》 I'm brazilian and I speak portuguese (we do NOT speak spanish). English is not my first language, so there may be translation mistakes and grammatical errors in my works.
》 I’m always open to constructive criticism! I really want to improve my writing.
ᯓ★ Fandoms I write for:
Naruto / Dr. Stone / Gachiakuta / Black Clover / Danganronpa / Devil May Cry / Persona 3 / Jujutsu Kaisen / Chainsaw man / Stardew Valley / Honkai: Star Rail / Final Fantasy VII / Mob Psycho 100 / Hunter x Hunter / Tokyo Revengers / Kimetsu no Yaiba / Shingeki no Kyojin / Fullmetal Alchemist / Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure (part 1 to 7)
Note: I don’t write for every character. Some of them I simply don’t like or feel comfortable writing. More fandoms may be added in the future!
smut, incest, rape / sexual abuse, pedophilia, ships, oc x character, male!reader, non-con, gore, romanticized yandere, anything that makes me uncomfortable.
ᯓ★ Requests:
• requests outside of what i write or sent when they are closed will be ignored.
• please be clear when requesting (character, fandom, type of interaction, genre...)
• do NOT repost, translate or adapt my works without proper credit.
• be respectful in comments — this is a safe space! ♡
》 You can send questions, opinions, or anything else you’d like to my ask box! I like to chat!
》 Feel free to send requests! There’s no guarantee i’ll be able to write everything, since I have a life outside the internet and limited time, but I’ll do my best! :)
Ten billion percent chance that's a lie. Senku, in love? Only if it’s with science. No field of the exact sciences or natural world could explain what he was feeling — maybe biology, but anyone who knows this maniac knows no logic can account for it. He’d never shown romantic interest in anyone.
So why now?
Kohaku had already given up on him and bet their friend would end up like one of those old bachelors who claim they’re married to their work (forget the fact that he’s over three thousand seven hundred years old, okay?).
The situation stirred buzz among their friends, who were, of course, shocked. Chrome stood gaping, pulling Kohaku aside in a gossipy tone. The blonde nodded in agreement and turned her face to answer. Gen simply contented himself with a laugh, crossing his arms as he flashed his usual sly smile. This time, though, he wasn’t laughing with Senku. He was laughing at him. The mentalist clicked his tongue, his dark eyes analyzing the reddish hue on his scientist friend’s face. Yes, he’d treasure that image fondly.
“Well, well… Looks like there is some sentimentality in you after all. But damn, that big brute? She manages to be worse than this one right here.” He gestured toward Kohaku, who raised her arm, ready to strike.
“What did you say?!” Kohaku yelled.
“Shut up. I don’t like anyone.” Senku tried to keep his voice steady but failed. The tone came out slightly shaky, the words nearly tripping over each other. God, how he hated that. He’d never felt this way before. It was frightening and a disaster for his reputation, for sure.
The only things capable of getting him genuinely excited were his wild ideas, new inventions, and, of course, science. There was nothing more enchanting in the world than knowledge, especially the kind passed down from generation to generation. Senku was a bearer of that knowledge and took pride in it. Yet now his heart was racing for other reasons.
A girl.
It sounded like a bad joke. She was rough, impulsive… but precisely that way of hers drew him in. Senku was never a delicate flower himself — who was he to judge? Still, beneath that hard exterior, there was a spectacular woman. She was strong, but unlike Kohaku, there was grace in the way she fought. Her movements recalled a dance, each action carrying its own purpose and finesse. A strong personality, swift and precise attacks, flawless positioning. He was fascinated by how she balanced delicacy and brutality with such mastery.
Senku had never needed to scrutinize people much to recognize their potential. But that woman had managed to capture his attention — and the result was this embarrassing scene right now. He watched her train, using the excuse of assessing her performance for the journey to the other side of the world.
He repeated to himself, countless times, that this was a mere exercise in scientific observation, a study of human potential at its physical peak. But science couldn’t explain the flutter in his stomach when she looked at him or smiled. It took just one moment of observing the genuine curve of her lips for Senku to realize: he’d collected too much data and analyzed too little. His heart, that organ he considered a mere efficient biological pump, was behaving like a volatile element in a miscalculated experiment.
“Senku?” Kohaku’s voice cut through his daydream. “You’re staring at her again. Why don’t you just ask her out already?”
“No!” The answer came out too quick and too sharp. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I’m merely calculating the kinetic force of her last strike. It’s impressive. Scientifically speaking.”
Gen let out a melodious little laugh. “Oh, really? And the fact that you’re red as a tomato — is that a scientific reaction too? Spontaneous combustion of the cheeks, perhaps?”
“Don’t you two have anything better to do?” Senku growled, averting his gaze.
Chrome, with his ever-transparent expression, scratched his chin thoughtfully. “But, Senku, if you like her, why don’t you say something? We could start by doing an experiment! How about a love potion?”
“Chrome.” Senku sighed, cutting him off. “Love isn’t a chemical reaction you whip up in a lab. It’s…” He hesitated, the words escaping his lips. How to define something that couldn’t be measured, weighed, or replicated?
It’s a damn paradox, he thought to himself. It was illogical, irrational, and bothersome. Yet, for the first time in three thousand seven hundred years, the uncertainty didn’t feel entirely unpleasant.
He risked another glance at her. Now the girl was helping one of the newcomers to his feet after a fall, with a patience that contrasted with her ferocity in combat.
Perfect. Simply perfect.
Until she turned around.
It was too fast for Senku to formulate any rehearsed reaction. Instead of looking away or pretending to scan the horizon, he held her gaze for a fraction of a second too long. She arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a half-confused smile.
And, with ten billion percent certainty, Senku knew he’d just been caught.
someone asked me a while ago if i could write more rudo fanfics and yes, i can! i ended up losing their message because i accidentally deleted it (sorry!!), but as i’ve said a few times before, they’re not stopping. i should reopen requests when i go on break from college, so you’ll be able to leave your ideas here soon. other than that, i hope you’re all doing well! <3
★ The constant care and companionship have made Dear Santa start seeing you as his mother. He doesn’t have a biological family, but you and Bro Santa naturally fill that role.
★ He feels loved, even if he doesn’t always know how to show it. Still, in small gestures, it’s clear how much he values your presence.
★ Your relationship is full of care. Dear Santa is a good boy, but very temperamental. His impulsiveness can sometimes be challenging, and it can be tiring to manage him. Yet, you never see him as impossible to handle.
★ There are no real fights or arguments between you, not even with the rest of Team Child. In the end, you all function like one big family — which is exactly what you are.
★ Dear Santa usually follows instructions, though sometimes reluctantly. He doesn’t respond well to being told what to do and can get irritated when corrected. Still, he shows a sense of respect when it comes to you and Bro Santa. He might not express it openly, but in the end, he listens (even if grumbling).
★ Being a child, there are still things he can’t do on his own. Naturally, he turns to you for help. Often, it’s something simple: hunger, expecting you to prepare something for him. Other times, it’s just fatigue weighing him down. In those moments, he seeks you out, wanting you to put him to bed and read him a story until he falls asleep.
★ You care for him with all the love in the world, as if you had given birth to him. Sometimes, you end up spoiling him more than you should, giving him the sweets he loves and indulging his little whims. It’s an intense, almost overwhelming feeling, one that makes you never hesitate to put yourself at risk to keep him safe.
★ Dear Santa used to rest alone in his own room. But everything changed the first time he fell asleep in your lap after an exhausting day. That day, he woke up feeling something he hadn’t in a long time, the calm and warmth of a mother. Since then, he’s sought out that feeling, going to sleep beside you, resting his head on your chest.
★ He can get grumpy when he’s not feeling well, whether from tiredness or other reasons. On those days, he becomes more clingy — following you around, watching you do your tasks, wanting only to stay close to someone who brings him so much comfort. When sleep comes, he gently tugs at your clothes, and you understand immediately. He wants to be held.
★ You and Bro Santa are the most special people in his life, besides Guita, of course. Dear Santa doesn’t usually think about losing you, but when the thought does cross his mind, he feels a tightness in his chest. He’s still too young to fully understand the depth of his feelings. Still, he knows how important you are and never wants to lose you.
★ He’s happy with how things are now. He has a family, a place to sleep, sweets, friends, and people who care for him. Dear feels safe, and for a moment, the fears of the outside world seem far away. By your side, he can simply be a regular child and enjoy the good things in life.
Author's notes: I also write on Wattpad, and some of the imagines I post here are requests from there, like this one. Anyway, I hope you're all doing well ♡
★ His family has grown, in a way. Besides the father figure he already had in Bro Santa, now you're also part of his life. He sees you as a kind of older sister: someone he can trust and feel safe with.
★ He doesn't speak. Dear Santa never opens his mouth to say a single word. All of his communication is based on gestures, sounds, and facial expressions. Over time, you've learned to interpret each of these signals. And it's not that hard, all things considered. He's very expressive, like almost any child.
★ The boy enjoys spending quality time with you — whether it's drawing, reading a children's story, letting you fix his hair, or just sleeping in a comfortable corner. He's usually quite irritable, but when he's with you, he's calmer. A "rare" behavior, coming from him.
★ Dear Santa hates nicknames and gets very annoyed when called "little" or "cute." However, he has a certain tolerance when it comes from you, even if he doesn't like being treated that way. It's funny to see his pouty face when you call him cute and squeeze his soft cheeks.
