Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Henry!Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
✑ Love-Performing Night by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •
Synopsis: An actress at Covent Garden and the neighbour of a certain eccentric detective, you're equal parts flustered and delighted when a Mr. Sherlock Holmes arrives backstage.
✑ Utmost Merit by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •
Synopsis: Sherlock presents you with a most unconventional proposal.
✑ When We Were Young by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F᜶A〕 •
Synopsis: You were an only child, a girl (which had disappointed your parents), and while you loved to learn, you hated your governess. You were curious, a little wild, and lonely.
✑ A Work Proposition by zodiyack • 〔F〕 •
Synopsis: After witnessing your, another detective, interaction with Sherlock, Enola sees a perfect opportunity to play Cupid.
✑ An Absolute Mess by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •
Synopsis: Your Aunt sent you a, moderately frantic, letter requesting help tidying up after one of her more peculiar tenants.
✑ Don't You Remember || Prt. 02 by iguana-eyanna • 〔A〕 •
Synopsis: Sherlock is hired by an old flame that claims that a family heirloom has been stolen, but he has suspicions of why he was hired in the first place.
✑ Enigma by iguana-eyanna • 〔A᜶F〕 •
Synopsis: When Sherlock comes at your door seeking help, you two realize you can't deny the pull you have on each other.
✑ Exactly What You Need by delicate-moon-princess • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: It seems Sherlock understands your needs better than you do.
✑ Experiment, the || Prt. 02 by maximsdeadwife • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: When you married Sherlock, you discovered a side to him that you would never have expected. A side that was only for you.
✑ Family Man by buckybarnesthehotshot • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Synopsis: In which Sherlock, along with other ladies of high society, learns his wife is with child.
✑ Fresh Air and Exercise by daydreaming-in-letters • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: Sherlock may refuse to join, you for an afternoon walk, but that doesn't mean he has to pass up on the much needed exercise altogether.
✑ Give It Up by theplaid-wearingmoose • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: When Enola had told him he needed to learn to give up control sometimes, he was fairly certain this is not what she had meant.
✑ Hair by buckybarnesthehotshot • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: You have a habit of playing with your husband's hair. Eventually, He decides he wants to start doing the same with yours.
✑ If Only You Would Know by espinosaurusrexex • 〔A᜶C〕 •
Synopsis: You and Sherlock are in love; Enola is sure of it. However, she is forced to watch you tiptoe around the topic for an eternity. So when the opportunity arises, and Sherlock is forced to confront his feelings towards you, she does not hesitate.
✑ Jigsaw by andsheloved • 〔F᜶A〕 •
Synopsis: As you wonder what it would be like for him to return your affections, Sherlock finally understands what he would sacrifice to fit within your world.
✑ Most Beautiful Riddle, the by espinosaurusrexex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: Sherlock Holmes never entertained the idea of marriage. That was, until you came along and turned his world upside down. After a year of love and happiness, he is finally ready to ask the question. There is just one problem: How is he ever to make the proposal worthy of his one true love?
✑ On Subjects of the Heart || Prt. 02 by andsheloved • 〔A〕 •
Synopsis: Sherlock has a good head on his shoulders; he's straightforward, critical, and almost painfully logical, so why have you had his mind swimming with thoughts that are anything but?
✑ Only Women, the by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F᜶A〕 •
Synopsis: Once upon a time you and Sherlock were the closest of friends but once he left home he never contacted you again, that is until Enola disappears.
✑ Only You by thisisawonderfulusername • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Synopsis: After becoming pregnant, you notice that Sherlock has been distancing himself. he finally returns home after at least a month of being gone.
✑ Propriety by andsheloved • 〔F᜶C〕 •
Synopsis: Sherlock was sure his heart stopped when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, all because of him. He has to take care of you. He has to… who cares if the only way he can be in the room… is to tell them he's your husband? Certainly not him. Absolutely not.
✑ Pubs & Pebbles by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔E᜶F〕 •
Synopsis: […]
✑ Pulse Point by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: To help him relax in the midst of a trying case, Reader exploits Sherlock’s only vulnerability.
✑ Red Carnation by shotgunbunny • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: Sherlock's jealousy shines through and makes you annoyed, to make amends he shows you how he's loved you all these years.
✑ Riotous by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: A wealthy, titled, chaste young lady such as yourself should most definite… in attendance at a secret back-room boxing match… Neither should a refined and proper detective. Yet, here you both are, two weeks away from your wedding no less…
✑ Run Away by multific • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♡ •
Synopsis: When Sherlock went to work in London, he made a promise, a promise he has to keep and now, even more urgently as your father found a suitor.
✑ Smallest Joys by inknopewetrust • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: The tree in the Holmes' backyard is a place of… peace and laughter… and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well.
✑ Simple Things by dyns33 • 16+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: […]
✑ Sir Snuggles by thisisawonderfulusername • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •
Synopsis: Your niece enlists the help of Sherlock Holmes to find her teddy bear.
✑ Surely Not Love by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •
Synopsis: […]
✑ Taste of Home by delicate-moon-princess • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: You wake up next to, your husband, Sherlock... after months of being apart. It never feels like home when he's gone... now, he's finally back to fill the void in your heart.
✑ Teacups and Telegrams by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F〕 •
Synopsis: Your morning was normal until you received a telegram from your friend Sherlock Holmes with a simple request: help him find Enola.
✑ Thursday 4pm by starkleila • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Synopsis: Enola deduces something about you before Sherlock.
✑ Waiting Game, the by ithebookhorder • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: Sherlock comforts you after a heartbreak…and opens a door for a happier future.
✑ We Meet Again by maarijaaa • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♡ •
Synopsis: After your father stepped down as a detective, you decided to take over... you did not expect a letter standing on your front porch from a person you wanted to leave in the past…
✑ We'll Be Alright by love-strawberry • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: In which you fight but there's no doubt that you'll end up alright.
✑ What It Would Be Like to Love You by cruelfvkingsummer • 〔F᜶M〕 •
Synopsis: What happens when a genius and a hopeless romantic are arranged to be wed?
✑ What They Didn't Know was Missing by iguana-eyanna • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Synopsis: It's hard to coming to terms with becoming a mother, but Sherlock will remind you daily that you are worthy of being one to your child.
✑ Women, the by dyns33 • 〔M᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: After learning of her sister-in-law's jealousy towards Miss Adler, Enola is determined to make her brother realize how he's hurting his wife.
✑ Words Cannot Express by espinosaurusrexex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: In which you and Sherlock have a forever crush on each other.
✑ Your Only Warning by st-juliet • 16+ • 〔E᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •
Synopsis: Alone in the library with you, his betrothed, Sherlock fights to remain a gentleman…
✑ Always Here by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ And I'm the Queen of England by runawayolives • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ At the End of Each Case by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Autumn Morning by henryofsteel • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Blue by fivequartersoftheorange • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Convince Me by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •
✑ Darling by runawayolives • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ En Garde by ithebookhorder • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Game is Afoot Indeed, the by marvelousmando • 〔F〕 •
༊*·˚ sung jinwoo x reader. oneshot. making out. hickeys. angst. break up. exes to lovers. second awakening. s-rank hunter arc. c.ai bot inspired, link down bellow.
͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ You and Jinwoo were the two people no one would ever think that has a history together. Two to three years of separation made Jinwoo frustrated and yet he couldn't do anything.
Two years of searching while balancing his work and finances for his mother and sister made him stressed. Sometimes, he curses himself for being an E-Rank and not being able to be more of a man for you before you moved overseas because you got a second awakening as an S-Rank and he broke it off with you out of fear.
Well, that was a year ago anyway.
Leveling up for a year or two was easy for him. Considering he's a S-Rank hunter by now, he can easily find where you were. But the fact that he has more things to do makes him hesitate to look for you.
However, you just made his job much more easier.
────୨ৎ────
Jinwoo was a fragile man.
Back when he was an E-Rank hunter, he was timid and would jump into numerous life or death situations. Despite his rank and mana level, he still pushes through for the sake of his family and, you.
You were an A-Rank hunter and possibly one of the most trusted people in your party. You've led parties and still shared evenly, hence why Jinwoo fell in love with you.
At first, you were curious who this weakest hunter of all mankind was until you saw him, a cutie with long bangs and a friendly atmosphere. To be fair, you became his personal shield and always talked to the people who dared to disrespect him just because of his rank. You saw him as a little brother or someone you felt the need to protect until he proposed for a date.
None of the people in the party would even expect that you and Jinwoo would actually hit it off. "I mean, c'mon, Y/n's a total baddie with a weak hunter!?" Is what they always said. However, you paid no attention and always reassured Jinwoo's the only one.
It wasn't until when you went inside a gate that it turned into a red gate, urging you and your party to finish the job quickly before any casualties happens. No one would've expected that because of this phenomenon, you would receive a second awakening.
