#emmie writes

[hero-of-the-wolf]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

new chapter of the Cori fic is up :)

[hero-of-the-wolf]

1. Don't leave

For the writing ask game 👁️👁️

She immediately threw herself at him, clutching at him like her life depended on it.

“Don’t leave,” she sobbed. “Please.”

Warriors felt his heart break right then and there.

[hero-of-the-wolf]

from @emig22

“Can you tell me another story, papa?” Saria asked, staring up at her father with her best pleading eyes. “Please?”

Papa chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Alright, one more story. And then it’s bedtime, okay?”

“Okay.”

She waited for him to mull over which story to tell, snuggling more into her father's side and playing with the edge of her blanket. He was always very warm, and as the moments passed she found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

She was starting to drift when he inhaled carefully, startling her back to awareness. “Once there were nine heroes, all chosen by the goddesses. They were brothers connected by more than blood. They shared the same spirit.”

“Same spirit,” she echoed. “Like you and mama?”

“That’s soulmates,” papa corrected gently. “But yes, this is a similar thing.

“These heroes journeyed across time itself.” Here he paused, a strange expression flickering across his face for a moment before it was gone. “Slaying monsters so vile their very blood was black.”

Saria gasped at that. She didn't know that blood came in any shade other than red. She’d have to ask mama about that, and about which color blood all the animals at the ranch had.

Papa continued on so she tried her best to listen, but her eyes started drifting closed again no matter how hard she tried to keep them open and it wasn't long before she'd fallen asleep.

And if she dreamed about her papa and eight other young men, she couldn't recall by the morning.

[hero-of-the-wolf]

from @emig22

Time dropped the mug in his hands at the sound of shouting outside and ran, his heart racing in his chest.

Cori rushed to his side as soon as she spotted him approaching, hiding behind his legs and clutching at the hem of his tunic. He held an arm out protectively, turning his gaze to glower at a very indignant Ingo.

“This brat was pilfering eggs!” He shrieked.

“She was collecting them,” Time corrected coldly. “Like I asked her to.”

“Since when has Lon Lon Ranch had a child workin’ here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s been here the entire time.”

“Wh— huh??”

“You heard me.”

“There hasn’t been any children here since Malon grew up,” Ingo repeated, although uncertainty colored his voice. “Unless…?”

He squinted at Cori, then back up at Time. Time raised an eyebrow, daring him to voice his thoughts.

“Y—you… you—....”

“Well,” Time said, interrupting the other man’s sputtering. “If we’re quite finished here, I have some business to attend to.”

Ingo blinked at him slowly. Then he turned around with a huff, muttering to himself as he stalked away.

Cori peered out from behind Time’s legs as they watched him leave, sticking her tongue out at the man’s retreating back.

Time bit his lip to stop himself from grinning and ruffled her hair. “C’mon, let’s go back inside.”

[emonaculate]

Smoke Slow (S?ABT universe)

Author Note: Drabble that was in my head real bad and I could not help but to write it out now. This may or may not be added to the actual fic later, but as of right now it is non-canon.. I just really like my version of Gojo right now.

❥ Rating: PG-13

❥ Pairing: Spiderman!Gojo x Black!Y/n

❥ Warnings Include: Cigarettes, Y/n feels survivors guilt, Jealousy, Miscommunication, Alcohol consumption, ANGST, Hurt-comfort, Gojo and Y/n really need a hug, past-established relationship, Violence, OC-mentioning, Major character death mentioning

❥ Synopsis: Upon returning to Japan, Y/n realizes she can no longer escape her past. Conflicted by past events, she must reunite and have an honest, heartfelt conversation with the her former lover; the beloved webslinger.

Y/n walked the streets of New Tokyo, familiar yet strangely foreign now, her heart weighed down by the passage of time. Six years had passed since she left for the States to be with her mother, and the city, though unchanged, felt different.

As she silently moved through the downtown streets, groups of teenagers raced by, their laughter echoing against the towering skyscrapers that glittered like jewels in the night sky. She watched them with a soft smile, amused, as memories of her own youth flooded back—when she and her friends had done the same, running wild without a care, with no thought of the future.

Y/n would give anything to return to those days, when she was a quick-witted teenager, unafraid to challenge authority, surrounded by the loyal friends who backed her every word. But that was over now.

Y/n's somber thoughts pulled her away from memories of the past as she made her way to the Shibuya memorial. What had once been a beautiful park, filled with tranquil lakes and winding trails, had been transformed into a burial site to honor those who lost their lives during the Shibuya incident six years ago. She held the white lilies she had been carrying tightly in her hand as she approached the plaque, where a collection of flowers, cards, and candles lay in tribute.