★ He likes to nap in your arms. Actually, Dear Santa can sleep anywhere if he's tired enough. But there's something comforting about sleeping with you nearby. He rubs his sleepy eyes before settling against your chest, closing his heavy eyelids as he drifts off. You smile and stroke his back, feeling his peaceful breath against your skin.
★ One day, you gave him a stuffed bunny. It was simple, with button eyes and a slightly worn look. But to the boy, it was like a treasure. He won't let anyone touch it and always sleeps clutching the bunny. He takes care of it tenderly, patting it to clean off dirt, and brings it to you when any part starts to come undone. He will never throw the stuffed animal away and will be devastated if he loses it.
★ Even though he's younger, he feels an intense need to protect you. It would be cute, if it weren't actually dangerous. The truth is, that boy has a frightening destructive capacity, and you know it's better to restrain him before any major damage happens.
★ Dear Santa gets furious when anyone poses any threat to you, no matter how small. He places himself in front of you, crosses his little arms, and furrows his brow, as if to say, "I'll handle this." You have to hold back a laugh while gently pulling him back by his overalls: "Hey, calm down. I've got this, okay?"
★ Dear Santa gets a little jealous when you spend too much time talking to another Cleaner or playing with Guita. It's almost certain he'll show up, sit beside you, and stare at you with an expression that clearly says, "And me?"
★ He hates it when you take too long to come back from missions. At first, Dear Santa doesn't show it obviously, but he gets restless: he paces back and forth, chews on his pacifier, and keeps his eyes fixed on any movement around him. When you finally appear, he acts as if he didn't miss you at all, but he doesn't leave your side for the rest of the day.
★ Every time you return from a solo mission, he comes straight to find you. The little boy stops in front of you and scans you from head to toe, checking if you're okay. If you are, he gives a short, satisfied nod.
★ If you're hurt, he worries but disguises it with irritation. You can tell he's already thinking about who or what could have done this, making that face that says, "Who do I need to hit?" You just sigh and assure him you'll be fine.
★ Dear Santa doesn't understand complex emotions, but he notices when you're not okay. He approaches. His little fingers gently tug at the hem of your clothes, getting your attention. When you look, he stares at you for a few seconds before resting his forehead against your arm. That's his way of saying he's there. That you're not alone.
★ Deep down, he feels safer than ever since you joined the "family." He doesn't need to say anything for you to know — just notice the way his shoulders relax when you're around, or how he leans his head lightly against your arm when he thinks no one is looking. Even without a blood bond, you are his sister, and that will never change.
★ Yuji Itadori is a very sweet, silly, helpful, and completely smitten boyfriend. He is respectful and does everything he can to make you happy.
★ Yuji admires you deeply. Despite the imperfections that every human being has, he sees your qualities, praises your achievements, and loves showing you off to the world. Your boyfriend is your biggest fan and will support you in absolutely everything.
★ He loves every part of you and won't accept you saying anything negative about yourself. Yuji simply doesn't understand when you have moments of low self-esteem. To him, you are the most beautiful woman to ever walk the face of the Earth.
★ Yuji isn't clingy, but that doesn't mean there's a lack of contact. Physical touch happens naturally, often when you're both distracted, debating something trivial. He never forces contact, but whenever he gets a chance, he takes it. Sometimes, he'll just run his hand along your back, lean his head against yours, and give you a quick peck on the cheek.
★ He enjoys eye contact. When you're speaking, Yuji stops whatever he's doing and truly pays attention, looking directly into your eyes as if nothing else around you matters. Maybe he's just completely in love and wants an excuse to stare at you without seeming weird. The important thing is that he always listens — even if, at some point, he ends up getting distracted by your beauty.
★ Yuji's primary love language is acts of service. He helps others without expecting anything in return, and it's the same with you. The pink-haired young man takes care of you when you're tired and takes on the responsibility of protecting you, even knowing how strong you are as a jujutsu sorcerer.
★ Yuji's love language is also quality time. He loves spending time with you, no matter the time or place. You often talk about anything and everything, especially missions, movies, and TV shows. Yuji loves laughing about all sorts of silly things with you and sharing simple moments in such a hectic routine.
★ He always makes himself available to you, no matter the situation. On shopping trips, Yuji carries countless bags without complaining, even if they're heavy with makeup, clothes, shoes, and whatever else you bought. He does it all with a smile on his face because it's for you.
★ Yuji understands that you care about your appearance and sees nothing wrong with that. He finds it curious how you're always "changing" your hair. Just when he gets used to your braids, you show up without them, wearing your natural hair. The next week, you appear with straight sections — and then curls. There are so many changes, but he compliments you every single time.
★ Yuji likes watching you do your makeup. His brown eyes linger on your mouth for a considerable time as he watches you line your lips in dark color before finishing with gloss. He stays quiet, just admiring your face, thinking about how you manage to become even more beautiful every day. In the end, Yuji concludes that he's very lucky to have you as his girlfriend.
★ He tries to learn how to care for your hair. Yuji isn't very good at it, but you can clearly see his effort as he carefully tries to style your curls. His phone is full of searches on how to take care of your hair type. He buys leave-in creams, hydrating masks, and other products because he knows it will make you happy.
★ Yuji isn't jealous. He trusts you and is far from being possessive or controlling. If someone hits on you, he obviously won't like it. Yuji will make it clear that you're dating and will hold your hand for a while. Other than that, he doesn't have a problem with your other relationships, nor does he mind their existence.
★ Yuji likes seeing that you get along with his friends. Nobara adores you. According to her, it's good to have another girl in the group besides those two idiots. She always says she doesn't understand what you saw in Itadori to start dating him, but deep down, she knows exactly why. As for Megumi, he respects you, to say the least. You don't talk much, mainly because he's more reserved, but there's no discomfort between you.
★ He feels like his world is collapsing when he finds you with a serious injury. Yuji completely loses his mind for a moment — after making sure you're safe, he makes a point of dealing with whoever hurt you. In a world full of darkness, your presence is the light that brings him hope. Yuji will keep that light burning, no matter the cost.
★ Yuji is fully aware that, as sorcerers, your lives are in constant danger. Despite the fears and uncertainties, neither of you wants to give up on this relationship. If time is supposedly short, then you might as well make the most of it however you want. He strives to become stronger and learn to contain the curse within himself. Having you by his side is what motivates him to keep going, even in moments when he doubts his own ability.
Enjin's golden eyes scan you calmly. The dark dress falls over your bare shoulders, the lace fabric in deep shades of red contrasting with your skin, while the long sleeves move with every gesture you make. There's something graceful about the way the flared skirt follows your movements, light, almost hypnotizing.
In theory, Enjin should be evaluating your outfit. In practice, the dress is just a convenient excuse. You could be wearing anything — or nothing — and the effect would be the same. At the end of the day, Enjin always had a hard time caring about fabric when what truly interested him was underneath it.
He bites his lower lip, too distracted to maintain any facade of neutrality, as you spin around, resting your hands on your waist, in a private fashion show that only he has the privilege of watching. The blond remains sprawled on the sofa, arms resting along the backrest, legs crossed, far too comfortable for someone clearly affected.
"Enjin!"
Your voice bursts the daydream like a pin popping a balloon, pulling him back into the room. He blinks, his eyes still hazy before focusing on your expectant face.
"What do you think?" You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow, already anticipating the answer.
"Ah… well…" He scratches his cheek, a casual gesture that tries — unsuccessfully — to hide the whirlwind of inappropriate thoughts. His eyes drift to the ceiling for a moment, as if searching for inspiration in the cracks of the plaster, before returning to you with a lazy smile. "It's nice."
"Nice." You repeat, incredulous. "That's it?"
"I don't know anything about dresses." He argues, shrugging.
"You don't need to understand dresses to give a decent opinion."
"Babe…" Enjin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His tone is quite mild for someone loaded with ulterior motives. "You look beautiful in anything."
"So you didn't like it and you're trying to change the subject."
He sighs, exhausted from this conversation that, for him, has already gone on longer than necessary. It was just a damned dress.
"You wanna know the truth?" Enjin leans back on the sofa again, resting his head on his hand, his golden eyes sliding back over your body without the slightest shame. "I'd rather see you with nothing on."
His raised eyebrow and the smirk curling at the corner of his mouth make it clear that wasn't just a tease. Knowing that man, you knew he was being sincere.
You let out a long sigh, turning your face away. "I don't want your opinion anymore."
His smile only widens, slowly, as if he'd just gotten exactly what he wanted.
Without saying another word, Enjin stands up, stretching his arms above his head. The loose blouse slips off his equally broad shoulders as he approaches, and his large hands, marked with tattoos, slide over your shoulders, down your arms until they find your waist.
He's much taller, and the proximity only highlights the height difference between you. A few strands of blond hair fall across his forehead as his golden gaze insists on getting lost in the dress's modest neckline, as if trying to see beyond what was permitted.
Enjin runs his tongue over his lips before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours.
"Not at all?"
You look away, turning your face to the side to hide the persistent little smile threatening to appear. You wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
"No."
The push you give to his chest is weak, almost symbolic. Enjin barely moves.
"Come on…" he murmurs, his voice low, dripping with amusement. "Don't be so serious."
He leans in, closing the distance between you even further, until his lips brush against your neck. The touch is brief, just enough to draw a shiver that runs down your spine.
Enjin smiles against your skin, satisfied with the reaction he knows he caused. Instead of pulling back, his fingers find the small zipper at the top of your back. The metallic click sounds obscenely loud in the silence of the room.