Of course, you jumped right into an S-Rank as soon as you woke up. The Hunter's Association announced you as their 10th S-Rank a few months after Cha Haein's appearance, which was a miracle.
Jinwoo was immensely proud. He was really proud and even gave you flowers and chocolates while you were resting at the hospital.
However, due to this fact, many whispered in the background about how the new S-Rank has a boyfriend that's an E-Rank. The weakest hunter of all mankind to say the least.
Of course, that was a devastating blow to Jinwoo, especially when he heard you were recruited in America by some company.
He never told you he was getting insecure that he couldn't be more of a man to you. How you always protected him. How it seemed like you were the man in this relationship.
"I think you should go." Jinwoo said as he has his back turned from you, cooking in the kitchen while you sat on the counter while gazing at him with a bored expression.
"Eh but what about you? I don't want to leave you nor your family alone." He stiffened at what you said, his heart pounding and his hands suddenly felt cold even if the heater was on.
Jinwoo carefully placed the spatula down and lowered the fire. His silence made you worry while you looked at him, making you frown. You stood up and walked over to him as you speak,
"Is everything okay-"
"We need to stop." He abruptly said, not looking back at you as you stopped in your tracks.
You chuckled, seemingly finding this as a joke as you held his shoulder. You looked at him and saw the coldness in his eyes making you inhale sharply. "Why?" You asked.
"Is it because I'm an S-Rank now? That because I'm leaving? I can decline it-"
"That's the point." Jinwoo said, cutting you off again as he looked away. His heart breaking every bit of second as he talked to you. "You're choosing me over your career."
He doesn't want you to leave him. No he wants to stay with you. To be with you every step of your career. He's so proud of you that it hurts to see that your decision is basing off of him. He doesn't want that. He knows you can do better,
"That's not healthy for us anymore."
Even if it wasn't with him anymore.
And just like that, two years of your relationship was gone in a blink of an eye.
You left his house with tears brimming in your eyes. Numerous headlines stated that you bought numerous A-Rank gates for some reason and finished it within the week before you leave for America.
Many said that it's for a final goodbye and thank you for Korea. However, some speculated it was something more.
────୨ৎ────
Two years. For two years Jinwoo looked for you as he leveled up. He never moved on and he kept watching you on the news.
Two years after you and him broke up, he got a second reawakening. However, his reawakening wasn't really the one like yours.
"Yeah, let's get that." He muttered to himself as he got himself some potions for the trip to America just incase.
The system is what he calls it. Instead of a permanent one, he had a system where he can level up and even surpass a normal S-Rank hunter.
Back then, Jinwoo would've cursed himself for being so weak and fragile and couldn't be more of a man to you back then. How he should've bought you more flowers and spent more time with you.
But now, things changed.
You were in the conference room for the board and celebration of the neutralization of Jeju Island. Of course, you knew who did it. You knew who you were going to meet soon, and that made your heart race.
To be fair, you never moved on. You never even got into a scandal with any of your colleagues in America because you were too focused on your work to even bother talking to anyone.
"C'mon Y/n! Loosen up! The meeting is in an hour!" Your colleague said, making you chuckle as you accepted their glass of whiskey into your hands.
You can hear flashes of cameras outside the door as you looked out of the window. You don't really care on who was arriving, everytime someone arrives the paparazzi always go crazy about it.
"Sir Jinwoo!" A reporter called making you stop when you were about to drink your whiskey. Your hands lowered a bit as you looked behind you as the grand doors opened wide as numerous flashes came and a silhouette followed.
Your colleague's eyes shined as they saw the man standing before them.
"Sung Jinwoo!" They said making you look at him more properly now and damn...
What in the world happened?
You watched as he stepped into the room, his aura silencing the room as he strutted his way towards the window right beside the one you were standing beside on.
His tall and built frame intimidated the people around him but you. His eyes locked onto you for a second as you forgot how to breathe.
"Wait, Y/n." Your colleague shook you excitedly and you looked at them with an eyebrow raised. "Don't you know Jinwoo?" They asked as Jinwoo walked by, his rich scent of perfume surrounding you making your breath hitch as you looked away.
Your mind raced, your heart pounded, and your head got dizzy as you bit your lip. The glass of whiskey in your hands got raised as you took a sip on it as you looked at Jinwoo calmly that was walking his way towards someone he probably knows alongside his companion. "Huh." You replied.
You looked up and down at him, taking a very thorough inspection of what changed. His frame changed. His face changed. His built changed. And even his confidence got higher.
You smirked under your glass as your downed your whiskey, unaware of his gaze on you as he placed a knight on your shadow.
Jinwoo was no easy man now. He was confident, powerful, and even respected by numerous hunters S-Rank and National Level alike and he even got recognised as a National Level hunter.
He knew you would be there in the meeting. And he knew he would be dead as soon as he saw you.
When he walked past you, he can smell the perfume you wore and it almost made him stop his tracks and pull you aside to... talk.
"Congratulations on your new improvements, Sir Jinwoo!" Someone said as he talked to Jinwoo. His mind elsewhere as Jinho did the talking for him. His reply occasionally was a small smile to not be rude.
You can hear their conversation and you can't help but think as your eyes trailed down, "I bet his light rod's bigger than Zeus'" you thought as you flushed and looked away.
Can he lift your car with his hand? He was so cute back then. So fragile and so timid. And now?
He's such a sexy man.
You silently thanked the Lord for even giving you the chance to see him again, unaware of him approaching you from behind.
Your colleague snapped you out of it as they pointed behind you making you look and God you were met with a broad chest making you look up.
"Mind if we talk somewhere?" Jinwoo asked, his eyes glowed a shade of purple and blue making you gulp as you nod and excuse yourself from your colleague.
Sung Jinwoo. S-Rank Mage. One who can control the dead and summon an army by just a flick of his finger.
But talk my ass.
"I missed you so much, honey." Your back was pressed against the wall as you can feel his hands roam over your body. You gasped when you felt his lips on your neck, his hot breath trailing over it up onto your ear.
And how did you get into this predicament?
Well,
You and Jinwoo walked towards his hotel room. A VIP room reserved for hunters that were internationally invited to the conference meeting. You stepped in, excusing yourself as you took off your shoes.
"You do know we have to be back there in 30 minutes right?" You told hima s you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing a bit when you looked at him with suspicion.
"State your business with me, Hunter Sung." You say, keeping a professional boundary between you two as you looked at him walk inside the room and sit on the couch of the room.
"I am a jerk." Jinwoo starts with awful bluntness as he placed his arms on his legs, looking down as he couldn't look at you in the eye.
"I'm sorry for being a coward and insecure-"
"Okay I get it. Enough." You told him and sighed. You walked over to him and sat infront of him, your legs crossing as your eyes narrowed at him.
You were still hurt of course, who wouldn't be? You loved him with all your heart and was ready to give up so many things for him because you wanted a life with him and him only just for him to break it off?
Well, past is in the past anyway.
"If you want to make it up to me, then do whatever you think will do."
And that's how you were pinned up against the wall, legs around his waist and his lips on your neck while you whine pathetically in his arms. His biceps were flexinga s he carried you, his jawline hitting your neck so casually yet it makes you so flustered.
"Jinwoo..." You called, whined even, you felt his hands trail up to your legs, under your dress. You felt him hum against your neck making you whimper and felt him smirk as you hid your face onto his neck.
"Yes, my love?" Jinwoo's voice echoed on your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you felt your back arch unconsiously. His lips continued its assult on your neck as it traveled down your shoulder, leaving hickeys in its wake.
"The meeting..." You managed to say. As much as you'd want to continue this... reunion, you still have responsibilities to go after on, and matter of fact, you didn't want your colleagues to be worried for you.
Jinwoo groaned as he sucked on your shoulder so sweetly as he slowly released it. Your head tilting back with a whine as he leaned down to your lips, hsi breath was hot against yours as you can feel him smirk from your reaction.
"Alright then." He said as he puts you down. Your legs shook a bit before you stood and fixed your dress on the mirror until you saw him approaching.
Jinwoo's polo was unbuttoned, neck tie was messy, eyes are hungry. God that look was going to kill you.
As you gazed into him, you didn't sense him until you can feel him press against your back, caging you in between him and the table. His lips against your ear and he kissed your temple while boring his eyes onto you against the mirror.
"As long as you can let me make it up to you tonight after the party." He said, making you gulp.
Seriously, when did he gotten so hot all of a sudden?
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Hey guys~ I hope you liked this oneshot!
It was actually inspired by my bot in c.ai so I figured why not write one about it fully while also letting you guys know that I also have a bot that you can freely interact with and make your own story with?
But anyway, that's all for today! Thank you and have fun with the bot!
