is flat.
“You’re not supposed to be her.”
You’ve never wanted to faint so badly in your life. He’s still sitting in your bed—your stupid college dorm twin XL bed—with your blush-pink blanket slung over his lap like that’s the most offensive part of all this.
His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and he’s still staring at the wall like it might open up and take him back to wherever he came from. Fiction. Paper. Imagination.
But now he's here. And he’s not pixelated or made of words. He’s real.
“I need to go back,” he mutters again. “She’s waiting.”
You chew your lip. “She’s not real.”
He flinches like you slapped him.
“I mean, she was real to you,” you add quickly. “But… she’s just words. I read her. She’s a reader-insert. She’s a blank space.”
“No,” he says, voice firm. “She was real. I loved her.”
You fall quiet. What are you supposed to say? Sorry, she was just me with better confidence and no student loans?
You sit down slowly on the edge of the bed. Satoru tenses, but doesn’t move.
“This is going to sound absolutely insane,” you start carefully, “but I think I pulled you out of your story. I was mad at the ending, I said I wished you were real, and then… this happened.”
He scoffs. “So I’m a pity project. Great.”
You frown. “No! You weren’t supposed to actually show up! I thought maybe I’d dream about you or something, not… wake up with you in my bed, very shirtless and very confused.”
You realize you’re staring at his chest. You immediately look away.
“This is a glitch,” he mutters. “Some kind of cruel rewrite. I shouldn’t be here.”
You glance at him. “Do you… remember everything?”
He nods. “Every scene. Every chapter. I remember dying.”
There’s a long pause.
“God,” you whisper. “That’s so messed up.”
He finally laughs—but it’s not a happy sound. It’s dry. Hollow. “Tell me about it.”
You rub your eyes. “Okay. Look. We have two problems.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Only two?”
“One,” you hold up a finger, “we don’t know how you got here. Two… you’re glitching.”
He stiffens. “What do you mean?”
“You were flickering,” you say, voice soft. “Just for a second. Like… your edges blurred. Like a dream.”
He doesn’t respond. His jaw clenches, like he felt it, too.
“…So I’m not stable.”
You say nothing. After a moment, he exhales and slumps back slightly.
“God, this is pathetic,” he mutters. “I was the most powerful man in the city. I could ruin a company with one phone call. I had private jets. Now I don’t even have pants.”
You try—try—not to laugh.
“I can get you pants,” you offer.
His eyes narrow. “Don’t pity me.”
“I’m not pitying you,” you lie. “I just don’t think walking around shirtless in a college dorm is going to help your situation.”
He mutters something under his breath but doesn’t argue.
You grab a pair of sweatpants from your drawer and toss them at him. “Bathroom’s down the hall. You’re gonna have to sneak.”
He catches them with ease and stands, still moving like he owns a twenty-story skyscraper. You try not to stare at his back as he walks to the door.
He turns the knob, then pauses.
“…What’s your name?” he asks, glancing back at you.
You blink. “Y/N.”
He stares for a beat.
Then says, quietly, “I don’t remember that being in the story.”
You smile a little. “That’s because I wasn’t in it.”
He hesitates. Then opens the door and vanishes into the hallway.
You spend the next fifteen minutes pacing your room like it’s about to burst into flames. There’s a fictional man in your dorm bathroom.
You summoned him. You broke something. Maybe the universe. Maybe yourself.
He’s glitching. You don’t know how long he has. And he’s desperate to get back to a girl who doesn’t exist. But for some reason, he’s still here. Still real. And you don’t know what that means yet.
You’re sitting on the edge of your twin bed, clutching a lukewarm cup of instant coffee and trying not to spiral. Because this is real.
It’s not a dream. Not some grief hallucination brought on by staying up too late reading slow-burn fanfiction and eating sour gummies. There’s no typo, no delete button, no author’s note to reverse what’s happened.
Satoru is here.
The fictional man you loved and mourned and cursed the night before is now somewhere in your dorm’s communal bathroom, wearing your ex’s old sweatpants and the expression of someone who’s been yanked out of death and dumped into a college campus like a tossed USB file.
You stare at the door until it creaks open.