"Enjin…" you warn, but your voice comes out more as a whisper. You don't truly want him to stop.
He begins to pull the dress zipper down your back, with deliberately slow movements.
"If you don't want my opinion on how you look with it on… how about my opinion on how you look without it?"
You close your eyes for a moment, hating how your body responds before reason does. Enjin had always been like that, a problem you never actually wanted to solve.
Maybe tomorrow you'll go back to demanding honest opinions.
Author's note: I wrote this a while ago but just forgot to post it! Anyway, I'll leave the rest to your imagination lol
hello! i love your rudo series so much! could you make more?
like rudo being jealous whenever reader give attention or care to the other kids and teens, like team child or amo even? maybe even zanka and riyo??
★ Rudo had never felt jealousy before, so he didn't know how to name that feeling. Still, a bitter taste would rise in his mouth whenever you weren't paying attention to him, but to someone else.
★ You were kind to your colleagues, always offering that radiant smile that made him feel safe. For some reason, when that affection was directed at the younger members, he got frustrated. You called him your son, so why did you treat those kids as if they were yours too? It wasn't fair!
★ Rudo would roll his eyes every time he found you with Dear Santa. The boy's serious expression was replaced by a calmer one in your presence, something Rudo deeply disliked. He clenched his fists, feeling his hands tremble as he watched you caress the boy's soft little face, who settled into your arms. He was as tame as never before, even surprising Bro Santa.
"You make him really calm," the older one comments, watching the two of you.
You just smile, with the little one hugged against your body, his head resting on your shoulder.
"Idiot," Rudo mutters, leaving the room.
★ One day, you were sitting in the cafeteria with Guita, watching the girl draw. She scribbled two stick figures: one with a green blur around it (which must have been her clothes) and a larger one (which was supposed to be you). There were many flowers, explosions, and a flood of colors on the paper. The girl smiled satisfied, her big eyes shining as she contemplated her new masterpiece before handing it to you.
"For me? How beautiful!" You carefully took the drawing from her hands, seeing the girl nod her head repeatedly in affirmation.
From afar, Rudo gritted his teeth, furrowing his brows. He had hoped to find you free, but apparently, you were too busy with that hysterical girl. The boy huffed, stomping his feet, frustrated once again.
★ Later, he hurried to see you. It was getting late and Rudo was starting to get sleepy. He was going to sleep in his own room that night, but he wanted to hear your stories or even that quiet song you used to sing. He knocked on your door, anxiously waiting to find you.
"Ah? It's you." To his surprise, Enjin opened the door. "She's not here. Must be with Amo. They said they were having a girls' night. Something like that." The blond shrugged, yawning.
Rudo blinked a few times. Girls' night? But what about the bedtime stories? And his "good night"? The boy sighed before turning his back on Enjin, barely hiding his dissatisfaction. What was so important about a night like that that it meant replacing him? It didn't make sense!
★ Rudo went through the long hallways, his red eyes scanning the doors until he found Amo's room. The door was ajar. He approached slowly, carefully placing his hands on the wood. Something told him he shouldn't peek, but he hadn't been in his best state lately. Rudo saw you sitting on the bed with Amo, brushing the girl's long brown hair while singing a soft song. Your voice was enough to make his shoulders drop and the fury that insisted on rising disappear. In place of anger, he felt a weight in his chest, followed by emptiness.
You chose to spend that time with her. It was fine, right? He could handle it.
Rudo soon returned to his room and curled up in bed, taking a while to fall asleep.
★ The next morning, he woke up a bit sleepier, his hair messy and light circles under his scarlet eyes. Rudo arrived at the cafeteria after getting ready and brushing his teeth, hoping to receive his "good morning" and eat something tasty. He blinked his heavy eyelids, slowly lifting his head through the cloud of sleep. However, the sight that greeted him wasn't pleasing. Riyo was laughing with you, holding a steaming mug while leaning her head on your shoulder, receiving a brief caress on her arm before pulling away.
"Hey there, Rudo." She waved with her free hand, her green eyes analyzing him from top to bottom. "Wow, you look tired. Didn't sleep?" She commented, taking a sip of her drink.
Rudo felt like they were mocking him. He ignored Riyo's comment and turned his face away, trying to push away the insults that arose in his mind. He wouldn't say anything to avoid unnecessary conflict. However, that uncomfortable feeling persisted. He got his food and sat next to you, also leaning his head on your shoulder while drinking chocolate milk from a carton.
"Good morning," he murmured, half irritated — not with you, of course.
★ Okay, maybe Rudo's patience had run out completely when he saw Zanka receiving YOUR affection. Gosh, he felt his heart beat faster with rage, his breath becoming shorter and shorter. The others he could tolerate (or try to, at least). But Zanka? That was too much! Those two were almost always arguing, taking jabs at each other for no apparent reason.
The blue-eyed boy had just returned from a mission along with Enjin, both tired after work. You gave a quick kiss on Enjin's lips, your boyfriend, and then went to welcome Zanka — something you always did with Rudo when he returned from missions.
"You worked really hard, Zanka. I'm proud of you!" You gently caressed his two-toned hair, flashing that smile Rudo didn't like to share.
Did Zanka really deserve all this?
The answer was obvious: NO!
Of course, Zanka got all flustered. His cheeks turned red and his eyes gained a radiant shine with your praise. Receiving your validation meant a lot to him. But for our boy Rudo, that was crossing every line. He would never accept having your attention taken by that guy.
★ Rudo didn't think twice. He dashed towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, pressing his pouty face against your stomach. His red eyes burned with fury, his thin brows furrowed, a dark aura emanating from his small body as he stared at Zanka like a rabid dog. You were startled, turning your face down to find Rudo clinging to your body.
Zanka raised an eyebrow, snapping out of the wave of emotion he had placed himself in. "Huh? What's with this kid?"
"Stay away from her!" Rudo was practically growling. On one hand, it was cute, but you knew this jealousy of his wasn't very healthy.
"Hey, Rudo. Let's talk." You gently stroked his back, giving a restrained smile to Zanka before leaving with the boy.
★ Rudo had been acting as if he hadn't done anything strange for an entire week. You crossed your arms, giving him that reproachful look that made him shrink on the bench. He lowered his gaze, resting his gloved hands on his knees. You sighed, shaking your head.
"Rudo," you called him, your tone a bit firmer this time. "What's going on?"
Your question was enough to make him freeze. He didn't know how to explain what he was feeling, but in the last few days, he had manifested an irrational desire to monopolize your attention. It was strange because he couldn't understand why. He had never minded this before, so why now? Well, it wasn't that hard to figure out. The truth was that Rudo was afraid. Afraid of losing you, of being abandoned by the only person who truly made him feel safe.
★ Receiving his silence, you could already imagine what was going on in his head. In the end, he was still just a child. You approached, uncrossing your arms. Your hand touched his face, making him lift his head.
"I don't want to be alone." The words escaped before he could contain them. There it was, that was his answer. You didn't need to think too hard to understand, considering everything that had happened to him so far.
"You're not alone."
Then you smile, showing your teeth — that smile that made him feel calm. Rudo stood up and stretched out his arms, burying his face in your stomach. His shoulders finally relaxed. He felt a little silly, but your hug was still the best thing in the world.
son!rudo who's taken aback at how friendly you first were to him—even until now. rudo who completely blanks out whenever you gingerly care for him in ways he doesn't understand why.
son!rudo who doesn't know what to do with everything he's feeling inside and is conflicted on what he should be doing? does he deserve to be treated this gently? the only person who's ever done that was regto, but the affection of a woman is entirely different—he's not worth the effort so why—! why bother with him?!
son!rudo who eventually starts accepting that you're genuinely a nice lady. every touch, every headpat, every praise—he's melting like glob every single time. he's leaning more into your touches—he's reaching out for you—he's doing all these things because. . .because! yet rudo still has that voice in the back of his mind whispering he doesn't deserve your kindness.
son!rudo who gives you all sorts of trinkets and old treasures he's found and fixed himself. rudo who puffs up his chest proudly when you praise him for doing a good job—for how well he repaired them. of course, he's always good at taking care of things so praise him more!
son!rudo who slowly becomes overly attached to you. rudo who's glaring threateninly at anyone who looks at you funny or standing between you and danger—who's close to snapping, blowing up a fuse, but doesn't because the last thing he wants is disappointment from you.
son!rudo who feels all warm and fuzzy whenever you hug him or hold him in your arms but tries not to show it on his face. it's embarrassing every time, especially when others are around, but having that sense of security that's so grounding beats the teasing. rudo who doesn't realize he clutches his hands onto your shirt, afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.
son!rudo whose heart breaks into a million pieces everytime you come back with fresh wounds after a mission. rudo who stays in the infirmary and hold onto your free hand, wishing your wounds would just transfer onto him instead. "get better soon." he'd murmur, face in a deep grimace. who'd think "if I was stronger this wouldn't have happened. . ." rudo who silently vows to get even stronger so that he can protect you from everything that'll harm you in any way possible!
son!rudo who refuses to leave by your side until you're all better, but reluctantly does when you remind him he's still needed in missions and that you'll be fine once eishia comes. rudo who purse his lips in frustration before nodding stiffly, hugging you tightly saying "don't get hurt again while I'm gone." before running off—wanting to finish his job quickly as he can so he can come back to you.