༊*·˚ Sung Jinwoo C.AI Bot - When did you get hot? By Sabrina Carpenter
kindly and shyly requesting my need for a "beauty and the beast au" for henry asap 😫😫 something like y/n being a replacement in exchange for the freedom of the kids with enemies to friends to lovers typa thing AHHHH
if there's already an existing fic similar to it, PLEASE link it below tysm
or better, if anyone is open for requests pls tag me if this interests you <33 i have no one to share my obsession with and english is not my first language lol
Pairing: I’m actually not sure, Henry creel/ Steve Harrington x fem!reader but also neither?
Summary: Henry took you to be his perfect little wife or ‘Mrs whatsit’ but Holly realises pretty quick that you’re not Mrs whatsit you’re Steve Harrington’s girlfriend who ‘died’ tragically
warnings: kidnapping? nothing shocking just like stranger things, things
a/n: this has been on my mind since volume one dropped
—————————————————————
Holly first noticed there was another person in the house when Mr. Whatsit first “saved” her, as he put it so kindly.
It was before she even stepped inside.
She’d been standing at the edge of the garden path, her sneakers soaked from the dew-covered grass, staring up at the looming house with its too-clean windows and too-perfect roses. The sky above was a soft, syrupy gold, like the world had been dipped in honey and left to harden.
And then she saw her.
A woman in the upstairs window. Pale, still, framed by gauzy curtains. She didn’t wave. Didn’t smile. Just stood there, watching.
Holly blinked. The woman was gone.
“Come along,” Henry said, his hand warm and firm on her shoulder. “You’ll be safe here.”
The house was strange. Beautiful, comfortable. But strange. The clocks ticked, but the time never changed. The air smelled like cinnamon and something older, something buried. “Who is that woman?” Holly asked after a day and she’d still not been introduced to her “oh that is Mrs whatsit, but she has come down with the flu. Wouldn’t want you to get ill sweetheart”The clocks ticked, but the time never changed. The air smelled like cinnamon and something older, something buried.
“Who is that woman?” Holly asked after she’d been in the house for an entire day and still hadn’t been introduced to the woman upstairs.
She’d seen her again—just a flicker of movement behind the lace curtains. A pale face, unmoving. Watching.
Mr. Whatsit didn’t look up from the teacup he was polishing. “Oh, that’s Mrs. Whatsit,” he said lightly. “But she’s come down with the flu, which is why you haven’t met her yet. Wouldn’t want you to get ill as well.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did.
Holly frowned. “She was standing at the window.”
“Was she?” he said, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “She’s always been a bit restless when she’s under the weather. Nothing to worry about.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you draw something for her?” he interrupted, already reaching for a box of crayons. “She’d love that” Holly got distracted when Henry started talking about bringing ‘dipshit’ derek and her other classmates to the house as well.
It was two days later when she finally met the woman in the window. “She’s feeling better,” he said. “Finally. I think it’s time.”
He led her to the sitting room, where the curtains were drawn and the light was soft and golden, as always. The woman stood by the fireplace, hands folded neatly in front of her, wearing a pale blue dress that looked like it had been ironed a hundred times.
“Darling,” Henry said, his voice warm and proud, “this is Holly. She’ll be living with us from now on.”
The woman turned.
There was something awfully familiar about her. Holly’s breath caught.
She knew that face.
From home.
“Hello, dear,” the woman said, smiling kindly. “Tea?”
Her voice was gentle, but there was something behind it. A tremor. A question.
Holly nodded slowly, eyes locked on hers. “Yes, please.” It took her one more day.
One more day of wandering the house’s endless, too-clean halls. One more day of Mr. Whatsit humming tunelessly as he arranged flowers that never wilted. One more day of watching you from the corner of her eye, trying to place the ache in her chest every time you smiled.
And then it hit her.
She was brushing her hair in the mirror when the memory surfaced—uninvited, sharp.
A funeral. White lilies. A closed casket. Her mother’s hand on her shoulder. Steve Harrington standing at the back of the church, eyes red, jaw clenched, not speaking to anyone.
Y/N Y/L/N.
The pretty cheerleader. The one who used to date Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington and volunteered at the hospital. The nurse who gave her an extra lolly when she broke her leg. The one who died when the earth cracked open and swallowed half of Hawkins.
But she wasn’t dead.
She was here.
She was Mrs. Whatsit.
And she was trapped.
Holly waited until Henry left again—off to tend the garden that never grew, or perhaps to hum to the walls like he always did. The moment the front door clicked shut, she crept into the parlor, where you sat on the floral loveseat, hands folded neatly in your lap, staring at the fireplace that hadn’t been lit in days.
“Y/N?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Your head turned slowly, eyes wide and polite. “Sorry?”
She swallowed. “Y/N Y/L/N?”
A pause.
You blinked once. Then again. “Holly dear, are you feeling well?”
Holly stepped closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “Are you?”
You tilted your head, smile still fixed in place. “Of course. Darling—” you hesitated, just for a breath, just long enough for something to flicker behind your eyes. “A letter came for you.”
Holly blinked. “A letter?”
You reached into the pocket of your apron and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The edges were soft, worn, like it had been read a hundred times. You handed it to her with delicate fingers.
She took it slowly, eyes narrowing. “Who’s it from?”
You didn’t answer. Not directly.
“You must go to the woods,” you said, voice light, almost sing-song. Your smile never wavered. “It’s very important.”
Holly’s heart skipped. “What? But Henry said—”
“The fox is waiting,” you interrupted, tone still sweet, but your eyes—your eyes were pleading.
——————
The woods were colder than the house.
The trees here didn’t sway. They loomed. The air was thick with silence, like the whole forest was holding its breath.
Holly stumbled through the underbrush, clutching the letter you gave her, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what she was looking for—only that you’d said the fox is waiting, and somehow, she knew what that meant.
Max.
She found her near the red tree, crouched low in the undergrowth, eyes sharp and wary. Her hair was longer now, tangled and wild, but her face was the same—older, maybe, but still Max.
Holly gasped. “Max?”
Max stood slowly, eyes narrowing. “Holly?”
And just like that, the world shifted.
When Holly came back before Henry, you were relieved. Max took Holly to her cave
Max explained what she could. About Henry. About the way he built his world out of memories and grief. About the people he pulled in. About the ones who never got out.
Holly listened, wide-eyed, the pieces clicking into place.
“Mrs. Whatsit,” she said slowly. “That’s Y/N, isn’t it?”
Max nodded. “Yeah. That’s her, all right.”
“I don’t understand,” Holly whispered. “She died. We went to her funeral.”
Max’s jaw tightened. “She didn’t die. Not really. He took her. Right before the quake. I don’t know how. I don’t even think she knows.”
Holly looked down at her hands. “She’s so… quiet. Like she’s trying to be perfect.”
“She’s surviving,” Max said. “That’s what he wants. A perfect little world. A perfect little wife.”
Holly hesitated. “Maybe Henry… liked her?”
Max’s eyes darkened. “He wanted her. That’s not the same thing.”
Silence settled between them, heavy and cold.
“He calls her Mrs. Whatsit,” Holly said. “But she’s still in there. I saw her. She remembered me.”
“She’s fighting,” Max said. “But he’s strong. He doesn’t just trap your body. He rewrites you. Makes you forget who you are.” Holly looked back toward the trees, toward the house that wasn’t a house. “We have to help her”
————
You were relieved when Holly came back before Henry did.
You didn’t exactly know why.
Or maybe you didn’t remember.
You had dinner, the three of you. Roast chicken that never cooled. Mashed potatoes that tasted like memory. Holly barely spoke. You smiled too much. Henry carved the meat with surgical precision, humming something tuneless under his breath.
Afterward, you washed the dishes while he dried them. Holly sat at the table, staring at the red crayon in her hand like it might bite her.
And then, as always, you and Henry went upstairs.
You slept in the same bed. You always did.
The sheets were cold and stiff, tucked too tight. The room smelled like lavender and dust.
Henry took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand with care, as if they were made of glass and secrets.
He turned to you, voice soft. “How was your day?”
You smiled. “Lovely.”
He reached for your hand beneath the covers, lacing his fingers through yours. “You’ve been quiet lately.”
“I’ve just been thinking,” you said.
“About what?”
You hesitated. “About how lucky I am.”
He smiled, pleased. “You are.”
You nodded. “I know.”
And you meant it. Or… you thought you did. You loved him, didn’t you? You must have. He saved you. He gave you peace. He gave you this house, this life, this stillness.
He gave you himself.
And yet—
Sometimes, when he touched you, you felt like glass. Like something fragile he was keeping on a shelf. Something he dusted and admired, but never really saw.
You turned toward him, resting your head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady. Predictable.
Safe.
“I’m glad Holly’s here,” you said.