He steps inside cautiously, drying his hands on the front of his hoodie. His white hair is still damp, falling slightly in his eyes. He looks softer like this, like less of the towering CEO you met through carefully crafted prose and more like a very lost man who’s trying not to shatter.
You clear your throat. “Everything okay?”
He looks at you, nods stiffly, then glances around the room again like he still can’t quite believe where he is.
“I counted six women brushing their teeth in one bathroom,” he says, sitting on the desk chair like it offends him. “One of them offered me dry shampoo. I don’t know what that is.”
You snort into your cup. “Welcome to dorm life.”
He doesn’t laugh. He just studies you with unreadable eyes. Sharp and searching. Like you’re an answer he doesn’t want to need.
“This place…” he murmurs, gesturing vaguely to your walls cluttered with sticky notes and fairy lights, “this isn’t… scripted.”
You raise a brow. “No. That’s kind of how real life works.”
He leans back, rubbing a hand over his mouth.
“You said I’m not supposed to exist here. So what does that mean? Am I… fading? Am I going to just—stop?”
Your throat tightens. You’ve been wondering the same thing.
“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But you’re still here now. That has to mean something.”
He exhales, head tilting back to stare at the ceiling.
You watch him in silence. His hands are resting on his thighs, long fingers twitching slightly like he’s resisting the urge to reach for something. A phone. A pen. Her. You put your coffee down.
“Look,” you say softly, “I know I’m not her. And I didn’t mean for this to happen. But until we figure out what’s going on, maybe you should just… stay.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Here?”
You nod, cheeks warming. “Just for now. You clearly have nowhere else to go. And I don’t think you're ready to navigate student housing or explain why you don’t have ID.”
Satoru stares at you like the concept of help is foreign. Which, based on the version of him you read about, it probably is.
Finally, he murmurs, “I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity,” you say gently. “It’s a blanket and some time to breathe.”
He looks at you, expression unreadable. But he nods once.
You set up a sleeping bag on the floor that night. It’s the best you can offer in a room barely large enough to fit two people standing up. He lies stiffly on top of it, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like sleep is a stranger.
You lie in bed, eyes open.bYou think about how he held the love of his life while he died. And now he’s here. Not holding anyone.
“Do you miss her?” you whisper.
He doesn’t answer right away. But when he does, his voice is soft.
“I think I miss the way she made me feel. Like I wasn’t just a weapon in a suit.”
You’re quiet.
He adds, a beat later, “But maybe that feeling wasn’t even mine. Maybe I only loved her because someone wrote me that way.”
You turn to look at him. But he’s already looking at you. Neither of you says anything after that.
You wake up to the smell of something burning. Your eyes shoot open, heart already sprinting.
You stumble out of bed, nearly tripping on the sleeping bag where Satoru isn’t anymore. You hear the clatter of pans, the groan of the microwave, and a very muffled, very confused “Why is this machine yelling at me?”
You rush into the kitchenette area down the hall, still barefoot, to find Satoru standing in front of the microwave, poking at the buttons like they insulted his mother.
“What are you doing?” you hiss, half-laughing, half-panicked.
He points at the microwave indignantly. “It said ‘popcorn’ but there were sparks! Sparks, Y/N!”
You grab the bag—oh god, the foil kind—and toss it in the trash before it sets off the building alarm.
He stares at you, wide-eyed, hair slightly messy, wearing your oversized hoodie and sweatpants like he’s a very lost, very pretty houseguest.
“Have you never used a microwave?”
“Why would I?” he asks, completely serious. “I had a private chef in Tokyo.”
You stare at him. He stares back. And then, maybe for the first time since he showed up… you both laugh.
Real laughter. Yours high-pitched and breathless, his deeper, more surprised. It crackles in the small space between you. And for just a second, he doesn't look like a man unraveling.
He looks like a boy. New. Unwritten.
Later, you’re sitting on the floor together, eating cereal straight from the box. His hair keeps falling in his eyes. You reach out without thinking and brush it back.
He freezes. So do you. His eyes meet yours. And for a second—just a second—there’s something like electricity in the air. Not sparks from microwaves. Not glitchy fiction magic.
Something real. You pull your hand back quickly. But he doesn’t stop looking at you.
“…I didn’t feel this way in the story,” he says quietly. “Not like this.”
You glance at him, heart thudding. “Feel what way?”
