Warnings: Dub-con, misogyny, name calling, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem genitalia for reader, mentions of divorce, general perversion, praise, clit play, cheating, readers husband is a scumbag.
(AN: Requested by an Anon early today, and it made me feral.)
Tick... tick... tick... the sound of an office clock rings in your ears, the only sound louder is your heart, pounding in your ribcage. The clock was awfully loud, though you had never noticed it before, when you were coming to bring your husband a warm, home-cooked meal. Maybe then you didn't notice it because you weren't fearing for your future.
Morgan & Cole, the investment firm your husband had been working for for years had been doing better than ever, and in turn, so had your husband. Promotions, expensive raises, and more had been sent his way. The house was even being repainted. All that begs the question, how had you found yourself in this situation.
It was a few nights ago when your husband informed you of the deal he had made with his boss. Morgan, the co-owner of the company, had his sights set on you, apparently. At a holiday party, he approached your husband with an offer, an offer to get a night with you in exchange for another fat raise. You had always known your husband hadn't been the most loving, but you had never imagined his greed could get to this. The worst part was how casual the deal he described was. Approaching a man at an office party and asking to sleep with his life like you were discussing sports frightened you. You had only met Morgan once or twice, and while he seemed charming, him doing something like this made you very much doubt he was in actuality.
You are snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of a door opening. Morgan steps out of his office, fidgeting with his smart-watch when he looks up and sees your meek form in the office lobby. His brow furrows.
"Oh, Mrs. Peters, I hadn't expected you to met me here. I had intended to come pick you up. How long have you been here?" He asks. You gulp. "Not long, just ten or so minutes." You say, trying to hold eye contact. He sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I wish you would have knocked on my office door, I feel awful having left you out here alone. Come, we can head back into my office and chat." His voice is so soothing, and in any other situation it would have been nice. You enter his office, and he closes the door behind him, before sitting at his desk. You take the chair in front of it.
"So, I assume your husband-" His teeth grind as he says this. "Is assume he has gone over what this is about." You nod. "He did... and... and I don't know if I can do this. I don't know you at all, and I'm a married woman." You whimper. Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, and Morgan sighs heavily. He comes around to lean back against the front of the desk, one hand supporting him while the other touches your cheek.
"I know this must be scary, I understand that. But I'm gonna solve both of those problems right now." He kneels down so your eyes meet his. "First, you worry you don't know me. Let me fix that. My name is Morgan Brant, I am thirty-two, and I live in a loft down on 37th. I like charcuterie and making my own organic lattes. I work out everyday, and enjoy walking through the city. I have both of my parents, Ruth and John, and they live in the city as well. Anything else you'd like to know?" You're too stunned and still panicked to respond, so you just shake your head. "Okay, okay. Good." He murmurs. A hand strokes your hair softly, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. To your shock, for a man who basically paid for a co-workers wife to prostitute herself, he does seem genuinely upset at your fear. His eyes are filled with a sorrow, and he chews his bottom lip nervously. He looks down for a moment.
"Mrs. Peters, your second concern, about being a married woman, is very respectable. I appreciate that you respect the sanctity of marriage so much. I think your loyalty and love for your husband is beautiful." He pauses, and gently grips your chin so you look him in the eyes. "But... I worry that love and loyalty may not be returned. Mrs. Peters, I need you to promise me you will listen to what I am about to tell you." You gulp, his suddenly serious, yet still soft, tone worries you.
He stands, walking to the back of his desk and opening a drawer, grabbing a manila envelope before sitting down at his chair again. He pushes the envelope towards you, folding his hand together and sitting up. He looks as those this odd exchange is yet another business deal, as he sits like a man prepared to do whatever it takes to seal a deal. A real businessman. Your hand trembles as it opens the envelope. Your heart stops.
Inside, your husband can be seen in several photos, from many different angles. Some looked ripped from security footage, others appear to be taken at a distance. However, they all contain the same subject. Your husband, locking lips with various women, every photo a different one. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a choked sob. "N-no... I mean, he was never warm to me, b-but..." Everything comes crashing down at once. All those nights you waited up for him when he was 'working late', all those warm meals you brought him at work, only to be brushed off so he could talk to his secretary. It all made sense.