No doubt, others were grieving for their loved ones as well. Y/n watched as families dressed in dark clothing spoke quietly among themselves, still mourning the tragedy. A wave of nausea rose in her throat; she longed to comfort the strangers still affected by that day, but she knew there was nothing she could say. After all, it was her fault in a way—at least, that was how she perceived the situation.

“Y/n?” A hesitant voice called out.

Y/n placed the flowers gently in front of the pillar and turned toward the sound, offering a weak smile to the shorter brunette woman standing before her. It was Shoko.

Shoko had been one of Y/n's closest friends during her time in Japan. Their relationship had begun on shaky ground, rooted in the circumstances that had led Y/n to move in with Shoko's family. When Y/n's grandmother passed away shortly after her sixteenth birthday, her mother, struggling with a devastating divorce, was in no condition to care for her daughter. As a last resort, she sent Y/n to live with the man who had uprooted her life in the first place: Ken Ieiri, the renowned international doctor with whom Y/n's mother had been having a seven-month affair.

Ken tried to cover his tracks, keeping both his daughter and Y/n in the dark about his actions, claiming that he would be the host parent for Y/n during her time in Japan. When the truth finally came out, it only made things more complicated. The issues he had been having with his wife also came to light, much to Shoko's surprise.

Through it all, Y/n stood by Shoko, providing support during the tumultuous times, and their bond deepened. They became as close as thieves, referring to each other as sisters and siblings.

"Hi, Koko."

The nickname slipped from Y/n's lips more easily than she cared to admit, watching as Shoko’s posture shifted and her eyes clouded with unspoken emotions. Despite the casual atmosphere, Y/n realized she hadn't spoken to Shoko in nearly four years. They had kept in touch for two years after Y/n left, but something had changed; the weight of guilt had consumed her, making it impossible to respond to Shoko's messages or daily check-ins. That third year back in the States had been the hardest for some reason.

“Let me treat you to coffee,” Shoko replied, desperation creeping into her voice as she looked at Y/n, a flurry of questions racing through her mind.

Why was Y/n back? Why had she stopped replying to any of Shoko's texts? Did Satoru know she was back?

The two women sat across from each other in the booth, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Y/n wasn’t sure where to start; she knew she owed Shoko some sort of explanation, but deep down, she felt there was no way to truly convey what had happened.

“Hasn’t been this silent since Dad admitted he was in love with your mom,” Shoko said, breaking the ice as she lifted her carefully crafted cinnamon brown sugar latte.

Y/n blinked in shock before a smile broke across her face, laughter bubbling up at Shoko’s comment. “Oh my god, don't bring that up!”

As the heavy tension lifted, the two began to chat about how life had treated them. Shoko shared her excitement about opening a veterinary clinic as a passion project, while Y/n explained her internship as a reporter for The New York Times. So much had happened in the six years since they last connected that it felt almost impossible to cover it all.

“So, why are you back in New Tokyo?” Shoko finally asked, taking a sip of the hearty soup she had ordered to combat the chill outside.

Y/n shifted in her seat, picking up her own cup and taking a long sip from the black coffee, nothing added to it. The familiar taste brought her comfort, reminding her of her childhood spent on her grandparents' farm in the southern heat. Every morning without fail, her grandma would sit on the porch, watching the sunrise with a steaming mug of black coffee in hand.

“I’ve had some time to reflect, and I’ve been speaking with my psychologist,” Y/n said. “She suggested that my best course of action would be to come back here. I’ll never find peace until I forgive myself and allow myself to move forward.”

Shoko nodded quietly, truly looking at Y/n for the first time in years. It had been so long since she had seen her favorite person. Dark circles under Y/n’s eyes rivaled her own, and her copper curls had grown well past the shoulder-length she used to maintain. Y/n's face appeared thinner, the familiar roundness of her cheeks almost completely gone. The gray oversized turtleneck she wore seemed so out of character, but Shoko knew better than to comment; Y/n was still grieving, and the path to healing was far from over.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Shoko replied softly.

Y/n nodded, fidgeting with her mug before meeting Shoko's warm brown gaze.

“Have you heard from Gojo...?”

Y/n picked at the holes in her ripped and faded baggy jeans as the crisp night wind tickled her nose, standing outside the maroon-colored apartment door with the number B7 crafted in silver. Shoko had given her this address, revealing that Gojo had been living here for the past four years. Located on the shadier side of town, Y/n was surprised that someone like Satoru would be okay with living in such an area, regardless of his abilities and persona.