He doesn’t answer. But his knee brushes yours, and neither of you moves.
That night, he glitches. You're the first to notice. It’s small, at first. You're talking about breakfast cereal—how you mix Frosted Flakes and granola together like a heathen—and he tilts his head, eyes clouding slightly.
“I’ve never had cereal,” he says.
You blink.
“Yes, you did. This morning. You ate like half the box.”
He frowns. “No, I didn’t. We went to that place. With the… tiny pancakes.”
“…Satoru,” you say softly, “that was from Chapter 11. Of the fanfic. The Paris trip.”
His expression blanks. And then something in his face glitches. Like static behind his eyes. It only lasts a moment—but it’s long enough.
He exhales, hand pressed to his forehead. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”
You don’t know what to say.
He looks at you, voice quieter now. “I’m not built for this world. I’m already forgetting.”
You kneel in front of him, gently placing your hand on his. “Then we don’t waste time.”
His breath catches. You hold his hand like it’s the only thing anchoring him here. And maybe it is.
You don’t go to class the next day. You don’t even pretend to.
You tell yourself it’s because you’re “monitoring the anomaly” or “preserving the fabric of reality.” But really, it’s because Satoru wakes up on the floor with the most lost look on his face and whispers, “Where am I again?” and it breaks your heart clean in half.
You sit with him until he remembers. Your name. The coffee spill. The dorm microwave. He laughs about the popcorn again, a little shakier this time. But it still counts. After that, you don’t leave his side.
The two of you walk the campus late at night when no one’s around. He keeps staring at trees like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
“I didn’t have these,” he murmurs. “Not like this. The ones in the fic were always perfectly sculpted. Background props.”
You smile softly. “These ones grow crooked. They drop leaves. Sometimes birds poop on you.”
He tilts his head. “I like them better.”
You take him to the library next. He walks the rows of books with reverent hands, trailing fingers across every spine like he’s scared they’ll vanish.
“I thought I knew words,” he says, voice low. “But this is different. These were made by people. Not an author playing God. Just… people.”
You nod. “People with lives. Mistakes. Ugly handwriting and messy endings.”
Satoru turns to you.
You don’t know what he sees in your face, but it’s enough to make him pause.
“You’re not what I expected,” he says.
You raise an eyebrow. “Expected from what? Fanfiction?”
He shakes his head. “No. From reality.”
You teach him how to use your phone. He FaceTimes the pizza place by accident and panics when someone picks up.
You try to explain memes, which leads to you both scrolling through TikToks on your bed for an hour straight. He becomes obsessed with cooking videos.
At one point, your head drops onto his shoulder. He doesn’t move. His breathing slows, steadies, like he’s memorizing the shape of you. Neither of you says anything about it.
You stay up one night talking. Really talking. You're lying side by side on your bed, not touching, but so close your arms are brushing.
“I used to think I was in love with her,” he says.
You stare at the ceiling. “The version of me from the story.”
He nods. “But she didn’t challenge me. She didn’t argue. She was soft in all the ways the author needed her to be.”
You don’t say anything. You’re not sure how to feel.
He turns his head to look at you. “You’re not soft.”
You blink. “Gee, thanks.”
“I don’t mean it like that,” he murmurs. “You’re… messy. Complicated. Real. You snore.”
You shove his arm lightly, and he grins.
But then his smile fades.
“I’m scared I won’t remember this,” he whispers.
You turn your head slowly. He’s staring at you like he’s memorizing you.
“I’m scared I’ll forget you.”
Your chest tightens.
You whisper, “Then I’ll remember for both of us.”
Something shifts in the space between you. Like gravity pulling tighter.
You don’t kiss. Not yet. But his hand inches closer to yours. And this time, when your fingers touch— You hold it tighter.
It starts small again. A pause mid-conversation.
A moment where Satoru tilts his head and says, “Remind me what this is again?” while pointing at something he’s already asked about twice.
You want to pretend it’s nothing. That he’s just distracted. But then you catch him standing by the window later that evening, staring out at the streetlight like it’s the only thing anchoring him.
“Do you remember this morning?” you ask quietly, stepping beside him.
He turns slowly. “…Was there cereal?”
You nod.
He gives you a sad smile. “I forgot the flavor.”