"I can't believe this..." You squeak. Morgan shakes his head. "You can believe it, I know you can. He's never loved you, I've seen how he treats you. Rejecting your meals, ignoring you at office parties and work functions. My dear, he is actively sitting at home and preparing to count the bonus he received for pimping you out to me." Morgan exclaims, his shoulders tightening. You put your head in your hands. "I'm... what am I going to do?! I'll divorce him, but I'll have nothing. I, oh god." You cry. Morgan once again moves to try and comfort you. His broad arms wrap around your shoulders.
"I know, I know this is scary. You've been through a lot tonight, your entire marriage even. But it's going to be okay." He cups your face. "I've been watching the two of you, you mostly." He hands you something. An empty tupperware container. "This is from his lunch yesterday. Every meal he rejected from you, I gladly took. I hadn't had the chance to eat something made so lovingly in a long time. They don't serve home-cooked meals like this at business conferences." He chuckles. "I saw how you would cling to him at those same parties he was ignoring you at, and wishing, praying you would cling to me like that." You look up, his confession is shocking. "Your husband... he is a greedy man, but he has pride. I knew I wouldn't even get a moment along with you unless there was something in it for him." He shakes his head. "Darling, I was just as disgusted as you were that he'd agree to that. As excited as I was, as I am for this moment with you, I was thanking whoever is out there that no other person at this office had tried something similar. I'm not some deviant, or criminal. I've had my fair share of sexual encounters, with prostitutes and escorts, but... I never felt anything. I need to feel something. I do with you." He says.
You shake your head. "You don't know me." You say. He shrugs. "You don't need to someone to love them, not at first. I hate to say this, but you didn't really know your husband, did you?" You sob again, and his sticks his hands out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry darling, that was out of line. I just needed to prove a point. What I'm saying is, I don't just want one night of pleasure with you. I want you to be mine. If you left him, you wouldn't be lost or desolate, you would have me. I could give your everything he has and more. Money, a penthouse, and my love. Real love. You deserve someone who wants to care for you the way you cared for that man-child. I can do that." You sniffle. "It's all so soon, and I don't... I'm scared." You say again. "I know. I hadn't wanted to do this here. I had wanted to show you the pictures and confess early on, I had plans to pick you up and take you somewhere nice to eat. I know the last thing you want right now is a fresh new relationship, I understand. But just maybe, the idea of revenge tempts you?" He suggests. You look up, and bite your lip. "What are you suggesting?" You ask.
"He thinks he's better than you, and that you could never leave him, because you have no one else, nothing else. Why else do you think he assumes their will be no repercussions for a night like this? He's so confident that you would never leave him, never even think about another man, that he truly believes you will return to him after he's pimped you out." Morgan moves closer. "I won't lie, I'll enjoy this, but don't just do it for me. Do it for yourself. Give in, leave him for a man who will worship you, who can give you more. Get back at him, and be with me." You shake your head. "You... you paid him to pimp me out to you like this though?" You exclaim. He nods "I had to show you how little he cared for you, same with the investigators I hired to get those photos." He nods in the direction of the envelope, now dabbled with your tears. "Besides, I've already signed his termination papers, I don't hire men like that here. He isn't getting shit for doing this to you." He assures.
In a moment of weakness, you break. The betrayal of the evening, the hurt and the fear, the anger, it's all too much. You sink to your knees, and nod. "Alright, let's do it. Just... be gentle, go slow." He nods. "Oh, my sweet. I'll do whatever you ask." He captures your lips, pressing your back against the front of his desk as he kneels beside you. His lips are soft, and taste of bourbon and mint. He smells like cologne, but a good kind, something smokey. Not like the tacky expensive stink of your husband, now ex-husbands favorite cologne. His tongue prods at your lips, and shyly you part them, allowing his tongue to slip in and suck against yours. He groans, and you both pull away breathlessly. While you take a breath, he immediately latches onto your neck, placing quick, feverish kisses along your collarbone. You gasp at the feeling, shrinking in on yourself. He grins.