(completely unrelated to twst but. . .yk couldn't get gachiakuta off my mind and I've come across @maaaari0's saga(?) of rudo and it was so cute I couldn't help but feel inspired (ㄒoㄒ)! thank you for your lovely your work! twas a wonderful read :0 credits to you ^^) (son rudo 😭)
★ Your marriage to Satoru Gojo is happy — to say the least. He's not an exemplary husband, far from it, but he tries every day to be a present and loving partner (in his own little way, of course).
"I'm home! Where's my favorite wife?" His voice echoes through the rooms as he kicks his shoes off into some corner.
★ You two, unfortunately, don't get much time alone. The work as jujutsu sorcerers is exhausting and consumes a good part of both your days. That's why Satoru learned to cherish every second stolen from fate.
"Today was a crappy day. There were more curses than people on the streets. And yours, how was it?" He asks, taking off his blindfold as soon as he crosses the front door, his eyes immediately finding yours with a spark. The tiredness seems to fade just from seeing you there, waiting for him.
★ Routine swallowed you both up a long time ago: work, work, and more work. But you built small rituals within it. On the rare moments off, Gojo likes to stretch out on the sofa and pull you close, laying his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his white hair. The TV playing some random show is just background noise.
"You're so soft… I could stay here forever…" His eyes close, his breathing slowing down.
"Satoru, don't drool on my lap again."
★ Gojo loves surprising you with your favorite sweets, showing up out of nowhere with colorful bags and a smile like he's won the lottery, just to see the sparkle in your eyes.
"Honey, I brought the best sweets in all of Tokyo! Here, try it!" He practically dances in front of you, shaking the box of sugary treats like it's a treasure.
★ His memory is selective. He forgets reports, meetings, and appointments. But he doesn't forget you. The sorcerer remembered the outfit you were staring at in a shop window during a walk two weeks ago and, without saying a word, went back to the store just to buy it. He knows money doesn't bring happiness, but he never gets tired of putting a smile on your face.
"This? It was nothing. I was passing by and remembered you."
★ Gojo is all about physical touch. When you're alone, he doesn't let go. According to him, these moments are too precious to waste. In the daily rush, he barely has time to touch you as much as he'd like. So, when you're finally home, he makes up for every lost second.
"And my hug?" He appears behind you while you're brushing your teeth, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. "I'm not sleeping without it."
★ He loves kissing your neck, breathing in your scent, and burying his face between your breasts, as if that were the only safe place in the world. Satoru finds inexplicable comfort in your arms; that instant of pure tranquility lessens the weight he carries on his shoulders, allowing him to just be himself.
"I love you… so much." His voice comes out muffled against your chest, his arms pulling you tight against him. And you can feel, in the way he gives himself over, that every word is true.
★ Gojo's pupils get ridiculously dilated when he looks at you. He's in love, always giving you goofy smiles, testing your patience with jokes and teasing until he manages to annoy you. He loves seeing the anger in your eyes and gets a kick out of it.
"You look so much prettier when you're mad." He says, barely finishing the sentence before getting slapped.
★ Satoru is your number one fan. Birthdays, holidays, personal achievements — he turns everything into a celebration. Expect the best parties and gifts. No matter the cost, no matter the effort. He always finds a way to make you happy.
"I started preparing two months in advance." He announces proudly, opening his arms to show off the flawless decorations. "See what a great husband I am?"
★ If you're feeling down, he'll comfort you first, listen to your problems, and then kiss you until you forget the world around you. Gojo hates seeing the woman of his life sad and will do anything to see you well.
"Hey, hey, calm down." His voice gets softer. His big hands hold your face with a gentleness that contrasts with everything he is. "I know how to make this go away."
Within seconds, he's on top of you in bed, holding your wrists while kissing you like a starving man. You didn't sleep much that night.
★ He's a disaster in the kitchen. He's boiled water dry, blown up a microwave, and made pasta that turned into a rock. That's why he prefers to leave the cooking to you. At the end of each meal, Gojo offers to do the dishes and let you rest. You deserve it.
"That was delicious." He leans back in his chair, full-bellied. "I honestly don't even know how to fry an egg without burning everything."
"I know." You reply.
★ Gojo never really thought much about having kids. But sometimes, in the most unexpected moments, he catches himself imagining what it would be like. A tiny version of the two of you running around the house. It's a pleasant thought he keeps to himself.
"You look thoughtful." you comment, watching him stand in front of the window.
"Me? Nah, must be your imagination." he waves his hand dismissively, but the smile doesn't fool anyone. You know there's more to it than he's saying.
★ Satoru prefers to hide his fears from you. The work is heavy — bodies, curses, colleagues who don't come home. He's seen too much, lost too much. That's why he avoids burdening you with his own ghosts. He wants to be your safe harbor, not another weight on your shoulders.
"Did something happen?"
"It's nothing." he smiles quickly, erasing any trace of his previous expression. "What is it? Worried about me? What an attentive wife I have…"
★ Gojo is not jealous. He repeats this to himself whenever necessary. But that doesn't mean he doesn't care or that he doesn't know exactly what he's doing when he keeps his hand on your waist throughout entire social events. He leans in to whisper something in your ear, too close, and gestures with the hand where the wedding ring glints in the light.
"I'm not jealous." he says, after pulling you away from a man who was talking to you too much. "I'm just protecting what's mine."
★ Even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Gojo Satoru always finds a reason to come home. That reason is you. He thinks of your smile during the toughest moments, of your laugh when he's tired, of your hugs when everything seems lost. He even thinks of your scoldings.
"I would marry you again." he says one night, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his fingers intertwined with yours. "As many times as it took. If it meant keeping you with me forever."
★ He's afraid of losing you, of coming home to silence, of being just another name on the huge list of people he couldn't protect. Gojo remains the strongest sorcerer only because you are there, because you are the reason he needs to come back. He couldn't bear to lose anyone else important.
"Take care. See you at home later."
He places a lingering kiss on your lips before saying goodbye, his fingers squeezing yours for a second longer than necessary. You both head off to different missions on opposite sides of the city. Satoru silently prays to the heavens — or whoever might be listening — that you come back to him safely.
Listen Before I Go — +16, mentions of blood, sensitive themes, angst. spoilers!! (chapter 236).
wc: 5,2k
SUMMER, 2006.
The sun shone strong and imposing in the vast blue sky. There were few clouds, and the hot wind blew lazily, swaying the trees heavy with green leaves. People hurried through the streets of Tokyo, absorbed in their own tasks, each trapped in their own world.
No one noticed, at first, the dark clouds beginning to form over the city, gradually obscuring the sunlight.
A female figure appeared before an old abandoned building, a thin line of sweat running down her forehead. She tugged at her uniform collar with mild irritation, muttering something about the fabric being too hot for this season. The cursed tool rested on her shoulders, her head tilted to the side. The building exuded an oppressive aura, saturated with an unpleasant amount of cursed energy.
A tired sigh escaped her lips. Her gaze remained low, giving her an exhausted air. She wondered when was the last time she'd had a decent night's sleep — without worrying about exorcising curses or making her clan proud. In the end, she concluded it had been far too long.
After considering, even if only for a few seconds, the possibility of abandoning everything and living isolated on some distant island, her feet began to move. She crossed the building's threshold, leaving the outside world behind. Medium-grade curses circulated among the concrete walls, watching in silence, making the atmosphere dense and suffocating.
Her eyelids closed for a brief moment and, when they opened again, her irises took on an intense scarlet tone, moving at an abnormal speed through every corner of the space until fixing on the ceiling. She raised her cursed weapon before slicing the curse that leaped toward her. The silver blade cut through the air, scattering purple liquid across the floor.
Cursed energy enveloped the sword with a bluish glow, visible only to those blessed with this gift. Soon, a distant sound echoed through the building — low at first, vibrating through the surrounding structures. Something was dragging itself on the other side. Then, one of the walls cracked. The fissure stretched from one end to the other before giving way completely, exploding in a cloud of dust, followed by a swarm of smaller curses.
For exactly four seconds, everything seemed to slow down. Movements became predictable, multiple trajectories flashing through her mind in rapid succession. When time ran out, her body moved almost by instinct. She leaped between pillars, cutting through the creatures diagonally, causing more of that viscous fluid to gush out.
The curses were numerous but fragile, unable to cause her even a scratch. Her attentive gaze captured every action, even the most subtle. The blade spun between her fingers, passing from one hand to the other, tearing apart everything that approached.
Still, a shiver ran down her spine, followed by a sound distinct from the previous ones. She turned her face toward the noise, her eyes widening before raising her arms to protect her vision from the barrage of fragments and debris coming her way.
She stepped back a few paces, positioning the sword in front of her body as she saw something larger emerge from the dust. Four long, disproportionate limbs projected grotesquely, supporting a thin, gelatinous structure. Two heads hung from the trunk, both covered in countless eyes — all fixed on her. The weak curses had already been exorcised. Only that one remained.
She released the air trapped in her lungs, wiping with her shoulder the viscous residue running down her face.
"You're the big boss? What a headache… making me work so hard on such a hot day."
Once more, the red took over her irises. However, something was wrong. The creature didn't advance immediately. And when it finally moved, it revealed what it held trapped in one of its arms: a girl.
"Help me!" The voice was young, desperate. Small hands clutched in vain at the limb holding her suspended, struggling against the grip around her neck. Legs covered in colorful stockings thrashed in the air, while black hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. "Please!"