“She’ll settle in,” he murmured. “Just like you did.”
general summary: dearest gentle reader yet another season containing utmost pride, pretense and pursuit descends upon us. after only mere hours of entering society, you make sure to leave a lingering impression behind as you are caught wandering far from the masquerade ball by no other but suguru geto. lord geto, whom is heir to duke geto and prides himself as such, is certainly more than displeased to find you far off the ballroom and has his opinion on the matter at hand already set regardless of your desperate tries to explain the misunderstanding. as your identity is about to be revealed by him, a sudden commotion bares you the opportunity to slip away. following the rather unpleasant beginning of the season, you pray that suguru geto may not find pursuit in uncovering your pretenses.
content/warnings: bridgerton au, regency era au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, misogyny, bullying, jealousy, mentions of alcohol and explicit contents, mental health issues, death, academic themes, breaking society’s norms and expectations, geto is as prideful as ever, reader pretending to be someone else, both being a pain
author’s gossip: bonjour, my name is anna and i’m this season’s host. behold as this is my first time hosting in general - so please bear with me. quick disclaimer: indulgence and interactions are deeply appreciated. please enjoy :)
calling yourself ugly makes no sense because you don't really see yourself. you don't see yourself lying in bed curled up and silent with your chest heaving and falling. you don't see yourself reading a book with flapping and shining eyes. you don't see yourself looking at someone with love and caring in your heart. there is no mirror to stand in your way when you laugh and smile and happiness pours out of you. you would know exactly how bright and beautiful you are if you saw yourself in the moments; where you really are yourself.
maehara hiroto x fem! student council reader x slight! asano gakushu
sypnosis: Class E has always been regarded as the gutter of Kunugigaoka Academy. A certain flirt never expected help from Class A’s vice president. But one rainy day, a single act defies the school’s hierarchy, and expectations start to crumble.
author's note: this scene was based on the Chapter 23 of Assassination Classroom. all characters and original plot (except Y/n and Shiori Takada) belongs to Yusei Matsui.
The rainy season had arrived.
Dark clouds loomed over the campus, casting everything in a dull silver hue. Raindrops hammered against the classroom windows, creating a steady rhythm, a soft, endless percussion. The air was thick with the sultry scent of wet earth, petrichor rising with each drop.
It’s June, and there are 9 months left before graduation.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of damp uniforms, wet concrete, and newly sharpened pencils. Students leaned lazily over their desks, heads resting on their arms, as if the weight of the sky pressed down on them too.
In the dreariness of the rainy season, people also feel somewhat dispirited.
When the bell finally rang, students hastened to gather their things and rushed for home, umbrellas popping open like flowers under the drizzle.
“Y/n-san. Got a minute?” you turned, surprised.
It was Shiori Takada, one of the top 10 ranked students from Class A— quiet, often overlooked, and always absurdly precise with her notes.
“I know we have the mock exams next week,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear “but I was thinking—maybe we should propose a tutoring rotation for the bottom 10 students in our class.”
You blinked. “Class A students helping Class A students?”
She looked down shyly, her fingers brushing her notebook. “It’s still a competition, but dragging the bottom slows the curve. If we all score higher, our class average rises — and that reflects better on our records.”
You considered it. The idea was cold, but smart just like Class A.
“…Send me the outline. I’ll polish the wording.”
“Ah—thank you. I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.” She quickly tucks her hair behind her ear again, a faint blush rising on her cheeks as she hurries out of the classroom.
You watched the door swing shut, then exhaled not from exhaustion, just habit.
As you slipped the last document into your bag, the classroom door creaked open again.
“Leaving so early, Vice President?” You turned.
Asano Gakushu, A top-ranked student and the student council president — calm, composed, expression unreadable as always. He stood beneath the stairwell lights, arms crossed, a file folder in one hand.
You kept your tone neutral. “We’re done for the day.”
“So I heard,” he replied, stepping down the last few steps to your level. “I also heard you agreed to support Takada’s tutoring initiative.”
“She made a valid point,” you replied. “Raising the class average helps everyone.”
Asano tilted his head slightly, like a chess master re-evaluating a board.
“Strategic. I expected no less from you,” he said.“Still… helping weaker students doesn’t always guarantee strength. Sometimes it simply shows how vulnerable we are when we slow down.”
You didn’t take the bait.
Instead, you met his gaze evenly. “Or maybe it shows how strong we are when we don’t leave anyone behind.”
Asano’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes — recognition, perhaps. Or interest.
You adjusted your bag strap, the rain tapping faintly against the window panes behind you.
“If that’s all, I’ll be heading out,” you said, voice calm. “I’d rather not miss the last shuttle.”
You turned before he could reply, footsteps echoing softly down the empty hallway.
Behind you, Asano didn’t call out.
He never did.
But you could feel his eyes on your back — watching, calculating, the way he always did.
Kunugigaoka Academy. A prestigious private institution admired across the country — pristine, towering, efficient. Its reputation was built on excellence, its students polished into perfection.
A hierarchy carved deep into its foundation.
Class A sat at the top: privilege, pressure, prestige.
Class E was exiled to the bottom: shame, silence, stigma.
A line that was never meant to be crossed.
It was quiet at this hour. The corridors had emptied. Most of the shuttles had departed. You walked alone past the manicured gardens, down the wide walkway that split the elite from the forgotten.
Stepping past the academy’s grand front gate — the iron bars cool and slick with rain — the air outside felt just a little freer. Or perhaps just lonelier.
But something off caught your eye.
Across the sidewalk, near the old bus stop where Class E students sometimes passed, a small group had gathered. Teppei Araki. Seo Tomoya. Another Class A student — all familiar faces, all wearing the same smug posture.
And in front of them stood Maehara Hiroto, a student from Class E. Beside him, a girl you didn’t recognize. Probably from Class C or D. Her posture was tense, uncertain.
“You’ve got it all wrong, Seo-kun!” the girl cried, voice trembling as she ran toward him. “I didn’t have an umbrella, and he just happened to come along and offer his…”
Her words faltered under Seo’s stare. She clutched the hem of her skirt tightly, head bowed, as if begging him — not just to believe her, but to accept the lie she’d chosen.
“Ah… so that’s how it is,” Maehara said. His voice was low but clear, cutting through the rain.
The girl froze, turning toward him slowly, panic in her eyes.
“Lately, you've hardly answered the phone,” he said, tone even. “And you suddenly switched from bicycling to commuting by train.”
Rain dripped steadily from his bangs, but his expression didn’t waver.
“So, you figured you'd keep me around for when your new boyfriend's busy?”
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
“Kaho, you little—”
Seo’s voice cracked through the rain like a whip. His fist clenched at his side, eyes narrowing — not just at her, but at the embarrassment. At being dragged into something this messy.
“H-he’s wrong!” Kaho stammered, nearly slipping on the slick pavement. “I-it’s not like that at all…”
She was stuttering now, scrambling for something to fix it — a lie, an angle, a way out.
Then she snapped.
“Hey!” she shouted, spinning toward Maehara. Her eyes wide, voice rising.
“Don’t you know you’re bad news?”
The shift was sharp. Panic giving way to blame.
“You didn’t put in enough effort and ended up in Class E,” she said, pointing with a trembling finger. “The bottom of the pack, Maehara-kun.”
The words echoed louder than the rain.
This was it. The boundary. Not the grade sheets. Not the ranking boards.But this — a girl clawing for her dignity by kicking someone already on the ground. And you had seen enough.
“Maehara.”
You stepped forward, lifting your umbrella slightly higher. Your voice was calm.
“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”
They all froze.
Seo turned sharply. Kaho blinked, thrown. Even Maehara looked up — eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief.
You kept your expression even. Then, with a faint smile, you extended your hand in his direction.
“You said you’d walk me to the station, didn’t you?”
Maehara’s mouth twitched — not a smile, but something like relief. He stood straighter.
“Right,” he said, playing along. “Sorry I’m late.”
He walked toward you without another glance at the others.
Kaho looked stunned. Seo stepped back, visibly off balance.
You turned, holding the umbrella between you both.
“Next time,” you said without looking back, “try blaming someone who isn’t already carrying more than they should.”
And with that, you walked off into the rain — leaving behind the scene, and the system that allowed it.
The rain followed in soft percussion as you walked side by side. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable — just full of things unspoken.
You didn’t speak until you reached the station overhang, the warm glow of the lights casting long shadows on the pavement.
Maehara exhaled, leaning against a pillar. His sleeves were still dripping, his face unreadable.
“…Thanks,” he said, after a moment. “You didn’t have to do that.”
You shrugged, folding the umbrella carefully. “Didn’t feel right walking away.”
“You’re Class A. You’re supposed to walk away.”
“I’m also supposed to pretend people like Seo are worth admiring,” you muttered. “So I guess we’re both bad at following expectations.”
Maehara let out a dry laugh — short, but real.
You looked at him then. Not a delinquent. Not a rank. Just a boy with rain-soaked sleeves, pride barely intact, and eyes that hadn’t expected anyone to stand beside him.