"Does it really feel that good, that's quite a reaction." He chuckles. You blush and look to the side. "It's- It's been a while." He frowns and tilts his head. "How long is awhile, darling?" He whispers. "A few months, maybe eight or so." He shakes his head. "My poor girl, doing all that for him and he still wouldn't please you." He grips your waist, his lips on the shell of your ear. "To be fair though, even if he did, he couldn't make you finish. He would please himself, not you. But I won't, baby. Tonight, is all about you." You can feel a thick hardon pressing against your knee.
"Tell you what, darling. Let me make you feel good, real quick. Something nice and easy for my sensitive girl. Then, I'l take you out. I'm not just going to have sex with you without wineing and dineing you. Then, I'll take you back to my place, I-I'll send for your stuff tomorrow, and if you want, we can go for round two." He coos, looking up at you with admiration and hope. "Won't my husband try to resist my stuff being taken?" You ask. He shakes his head. "He's not your husband. If he calls, I'll hang up. He sold you out, and if he gets pissy, I've go the best lawyers in the country at my disposal. I'm not letting you spend one more night under a roof with that man. You aren't Mrs. Peters anymore, you're Mrs. Brant. Now... let Mr. Brant make you feel good." Hands cradle your thighs, slipping the skirt of your sensible slip dress up over your knees. A hand paws at your panties, cupping your cunt as he sighs. "So warm, poor little thing hasn't been touched in months. I've only kissed your neck a little, and your soaked. Is it because I said I love you? Does your little cunt respond well to just being admired and appreciated? Oh, my darling." He slips your panties aside just a little, not wanting to ruin your outfit for dinner later. Fingers part your lips as a long digit strokes up, from your entrance to your clit. A finger prods the entrance, and you gulp at the throbbing heat you feel.
"Gentle, slow please." You murmur. He nods, placing a gentle kiss on your neck before slipping in his digit. His long, calloused fingers rub your neglected walls in all the right ways. "A-ah, Morgan..." You pant. "Good?" He asks. You nod, breathless already. He thrusts it in and out gently, before asking to add another digit. When you nod, he adds another, while his free hand circles your clit with his middle finger. Perhaps its from typing everyday, day in and day out, but he is skilled. Even when your husband has slept with you, you had never felt like this. A coil forms in your stomach as you pant and whimper.
"M-morgan." You moan. "Please, I need to-" You're cut off by him sharply curling his fingers, as they hit a spongy spot deep inside you. "Oh, god. Yes." You moan again. "Cum for me, darling, please. I want to hear you." Morgan's tone is suddenly more desperate ethan you had heard it all night. He's needy, begging to know that he is pleasing you in the way he so desires. "Say my name, would you? I just want to please you, I need to know it feels good." He begs. "Morgan, I'm gonna cum, shit-" Your walls begin to pulse, juices coating his fingers. As you moan, finishing your high, he kisses you feverishly, desperate for closeness.
When you pull away, panting as you come down from your orgasm, he licks your juices off his hands with a squelching noise, putting your panties back into place. He helps you to your feet, and hands your your purse. "Ready for dinner?" He asks. Tired and very hungry, you nod. "Just one more thing, and you don't have to do anything, I've dealt with this myself plenty but-" He looks down, the tent in his pants is still very prominent.
katsuki rarely drinks. it's not something he enjoys. but one one night, he shows up at your once-shared apartment, smelling like liquor. something sweet and fruity, liked he'd tried to wash a bitter taste from his mouth. to someone who doesn't know him the way you do, a tired sobriety may be assumed. he's that sort when he drinks.
he smiles when he sees you, a bashful kind of smile, despite not having spoken with you for months and you realize that maybe he's forgotten. maybe he's forgotten the last few months when he moved his stuff out of your place, the period of time after the break up where no one would bring up your names in front of the other.
"katsuki? it's the middle of the night," you say to him through the half open door. "what are you doing here?"
katsuki looks at you, clearly tired, and he swallows thick before opening his mouth and closing it again. you wait for him to find his words.
"i wanted to see you," he says.
"you don't live here anymore," you remind him gently, though you're not sure why you assume that he believes he does.
katsuki glances at the ground and then uses the doorframe to steady himself. you can tell that he's trying not to scare you, trying not to use the sheer size of his body. there's something cautious and equally careless about his motions and you tilt your head.