Without hesitation, the sorceress dropped her sword on the dusty floor and flexed her arms, tensing her shoulders. If she was right, there was still time to save her. Everything happened too fast. The creature's arm stretched unnaturally, reaching an impossible distance. The girl's scream cut through the air. A spring effect — what goes up must come down. The teenager's body was hurled toward the ground.
Before it hit the ground, the sorceress propelled herself forward. Her feet left the concrete in a precise leap, grabbing the girl mid-air. Both were thrown out of the building, rolling through the grass until the sorceress's back collided with a tree trunk.
"Ugh… damn…" She murmured, releasing the trembling young girl, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "Hey, run!"
She helped her up and watched as the girl stumbled along the path until she crossed the iron gates of the building, far from danger.
"It's been a while since a curse gave me this much trouble…" A tense smile appeared on her lips, feeling her spine protest. "I'm going to take great pleasure in killing you."
The blood-red continued to take over her irises. She knew she shouldn't overuse her ability, as she was still learning to master it. However, the situation demanded its use. Even if it ended with a terrible headache afterward, that was her job.
The bluish glow imbued in the sword intensified, as vivid as the burning tone in her gaze. Cursed energy spread through the environment, oppressive enough to make the creature step back.
"You feel fear? What a surprise." Her gaze darkened. The heavy aura was swallowed by her imminent fury. "I'll finish this quickly."
She advanced with surprising speed, her hair thrown back with each blow. The blade tore through the creature's skin, opening deep gashes, though not completely piercing through. She tensed her arms against that shapeless mass, while the odor of burnt flesh invaded her nostrils.
The curse roared, trying to push her away with brute attacks. She pulled the sword from its body and dodged each strike. With her free hand, she braced against the ground and propelled herself over the monster, tearing several of the eyes scattered across its grotesque heads. The purplish fluid gushed abundantly, blurring the creature's vision.
She touched the ground shortly after, steadying her feet before launching herself into offense once more. She spun her body and plunged the blade into its back, shattering the misshapen trunk. The curse roared one last time before being split in half, the remains falling to opposite sides.
Her breathing came uneven. Her chest rose and fell as she watched the dark puddle spread beneath the fragments that soon disintegrated into dust. She brought one hand to her forehead as dizziness came, feeling warm blood trickle from her nose.
"Ah… enough for today."
Leaving the site, she raised her eyes to the sky, watching the birds fly distractedly among scattered clouds. She wiped her nose with her uniform sleeve, which — by the way — was covered in dust and something extremely foul-smelling.
"Damn… it was my favorite."
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. As she grabbed it, she saw a message from Professor Yaga asking how she was. Given the delay in response, he warned that he had sent another sorcerer as backup.
"Am I late?"
The familiar voice sounded behind her. She raised her face and found the white-haired boy in his navy blue uniform.
"Damn, they destroyed you!" Gojo analyzed her from top to bottom, tilting his glasses.
"Stop it." She put away her phone, furrowing her brows. "I was doing just fine without hearing the irritating sound of your voice."
"I don't know why they sent you here alone, knowing you'd end up… like this." He pointed at her clothes. "Ew. What's that terrible smell?" Gojo fanned the air in front of his face, making an exaggerated grimace. "Haven't you taken a shower?"
The young woman just rolled her eyes and raised her middle finger in his direction. "You're unbearable, you know that?"
"You know, when it comes down to it, you're actually pretty strong. I'm impressed." The comment came loaded with sarcasm, considering his colleague's deplorable state.
"I'm still going to surpass you, asshole."
"Admire the ambition." He laughed, shoving his hands into his uniform pockets. "By the way, I can't believe I came all the way here for nothing! I spent all my fare money." He complained quietly, turning his face toward her.
"Very funny."
"I'm serious!" Gojo started walking beside her, moving away from the building, casting one last quick glance at the cracked bricks near the entrance. "Just so you know, if you had one percent of my strength, you would have solved this case in the blink of an eye." He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
"No wonder they call you arrogant."
The chances of her surpassing him were minimal. Actually, almost non-existent. Despite being a talented sorceress, she still hadn't fully mastered her own ability and exhausted herself too quickly when using it. Being honest with herself, none of the students came close to Satoru's level. At most, Suguru — also a special grade sorcerer.
"You know something? Without those eyes, I'd beat you easily."
"That's very bold of you to say." Gojo let out a loud laugh, making her shrink back and cover her ears. "That's almost funny!"
"You doubting me?" She raised an eyebrow, keeping her arms crossed.
"Never." He shrugged. "Then why don't you predict the future?"
"You know that's not how it works."
They reached the bus stop. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange, red, and pink. The evening wind blew against their faces as both kept their gaze lost on the horizon.
"You're quiet today." Satoru commented, observing her attentively. "You can talk. I don't bite."
"Why the sudden interest?" She kept her eyes distant, avoiding looking at him.
"I know when something's wrong. Just say it." He insisted.
"Stop bothering me, Satoru." She sighed. "I don't talk nonstop in people's ears, unlike you."
"I'm offended." He brought one hand to his forehead, fluttering his white eyelashes in exaggerated drama. "I care so much about my beloved colleague's well-being, and this is how I'm treated." An amused smile appeared on his lips. But, as expected, it provoked no reaction from her.
The sorceress lowered her head, strands of hair falling over her forehead as she stared at her worn-out shoes. Even hearing Satoru's voice, her mind began to drift, wandering to a place increasingly distant from there.
He was exceptional. One of the most talented students, though impulsive. His strength and technique were on another level. Many times, she felt insufficient by his side, like dead weight. She knew comparing herself to him wasn't fair, but under so much pressure, how could she not? Her parents. Her family.
They all desired a successful lineage of jujutsu sorcerers — something that would honor the Kurenai name, consolidate their history, and elevate their prestige. A clan that craved domination.
Receiving that ability was, simultaneously, a blessing and a curse. The weight on her shoulders became almost unbearable. No matter how hard she tried: they would never be the Six Eyes that Gojo carried. He could sustain them for much longer. Unlike her, so weak in her own family's eyes.
She remembered the humiliating sensation of falling face-first on the tatami. The constant nausea and dizziness caused by overusing her ocular ability. Her body lay motionless on the cold wood, her blurred vision barely distinguishing the figures present in that room.
"Is that the leader's daughter?"
"Pathetic."
"They said she was special."
"What a waste of time."
In the beginning, sustaining her ability was very difficult. The high consumption of cursed energy, added to the excess of stimuli, left her senses momentarily disoriented. Even being an above-average fighter and mastering the flow of her own energy well, she needed time to adapt to that newly awakened technique.
It was unprecedented in the Kurenai Clan — the first to manifest it. With this, responsibilities grew, as did the silent expectations surrounding her. From then on, her days became marked by constant fatigue, accompanied by persistent discouragement. Her rare moments of tranquility were restricted to the dormitory, isolated in her room, where she could afford the luxury of silence.
"Hey, our bus is here."
Gojo's voice brought her back, accompanied by a light touch on her shoulder. Yes, there was an exception to that rare peace. By his side, her concept of tranquility became distorted. He was talkative, extroverted. The complete opposite of her. And, for some reason difficult to explain, his presence made everything lighter.
The bus approached with a metallic screech, hot air escaping through the opening doors. They boarded together, mingling with the flow of tired late-afternoon passengers. The smell of fuel and old fabric permeated the interior, while the floor vibrated under hurried steps.
She took some bills from her pocket and paid for both fares before he could complain. They walked to the back, dodging backpacks and outstretched legs, until they found two empty seats. She sat by the window, resting her head against the cold glass as the vehicle began moving again with a gentle jolt.
"You owe me one." She crossed her arms, watching the outside scenery slide slowly by.
Low buildings gave way to narrower streets, streetlights turning on one by one. The constant movement had an almost hypnotic effect, cradling her thoughts as wind entered through the open windows, bringing the familiar smell of the city.
Beside her, she heard Gojo laugh softly and rub the back of his neck. "Alright… fair enough."
The ride continued, for the first time, in silence. Satoru cast occasional glances at his colleague, observing her profile reflected in the window glass. She seemed immersed in her own thoughts, quieter than usual. He knew how to recognize when something wasn't right, even without wanting to face this side of her. Their lives were already complicated enough to carry extra worries. Despite this, it was impossible not to wonder what occupied her mind.
When they got off, Gojo went ahead, hands shoved in his uniform pockets as he climbed the entrance steps. The sorceress remained still for a few moments. The wind blew against her face, making strands of hair dance as she stared at the imposing structure of Jujutsu High.
There were so many doubts. So many insecurities compressed in her chest. When the moment came to face something greater than herself, what would she do? It was almost ironic. She was afraid to die.
For a jujutsu sorcerer, that fear seemed contradictory. After all, what sense was there in accepting a job that constantly flirted with death? Wouldn't it be more logical to stay home, embraced by a common routine? Perhaps it would. However, she never had a choice. Raised under rigid rules, she had learned from an early age that her existence served a single purpose. Everything beyond that was irrelevant. At least, that's what she was supposed to believe.
Satoru noticed his colleague wasn't following him and turned to face her, furrowing his brows. He thought about cracking some joke, maybe commenting on how strange she was that afternoon, but gave up. He didn't want to make things worse. He approached slowly, maintaining a respectful distance. He lowered his dark glasses, revealing the oceanic eyes that analyzed her attentively, as if awaiting a response.
"So? Are you going to tell me what's gotten into you today?" he asked, serious, without any trace of his usual jokes.