You don’t know what to say. So you walk over, wrap your arms around his torso, and press your cheek to his chest.
His breath catches. You feel his arms come up, slowly, hesitantly. Like he’s afraid he’ll crush you. Like if he holds you too tightly, he might disappear completely.
His chin rests on top of your head. His heartbeat is loud beneath your ear. Neither of you moves for a long time.
That night, he doesn’t want to sleep on the floor.
“I know I said I would,” he mutters, eyes flicking toward the sleeping bag. “But I just… I don’t want to feel far from you right now.”
You nod. You move over. He climbs in beside you. He stays on his side at first. Doesn’t touch you. But eventually, in the dark, his fingers find yours beneath the covers.
He holds your hand like it’s the last thread connecting him to the world. And maybe it is.
You dream of water. A soft tide pulling you away. Something fading. When you wake, he’s already looking at you. His hand is on your cheek. His thumb brushes just under your eye.
“I had a dream,” he whispers.
You hum sleepily, not opening your eyes. “What about?”
“I was back,” he says. “In the story. She was there. The office. The desk. The skyline.”
You open your eyes. He’s quiet for a long time.
Then: “But I didn’t feel anything.”
You turn to face him. “What do you mean?”
“I saw her. But she didn’t look like you. She looked like a blank space. Like a fill-in. She smiled at me, but it wasn’t you.”
He reaches for your face again.
“This world is loud. Messy. Exhausting. And I still want to stay in it.”
Your throat burns. “You might not get that choice.”
He leans in, forehead resting against yours.
“I know.”
Silence. Just your breath and his. Then he whispers:
“But if I’m going to vanish, I want to remember you.”
It’s quiet in the room. The kind of quiet that hangs between words never spoken. Between goodbyes that haven’t happened yet.
You lie beside him, breath soft, chest rising and falling in rhythm with his. His hand is still resting over yours beneath the blanket, fingers loosely entwined like a tether to reality. His thumb brushes gently along your knuckles.
“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice nearly lost in the hush of the room. “Are you okay?”
His eyes are already on you. He doesn’t answer for a long time. Then: “No.”
Your heart twists.
“I feel like I’m slipping,” he says, voice low, a little raw. “Like parts of me are coming undone. I try to remember the story, the office, the people... it’s all fog. But you—” His hand tightens around yours. “You’re the only thing I still feel.”
You swallow, throat thick. “Then hold on to me.”
His gaze drops to your lips.
“Can I?” he whispers. “Really hold you? Just once. Before I forget?”
You nod. The moment stretches. And then he leans in.
The kiss is slow. Uncertain at first, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish too. But when you sigh against his mouth, it deepens—his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head so he can kiss you fully. Thoroughly.
He kisses you like he wants to taste your memory. Like he’s carving the shape of you into whatever part of him still exists beyond the glitch.
You shift closer, and his hand slips beneath your shirt, splaying across your waist. His palm is warm. Steady. You shiver at the contact.
“Tell me what you want,” you whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at you.
“You,” he says. “Slow. Real. I want to make it count.”
You sit up slightly, letting him pull your shirt over your head. His eyes trail over you, and something in them breaks. Reverence. Hunger. Grief.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t get to see you like this.”
You press your hands to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding beneath your palm. His hoodie comes off next, followed by his shirt, and you press your lips to his skin—his collarbone, his sternum, the small scar just under his ribs like the one described in the story. But it’s different seeing it here. Seeing him here. Alive. Real. Yours, even if only for tonight.
He lies back and pulls you with him, hands exploring your body like you’re something precious—trailing down your sides, across your back, fingers gripping your thighs with quiet desperation.
When you grind against him slowly, feeling the thick press of him through his boxers, his breath catches hard in your ear.
“You’re killing me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “You’re so soft—so warm—I didn’t know this part of the world could feel so… good.”
You roll your hips again, and he groans deep in his throat, hands locking tight on your waist.
“Need to feel you,” he whispers. “All of you.”
You shift your weight and reach down, guiding him free from his boxers, his cock hard and hot in your palm. His breath hitches as your fingers wrap around him gently, stroking once—slow and curious.
His voice is ragged. “Please.”
You press a kiss to his lips, then rise just enough to line yourself up.