"katsuki?"
"why don't we talk anymore?" he asks you, swallowing again. you wonder where his friends have gotten off to and at what point int he evening they'd noticed that he wandered off.
the question tugs at your heartstrings as you stare at the man in the doorway. it's a pathetic sort of feeling, a weak longing in your chest. you're not sure how to answer. after the break up, things just sort of... fell off. there was nothing to say anymore.
"I want to talk to you," he admits.
this is a side of katsuki that only you are privy to. a quieter, gentler side of him. one where he can openly admit his wants and faults. an exposed bleeding wound that katsuki has never really been able to sew shut.
you shake your head a little.
"talking's hard," you tell him. you're being honest. talking to him is hard. there is so much history there.
"we used to be friends," he reasons, almost as if he's reminding himself.
"yeah," you nod, "we did."
"and now we're not," he adds. "and that fucking sucks."
you nod again.
"it's late, katsuki," you say to him. "you should get home and sleep this off."
katsuki nods, but he lingers. his eyes wander past you into the inside of your apartment, almost as if he can picture himself wandering in. you keep the door half shut.
"we'll talk soon?" he asks, something hopeful in his voice. this vulnerability makes you ache.
"yeah," you respond. "we'll talk soon. fix things."
katsuki nods and then, as if something sobering has come over him, he straightens his back. you furrow your brows as he looks at you, a pink tinge over his cheeks, and wait for what he has to say next.
"sorry to- sorry to bother you so late," he says, a little less gently. he's let a mask slip carefully over his features.
"it's fine," you shake your head. "get home safe, okay? do you need me to call someone for you?"
katsuki shakes his head insistently. "no, no," he says firmly— soberly. "i'm good. i'll see you around."
"okay."
he turns from your step and you watch his back for a moment before quietly shutting the door to your apartment. it feels too quiet now, and you briefly miss the light from the street as you turn back to the empty, darkened rooms.
you wonder if he'll remember coming to your door tomorrow and kick himself for it. you wonder if he'll wake up in the morning, his head pounding, with the mortifying memory of having shown up on your doorstep, telling you that he misses you in a set of different words. or, you wonder if he'll forget. will he wake tomorrow with no memory at all of the first conversation you've shared in months?
it's probably best if he doesn't remember it. then, there'll be nothing to follow up on and nothing to apologize for in the sobering light of day. you won't have to talk to him and be reminded of just how painful every aspect of this is. you have no intention of keeping your promise to talk soon, as much as you might like to fix things. it's best, for the both of you, if you let him fade into the background. then, you can meet him again as strangers—friends of friends—and pretend that the history between you both never happened in the first place.
I’m the anon that asked about the Slurries siblings btw
I’m requesting for the siblings (it’s okay if you can’t write them all, but can you write about Uzuki, Gaku, and Tenkyu?? They’re my favs 🥺) gangbanging their little sister ❤️
Little sis!reader is the youngest of them and was probably too young to get enough assassin training before Uzuki broke them out, so she’d be easier to manipulate and shelter for them ❤️ they raised her to be a good girl, but she grew more curious as she got older and then one day the bros saw her talking to another boy and got jealous and that’s when they decided to lovingly fuck the obedience back into her. May or may not fuck a baby into her too, idk lol. They just love their lil sis a little TOO much and want her to stay loyal to the family, no outsiders allowed ❤️
tw: incest? non con, breeding, talks of r*pe, dark content, loss of virginity, g*ng r*pe, soft dom! everyone, MINORS AND ANTIS DON'T INTERACT
It wasn't important to them about what you want. All they wanted was to remind you of your place. You're spread eagle, legs held down by Tenkyuu and hands in Gakuu's with Uzuki on top of your own body. You're outnumbered. Restricted. You tried pleading them to stop, but they didn't seem to hear your pleas.
Not even the hurt and tears on your face could make your brothers stop. You wish they could have some mercy. They said they love you, but why are they hurting you? The grip on your hands and feet were so tight that it made you cry from the pain.
"No... oniichan, d-don't...!"