She took a deep breath, running her hands over her face marked by dark circles. She knew Satoru wouldn't leave her alone so soon. There was no use resisting.
"I'm worried."
"I'm all ears."
That was bizarre and surprising at the same time. Seeing Gojo so focused and "well-behaved" seemed wrong. Moments like this were rare, almost as unlikely as an eclipse. They happened little and when they did, they marked those who witnessed them.
"It's nothing serious," she said, crouching down to sit on the curb. She adjusted her loose uniform pants, folding her legs. "I'm just tired, I guess."
Her head fell forward, rebellious strands of hair partially covering her exhausted face. "Sometimes, I'm afraid I won't accomplish everything I want before I leave. I don't want to go to the grave full of regrets."
He listened in silence. His eyes softened as she spoke. Gojo wasn't good at comforting people, but if she had decided to share something so personal, it deserved respect. She never talked about herself. He knew so little of that part of her life. The Kurenai clan was known, yes — distant from the weight and influence that the Gojo name carried.
However, he felt a strange satisfaction upon realizing she trusted him enough to show that vulnerability she offered no one else. Shortening the distance, he sat beside her, resting his arms on his own knees.
"I think I understand the feeling," he murmured, his voice low as if the words might get lost in the air.
Satoru raised his face to the sky. The last rays of sun, once vibrant, now dragged over the mountains. The cool evening wind messed with his silver strands, and he let it, in no hurry to brush them from his face.
"I thought you didn't have that kind of fear."
Her eyes traced his profile. The straight nose, the slightly parted lips, his attention fixed on the slow movement of the clouds. Gojo didn't respond immediately. Actually, he had never stopped to think about death concretely. About what it meant to him. He had always been strong. Why would he worry so much?
"Are you Satoru Gojo because you're strong… or are you strong because you're Satoru Gojo?"
He knew the answer. Yet, the question hung in the air like the dry leaves the wind lifted. His expression remained serious, almost impenetrable, something rare on a face so accustomed to smiles.
Suddenly the wind blew strongly, raising goosebumps on his skin, bringing a cold that came from somewhere beyond the falling night. The sky darkened quickly, swallowing the last traces of light. And then came the first drops of summer rain. One ran down his forehead, another wet her eyelashes.
"I know it sounds ridiculous…" her voice broke through the sound of the downpour. "But after everything… I can't stop thinking about it." She remained motionless, feeling the water run down her face, mingling with whatever she held inside her.
He knew what she was talking about.
The incident involving the Star Plasma Vessel.
Like Suguru Geto, she too had been deeply shaken. She spent sleepless nights, carrying the weight of what happened through the mornings. It wasn't as if the girl had held great personal importance in her life. Nevertheless, she felt guilty.
For someone born blessed with the so-called "gift of the future," almost nothing usually caught her off guard. In combat, she anticipated movements easily; she read the field before her, visualizing possible attacks, routes, and actions directed at herself. However, like anyone, she had limits. Forcing her ability to see so many future branches in such a short interval had taken a high toll. The exhaustion was inevitable.
She remembered seeing Satoru Gojo's blood spreading across the floor. The desperate sensation of watching him fall. The Sorcerer Killer's blade piercing his chest, breaking not only flesh but any illusion of control she thought she had. The panic she felt that day was still fresh in her memory, tormenting her nights.
The assassin was unpredictable. That "nobody" was capable of crossing all of the sorceress's barriers. The arrogant smile on his face, the sword dripping the crimson red of her blood, so similar to her cursed, failing eyes. When finishing the job, he simply turned his back and went on his way, leaving her behind as if she were nothing. Just another opponent.
She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, grinding her teeth as she repressed a groan of pain. She coughed out mouthfuls of blood, feeling the excruciating pain spread through her weakened body. She tried to support herself on her arms — in vain. She fell face-first against the cold floor, staining her skin and hands with her own fluids. The tears came, painful, bringing once again the bitter taste of defeat; the cruel realization of being a failure.
The scars from that fight became a shame for her and her family, an irreparable stain on her already precarious reputation. She could barely face her own reflection, avoiding the mirror for some time. She started wearing a uniform that completely covered her body, hiding every mark of her mistakes. Little by little, she lost confidence in herself. Her predictions had always been accurate; no one escaped her calculations. However, she didn't accept defeat even when she felt her life threatening to slip away, darkening the eyes that once shone so brightly.
When she learned of Riko Amanai's death, her world crumbled. It was as if luck had abandoned her. Her existence, her function, her usefulness — everything seemed empty. What was she for? As the clan's successor, how could she accumulate so many failures? What future was left for her?
Without thinking, tears flowed freely. Her chest heavy, tired of holding so much grief. The water soaked their motionless bodies under the storm. Neither Gojo nor she seemed to care.
"Thinking too much about this is a waste of time. After all, we're all going to die one day," he said, turning his face to look at her. His clear eyes carried a melancholy never seen before, something akin to compassion. "Achieve what you desire before that day comes. Don't you dare die with that burden."
His serious expression soon softened, giving way to a small, reassuring smile. "Like I said before, you're strong. That's not a lie," he murmured, laughing softly. "Try not to hold onto what happened. Just… look forward. That's how things are."
"Yeah…" She dried her tears, leaning her body back, letting the water droplets run over her skin. Her body felt light, as if the rain could wash away her guilt. "For the first time, you said something sensible, Satoru."
"I can surprise you sometimes, can't I?" His voice broke through the sound of the rain, low, almost a whisper. She felt the gentle touch of his fingers on her forehead, carefully pushing away some strands of stuck hair. For an instant, his fingertips lingered there, on her temple, before withdrawing his hand and resting it back on the wet ground.
"Maybe." The answer came in a drawn-out whisper. She let a long sigh escape her lungs, feeling her chest expand and empty at a slow rhythm. Her eyes closed slowly. At that moment, nothing else existed but the smell of wet earth, the damp freshness on her skin, and the melody of the falling water.
(...)
In the training hall, the wooden floor was cold under her bare feet. Each plank was a rough surface that marked her skin with every change of position, a familiar discomfort she no longer even thought about avoiding. The air weighed heavy in her lungs, dense, impregnated with the sweet scent of incense mixed with the sweat on her face.
"Concentrate."
She was small. Too small to hold that sword with the firmness they demanded. The hilt was too wide for her hands. The weight of the blade pulled her body down, making her fingers throb from the effort of not letting go.
Her eyes burned, kept open for a long time as she tried to keep up with everything that unfolded before her. Possibilities, futures — all overlapping, scrambling within her mind.
"Again."
The impact came without warning. The shock traveled up her arms, reverberated in her bones, reaching her tense shoulders. Voices accumulated, suffocating, echoing from all sides.
"You need to be better."
"Don't fail."
Her body trembled, her arms numb, almost useless, hanging at her sides. Still, her fingers found the sword's hilt again.
Always one more time.
Always beyond the limit.
Then, the scene changed.
Laughter.
The afternoon sun filtered through the tree leaves, projecting golden lights that danced on the cement ground, warm against her skin. A can of warm soda was shared among the students, passing from hand to hand, ignoring any notion of hygiene.
Satoru complained about something trivial, gesturing exaggeratedly as he rested one arm on the back of the bench, keeping his legs crossed while he spoke.
Suguru just rolled his eyes, displaying a contained smile at the corner of his lips. He didn't pay much attention to his friend's chatter, just returning the soda before leaning back on the bench and murmuring something about him being more annoying that day to the colleague sitting between them.
Shoko watched everything from a distance, leaning against a tree trunk. Her distracted gaze wandered over her friends and then to the sky, a forgotten cigarette between her fingers; the smoke rose slowly, dissolving in the air.
Near them, her heart filled with a pleasant warmth. A feeling whose name was unknown to her own lips, but that others — those on the outside — would certainly know how to describe better. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that her gray days found color in the presence of her companions.
The carefree laughter, the aimless walks, the side conversations, the clicks of countless photos. All those moments when they could just be ordinary people brought a sense of unusual, yet welcome, normality. The certainty that they were still human, with wills and desires, not just tools of a system greater than themselves.
(...)
SHINJUKU, 2018.
White.
An empty space, a canvas that stretched beyond what her eyes could reach. The silence was absolute, where neither her voice nor her steps could echo. The ground beneath her feet was firm, a solid surface covered by a thin layer of water that spread in small ripples with each step she dared to take.
Suddenly, a blinding light took over her vision, making her raise her arms to cover her face. The former stillness was replaced by a vibrant symphony. She heard the cheerful singing of birds, followed by the whisper of leaves swaying in the wind.
The white environment dissolved, giving way to a lush, humid landscape. The crystal-clear waters of the stream now rose to cover her waist. Small colorful fish swam around her legs, curious.
Further ahead, following the stone paths surrounded by dense vegetation, she spotted a school. The ancient architecture emerged among the trees like an old memory, bringing a feeling of nostalgia that filled her heart with sweet melancholy.
Moving her legs, which now felt heavy as lead, she left the water, feeling every drop run down her skin. Her bare feet touched the soft, damp grass, the small blades tickling her soles as earth stuck between her toes. The gentle breeze kissed her face, pushing away her damp hair as she walked toward the imposing building.
She climbed the stairs slowly, hearing the characteristic creak of wood under her weight. The sound echoed familiar in her ears, awakening ghosts of a bittersweet past. Her eyes wandered around, absorbing every detail, when she found someone.