Yet, it made sense; being in a rougher neighborhood could allow him to save more people and keep the criminals at bay.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n closed her eyes and raised her hand to knock on the door, butterflies swirling in her stomach. Would Satoru even want to see her? What would he say? They had ended things on such bad terms, and the thought of his reaction made her nervous.

A moment of silence followed her knock, and embarrassment crept up her cheeks. The gift bag of snacks and treats she had prepared, things she remembered Satoru liked, suddenly felt like a thousand pounds. What if he wasn’t even home? He could be out on patrol for all she knew.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a tall, slender Black woman wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt that hung seductively off one shoulder. The woman’s feline-like hazel eyes narrowed into a glare as they fell on Y/n and the basket in her hands.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” The unknown woman's voice was sharp and curt as she placed a manicured hand on her hip, sizing Y/n up.

In the past, Y/n might have called out the hostile energy this woman was projecting over something as simple as answering the door. But now, on her path to healing, she knew better than to cause a scene over something so trivial.

“Does Satoru Gojo live here? My name is—” Y/n started, but the woman cut her off, waving her hand dismissively.

“Yeah, I know who you are. He’s not here at the moment, but you can wait if you want,” she stated rudely before turning on her heel and stepping back into the apartment.

Y/n’s eye twitched as she watched the woman walk away into the apartment. This was clearly going to test all of her practice in patience and understanding. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, eager to be released. Taking a deep breath, she followed the woman inside and closed the door behind her.

To her surprise, the apartment was cozy. Hues of green, brown, yellow, and orange dominated the decorations, creating a warm atmosphere. Various pottery creations were scattered around the living room and small kitchen area, adding a touch of personality.

“Set that shit down on the counter beside you,” the woman called out, not even glancing back at Y/n, who was still standing by the door.

The woman perched herself on a high bar stool at the dining room table. She sat in a way that seemed almost uncomfortable, her feet resting in a catlike stance as she stared intently at Y/n.

Y/n had to admit the woman was strikingly beautiful—model-worthy, even. Her hair was styled in a messy white pixie cut, and her ears were adorned with numerous piercings. The moles on her face were artfully placed: one along her left cheek, another beneath her right eye, and one on the left side of her chin.

"Salomé." The woman gave her name, as she continued to dissect Y/n with her eyes.

Y/n had a myriad of questions she wanted to ask Salomé regarding Satoru. Though she knew she had no right, jealousy bubbled within her at the thought that this woman seemed to be staying with him, and judging by the decorations, it appeared to have been for a while.

“You dying or something?” Salomé asked, amusement evident in her voice.

“Excuse me?” Y/n shot back, annoyance creeping into her tone.

She had tried to be polite, but Salomé's holier-than-thou attitude was starting to get under her skin. Whether Salomé sensed this was unclear, as she maintained her emotionless demeanor, continuing to test Y/n’s patience.

“I mean, you’ve been gone for a fucking long time with no contact, so I’m trying to figure out why you’re in my home,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Last I checked, this is an apartment, not a house,” Y/n snapped, glaring at Salomé.

Despite her efforts to remain civil, Y/n found it increasingly difficult to tolerate Salomé’s nasty attitude. Therapy be damned. Salomé clicked her tongue in response to Y/n's petty retort, a smirk spreading across her face.

“You’re right. It is an apartment, but it’s home to Satoru. After all, he chooses to be here instead of that big ole, lonely penthouse he has downtown.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. She stalked toward Salomé, her ears burning with anger, ready to chew her out and leave this frustratingly beautiful apartment.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Y/n yelled.

Salomé hopped off her chair, towering over Y/n, crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed oddly relaxed despite the aggression radiating from Y/n.

“Mm, you trying to solve it, little miss perfect?” Salomé taunted.

Without thinking, Y/n reacted and swung, her fist connecting with Salomé’s face. The nickname had struck a nerve; she hadn’t heard it since Geto’s passing, and she sure as hell wasn’t ready to hear it from some woman sizing her up. Caught up in her emotions, Y/n hadn't realized Salomé had gone deathly quiet, holding her cheek as the taste of copper filled her mouth.

“You don’t know me. Don’t talk to me like you do, bitch,” Y/n shouted, anger boiling over as tears welled in her eyes.

She had been doing so well at not thinking about him—the bane of her guilt: Geto Suguru. It was her fault. All her fault. If only she hadn’t been there that day. He was the one who should be alive.

In the blink of an eye, Salomé closed the distance, her presence overpowering as a wave of bloodlust radiated from her. Y/n was jolted from her thoughts by the sheer intensity in Salomé’s gaze, her nails lengthening and sharpening as a low growl escaped her throat.

“I’m gonna have so much fun,” Salomé purred, her voice dripping with malice.