You pleaded when Kei, your oldest brother's dick was pressing against your pussy. You let out a sob and a "no" to plea for him to not put it in, but he ignored you and pushed into you without any form of sympathy.
The schoarching hot pain you felt when he pushed into your pussy was blinding. Out of impulse, you gripped Gaku's hand that was holding you too, and cried when Kei completely bottoms out. You heard how he laughed abit about how you always complains about the littlest pain in your life, including him deflowering you.
"This is why i don't train you yet, you're too soft for the hard things, we'll take it easy for you." He whispered, and he saw the way you cried and gripping Gaku's hands, but he started moving again and again despite your traumatised body and mind.
"You know, you're very cute. That's why oniichan over here hates if something happens to you. We don't like it when you talk to boys, y/n so this is a must step to remind you of who you are. We need you to be a mother, now."
You heard what Tenkyuu said, his hands gripping your feet as you're spread eagle on the floor; You let out a pathetic cry again and again when your eldest brother kept hammering your pussy with his cock, again and again. You didn't want to keep feeling this way, but you're forced to just take the abuse. They have always loved you, but this one is something you can't endure.
"oniichan..." you cried and looked at your brother Gaku who's holding your hands in his. Begging for his mercy, but he too, did not care.
"You know I love you, y/n? I can't wait to make you a mother. You know I would take care of all of you, that's why i have to do this," Kei whispered into your ears, smirking, "no one deserves me but you, that's why I'm gonna cum into you until you couldn't handle it anymore, until you're pregnant with my baby," he babbled nonsense despite your cries, and you let out a high pitched scream when he pushes your thighs together to your chest, and continued fucking you until you could feel his cum filled inside you.
It most definitely didn't stop there- your brother tenkyuu fucked you the minute Kei left your body alone; he wasn't considerate, rough was always his way, and the feeling of being filled up again made you shudder.
You were passed around like a rag doll, treated like you are nothing more than just their play thing- not as a sister, but as a slave who needs to give birth to the next kid and play their favourite fantasy. You let out a cry when tenkyuu slammed himself into you roughly again and again- if they thought that you didn't feel pain, you're wrong- Kei did numbers on you, and although he had broke you, the feeling of being raped again is still painful.
It felt like an eternity as you're raped for the third time. Your brother, Gaku barely say a word to you, watching you on the floor and writhing in pain and he did not say anything at all. Instead he pushed your body until you're lying on your side and he fucked you from behind and breathing into your neck listening to the way you cried to his brutality.
For sure, you would be pregnant after this, and it didn't matter who's is it, as long as it's theirs. By the end of it, you're sore as hell.
Bakugou lies in bed, sleepless, glaring at the ceiling above him. Sleep hasn’t been coming to him easy for some time, and he knows if he were to pinpoint the date it began, his answer would most definitely lead back to you.
It had been about three weeks since you broke up, and he still hasn’t found many ways to cope. Refuses to believe it’s even true, most days.
So he sits, and broods, and waits for drowsiness to consume him when he knows it will not. Especially not when he’s lying so rigidly atop his sheets.
There is something that always helps him sleep, and you were both privy to the fact that a good orgasm could knock Katsuki out cold almost instantly.
Reluctantly, Bakugou drags a heavy hand down his front until he grips the length of himself through his briefs, and tugs lazily until it’s full and hard under his grasp.
Thumbing the waistband under his balls, he takes hold of his cock, groaning while he pumps it once, precum beading at the red tip. He swipes at it with a finger, but imagines if you were here with him you’d have sucked it off with your mouth and swallowed it down.
He fucks up into his fist slow, because he knows you’d go slow. You always took your time, letting him feel the clenching ring of you slide down to the base of him. Forcing his tip to be pushed nowhere but the warmest, deepest depth of you. Making you be the closest two people ever could. Baring the essence of your souls to each other.
His hand doesn’t compare, nothing ever would, but it will have to do.
If he thinks hard enough, he could picture you on top of him, all swirling hips and breathy moans. You’d lean your hands onto his strong chest for leverage, and he’d lick and nip playfully at one of your arms. To which you’d chastise him for not taking how sexy you’re being seriously and he’d gruffly reply oh, I’ve noticed, sweetheart. And you’d get a little flustered at that, as if his cock isn’t buried deep in you.