"Hey!"
She immediately recognized the tall, slender figure before her. Her heart seemed to stop for an instant. She would never forget that pair of ocean-blue eyes, nor that radiant smile that illuminated her soul.
A solitary tear escaped, tracing a slow path down her face. She brought trembling fingers to her cheek, her parted lips moving in a vain attempt to find words.
"Satoru?" Her voice came out as a whisper, almost inaudible, mixed with the knot that had formed in her throat.
"The one and only." He tilted his head in such a characteristic gesture that it caused another pang in her chest, running his hands over the back of his neck with that carefree air of his. "Thought you'd take longer to show up. Tough luck."
"I wasn't very lucky this time," she murmured. "And, from the looks of it, neither were you."
"It happens. Better than dying of old age or from some disease, don't you think?" He shrugged, letting out a weak laugh.
"Maybe." She straightened her posture, her gaze sweeping every corner of that familiar space once more before turning to the boy before her. "That's so like you, leaving like that."
"Funny, the others said the same thing." He gave a crooked smile, laden with an irony that seemed to try to disguise the weight of his words.
"Others?"
It was then that she realized. Her attention shifted for an instant, capturing details that had gone unnoticed. The uniform from her high school days covered her skin, the familiar weight of the pleated skirt, the worn buttons of the blazer. She brought a hand to her hair and felt it shorter, unruly, escaping in disordered waves around her face, just like back then.
Behind Satoru, the hallway stretched bathed in warm light coming through the tall windows. And then she saw them. Geto and Nanami talking, their silhouettes outlined against the brightness, with Haibara beside them, gesturing animatedly as he used to, a wide smile illuminating his young features.
Near them, almost hidden in the shadows of a wall niche, Director Yaga watched everything, sitting on a stone bench, crafting a panda doll.
The young woman passed trembling hands over her face, feeling her skin damp with dried tears, and took a deep breath. The pure air entered her lungs laden with familiar smells: chalk dust, waxed wood, the sweet perfume of flowers.
She was home.
She closed her eyes tightly, her eyelids trembling, allowing recent memories to flood in. She had done what she could to keep fighting, to protect the new generation of sorcerers, exactly as they had aspired so many years ago. A way to redeem herself for past mistakes, an attempt to stitch wounds that had never fully healed.
It was a shame it had ended like this. However, she carried no regret. All that remained was to root for those who stayed behind — the young ones who still had a path ahead — and allow herself to rest. The rest she had never granted herself in life.
Her eyes opened and met his again. After so long separated by life's adversities, by paths that forked and lost sight of each other, they could finally have their moment together.
"I missed you." The words escaped before she could contain them, a secret shared only between them.
For the first time in decades, she saw tears threatening to form in his eyes. Those eyes that always hid everything behind layers of jokes and indifference now shone, vulnerable, fearful.
"Me too."
Author's Notes: While writing this chapter, I listened to a few songs quite a bit. I'll leave a short list for you:
· That's What You Get — Paramore.
· The Only Exception — Paramore.
· All I Wanted — Paramore.
· Rua dos Abacateiros — ANAVITÓRIA.
· Navio Ancorado no Ar — ANAVITÓRIA. (they're a really good brazilian duo! I recommend you listen to them and check out the lyrics!)
Protagonist's info (created by me):
Omen — the name of her ocular ability.
Kurenai Clan — her clan. She is the firstborn child of the clan leader, the declared successor, and the first to awaken a previously unseen ocular ability.
Classification — I believe it's either Grade 2 or 1. Nothing below or above that.
About the fanfic: This was a 2023 oneshot that I picked up to rewrite. Back then, it had this theme related to death and trauma, but in a very shallow way. I hope this version turned out better. I don't know much what to say, it's been a while since I've written something that truly pleases me. Well, I'm happy with the result. Leave your opinions if you want! <3
I NEEEDDDDD MORE OF THE BYAKUYA STORYLINE ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT
i confess i hadn't thought of a continuation for the byakuya fanfic. i wrote something that came to mind on the spot, but i can definitely bring more danganronpa content! i just finished the first game and I'm already playing the second one. i'll definitely write more about byakuya, because he's my favorite, along with makoto!
It was just another day. You woke up, your eyelids opening slowly as you adjusted to the light in the room. The ceiling fan spun lazily, making the silk curtains sway in the breeze. The blankets were tossed over your heavy body, your feet uncovered from moving around so much in your sleep—an old habit of yours.
In the midst of the calm, you heard a sound. You looked around, your brain still shaking off the drowsiness of that morning. You thought you might be hearing things, until you noticed something—or rather, someone—stirring beside you. Your gaze drifted downward, finding Rudo fast asleep.
The boy was sleeping peacefully, his black and white hair falling over his serene face. He wore red striped pajamas that matched your own. You had grown used to him coming to sleep in your room, but you didn't remember seeing him the night before; you had come home tired from a mission and gone to bed almost immediately.
Enjin wasn't in bed.
Sometimes he woke up earlier, much to your surprise.
You turned your head and saw the clock on the nightstand. It was almost eight in the morning. A yawn escaped your lips as you stretched your arms above your head, ready to get up. However, small hands tightened around your body, followed by a soft grumble. Rudo had stirred.
He was always lazy and clingy in the mornings. You touched his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.
"Hey, hey… wake up."
The murmur turned into a drawn-out protest. He buried his face against the side of your torso, the soft strands of his bicolored hair brushing against your chin. You couldn't help but smile. For all his power, all that potential for something greater and dangerous, in the morning he was just your little boy. A boy who had grown too lazy to get out of bed.
"Rudo," you insisted, your voice still husky with sleep. "Let's go have breakfast."
He reluctantly opened his eyes and sat up in bed with visible reluctance, his hair sticking up in every possible direction. His body slumped to the side, too weak to hold itself up, but you caught him before he could fall, placing a hand on his back for support.
"I'll make pancakes for you."
That was enough. The boy's large eyes lit up almost immediately, the tiredness giving way to a gleam too lively for someone who had just woken up. A small smile appeared at the corner of his lips. He stretched, first reaching his arms above his head, his fingers opening and closing, then his legs, before finally slipping out of bed and standing up, still a little unsteady.
Rudo went to the bathroom to brush his teeth with you, dragging his feet across the room. He picked up a yellow toothbrush from the cup and held it out, letting you put the toothpaste on it. With his other hand, he rubbed his eyes, clearly fighting off the last remnants of sleep.
He brushed his teeth slowly, without any rush, staring at his own reflection in the mirror with a distant expression, while you brushed yours, occasionally glancing over to make sure he wasn't just biting the brush.
The rhythmic sound of bristles and the cold light of the bathroom made the morning strangely peaceful. Enjin was probably already in the dining hall with the others by now. You finished your oral hygiene and waved to Rudo, bidding him a temporary farewell.
"Go get changed," you reminded him, pointing toward the hallway.
He nodded and headed toward his own room. Rudo only slept in yours when he had nightmares or simply showed up in the middle of the night; afterward, he always went back to his own as if nothing had happened.
After taking a shower and getting dressed, you ran your hands through your hair and left the room. You found Rudo waiting for you in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
"You took a while," he commented before falling into step beside you.
You walked together to the dining hall, and as soon as you entered, you were greeted by your colleagues with warm smiles and lazy good morning greetings. It was one of those rare moments of calm, reserved for idle conversations, quiet laughter, and pleasant food alongside those who truly mattered.
Enjin appeared shortly after. His familiar scent of tobacco mixed with a light perfume arrived first, announcing his presence. He slipped an arm around your shoulders in a protective gesture, pulling you a little closer, before planting a quick, affectionate kiss on your cheek.
"Sleep well?" he asked. "You were sleeping deeply when I got to the room." He let out a short laugh.
You nodded, leaning against him for a moment, feeling the familiar warmth of his body beside you. Enjin responded with a small, satisfied smile, his thumb absentmindedly brushing your shoulder before moving his hand away just enough to serve himself.
You, meanwhile, already had a steaming cup of coffee in your hands. You brought it to your lips, feeling the hot steam lightly fog your face as the bitter, comforting taste spread through your mouth. In the background, the thread of animated conversation from your friends reached your ears in a relaxed manner.
To your left, Rudo was completely focused on the mission of devouring the pancakes you had made. He ate with enthusiasm, his cheeks puffing out with each bite, his fingers sticky with syrup, as if it were the best thing he had ever tasted in his life. When he lifted his head, you wiped his cheeks with a napkin, smiling.
You watched Rudo for a moment and thought that protecting that little boy made all the effort worth it. He had been a gift in your life, the missing piece to brighten your days. As long as he was safe and Enjin remained by your side, the worries and responsibilities could wait.
I NEED MORE RUDO WITH READER AS HIS MOTHER FIGURE PLEASEEEE
hi! i can definitely write more about this saga! i’m really happy you’re enjoying it, honestly. i didn’t expect so much support for this kind of imagine.
feel free to leave your suggestions here if you want! i’m still working through some requests, so more rudo content should be coming soon. and yes, other characters will appear too, even though rudo is the favorite on my profile lol
OMG I LOVE THAT RUDO FIC YOU DID!!!❤️❤️ Can you continue the Rudo saga but this time with a Mitsuri! reader? I bet reader will totally spoil him🥹🥹
Hi, sorry for the delay in responding! I ended up forgetting to check the inbox, so I was late with the order, my apologies. By the way, I’m really happy that you liked the Rudo saga! I hope I’ve made something here that you enjoy <3
Since reaching the surface, Rudo hasn’t had much reason to complain. Let’s see: he was welcomed by an organization of strong people with special abilities that allow them to fight giant creatures made of trash and any other relevant threats. It could have been worse, he could have been kidnapped or gotten lost. In the end, there’s no point dwelling on that. After all, he has the others and you to help him.