“…Did you mean it?” he asked suddenly.
You blinked. “Mean what?”
“That we’re friends.”
“I meant that I could be.”
Maehara didn’t smile. But something in his eyes softened — something quiet and tired, like a guard lowering for the first time in a long while.
The Next Morning - Class E
“You really didn’t see us?” Sugino asked, sliding into his seat beside Maehara with a knowing grin.
Maehara didn’t look up from his textbook. “See who?”
“Sugino, Nagisa, Okano and me,” Kayano answered brightly, propping her chin on her hands across from him. “We were heading back from practice. We saw everything.”
“…You could’ve helped,” Maehara muttered, flipping a page with a bit more force than necessary.
“We didn’t have to,” Okano said, smirking. “She had it under control.”
“She?” Nagisa asked innocently. “You mean the vice president of Class A? Y/n-san?”
Maehara exhaled sharply. “Yes, her.”
“She called you her friend,” Kayano teased. “I never thought I'd see the day Maehara Hiroto got saved romantically under an umbrella.”
“It wasn’t romantic,” Maehara snapped quickly, face heating up. “She was just.. handling the situation.”
“Handling you, more like,” Sugino said.
“Nyurufufufu~” Korosensei suddenly slipped in through the back, clearly eavesdropping. “A forbidden friendship! A budding affection across class lines! This is exactly the kind of subplot I live for!”
Maehara groaned, burying his face in his arms. “Shut it.”
The class erupted into laughter. And for a brief moment, despite the gloom outside, everything felt a little lighter.
I wish people would understand that not everything is for everyone to get. you will be left out of some conversations, a lot of art will not apply to you, you will not like things that people you like enjoy, and just because you cannot add to the topic of discussion or relate does not mean that it is not valued or worthwhile. the internet has coddled people to such a concerning extent that everyone feels like they need to vocally disagree with something just because they don’t get it. Knowing something, and genuinely getting it are not the same. NOT EVERYTHING IS FOR YOUUUUU
author’s note: had an experience of a dream partly similar to this, and figured i should try out an angst fiction, hoping you enjoy this one!
Tears pooled in her eyes as the afternoon breeze danced softly with her hair. The clouded sky above mirrored the fog in her heart — a pale, grey melancholy.
“Will I ever meet you again?” Her voice trembled with the weight of unknowing.
“Perhaps we’ll meet,” he said, touching her cheek with the care of someone who already knew goodbye.
“But if not… may you never forget me.”
A single tear traced her face as the world around them dimmed. The light bled from the edges of her vision, darkness curling in like the last flicker of a candle.And then a sudden, blinding brightness—
She woke to warmth on her skin, sunlight peeking through the curtains.
“Good morning, dear.” A voice, soft — but not the same.
She turned her head.
The man beside her was young, maybe late twenties, with straight, neatly combed hair and warm hazel eyes. He wore glasses, a quiet smile, and the scent of coffee lingered faintly on his shirt. He looked kind.
Real.
She stared for a second longer, searching. Hoping.
Nothing.
She forced a smile. “Good morning.”
But deep in her chest, a name she could no longer remember began to ache.
author's note: finally had the courage to write scenes that pop into my mind. welcome to my first flash fiction writing, hoping that you'll come to like it.
"I love you."
"You love me?" she cried. "Love—an unfathomable emotion everyone longs for, yet no one can explain... A sinister force that has led many to ruin."
"Is that what you truly believe?"
"You're impossible! Why let yourself grow weak over something like this? Why do you sacrifice your pain for a single word—"
"It’s not just a word!" he interrupted, voice cracking. "I want to protect you!"
"Because...? Because you say you love me?"
"Because I want to—no—because I need to." He stepped forward. "I want to care for you. Understand you. Catch your every glance. Be the pillow you cry into. The reason behind your smile. The hands that warm yours when they’re cold. I want to stay with you until our bodies return to dust. I need you to be my purpose."
synopsis- Yoichi nagumo has always regarded the decision of sakamoto retiring from being an assassin— very blithe, he considered it was very indiscreet of him to leave all of a sudden for someone he claims he loved. After rion akao’s death and sakamoto’s retirement it was only him left in the JAA. Love? it’s humorous how he'd never understand sakamoto…..or this feeling of care and vulnerability. That's what he thought, until he met you.
series warnings- MDNI, extremely FLUFFY, nagumo gets HEADS over HEELS for reader, NAGUMO is so down in LOVE (wanna cry), baker!reader, ANGSTYYY, comfort, omg sakamoto and shin enjoy teasing nagumo, heisuke as our wingman, explicit SMUT, sloppy kisses, counter sex, unprotected p in v sex, nagumo's DICE, fingering, cunnilingus, wreaking orgasms, semi public(kinda), nagumo CRIES overwhelmed, reader ISN'T AWARE of nagumo’s profession, lots of lies, mentions of assassination exhibition arc, blood, nagumo is ready to tear the world apart for you, order members, omg so much more…. HAPPY ENDING.
w.c- ch 1- 2.7k | ch 2- ytc
trisha's mail- i am insufferable for characters who wear a baby face and kill mercilessly, thus I had to present my new man, my yoichi a fic, since tumblr doesn't has many, am I the only one who's hooked into sakadays?
🍡Ch 1🍡
Yoichi nagumo stood infront of the sakamoto stores, his back heavy with the compact case of his red tainted weapons. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his brown overcoat, surprisingly warm in contrast to his cold hands he scrubbed clean, washing away the splattered blood from his previous assassination.
His face held a smile. A smile so neat and so polite that it could only be defined as a boastful grin of a liar.
Shall he disguise himself? Maybe play a prank or two…he will be seeing one of his friends started out with, after so long— taro sakamoto.
Nagumo darted his eyes, taking full account of the store, which was small and surprisingly neat. It was a two storeyed building, nagumo criticized the open signboard hung in front of the glass entrance. He, then, scanned inside of the store, smile widening a bit when he found no human presence lingering around. How about he disguises as sakamoto himself, plus it'd be fun to see how his old friend reacts after his retirement.
Entering the store, disguised as sakamoto, he went behind the counter and took a seat he supposed sakamoto might take. Spread out on the counter was newspaper folded messily, a cranky cash register, and some small spreads of candy, snacks and other daily convenience necessities. He picked up on the newspaper pretending to read it as he picked up on the dull sound of approaching footsteps.
A guy with blonde hair, middle partition and some shaggy clothes entered, with a green apron and his name batch pinned over it. Shin was printed on it.
Nagumo noticed. ‘Shin asakura’ and he recognised. The esper guy Sakamoto worked with after leaving the order. He had also heard that Shin had too left being an assassin and joined being an assistant in this store. He searched for a red haired chinese girl, who is also said to have started here a few days ago.
Nagumo waited patiently, subsiding his giggles inside he darted his eyes again on the door seeing a girl enter lazily. Ahh lu shaotang— the other assistant, whose main job is to make pork buns.
He sat quietly pretending to read the newspaper.
It wasn't long until both of them started arguing, making Nagumo's dopamine rush through his veins. With a bang on the counter table, shin whined “sakamoto san, we have to fire this girl!” pointing an accusatory finger on his back over the girl with pink jacket, who didn't cared even a bit.
Nagumo contemplated a little what shall he say? Maybe behave a little out of it, it'd be fun to see both of their stupefied reactions.
“Now, now shin!” He said, “We don't say mean things like that here.” taking both of them by surprise, who aren't able to comprehend how come their boss all of a sudden became so chatty, and started questioning his sudden behaviour.
Its fun, nagumo thought. Why not enjoy it with more spice. “How rude.” He replied to their thread of questions. “I will kill you.”
And this was enough to gawk both of the assistants, enough to let their jaw wide open touching the floor, but before nagumo to have anymore of fun the door opened again and his friend entered, unphased by seeing his doppelganger infront of him.
Nagumo knew sakamoto realised it was him, but I'd be more fun to attack with a knife to shake up both of the assistants even more. But most of all he wanted to see, if sakamoto’s senses dulled over the span of 5 years.
Instantly he pulled out a knife and stuck it in the newspaper sakamoto picked up, which was disregarded by him a few minutes ago. Tearing the newspaper from the middle he saw sakamoto dodge the attack, before getting hold of a cutter, threatening his neck.
He was no less of a deal too, in a blink his gun stayed plastered to sakamoto's head, before sakamoto pulls back the cutter and draws the blade back in. “Long time no see, nagumo.” His glasses gleamed, as his face fat made his voice sound a little thicker than nagumo had heard years ago.
“I see you can still move, Sakamoto!” He said chirpy, before dismissing the disguise, shocking shin and lu. And it wasn't long for them to throw hands at him. Nagumo was right, sakamoto's senses haven't dulled but it has rusted a bit. He wondered how fast he would have thrown his body to the ground, back slammed on the floor and instead of a paper cutter, sakamoto's hand would have adorned his signature gun he never swapped out after graduating from JCC, if he had not retired already.