Y/n's eyes widened as Salomé lunged for her, only to be halted by the familiar sound of a THWIP connecting with the back of her hand, pulling her backwards.

"That's enough, Sal," Satoru called out sternly as he appeared through the now-opened kitchen window.

Salomé's plump two-toned lips formed into a frown as she turned her attention to Satoru, who had only just removed his mask, rolling her eyes in annoyance. She absolutely hated that he always interrupted her fun.

“Whatever, disconnect your fluid, spider-boy. I wasn’t going to do anything but scratch her,” she retorted.

Satoru shook his head in amusement, seemingly used to Salomé’s spoiled attitude. He tugged the web closer, pulling her further away from Y/n and closer to him.

“Sure, you were,” he replied sarcastically.

Once Salomé was close enough, Satoru removed the webbing from her hand, taking in the bruise forming on her cheek and her split lip. Both of them knew she could have easily dodged Y/n's punch, which meant she had let it happen on purpose. Satoru could only assume it was so Salomé would have a reason to retaliate. Thankfully, he had arrived in time to prevent what could have been a disaster.

“It will heal. I’m fine,” Salomé interrupted his thoughts, pulling away from Satoru and turning to head into her room.

“Where are you going?” he questioned, still not addressing Y/n, who stared at him in silence and awe.

“Out,” Salomé yelled back, slamming the door to her room. Her departure usually meant trouble for Spiderman to deal with.

Satoru cursed under his breath, realizing this was going to be a problem later. A riled-up Salomé was a recipe for disaster; she was definitely going to create a scene outside as Black Cat, and he would have to clean it up.

Y/n looked at the man Satoru had grown into. His suit was different, red with accents of blue and black, and it looked handmade. He was beyond muscular, no doubt a result of his years as a masked vigilante. His hair was shaggier but still untamable, styled with a clean undercut. His cerulean eyes met her dark ones and just like that, Y/n was teleported back to being a teen blindly in love.

It had been six long years since their messy breakup, a turbulent chapter of their lives that still lingered in the corners of his mind. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air, thick with the tension of unresolved feelings.

Y/n felt her heart race under the intensity of his stare, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. She remembered the laughter, the whispered secrets, and the raw passion that had once defined their relationship. But she also recalled the pain—the arguments, the misunderstandings, and the hurtful things they had said.

Satoru's expression softened as he took in the changes that time had wrought on Y/n. She was still beautiful, but the years had etched lines of experience around her eyes. He could see the remnants of her past struggles reflected in her gaze, a mix of resilience and vulnerability that pulled at his heart.

In that moment, neither of them needed words. They stood at the precipice of their shared history, each lost in their thoughts yet connected by an invisible thread of familiarity. It was as if time had folded, collapsing the distance between their past and present into this singular moment.

Finally, Y/n broke the stillness, her voice barely above a whisper. "Satoru…" But the sound hung in the air, unfinished, as if the weight of everything they had been through held her back.

Satoru’s heart thudded in his chest, emotions swirling within him—regret, longing, and a flicker of hope. He opened his mouth to speak, but words eluded him. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/n felt small under Satoru's towering presence; he had grown so much taller in the years since they last saw each other. Subconsciously, she placed a hand on his cheek, her touch tentative, as if she were afraid he might dissolve into nothing if she pressed too hard.

“Satoru—”

“You smoke?”

They spoke in unison, the intensity of their eye contact unbroken. Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she nodded, and Satoru responded with a nod of approval, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly.

Finally, he stepped away from her, granting Y/n a moment to remember how to breathe.

“Let me change, and I’ll meet you on the balcony,” he said, heading toward his room.

Y/n couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over her at the thought of Satoru going into a separate room instead of the one Salomé had entered just moments before. The prospect of having even a little space felt like a reprieve, a chance to gather her thoughts before facing the complexity of their reunion.

As Satoru disappeared into his room, Y/n took a deep breath, allowing herself to feel the mixture of anticipation and anxiety that swirled within her. It was a small step forward, but it felt monumental, like the first light breaking through after a long, dark night..

Satoru emerged from his room, clad in a fitted black compression T-shirt that accentuated his muscular frame and gray sweatpants that hung comfortably on his hips. He balanced a couple of cold beers in one hand and a pizza box in the other, the savory aroma wafting through the air as he stepped onto the balcony.

“Here,” he said, tossing a soft blanket over Y/n’s shoulders. “Just in case you get cold.” The warmth of his gesture wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, igniting a flicker of familiarity that eased the tension in her chest.

They leaned against the balcony railing, the city skyline sprawling out before them, glittering under the starry sky. Satoru opened a beer and took a long sip, his gaze drifting momentarily into the distance. Y/n followed suit, the cool drink refreshing as it slid down her throat.