Rudo was surprised by how kind a person could be. Regto was a good man who took great care of him. Still, no one besides his own father had ever been so good to him. It was something new to see a stranger treat him better than many in the Sphere, where he lived before being expelled.
You treated him so well that he felt awkward at first—disconcerted, to put it better. Rudo didn’t understand why you acted in such an “excessively kind” way toward him. However, he soon realized you were like that with most of your colleagues. It wasn’t special treatment, at least not at first. Let’s be honest: just anyone wouldn’t receive homemade cookies almost every day, brand-new clothes, different and wonderful hairstyles, and amazing pieces of junk.
The boy’s eyes light up every time you appear. He feels an impulsive urge to talk to you, even without a topic in mind. Rudo may not be the best at expressing himself, especially being new to this whole “making friends” thing. Despite that, he tries hard to stay in touch with you and the others. He genuinely likes you and is learning to deal with his feelings.
Rudo doesn’t say it, but he likes it when you take care of him. As everyone knows, he never had a mother figure and has no idea what it’s like to have a mom. However, when the two of you are together, he feels like he’s experiencing a bit of that affection. His heart warms with your care and praise, even though he remains shy.
The boy finds it at least interesting that you both have unusual hair colors compared to everyone else. Both of you have two distinct shades: his, white and black; yours, pink and green. It was curious how two such different people had so much in common. Rudo liked that because it made him feel he had something in common with you, someone he had learned to love.
Rudo still doesn’t understand the complexity of his own emotions. “Love” isn’t a word he would use, precisely because he doesn’t fully understand it. However, as mentioned before, the feeling exists. He loves you and shows it through gestures, not words.
Generally speaking, you spoil him quite a bit. He loves that attention and has gotten used to it. Rudo likes it when you comb his hair, tend to his injuries, and wrap him in your arms. It feels as if he’s in heaven, being cared for by some angel.
You were the best person in that place: always radiant, waiting for him with a smile and kind words. It was comforting to come back and know you would be there to welcome him with all the love that hurt boy could ever have.
Secretly, Rudo wished Regto had met you. He imagined what it would be like to grow up with both of you caring for him, not exactly as a couple, but playing the role of parents. Maybe he would feel complete, without that strange emptiness in his chest, or maybe not. After all, Regto did everything to raise him. His father was enough. This thought would come to haunt him from time to time. But all it took was hearing the sound of your voice to snap him out of his trance.
“I’m coming!” he said, shaking his head to chase away any troubling thoughts. It didn’t matter who was with him, as long as he received the affection needed to fill his lonely heart.
That was something Byakuya would usually say. But, for some reason, he didn't. Your slip-up had been minor; still, any mistake, for that guy, was grounds for a scolding followed by humiliation. Whether by chance or luck, he merely sighed, walking toward you.
You had accidentally cut your finger while turning a page in one of the countless books in the library. A low grumble escaped your lips at the sight of the warm blood trickling out. You couldn't bear to look at that damn red color anymore.
Since you arrived at Kibōgamine Gakuen, or rather, at the prison, your life had become a living hell, just like the other students'. In all that time, you never thought you'd find a dead person; much less that you'd need to investigate their death, judge, and condemn the killer.
Even amidst so much horror, fear, and distrust, Byakuya seemed to care for no one. He made his own decisions, followed his own rules, in addition to the mandatory ones, and didn't bow his head to others, not even to Monokuma, who was nothing more and nothing less than a psychopathic lunatic.
However, what to think of someone who had been able to manipulate a crime scene to turn that sick fantasy into a more "interesting" game? It was absurd. Nevertheless, there they were.
“Lost in your own world again. Frankly, it sometimes seems your plebeian brain stops working.” Byakuya's voice jolts your senses awake once more. He takes the book from your hands, examining the bloodstain that had pooled on the yellowed pages. “This stain won't come out. But I'm sure the headmaster won't mind, given the amount of dust in this place.”
He closes the book with a soft thud and places it on a table. “With all this filth, pray you don't get an infection.” A smile appears on his face. “You never know.”
“Very funny,” you say, watching him adjust his glasses. His disdainful gaze wanders over your hands before returning to your face. “What is it?”
“As a supposedly brilliant mind, you should consider the risks.” Then, he takes a handkerchief from his pocket and holds your hand, placing the fabric against your skin. “Go wash it in the bathroom, unless you want to dirty the rest of the room with your poor blood.”
“It's just a cut,” you say, raising an eyebrow.
“Prepared people avoid tragedies. You must have noticed by now,” Byakuya replies, turning his back. “Your mistake is thinking nothing will happen, like yesterday. People's secrets may not be as trivial as yours.”
You think, lowering your gaze to the handkerchief in your hand. The white fabric, once immaculate, had now acquired a reddish hue slowly spreading through the stitching. Fear was seeping into those corridors and rooms, taking root, growing within each of you with each passing day. With each death.
“You're right.” The words come out low from your mouth, yet loud enough for him to hear. “We can't cling to the idea of 'friendship,' as you yourself said. But if you believe in that so strongly, why do you keep trusting me?”
“Trusting? Spare me.” He turns to you again, his blue irises returning to their apathetic appearance. “I'm keeping you by my side at this moment out of curiosity. When your skills are no longer useful to me, I'll send you away. Simple.”
“Then why do you care so much?”
“Care? Where did you get that idea?” he replies immediately, showing no hesitation, surprise, or even indignation. “Perhaps you hit your head. I don't care about any of you. I just want to get out of this place.”
It was like a bucket of cold water. The truth is always the hardest part to swallow. When Byakuya said "get out of this place," reality weighed heavily on your shoulders. You were trapped. Trapped forever. The possibility of never leaving, of never seeing your family and friends again, was terrifying. To make matters worse, you knew Byakuya well enough to know what kind of man he was.
“If we get out… could we read together again?” It slipped out. An old feeling, something long unspoken. You didn't think, you just felt.
“What?” He freezes.
You remembered the long reading sessions with him, your childhood friend. The rich boy, descendant of the noble Togami family, playing hide-and-seek with the maid's daughter. What a joke. And to think that, once, he had been a little sweeter and more fun — the boy for whom you developed feelings you never should have had.
In the end, you grew apart. After all, his status was far too elevated. It was a careless oversight by his family to allow a mere commoner to get closer than permitted.
Commoners serve; nobles rule. That's how things work in this world. The strong against the weak. Monokuma knew this and, at some point, could use it against both of you. That night, in the courtyard, you were afraid. Even though it was a silly secret, you wouldn't be able to face Byakuya if it were revealed.
“( Name ) harbors romantic feelings for Byakuya Togami.” That's what was written on the paper Monokuma handed you.
For a moment, Byakuya fell silent. The wave of surprise was almost imperceptible, a brief tremor in his impeccable façade, noticeable only to someone like you, who had learned to decipher the pauses between his words.
His fingers clenched involuntarily on the book cover, and it was then that a subtle yet profound change appeared in his expression. It wasn't fury. Much less his usual disdain. It was something older: a melancholy that seemed to emerge from the depths, the resigned acknowledgment of a truth he had always known but chose to hide.
Byakuya looked away first, as if he needed a second of respite. His thumb slid slowly along the book's spine in a mechanical gesture, almost a tic, a search for stability.
“Don't be ridiculous.”
He adjusted his glasses with a precise movement, raising that invisible wall between you once more.
“That will never happen.”
Byakuya returned to his initial position, sitting with deliberately rigid posture. His icy eyes refocused on the page; the act of turning it soon filled the room with a low sound, meant to drown out the echo of what had been said. And in the silence that now built, you understood that this had been the last glimpse of vulnerability you would see from him.
“I figured.” You toss the handkerchief on the floor and leave the room, closing the door.
A part of him disliked your tone; he wanted to reprimand you for being rude to a noble. However, the other part understood. Deep down, he just didn't want to admit that he enjoyed your company.
Byakuya had learned early on to think only of himself. Affection was weakness, bonds were risks, and people were disposable pieces. That logic had always worked. Always, except when it came to you. Seeing you at that school had been an error he hadn't foreseen.
For a brief moment, when your eyes met for the first time in the corridors of Kibōgamine Gakuen, something old had stirred in his chest. A memory he hastened to bury. Pretending not to know who you were had been the most rational (and the most cowardly) decision he could make.
Around you, his attention wavered. You made him vulnerable, and he hated that. That's why he kept his distance. That's why he acted coldly. That's why he had denied it. Not because he felt nothing, but because feeling was something he simply couldn't allow himself in that game.
“Damn it.” He rested his hands on his head, letting out a long sigh. His blond locks fell over his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed. “She is nobody,” he repeated to himself, straightening his posture once again.
He needed to be strong. He needed to hide his weaknesses. It was a way to protect himself and to protect her from that demon watching them through the cameras. Despite everything, he secretly hoped that, one day, they would escape that place. Together.
Author's Notes: I started playing Danganronpa just a few days ago and haven't finished the story yet, but a few characters caught my eye and I decided to write about them, starting with Byakuya! I hope I've portrayed him as faithfully to the character as possible :)