His hand speeds up and a wet schlick is resounding throughout the room. Pleasure shoots up his spine with each upstroke. The fire in his belly burns brighter, and he feels the end drawing near.
And this is the part where he’d kiss you, any part of you, and would wonder if you could feel the way his chest aches for you. How his heart beats for you.
All the things he could never bring himself to say.
Spurts of cum shoot onto his flexing belly, and he hisses at the wet feeling of it. He bucks up into his hand a few times, unthinkingly chasing after euphoria. When he’s done, he stares down at the mess he’s made on himself. He lets go of his still-hard cock and it slaps back onto his abs, a string of spend connecting between the two.
He doesn’t even feel the hot tears trailing down his face until the high dissipates into nothing, and he’s left profoundly and irrevocably empty.
Summary : The great inquisition. In a small village during medieval old time, a young crusader has been ordained priest. A rumor of a witch cursing the place with plague has rapidly spread around. To find the witch and put her at the stake, the holy knight has instilled fear and mistrust but he finds resistance in you. Starting to have dirty thoughts about you, he gets you jailed, so sure you’re the sinner he’s chasing after. But are you really the one you pretend not to be ?
WC : 3.7K
Content : Historical au, angst, names (whore, slut, witch, demon...) , lots of cursing at the end. But basically pure angst for this chapter
Pairing : Crusader!Taiju Shiba x Fem!Reader.
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When you wake up, Taiju is nowhere to be seen. He deserted his bed and left you alone, your hands still chained together and you soiled with his cum still deep inside your womb. You put your hand between you legs and it’s still sore from your night of passion.
You know it was a bewelderment moment for him.
You did not expect him to be there. You know he’s a man of his word. And you’d be dead by the end of the day, regardless your new feelings for him.
You try to repress them the moment you remember how you felt at home in his arms, his big warm hands on your skin, his lips on your throat, and the way he went so hard yet so good inside you. You let yourself smells his scent just one more time on his pillow and then you force yourself to get up.
You clean your legs a bit and try to find something to cover yourself with as he ruined your clothes. You open his closet and find a white linen shirt that fits you like a dress because he’s so tall it’s oversized for you.
« Will do. » You say looking at you in the mirror and then you wait.
You know the guard will come fetch you, back to your cell or directly at the stake but you stay calm.
An hour passes and still no one. You’re looking at the door, expecting for someone to come as the clock ticks your life away.
You let them tie ou up in a dead lience and drag you out of the room and oustide the church.
You let them tie ou up in a dead lience and drag you out of the room and oustide the church.
You let them tie ou up in a dead lience and drag you out of the room and oustide the church.
You cross the place until you reach the plateform where the executioner is waiting with a torch.
The crowd starts to howler at you the moment you appear, and you hear words that don’t suit you.
Witch. Whore. Sinner. Slut. Demon. Devil. Killer.
You’ve done nothing wrong but they need a culprit.
Some of them are throwing rotten vegetables or rocks at you. You get hurt in the process and your head starts to bleed.
You fall to the ground, people are spiting on you, trying to kick you and when you lift your head, you see him. He sits in a chair in the middle of the notables of the village, on another plateform in front of yours.
And even if his full attention heads to you, his eyes don’t meet yours.
You shiver, try to not look at him but you can’t bring yourself to focus on anything else.
Look at me priest. Look at me crusader. Look at me Taiju…
The soldiers helps you to stand up and make you walk to the stake. When you turn around the crowd his silent.
Only torches here and there are lighting the place up and they’re all looking at the inquisitor.
He stands up and open a parchment that he read out loud. But you don’t understand it. You can’t. This voice was whispering sweet nothing to your ear hours ago.
« Y/n, you are find guilty of sorcery, attempt murder on a God’s servant, spreading plague around the village, of curse on our dear people with intention of killing children, woman and men. Your possessions will be destroyed. Your name will be forgotten and your remains will not be burried in our consecrated land. By the will of our Church and our almighty God, you are excommunicated. » He stops here and looks at the crowd for a long minute and for the first time his eyes meet yours for the last words. « I condemn you to burn in the flames of hell until ends of time. »
You don’t feel your eyes water, you don’t hear your sorrows you just look at him until it’s impossible to see through your tears. It’s the first time he sees it too. You’ve always been so tough to him. So brave.