Who knew the legendary Hitman would chicken out of the game one day in the name of…..love?
And get this bulky. For once nagumo thought to slap his huge round belly to see if the fat ripples through.
After another thread of lies, he was bound on a chair by sakamoto's two assistants, it's not like he can't break apart the rope but he just didn't. “there’s a bounty on sakamoto's head. The reward is one billion yen.”
He explained, as his assistants refused to believe him, but their doubts were soon dispelled as soon as they took down the pizza assassin.
Nagumo only wanted to inform his friend about the bounty on his head. That's why he visited. Or that's what he was trying to tell himself. He didn't quite understand why he visited after so many years….after rion akao died, it was both of them. Nagumo thought since sakamoto is still there it'd be okay. But it wasn't long until he retired saying he fell in love. Sakamoto quitted the order, and eventually wiped his hands of assassination. Without even saying a goodbye. He married and had a child. And nagumo was left all alone. Though he never stopped smiling.
And after 5 years when he learned about the bounty on his friend’s head, he couldn't help but feel a bit odd. What an odd world of liars he lives in?
Akao said she would graduate with both of them. Yet, she didn't.
Sakamoto said he would be there till the end, yet he didn't.
“Why did both of you left me alone?” He wanted an answer, but he never asked. Knowing one isn't alive to answer and the other would just dismiss his question.
He disposed the body of the pizza assassin near the garbage disposal area. He smiled another gleeful smile, before taking out his fist from his coat pockets and rolled the small white dice on the road.
The dive stopped rolling. One dot. Nagumo chuckled. “I wouldn't consider it unlucky…” he said, before dismantling his compact of weapons as a curved blade of an arms length slipped right through his fingers, which ended up landing into the pizza assassin’s fourth and fifth rib.
A shriek of unpleasant screaming rose through the air, and intensified even more as nagumo twisted the blade with his index and thumb. Filthy red splattered over his silhouette, as if the strokes of a frizzy brush from someone who attempted to paint the crimson flowers of death. How sad he will have to pay for his laundry again.
After changing his clothes, which he always keeps a set of two at hand, he set out his foot towards home. He'd a call from the JAA headquarters, Tokyo to attend the next day. Ofcourse he wouldn't want to get any less of sleep.
He knew sakamoto won't kill anyone, and even though he wouldn't show it on his face, the reason sakamoto stopped killing cringes him. If anything love only brings in vulnerability, and loss of power.
And if anything he'd learned all these years being in assassination field, he knew that power is easy to gain than to hold on. He'd seen his friends gaining the very top before falling down from the peak. Except for sakamoto who chose to step down.
Nagumo’s smile lines faded a bit, expression grave, will he too oneday lose all of it? Nothing is certain in life, it flows and changes its direction like a river, ticks away with time and evolves into new colours with each season. However, ever since he joined the order his season of life has always been the same: the fall.
All the dried crinkly leaves fell off years ago, yet no tree has ever sprouted a lively green. The winter keeps snowing, covering the mud with its dusty white, but the spring never comes.
Nagumo kept walking without noticing where his feets were leading him, his head faced down and hands in his coat, eyes simply gazed over the red old tiles, the footpath, and the small black lines dividing each section. At moments of his trance, he felt someone bumping into him.
He would have normally walked away, without bothering to peer at the person, but for some reason he felt a tug on his right sleeve. The person was refusing to let go. A muscle ticked in his arm, ready on first instinct to throw a punch over the face, “excuse me?”
A girl's voice?
Nagumo's body soothed as he turned to take proper account of you. Your one hand was clasping over his coat’s fabric, whereas the other was fumbling the inside of her tote bag.
You take out a hello kitty bandaid and shove it towards him. Confused, Nagumo tilts his head, face has regained its merry rictus.
“Yes?”
“Your hand is bleeding…”
Nagumo's eyes widen a bit as he speculates his hand and then looks at the bright red stain on his coat. Another laundry. He looked at the cut between his fingers, which must have sliced through when he was pulling out the blades. “Is it?” He faked his astonishment.
“That seems to be deep…you should disinfect it right away. How did you get hurt?” You bat your innocent eyes at him, before taking a look at the compact case hanging on his back with the help of a strap looped over his body. Nagumo felt his mouth dry. Well umm how does he even phrase it properly…
“A technician? You carry tools in that?” Nagumo stared at you blankly, as his brain stopped processing his thoughts, “yes” a lie slipped off pretty easily from his mouth. It's easy and convenient to lie.
You bring Nagumo's hand gently, while applying the bandaid, looped perfectly over his cuts, when he doesn't make the move to accept the help. “You should take care of yourself.” You say frowning your brows a bit at him.
“Yeah I will. Thanks.”
You smile at him before turning and taking your leave. Whereas nagumo stayed glued to the spot, watching you disappear among crowds. He peered down his hand, the hello kitty doodles stared back at him. What just happened?
Ever since that incident nagumo has lost half a quarter of his sleep, astir for no reason. Could it be the pressure of the work and the mysterious massacre caused by slur— or could it be him drifting into a relentless void staring at the hello kitty band aid given by you which he, for some ridiculous reason, framed it.
Or it could be for the number of times he visited the same alley hoping to catch sight of your fuzzy white scarf and maybe a hello kitty bandaid to offer…
Why was he even doing that?
Has he gone crazy?
Well, probably he has.
Whatever he was, Nagumo had less time to criticize himself for his sleep schedule or find the reason of trigger to his insomnia. He was on a mission to execute— find the B-grade assassin, who is suspected to have hands knotted with slur— Edo Nakamura.
And surprisingly enough his last sightings were spotted in the same alley nagumo was granted to lay his eyes on your soft frame.
After collecting several pieces of information about Edo’s past from the mission handler, nagumo noted 3 facts about him.
Edo had a history with an illegal orphanage which was later burned down for certain unknown reasons.
His speciality was poisons. He was among the very few male students from the poison department of jcc. After graduation he joined the Tokyo quarters before vanishing into thin air right when the massacre started.
And lastly, he was said to have a sister.
And that specific sister runs her own bakery, which is also somewhere situated amidst the nooks and hooks of this alley.
Edo is suspected of treachery and might have caused the opening to the breaking of the Tokyo headquarters. And from what the papers suggests, it took less than a millisecond for nagumo to come to the conclusion that Edo might have visited his sister before his traces faded.
And that sister might lead to the advantage of revealing the pathway to slur’s so-called puppet ‘Edo’.
‘Little a lot’— was the name of the bakery….and it wasn't a hassle when just a few turns led to the vibrant blue of old summer sky drew him in.
Nagumo thought to himself, what'd this serene peace of blue would look like if he rather tainted it with splatters of chaotic blood.
What if the slow tendrils of this freshly baked bread had a hint of metallic, iron like pungency? His lips creaked as corners turn upwards in a gleaming smile. Shall he force edo’s sister to lure him in here and satisfy the itch of his palm?
‘Clang-dong'
A step echoed as he entered the bakery. It was quiet inside and the owner wasn't seen to be near.
Nagumo swallowed his chuckle. It'd be so fun to break this silent melody with wretched screams. Shall he hide? Oh it'd be very fine to kill them both wouldn't it? the brother and the sister, both? After all, they might feel lonely if one crossed the line of death but the other didn't. Wouldn't they?
‘Clang-dong’
“Oh, a customer! I'm sorry I wasn't around, what would you need si— hey aren't you the guy from the other day?”
“...huh?”
“Is your wound healed now?... don't you remember me? I'm the one who offered you a bandaid that day when—”
Nagumo interrupts, “are you the owner of this bakery?”
“Um yeah?...” You tilt your head in confusion at the black haired guy you met a few days ago. “Do you need something from here?”
“Uh…yeah anything baked you feel’d be the best.” Nagumo answers after a while. What was it supposed to mean? You were Edo’s…sister? The broad plan of executing double murders was long forgotten from his mind, replaced by a dull throb in his chest and ragged breaths.
You nodded your head slipping behind the counter and packing some of the freshly baked blueberry muffins from the oven into the takeout box. Your delicate fingers brushed back your strands of hair, before drawing out a paper bag to proceed with his order.
“That'd be 3,500 yen. I…uh.. packed you blueberry muffins.” You stated, a bit nervously as the huge man kept staring at you with blank eyes.
“...yeah. thanks.” Nagumo handed down the cash to the coin tray on the counter with one hand while the other took his unplanned pakage after shoving his wallet back to his pocket.
Your fingers brushed with his ever so slightly and the dull throb on his chest intensified. He felt delirious, dizzy and unorganised. What was wrong, wasn't he supposed to stop with his bullshit and rather execute his mission?