After a moment of silence, she pulled out a cigarette, her hands slightly trembling as she lit it. Satoru joined her, the flicker of the lighter illuminating his face for a brief moment. Their eyes met, and he offered a small, hesitant smile, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history.

With each puff, the smoke swirled between them, mingling with the winter night air. They began to catch up, their conversation flowing hesitantly at first, filled with light-hearted anecdotes about their lives over the past six years. Each laugh felt like a small step toward bridging the gap that had grown between them.

Yet, beneath the surface, the weight of their unresolved issues lingered. They both knew that the elephant in the room—the reason for their breakup—loomed large, unspoken but ever-present.

Y/n could feel the tension mounting as they danced around the topic, their laughter mingling with the underlying anxiety of what needed to be addressed. Satoru’s occasional sidelong glances caught her off guard, sending a rush of warmth through her, but she quickly masked her feelings with a playful smirk.

“Your girlfriend is a mutant?” Y/n finally asked, trying to mask her curiosity with casual indifference.

“My friend,” Satoru corrected, taking another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling into the night air. “And yeah, she is.”

“Yeah, well, tell her that. She seems awfully fond of you,” Y/n retorted, rolling her eyes, unable to hide the jealousy seeping into her tone.

Satoru paused, nodding as he considered his relationship with Salomé. “We’ve hooked up a few times,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with something Y/n couldn't quite place.

Oh. An awful feeling washed over her, but she knew it wasn’t fair to voice her discomfort. It had been years; expecting him to wait for her when she hadn’t even given any sign of wanting to get back together was unreasonable. Still, the realization twisted in her gut.

“Oh.”

“Don’t do that shit, Y/n.” He rubbed his temple, balancing the cigarette between his fingers as frustration flickered in his eyes.

“Do what? The bitch you’re fucking attacked me—”

“You hit her first, and I stopped her before she could touch you,” Satoru replied, his voice firm despite the irritation creeping up his neck at Y/n's attitude.

Why did he always seem to gravitate toward the most spoiled and entitled women?

“Yeah, but what if you weren’t there in time?”

“Dammit, Y/n. You know I’d never let anything happen to you,” he snapped, cutting her off, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race.

In that moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension, a reminder of the bond they once shared and the walls they had both built in the years since their breakup. Y/n felt the weight of his words, but the jealousy still lingered, battling against the flicker of warmth that came from his unwavering protection.

“Yeah, well, I still don’t like her,” Y/n shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the way his piercing gaze made her feel.

“She’s just protective. She wants to make sure I don’t get hurt. I’m guessing she was trying to scare you off before I got here,” Satoru replied, his tone steady but laced with an undercurrent of irritation.

“Or maybe she’s just a bitch. Whatever image of me you’re feeding her to make her act like that is wrong.” The words slipped out before Y/n could think, and she instantly regretted mentioning Salomé, especially in the context of their breakup.

“So I’m wrong to say you broke up with me after my best friend died?” Satoru’s voice turned icy, his eyes hardening as they bore into hers.

“Satoru—”

“I was wrong to say that you didn’t even have the guts to tell me in person? You left a letter in my apartment the night before my college entry exam?” His tone sharpened, cruel and unyielding, as he crushed the beer can in his hand effortlessly.

“Sator—”

“I was wrong to say that Shibuya haunts me too, but I was there for you in any way I could be, while you only cared about yourself. You didn’t even give me a chance to fight for us, for this.”

“IM NOT STRONG LIKE YOU!” Y/n screamed into the night, her voice echoing off the buildings. She felt drained, the weight of Satoru’s righteous anger crashing over her like a wave.

In that moment, the truth of her words hung heavy between them, a testament to the scars their past had left. The air surrounding the pair was overflowing with tension, both knowing they were standing on the precipice of a conversation they had both been avoiding for far too long.

"Y/n-"

Now it was Y/n’s turn to be heard, to explain what she should have said years ago.

“Satoru, I’m not like you,” she began, her voice trembling. “You hold the weight of the world on your shoulders and balance it gracefully. I’m a mess. I can’t get his face out of my head. Every night, I have nightmares about Shibuya and how it wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if I hadn’t been there. All those people died because you chose to save me. Geto died because you chose to save me.” She choked back sobs, gripping the metal railing tightly, silently grateful that the night sky shielded her tears from view.

“Hey, Shibuya was not your fault. Nobody could have known what was going to happen,” Satoru replied softly, but Y/n shook her head vehemently.

“Yes, it is. Satoru, you had the choice to let me die or let thousands die, and you chose to save me.”