And when you sink down onto him, he gasps—eyes fluttering shut, head falling back against the pillow.
“Oh god—”
You’re both breathing heavy now.
You pause, adjusting to the stretch of him, the tightness between you. His hands slide up your thighs, then settle at your hips, holding you still as he tries not to lose control too soon.
“You feel… perfect,” he chokes. “Better than anything I’ve ever known.”
You begin to move, slow and careful, your bodies rocking together in a rhythm that feels older than either of you. His hands roam—palming your breasts, sliding up your spine, gripping your hips as you roll against him with aching tenderness.
“Satoru,” you whisper, leaning over him, your forehead pressed to his.
He opens his eyes. And in them—desperation. Need. Love.
“I don’t want to forget this,” he says again, voice breaking.
“Then remember me like this,” you whisper. “Remember the way I feel. The way I look at you. The way you make me feel so full, like I was meant to hold you.”
He groans at your words, thrusting up into you with more force. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders, meeting him with matching urgency.
It builds between you—need turning sharp, trembling, sacred.
You come first—tightening around him, breath catching as you moan his name through clenched teeth, nails digging into his back.
He follows you seconds later, holding you tight to him as he spills inside you, your names tangled in breathless gasps.
Afterward, you lie on his chest, both of you still shaking. His hand runs gently down your spine. You feel him press a kiss to your temple.
“You’re the best thing I never got written for,” he whispers.
You don’t answer. You just hold him. Because you know what’s coming next. And he’s slipping again.
you lie with him for a long time. His body is warm, tangled with yours beneath the blanket, his breath steady against your shoulder. One hand rests lazily over your stomach, like he’s anchoring himself to your skin.
You’re not sure how long you stay like that—wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes after something true.
But eventually, you feel his fingers twitch. Then still. Then again.
“Satoru?” you whisper.
He blinks slowly, then furrows his brows like something's wrong.
“…What was your name again?”
Your heart drops.
You sit up, brushing hair out of his face. “Don’t joke.”
“I’m not,” he says, voice quiet. Distant. “I know you. I feel like I know you. But it’s slipping. Like I’m trying to hold water in my hands.”
You press your palm to his cheek. “You’re still here. You’re still with me.”
He nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. That’s when you realize—This is it. He won’t last much longer. Whatever brought him here—whatever magic, glitch, miracle—it’s running out.
And if he goes like this, half-glitched, half-lost, it’ll break both of you. So you do the only thing you can.
You get out of bed. Pull on a hoodie. And sit at your desk. The words don’t come easy at first. But then your fingers move. Not on your phone. Not in a fanfic comment thread. On paper.
With a real pen, real ink, real hands. You write him an ending. A soft one.
Where he’s not a CEO haunted by guilt. Not a tragic man doomed to die before he can fall in love. You write him waking up in a quiet home, sunlight through curtains, coffee in a chipped mug, a cat that curls on his lap. You write him laughing. You write him safe. You write him at peace.
And you write that he gets to say goodbye. When it’s done, you read it aloud to him. Your voice shakes.
He listens, seated on the edge of your bed, blanket wrapped around his hips, eyes full of something that doesn’t feel like a glitch anymore. It feels like gratitude.
When you finish, you look up. He’s smiling softly.
“You did it,” he whispers.
“I gave you an ending,” you say. “You deserved one.”
He stands. Walks to you. And kisses you again. This one is slower. Full of something final.
“Thank you for writing me something better,” he says against your lips.
Tears well in your eyes. “Thank you for being real. Even just for a little while.” His fingers linger on your cheek.
He vanishes in the morning. Not with fanfare. Not with light or thunder or spark.
Just… A flicker.
You’d gone to brush your teeth. You’d left him tangled in your sheets, watching you from the bed with sleep-soft eyes and a crooked smile.
You came back— And the sheets were cold. You say his name once. Then again, louder. But there’s no answer. No trace. No indent in the pillow. No warmth in the blankets.
Just a silence so sharp it cuts. You don’t cry at first.
You sit on the edge of the bed, fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, blinking at the place he had been just hours ago. You try to replay his voice in your head, his laugh, the things he whispered against your skin. You press your face into your pillow and breathe deep, desperate to find even a trace of him.
But all you smell is fabric softener and loss. He’s gone. Like he never belonged here at all.