He didn't stop walking until he was out of the bakery. Or till the some sort of intensified throb on his chest calmed. Only then did he walk back in.
He'd straight go to work. Get the details about edo and—
“You forgot something, Sir?”
Silence.
“Uh…your name?” what the heck? Wasn't he about to ask about edo?
“Y/n. And yours?” You said, shades of faint red painting your cheeks. Your name was so beautiful, he thought.
“yoichi. Nagumo yoichi.”
Back on his way home, he repeated your name several times in several different tones and felt an unusual rush of fervor delight rushing through his veins, similar yet even more intense than when he kills on his missions.
Professor SUGURU with his student next! honestly idk what he would teach though
-uncreative anon
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
Yandere Suguru Geto x Reader
⟡ AN: Hahaha, I love how this has turned into a series. I decided Suguru is gonna be a Philosophy/Ethics professor because of his whole moral dilemma in the show. I also really just wanted to use the Nietzche quote. I've gotta say this series excites me. What teacher will violate reader next?
⟡ CW: 18+ ONLY, NON CON, student/teacher relationship, PIV sex, drugging, choking, sugurus obsession with monkeys, professor gojo oml he's a menace someone lock him up
Nietzche once wrote “Man is more monkey than any monkey.”
A monkey can not think or act beyond primal instincts because they do not have the mental capacity to do so. Humans do, yet we choose to act on our urges anyway. In that way, humans are more monkeys than monkeys because we choose to be monkeys.
Suguru hated monkeys.
Men who chased pleasure aimlessly, following their greed or lust like a dog on a leash. They were the reason humanity could never progress past its greatest challenges. No better than scum.
He thought that he was above them, once.
But then he met you.
Suguru wasn’t terribly fond of the vast majority of his students. The college age demographic was full of monkeys. Entitled children who devoted their weekends to drinking and fucking each other like animals rather than studying, then come crawling to his office on Monday morning begging him to please change their grade. It made him sick.
You couldn’t be any less like them.
A brilliant young girl— one of the most promising he’s ever taught. You were leagues beyond your peers in your ability to grasp philosophical concepts. He rarely ever found a student whose arguments were even compelling, yours interested him.
He called you into his office after grading your first essay of the semester because he was almost certain you’d plagiarized it. He scoffed to himself as he read it, thinking it was a particularly poor effort at stealing. Most students at least knew to dumb down the work a little so it sounded like it was written by a college student.
But when he called you in and began talking to you about the paper, it was clear that you actually had an incredibly firm grasp on the topic. What was supposed to be a 15 minute meeting turned into an hour long conversation about transcendental idealism. It only ended because he realized he was late for his next lecture.
He let you out of his office with a newfound fascination.
---
It was you who approached him for your second meeting. He received an email from you about a week later:
Hello Professor,
I hope this finds you well. I wanted to say thank you again for the conversation we had the other day. I really enjoyed it. I was wondering if I could ask for a favor.
I’m working on my senior honors thesis this year and I’m in the process of looking for a thesis supervisor. I was wondering if I could speak to you about my topic and see if we’d be a good fit. Even if you could point me in the direction of someone else who could help me, I’d be incredibly appreciative.
Thank you,
(Y/N)
It’s a bit embarrassing how quickly he responded to set up a time and date. The prospect of mentoring you for the whole year; of having a set chunk of one-on-one time every week where he could pick your perfect brain and stare at your pretty face was mortifyingly intoxicating.
He laid in bed that night, mulling over the morality of his desire for you. There was no doubt in his mind that he shouldn’t feel this way about a student. He has the power advantage in the dynamic, not to mention the fact that he’s nearly 10 years your senior, it’s wrong in every conceivable way to look at you with anything other than platonic affection. He doesn’t need to be an Ethics professor to know that.
But as his hand travels past his boxer waistband that night, it’s your face he imagines.
The two of you meet and quickly decide that you’ll work well together. You fill out some form and discuss your topic which is, rather ironically, the ethics of love and sex.
He feels as though the universe must be teasing him.
Still, he persists. Anything for his favorite student. You submit your thesis proposal and the work begins.
You meet every Monday and Wednesday after lecture—though he encourages you to stop in whenever you’d like. You read through your work and he challenges your ideas, watching you carefully as you write and rewrite, completely oblivious to the depraved fantasies playing out in his head. He’s grateful that his boner is hidden by his desk as you look up at him with those lovely eyes of yours and talk about sexual desire as innocently as the weather.
The moment you leave his office he’s locking the door, closing the blinds and unzipping his pants. Thrusting erratically into his hand as your name tumbles from his lips.
As he wipes the mess off his hand he reminds himself that the need for intimacy is a sentient desire. It's human to crave deep connection.
It’s a weak attempt at making himself feel better.
But he can’t stop. He’s enraptured by you. Your beauty, your personality, your mind—each time you laugh, speak, cry, he falls in love a little more. It’s maddening, his desire for you. It haunts him every time you open the door to his office.
---
He was standing with Satoru one day outside of the biology building as he ranted about some kid named Yuji. He wasn't really paying attention, he was staring at you as you laughed with your friends across the quad.
Gojo huffed indignantly when he realized he wasn't listening. Nudging him to pay attention to him until he noticed what he was staring at.
His blue eyes lit up mischievously.
“Oooooh, someones got a crush~” he sang, elbowing him playfully, “She’s awfully cute. How old is she? Sophomore? Junior? Senior?”
“What? No she’s-“
“ A freshman,” He gasps dramatically, “Suguru, I didn’t take you for a cradle robber-“
“Shut up.” he snaps as his friend cackles, “I’m supervising her senior honors thesis, freak. That’s all.”
Gojo scoffs, “I’ve known you too long to believe that bullshit. The last time I saw your eyes light up like that was when we read Allegedly of the Cave in high school.”
“It’s Allegory of the Cave-“
“Whatever,” he waves, “What I’m saying is she’s making you feel things.”
Suguru looks away with a frown, not wanting to dignify his claim but also incapable of denying it. Gojo sits back smugly.
“I know all that ethics stuff is important to you and I don’t pretend to know much about it, but I do know about biology and I know that science says it’s in our DNA to want to procreate.”
Geto squints, “Exactly what are you implying Satoru?”
He shrugs, “It’s not your fault if you have urges. It’s a basic principle of life—the sky is blue, the grass is green, and men want to fuck pretty women.”
Geto scowls, “You’re disgusting.”
But his words stay with him.
---
The year goes on. Before he knows it, the spring semester is ending and it’s time for you to present your thesis to the panel.
He’s upset that he won’t be working one-on-one with you next semester, but you’ll be in grad school for another four years. He’ll still have you in his classes most likely, and you’ll do your dissertation at some point, there’s no doubt you’ll want to be mentored by your favorite professor again.
He leans back in his chair, smiling at you proudly at the end of your second to last meeting.
“You’ve done well (Y/N),” he says, scrolling through the lengthy document on his laptop, “This is an impressive piece of work. You should be proud of yourself.”
A soft blush blooms on your face, “Thank you Professor, I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He shakes his head “The pleasure was all mine. If this is your thesis I’m excited to read your dissertation in a few years.”
“Ah, about that…” you laugh sheepishly, “I’m actually transferring for grad school. I got a decent scholarship from another university near where I live, I wanted to be a little closer to home.”
Geto’s heart drops to his stomach, he has to take a moment to recover from his shock before he can manage an answer.
“I see…” he mumbles, swallowing thickly, “That’s…disappointing”
You offer him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll still keep in touch of course! I’ll give you updates on how I’m doing.”
He hums. There’s an awkward silence that feels like it lasts an eternity. When the silence becomes too painful to bear, Geto clears his throat and closes his laptop.
“I’ll see you on Monday for our final meeting. Please make sure you bring paper copies of your thesis. I’ll hand them out to the panel on the day of the presentation…” You nod and gather your things, clearly eager to get away from the tension-thick room. You wave goodbye before quickly scurrying off.
He doesn’t even remember the drive back to his apartment—he’s in his office one minute and the next he's on his bed staring at the ceiling.
Changing schools? After a whole year with him you were just going to leave? Don’t you realize that he’s devoted all he had this year to making sure you reached your fullest potential? That’s what love is, isn’t it? The mutual sacrifice of one’s self for the other?
What if you go to this new school and another Professor decides to covet you? A pathetic monkey who could never love you like he could. You’d be dirtied by their touch, their ideas. The thought makes him sick.
Never has he met a woman with a mind like yours, he likely never will again. Now that he’s seen heaven, how was he supposed to go back?
He needs you like he needs oxygen in his lungs. He loves you in an instinctual, carnal way that can’t be explained. He wants to take you, claim you, and keep you away from any other man who may try to steal you away from him.
His mind drifts back to Satoru’s words:
“It’s just a basic principle of life…”
Maybe he was right. Maybe the way he felt went beyond the bounds of morality.