Satoru fell silent, memories flooding back to that fateful night. He recalled the six villains he had taken down in the past, now teaming up to try and end him once and for all. Among them had been his best friend, Geto. Their friendship had crumbled after the death of Riko Amanai, that had changed them both forever.

As Spiderman, Satoru had easily dispatched five of the attackers. But when it came to Geto, he hesitated. The love he felt for his childhood friend was a bond that ran deeper than he had ever felt for anyone else. When Geto realized that Satoru couldn’t bring himself to hurt him, he issued an ultimatum: let Y/n die or stop the bomb that would blow up the busiest highway in all of New Tokyo.

Satoru had begged Geto not to make him choose. He even offered to sacrifice his own life in exchange, but nothing he said could satisfy his friend, who had been too far gone. Geto wanted Satoru to feel the same despair he had endured when Riko died, the helplessness that had consumed him.

But what had gone unaccounted for was Satoru’s profound selfishness and skill. Just as he was good hero, he couldn’t bear to lose Y/n too—not after losing Sayori, his sister, who had sacrificed herself to stop a villain too strong for Spiderman to face alone. Yet, he managed to do the impossible and do both; stop the bomb and save Y/n.

Enraged, Geto set off another bomb in an undisclosed area in the city and proceeded to launched himself at the couple, his fury fueled by the belief that Satoru’s choices had led to his suffering. He was tired of bearing the weight of the consequences alone. Despite the threat Geto posed, Satoru couldn’t bring himself to deliver the final blow.

As they engaged in a fierce battle, Satoru quickly realized that Geto wasn’t in control of his actions; he was being manipulated by an alien symbiote named Kenjaku. In that moment of clarity, Satoru understood that he wasn’t just fighting his best friend—he was fighting for his soul.

Desperation surged within Satoru as he recalled all the moments they had shared, all the laughter and dreams that had once bound them together. With a heavy heart, he made the agonizing decision to fulfill Geto’s final request: to ensure that no one else would be harmed by his hands.

In an act of mercy, Satoru focused his energy, channeling it into a powerful blow that would free Geto from the symbiote's grasp. As he struck, he felt a pang of sorrow and regret, knowing that this was the end of an era—a painful farewell to a friendship that had meant everything to him.

Y/n and Satoru had been there with the real Geto during his final moments, each of them holding one of his hands, sobbing uncontrollably as he took his last breath. The weight of their grief hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the bond they had shared and the tragic loss that now enveloped them.

“Y/n, people were going to die regardless,” Satoru finally said, his voice trembling with the remnants of emotion. “The point was to make sure I would fall into the same despair that Geto had experienced. The symbiotes feed on the hopelessness of their hosts.”

His words echoed in Y/n’s mind, a bitter truth that cut deep. She felt the anger and confusion swirling within her, struggling to reconcile the pain of losing Geto with the reality of what had transpired. The symbiote’s twisted motives had ensnared them all, dragging them into a cycle of despair and loss.

“So you’re saying it was all part of their plan?” Y/n's voice cracked, the vulnerability creeping into her tone. “That you were meant to suffer like he did?”

Satoru nodded, his gaze distant as he wrestled with the implications of his choices. “That’s what they wanted. To manipulate my emotions, to turn me against myself. Geto was just a pawn in their game, and so was I.”

Y/n took a shaky breath, trying to process the enormity of it all. She had witnessed the destruction caused by their battles, the lives lost, and the scars left behind. But hearing Satoru articulate the symbiote's twisted intentions brought a new layer of anguish.

“I just wish…” she began, but the words caught in her throat, unable to fully articulate the depth of her sorrow.

“I know,” Satoru replied softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of pain and understanding. “I wish things could have been different too.”

“I’m sorry I left,” Y/n finally said, her voice barely above a whisper as she avoided making eye contact with the man she loved so dearly. The weight of her apology hung in the air between them, a fragile acknowledgment of the pain that had defined their separation.

Satoru remained silent, the tension thick as he processed her words. He could feel the regret emanating from her, a mirror to the guilt that had plagued him since that fateful day. It was an admission they both needed but had been too afraid to voice until now.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she continued, her hands fidgeting with the blanket draped over her shoulders. “I thought distancing myself would help you heal, help us both heal. But I see now that I was wrong.”

His heart ached at her confession, the sorrow in her eyes resonating deeply within him. “You don’t have to apologize,” he finally said, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. “I should have fought harder to keep you by my side. We were both hurting, and I didn’t know how to reach out.”

Y/n finally met his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have communicated better, should have told you how much I was struggling. Instead, I just… ran away.”

Satoru stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking as he searched her face for understanding. “We were both caught up in our pain, but we can’t change the past. What matters is that we’re here now.”