You grieve quietly. You carry his memory in the scribbled pages of your notebook, worn at the edges from being opened again and again. But you don’t write for him anymore. You write for yourself.
You don’t talk about it. How could you? You go back to class. You go back to microwaving leftovers. You scroll past fanfiction tags and never click again.
Some nights you still whisper his name in the dark, just in case he hears it. But he never answers. You begin to believe maybe he was just a dream after all. A beautiful, impossible dream.
Three months later, on the first warm day of spring, you’re sitting outside the library, notebook open, headphones in, sunlight catching in your lashes.
You almost don’t hear it.
“Excuse me—,” someone says.
You look up. And your heart stops.
A young man stands hesitantly before you, holding a crumpled campus map. His glasses slip slightly down his nose, his hair tousled from the breeze.
He looks unfamiliar yet somehow familiar.
“Could you help me? I’m completely lost,” he says, voice gentle but uncertain.
“Do you know where the science building is?” he asks, sheepish. “I’ve been walking in a circle for like twenty minutes.”
You stare. He’s different. No polished arrogance. No CEO swagger. No tailored suit. But it’s still him. That face. Those eyes. That voice.
You slowly take out your earbuds.
“…What’s your name?” you manage, breath shallow.
He smiles at you—confused, but kind.
“Satoru,” he says. “Satoru Gojo.”
Your lips part. His gaze lingers on your face for a moment too long. Then—
“Have we met before?” he asks, tilting his head.
“No, we haven’t met,” you whisper.
He chuckles, eyes bright.
“Maybe it’s a good thing. A new story.”
And as the sunlight pools around you both, you realize some endings are just beginnings in disguise.
❥Synposis- Satoru Gojo never believed in fairy tales—until he found one standing right in front of him. A real, flesh-and-blood fairy, in his forest. He should’ve been concerned, maybe even terrified, but mostly? He was just shocked as hell.
Fairies weren’t real. They belonged in bedtime stories, not in the middle of his hunt, staring at him like he was the strange one. And yet, days passed, and she didn’t vanish like a dream. Instead, she became something else entirely—something dangerous, something forbidden. Keeping her close is reckless. Letting her go? Impossible.
❥Gerne/theme- MDNI. Explicit sexual content, lot of sexual tension, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, forbidden love, fantasy AU, mention of fire and deaths, blood, abuse, possessiveness, SA attempts, longing, sacrifices, reunion, seperation, fluff too <3 happy ending.
They're all so stereotypical that it feel like a white person wrote it in the 1990's
I do not want to be called "mama", I do not speak or look like glorilla or sexxy red, I do not cus every other sentence like im a south park character, I do not only care about sex or money or drugs, and it is crazy how I am unable to find a black x reader that doesn't have at least one of these things.
I am on tumblr because I am weird, because I was bullied, because this was the only place me, as well as other marginalized communities, felt safe and heard, i came here to escape the racism and stereotypes of my race, i came here to find nuance, to find other weird ppl like me.
But now all I find are ppl from TikTok who think all fanfiction are amateur playwright for pornos.
These people who make these fanfictions probably don't know the first this about ao3, fanfiction culture, or probably Tumblr culture for that matter.
I have seen many other post that share my opinion so I know I'm not alone, but I still can't find any actual change.
For people who claim to be "representing black people" in fanfiction, they sure like to only represent the stereotypical version of us that racist wish to perpetuate to use against us.
Stereotype black reader x character is really making poc look bad. It's truly disheartening for new comers and older readers who just want to be included.
IMPORTANT: Reblogged versions of the list may not be most recent; click here for the latest.
List usage: Thoughts welcome. This project is my little contribution to our space here on tumblr, having seen comments about difficulties finding black authors and artists. I'm familiar with an incredible number of creators now; I'm so proud of us. I choose to do this unsolicited and unfortunately, this may not be a needed solution. I formatted the list about a year ago and have maintained it, which I think is something important and unique about it (every entry checked about once a month), hoping it might be beneficial. Many of you send thanks for being added to the list. But within the last year, less than five individuals have shared with me that they've actually used it (likes and reblogs aren't necessarily indicative of that) and very, very few have either asked to be added or sent additional writers/artists my way. Those requests have been clear virtually since the beginning. Without feedback I assume the list isn't impactful and that's fine. I'll wait until the end of March to decide whether to continue. Love you all! ❤︎
We're here: Support, enjoy, follow, comment, reblog- pin/save and spread!