---
You walk into his office that Monday for your final meeting. It’s late. Everyone has gone home for the night so the usually bustling building is eerily quiet. Your professor emailed you earlier asking if you could change the time of your meeting, said that he had a mountain of papers he had to finish grading and it would be a huge help if you could meet a little later.
Of course you said yes. Anything for Professor Geto.
He smiles as he opens the door, guiding you in with a gentle hand on your lower back.
You notice that the blinds are drawn. It’s odd. He never has the blinds drawn and it’s already dark outside, but you don’t question it too much. You’re just glad that the tension seems to have dissipated from the last time you saw him.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet a bit later with me. I really appreciate it.” he says as the two of you settle in, “Do you want something to drink?”
You smile, “No problem, and yeah. That would be great actually.”
He hums, walking over to the kettle on the other side of his room to put water on. “Did you bring the paper copies?” He asks.
You nod, fishing through your bag and pulling them out.
“Perfect, could you put them in the bottom drawer of my desk please? I don’t want to lose them.”
You swiftly obey. When your back is turned he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the white pill he bought off a monkey in his ethics class who desperately needed a passing grade. He plops it in the cup with your tea bag, watching it fizz away in the hot water.
He walks back to his desk and places the mug in front of you.
“It’s hot, let it cool down a little before you drink.”
You nod, thanking him as he takes his seat.
He walks you through some of the logistics of the presentation—where it will be, who will be on the panel, what you can expect before and after—all while keeping a careful eye on your cup. He starts to worry that you won't drink from it, but sure enough, just as he finishes you bring the mug to your lips.
The drugs kick in almost immediately. He watches in awe as your eyes blow wide in fear, unsure of why your limbs have given out on you. He catches your head before it can hit his desk, fingers caressing the soft skin of your cheek, pants tightening around his growing erection.
A pang of guilt twists in his gut at the way you stare up at him, teary eyes blown wide in fear and confusion, silently pleading for him not to do this.
It’s almost enough to stop him.
Almost.
He lifts your body up and gently places you on top of his desk, your arm can only twitch weakly in protest as he lays you down on a pile of ungraded finals. It seemed like the monkey had made good on his promise and gotten him the right dose—just enough to make you pliant. He wanted you to be awake and conscious for this.
His eyes rake over your body as he works on taking off your shirt, revealing your soft torso inch by inch. Your body is sinfully perfect, even better than he’d imagined it would be. He’s gentle as he handles your smaller body, incredibly so. He refused to rape you like an animal. He was going to make love to you softly, reverently, until you lived and breathed him just as he did you.
A few whimpers fall from your mouth but he quickly shushes them with a kiss, wiping the tears from your droopy eyes with the pad of his thumb. His slender fingers toy with the waistband of your pants
“You’re so lovely...” he breathes, ghosting his lips along your neck, “I’ve been waiting so long for you.”
Your jeans and panties are pulled down your thighs and calves until you’re completely naked and at his mercy. Your professor swallows thickly, dropping to his knees between your legs, holding them apart as he ghosts his lips over your cunt.
“Oh (Y/N)...” he sighs, licking a languid swipe from the bottom of your slit to your clit and leaving a soft kiss over the little nub “You don’t have to cry, darling. I’m doing what’s best for you—for us.”
You whimper loudly. It seems like you’re trying to form a sentence but your lips and tongue are weighed down by the drugs. He smiles lazily and latches onto your clit, holding your hips steady as his tongue paints lazy circles over the delicate bud, sending shivers up your spine.
“I didn’t want to spring this on you, I thought that we’d have more time,” he mumbles into your now dripping pussy, “But when you told me you were to a school where I couldn’t protect you from all the filthy monkeys, I had no other choice.”
Two of his fingers slide into your dripping cavern, thrusting back and forth slow and deep, exploring every nook and cranny of your tight cunt. Geto couldn’t wait to become familiar with it, to know by muscle memory where to touch to make you unravel. His hands travel to his own pants subconsciously as he thinks of all the ways he’ll have you—over his desk, on his bed, in the shower—he honestly didn’t care where it was as long as you were being worshiped by him and him alone.
He thinks of the students in his class—the boys who fucked different girls every night and then left without a word. Had those monkeys ever touched you? His heart sank at the thought. His poor, sweet girl, defiled by that scum.
His blood boils as he thinks about it, fingers subconsciously pumping in and out of your cunt harder making you groan. In a way, this was the moral thing to do. Clearly you didn’t know what was right for yourself, he was just stepping in as an older, wiser man to protect you from harm. By taking you forcefully, he was saving you from the pain those other monkeys would inevitably cause you.
He loved you. He’d cherish and take care of you until his dying breath. They wouldn’t. It might hurt you now, but eventually you’ll understand and be better off for it.
That’s what he tells himself as he lines up his cock.
You let out what he thinks is meant to be a scream, though it comes out as more of a loud groan. He smiles softly, kissing your tears away as he slowly pushes in, waiting patiently for you to adjust as he bottoms out.
“P-please…” he makes out in your cluster of mumbled whining. His heart hurts for you, it really does.
“This is good for you (Y/N). Don’t fight it. I’m gonna take care of you so well.” he groans, pulling his hips back slowly before sinking himself back into your warmth, establishing a steady, slow rhythm to get you used to the size. “You’re gonna drop out of that college for me and I’m gonna get you an even better scholarship here, alright? I know grad school is awfully expensive these days, and I can tell you from experience that untenured professors get paid nothing. It would be smart to start pinching pennies.”
He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, tangling a hand in your hair ever so gently, “Here, you have me. Your favorite Professor, right sweetheart? I want to see you succeed. I’ll give my all to you—as a teacher and a lover.” his thrusts quicken and his eyes light up with something between madness and delight as you clench around him.
“I’ll take care of everything. I have no doubt that your dissertation could be groundbreaking with the right direction. I’ll line up a nice job for you here once you graduate, and then…” his hips slow as he stares deep into your teary eyes, heart pounding in adoration, “...I think it would be cute to have two Dr. Geto’s in the Philosophy department, hm?”
Your stomach threatens to empty itself. You try to kick, scream, fight, anything but your limbs won’t work. Whatever he gave you was strong. You glare up at him, the man you once admired, and with the last of your energy, spit in his face.
Geto blinks a couple of times, hand traveling up slowly to touch the saliva dripping down his nose. As his fingers process the wetness his eyes darken, blood boiling hot at the triumphant look on your face.
“...You little bitch.”
You don’t have time to process his words before his hand is wrapped around your throat and he’s pounding into you with reckless abandon. No concern for your pleasure or comfort, only meaning to establish his control.
“You want to spit on me after I offer you everything? I could ruin your life if I wanted.” he snaps, ignoring your tears, “I’ll tell the panel tomorrow that I found out you’ve been cheating. You’re worried about grad school? You won’t even graduate.”
His lips curl up menacingly, picking up the pace as his orgasm approaches, “Don’t think you’ll sneak into another university either. The academic world is small. I have contacts just about everywhere and it would be easy for me to get them to blacklist you if I felt it was necessary.” he grunts, “Yeah, good luck paying your loans without a–fuck- job.”
His thrusts become sporadic and he pulls out, turning your body around so that he’s jerking himself off right over your face. He lets out a low groan as he cums, face relaxed in euphoria as thick ropes spray all over your face and mix with your hot tears.
He pants, looking down at your cum covered nose and lips. You look…pathetic. Absolutely defiled, like you’ve been bred by some kind of animal.
By a monkey.
Suguru feels a twist of guilt in his gut. Wasn’t this exactly what he promised himself he wouldn’t do? He let his emotions and desire control him—he hurt you. How was he better than any other rapist?
It was for your own good he reminds himself. If the action is done with reason, then it’s a conscious decision. He’s not a monkey. He’s not a monkey.
He zips up his pants quietly and gathers his things.
“The drugs should wear off in about an hour, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.” he says, unable to meet your eye, “If you show up for the presentation tomorrow I’ll take it as an acceptance of my offer. If not… well, I suppose you’ll be receiving an email from the university within the next few days.”
He leaves without another word.
---
He didn’t expect you to show up the next day, he really thought that he’d have to start preparing evidence to show the dean and other proctors, but to his surprise, you walked into the room right on time.
You were frazzled and looked like you hadn’t slept but you were there. You were accepting his love. He watched you giddily as you presented—very well, he notes, considering what happened last night. One of the other panel members nudged him and asked what was making him so happy. He just smiled replying that he was just so proud of his student.
Suguru holds the door for you as you walk out, squeezing your shoulder and congratulating you on doing such a good job before following the rest of the panel to determine the results.
After you get the good news, Suguru takes you back to his office because he has a “special present” for you.
As he spears you on his cock he thinks back to Nietzsche's words.