.

.

.

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Another author's note: This was super sad but was an idea I was testing out, I'm still on the fence I want to use a plot line to this and I'm still tweaking how I want Black Cat to be introduced because any spiderman fan knows you cant have a spiderman story without a good ole two women one peter.. or Gojo. I had a hard time deciding on who should be Black Cat but I figured the best bet would just be creating a character for it. Let me know what you guys think in the comments. I'm so excited to share my story with you all <3

[emonaculate]

Spectacular? Anything but that.

MASTERLIST

Synopsis:

In a universe where Satoru Gojo dons the mantle of Spider-Man, he grapples with the weight of responsibility and the toll it takes on his mental health. As he swings through the city, saving lives and battling inner demons, his relationships begin to strain under the pressure.

This Gojo x Black!Reader story delves deep into his psyche, showcasing the anguish of a hero who always seems to suffer. With an emphasis on angst, watch as Satoru navigates the complexities of love, friendship, and the burden of a secret life—can he find balance, or will the hero's journey consume him?

EPISODE LIST

Episode O: Teaser

Episode I: Origin story? Nah, I'm built different.

Episode II: TBA

Episode III: TBA

Episode IV: TBA

Episode V: TBA

Episode VI: TBA

Episode VII: TBA

Episode VIII: TBA

Episode IX: TBA

Episode X: TBA

Episode XI: TBA

Episode XII: Finale

[hero-of-the-wolf]

Chapter 2: A Land in Ruins

Despite the boy, that other Link, there wasn’t a soul to be found in the ruins of Castletown. Well, any living souls, anyways. Link glumly kicked at a rock. He’d found remains here, too. He tried not to think too hard about who they once were.

What was that kid doing here, anyways? Everyone else had the good sense to stay away. And why was he so nervous? Was he hiding something? He….

Link froze mid-stride, staring at the remains of a house that he could never forget. He exhaled slowly and strode towards it.

He had to shoulder the door open to step inside. The roof had caved in, leaving rubble strewn all over inside, but other than that the main room was mostly intact. Link looked without seeing, picking through the remains, unsure what he was searching for. Then something caught his eye.

He knelt down to pick up a scrappy little doll.

His sister’s.

Without a word he tucked it into his bag, too.

He didn’t linger long after that, leaving the ruins behind and making his way towards the castle. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting exactly, considering the state everything else was in, but nothing could have prepared him for what he found.

Castletown lay in ruins, but the castle… the castle was just gone.

Only the fragmented outline of the foundation was left of the once great building. This couldn’t have been the work of neglect and the slow reclamation of nature. It had been intentional.

The work of Ganon, perhaps?

Link breathed in deeply, held it a moment, and let it out in a great rush. Whatever this Ganon was, Link swore that he wouldn’t let it get away with this. If it was in his power, he’d put a stop to these horrid deeds and avenge his fallen land.

He took the time to straighten out a couple stones in a rather pathetic attempt at a memorial before finally moving on. He’d already wasted too much time.

Zelda couldn't be at the castle, and there was no one there that could aid in his quest. There was no more reason to stay. So he set up camp in the forest nearby, his thoughts weighing heavy on his mind.

He wished his princess was here with him. She would know what to do. She would know what had happened to them. Link felt completely out of his depth here, all alone.

Where could she be? She never would have just left like this. Something must have happened to her. This must have been the work of Ganon, too.

No, that other Link had said that Ganon had destroyed Hyrule ages ago. Whatever it was, it couldn’t still be around now.

Could it?

He suddenly stiffened, hand instinctively reaching out to grasp the hilt of his sword. “I know you’re there.”

A beat.

“Alright, alright, you got me.” The other Link stepped out of the shadows, sheepishly approaching the other man, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Link let go of his sword and leaned back to eye him suspiciously. “You’re following me?”

“Well… yeah.” He shrugged awkwardly. “You looked upset earlier. And you seem… different, somehow? Like you’re not supposed to be here?”

“Yeah. You could say that.”

“So… what’s your story?” The kid slowly sat down across from him, still taut and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Link distantly wondered why he seemed so jumpy. “Why are you… here?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Link answered gruffly.

“... yeah alright, that’s fair.”

They stared at each other a moment, neither willing to talk, nor wanting to be the first to look away.

Finally Link sighed, breaking eye contact to reach into his bag and pull out Zelda’s book. He started to flip through it. Maybe there was something in here that could give him a hint on what he was supposed to be doing.

The other Link scooted closer, interest piqued. “What’s that?”

“It’s a book,” Link answered dryly. At the kid’s unamused look he continued on. “It belongs to my friend, Zelda.”