Monthly upkeep: 2/3/2025. List includes blogs active within the last 3 months. See also "Inactive with Content" section
List begins below housekeeping, then a few of my thoughts.
Using the list? If you find works you enjoy, let me know; I'd like to know whether this is helpful.
IMPORTANT NOTES ABOUT THE LIST | #-G
H-O | P-Z
Welcome & Celebrate! Darlings: This is a directory of Black individuals who create- different backgrounds, experiences, interests, etc-incl. a variety of preferences, writing styles, subgenres, fandoms, etc. Remember as you read: We don't all look alike, talk a like, live alike- and that's to be praised.
The focus is fan works creators: You’ll see some original fics/original art, and plenty of original characters in general.
Initial seeds for the list here: Thanks to @cardierreh15 who posted a request for black creators -> I organized, aggregated and continue to add.
Growing it:
The list ISN’T exclusive, no requirements for inclusion**.
DM me- incl. fandoms and tags (see below). Please spell correctly. I strongly encourage masterlist and/or featured tags for your blog!
Tag examples- smut, fluff, plot (plot plot) drama, mature, comfort, angst, series, 5k+ fics, humor, dark content, lgbtq+; illustration, comics; or your own.
Upkeep: I check the entire list monthly for removed blogs, name changes, etc. If you notice something, let me know. I will remove your entry if you ever prefer that.
Check out: @blkwriters ( @ramonathinks damn, the tags the organization of it wow)
content tags are not all inclusive.
abbrevs/definitions/listing of genres, styles, etc. here
no masterlist? search within the blog for fandom titles, characters, etc.
Find something you love? Reblog comment repeat!
Looking for something in particular? DM me.
#
555sage (wwe- jay critch, dave east, more)
A
a-lumos-in-the-nox (harry potter, mcu- character x oc, fluff,
smut, angst, dead dove don't eat, series, multi-chapter)
abinitioart
@ablackfangirl (mha, jjk, h!!, naruto, aot, seraph of
Some thoughts, with respect (roll your eyes if you’d like, it’s a lot of the same ole same old… if you do roll your eyes, send me a video of you doing it and I’ll try to care… jk I’m being cheeky, but there may be some newer folks here who might find this helpful!!):.
We’re very obviously diverse in artistic/creative style, speech, experience, philosophies, takes on the world, how frequently we post/ how prolific, our perspectives, personalities, all that… so find what you like, skip what you don't (Settings - Filtering for what you don’t want to fully see or just block). REBLOG (THEY’RE FAR MORE IMPORTANT THAN LIKES). GIVE PRAISE. THANK PEOPLE. particularly with specifics (I’m working on all this too, my lazy ass), we don’t need more of us to leave… ✔️
Creating and pinning a masterlist is SO HELPFUL! ppl can better find your original works OR use a unique tag for each of your works so that ppl can search within your blog. ✔️
Tagging is important for your works and what you reblog- character or fandom x black reader, x black!reader, x fluff, x smut, x smut with feelings, #blk fanfic writers, #blk writers, # blk fanfiction, see how others use tags, there are a shit ton more ✔️
Adding name and age to your blog is smart. Many, many folks have blogs that include explicit content and topics, and they choose to use age restrictions block those who follow or reach out to interact if a name/age aren’t listed on that person’s blog ✔️
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Besos, Hazel 💋
blk fanfic writer, triangularz
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**Nothing about this list is official or bound by any kind of external requirements/others' expectations- this is a project l've created. There are some content topics I'm uncomfortable with, so if I happen to skim, and note that a blog contains:
glorification of/detail recounting of themes like inc*st, harm to minors, r*pe/noncon, glorification of abuse or similar, I will not add.
As I spot check or if others notify me and I verify, I'll remove. I'll do so quietly, no call outs or big to do's
If I don't feel comfortable with other topics, etc. I have the right to exclude and again, that would be discretely. I'm talking primarily about content concerns, not blog exclusion because of petty foolishness or anything like that. I want as many of us as possible to be listed! ✔️