“Can I see it?”

Link hesitated.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

He held up the book for the boy to see. The kid’s eyes lit up, scanning over the page it was open to with an eager sort of hunger.

“What is it?”

“I… don’t know, really. She was always the one who was good at this sort of stuff.”

He pulled the book back to look over the page himself.

Agaricus inferenus

Sources agree that this particular agaricus must have had some sort of cultural importance in the past, though it has now fallen out of use. Uncommonly found within the cave systems around the fissure now known as Death Mountain. Mycologists have also concluded that it indeed has special properties, including potential fire resistance, but tests are still being conducted. Potentially edible.

“It’s uh… it’s a type of mushroom. It says it might have been important once, and it might be able to give you fire resistance, too. They’re found around Death Mountain apparently, though I’ve never seen one there.”

“Oh, really?” The other Link frowned thoughtfully. “Huh.”

He looked like he knew more than he was letting on. Link studied him, searching for the answers to at least *some* of the questions that were threatening to split his skull apart.

Nothing.

He decided on a different tactic.

“Huh?” He echoed carefully.

The other Link stared at him unknowingly. “What?”

“You seem like you might be familiar with this.”

“Oh?” He glanced down at the page again, his face betraying nothing. “Nope. Can’t say I have. Why do you ask?”

“... forget it.”

This kid was harder to pin down than a chuchu. It’d take more than a slip of the tongue to get him to speak.

Well, fine.

Link snapped the book closed and tucked it back into his bag. “It’s late. I’m turning in. You… you can do whatever you want, I guess.”

Link felt the stranger’s eyes on him as he turned away, setting out his bedroll and laying down. He ignored him, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed until finally, sleep took him.

Link.

The air around him was thick with smoke. He wrapped his arm around his face, lungs already burning, blinking hard through the tears blurring his vision.

Link!

Ahead of him stood Zelda.

He tried to call out to her, choking on ash, but his voice failed him. He stumbled after her as she fled, dizzy from the fumes. She was in danger here. He had to help her.

His foot caught on something and he hit the ground hard. He groaned, rolling over to see that strange cube from before.

The cube.

It must have been what caused this whole mess. But how?

Maybe that cube was their ticket back home.

He reached for it, but his fingers only grasped at nothing.

Huh?

Suddenly Zelda was standing in front of him again. She reached down and picked up the cube, then held out a hand to him with a smile.

He reached for it, but before he could grab hold of it a scream rang out, piercing his very heart.

He woke up with a gasp, shooting to his feet. By the fire the other Link startled, his hand grabbing for his sword. They stared at each other a moment, until the kid finally let go of his sword and held his hands up placatingly.

“You alright?”

Link blinked hard a few times before finally nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

It was still dark. He had no idea how much time had passed. But he got the feeling that he wasn’t getting much more sleep anytime soon.

He’d known that scream….

“You, uhh… you can go to sleep, if you want to. I’ll take over watch.”

“Oh, no. It’s okay. I don’t mind staying up.”

Link sat down by the fire again and shot the kid a pointed look. “*One* of us might as well get some rest here.”

“... fine.”

He walked off with a huff, settling down a ways from the fire onto the ground and curling up. He held perfectly still, even as the minutes dragged on. Link wasn’t sure if he was really asleep or not, but at least he was resting.

That was certainly more than Link could say for himself.

He pulled out Zelda’s book again. There had to be answers in here. Some clue to lead him in the right direction.

The last few pages had once been blank, but Zelda had been steadily filling them out with her own notes.

Today Link and I found a cavern halfway up Death Mountain. It was partially collapsed, but with some quick thinking we were able to create an opening stable enough to get in. Inside was some sort of old weapons cache. I’ve never even seen some of these types of weapons before! Link was unfamiliar with them as well. Perhaps the Gorons would know more? Nothing is really usable anymore, nature has certainly taken it’s toll here, but the knowledge we could relearn is so exciting! I can’t wait to learn more!

Link’s nearly finished with his training now. Soon he’ll be an official knight of Hyrule! I’m so proud of him. I’ve always—

Link tore his gaze away, snapping the book back shut once again. It wasn’t his place to read this. It was personal.

The other Link shifted, sitting up and gazing at him curiously. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

Link hated to admit it, but he needed help. And as suspicious as this kid seemed, he was his best chance at finding Zelda before anything more could happen to her.

He sighed.

“I'm looking for my friend.”

[court-of-starss]

Masterlist

✧ - fluff

❣ - angst

❀ - smut

Requests are open!

Azriel

Comfort of Family ✧

Figure you out ❣

Rhysand

Stars of Heartbreak ❣