But he doesn’t flinch. He can’t. This is too late. You met each other too late. Just a couple of years ago, when he was still in the battlefield, still a soldier and not a priest, he could’ve meet you, he could have marry and cherish you. But it’s too late. He solemnly swear to dedicate all his love and life to God, and you, are going to die.
« If you want to repent woman, it is time. »
You don’t know but it’s his ultimate attempt to save you from the flames of hell. At least you will be received in heaven where maybe one day you’ll meet again.
If you want too.
You open your mouth and he hopes for you to say the right words. But you don’t.
« You know me. All of you know who I am. I was born here, I grew up among some of you ! We went to church together ! You know I am not a bad person. You know I did nothing wrong ! If you are looking for a culprit look at this Church. Look at this man they sent to give justice based on nothing but his own prejudice ! I am no evil, and for God’s sake I am not a witch ! You are condemning an innocent ! » You look at him, wiping off your tears, like the proud woman you want to be until the end. « May God forgives you all for your sins. »
The crowd immediately react, they call you a liar and a witch that needs to rot in hell while while the sentries tied you up to the stake.
It’s time. You look at him, still saying I am not a witch, you know I am not, hoping for him to read your lips.
When the executioner turn around in waiting for his order he doesn’t move. He doesn’t nod. He has just his eyes fixed somewhere in the crowd. The Mayor decides to give the order to light up the stake.
You will not give them what they want. They will not see your pain. They will not have your fear.
It’s slowly spreading around you. The fire starts to take over and you feel an extrem pain licking at your feet. But you still look at him. A thick smoke starts to cover your vision and when you can’t handle it anymore you start to cry out in utter pain.You never felt so much pain. You are burning alive whle the smoke is stranggling you and you can’t breath anymore. You are dying.
It happens fast.
Someone you don’t know is flying over the crowd, shouting to people to make way. They take out a dagger and cut your ropes. Your shirt his on fire, already consuming your right leg and arm and he grab water to throw at you.
The last thing you see is a cold stare on you before you lost consciousness.
When you open your eyes you are somewhere you don’t recognize. It’s an abandoned place. The roof partially collapsed and trees are growing their branch inside.
There is nothing inside but your bed, a straw mattress near an old chimney were a fire is burning to keep you warm. When you try to move it’s so painful, you start to cry in pain.
You look at your right arm covered in bandages. Blood and yellow substance are staining it in different places and you inhale sharply remembering you were burning alive.
Am I dead ? You think.
With your left hand you push out the sheet covering you and you can see the very same bandages and stains on your right leg.
You open your mouth but can’t bring yourself to even breath out. You want to cry, to throw up and still you can’t do anything. You are trapped in a deeply injured body and you don’t even know in which state your face is. You might be burned all over.
You try to cry for help but no one is answering. If you are not dead you are going to die here. You need to drink, you need to eat, you need to pee. But you can’t move without feeling like someone is skinning you alive. You never felt such pain. Not even when your body was burning.
You decide not to move. Waiting. But for what ? You don’t even know.
And you think. Your last memory is a stranger’s face over you. Did someone save you ?
It can’t be. Taiju would have killed them on the spot. Maybe they’re already dead. It can’t be. It can’t be !
You stay here for hours until you hear a horse coming your way. When you turn your head to call for help you stops yourself and open your eyes wide.
A tall man you can’t mistake for anyone else stands before you with his cape on. A hood covers his face and you know it’s him before he takes it off.
Taiju is looking at you but he doesn’t smile. He never does.
« You !» you try to lift your body up but he doesn’t allow you, putting you back to bed.
« Do not ! You suffer from very serious injuries. I cleaned the wounds but you have to stay still. »
It wasn’t him who saved you. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t him. Because he didn’t move from his seat when he watched you burn down.
You swallow hard, a tear of pain running along your cheek. « Why ? » you ask him with a broken voice.
He doesn’t answer. He takes a flask of water out of his bag and put it to your lips and you drink immediately, so thirsty.
« You have been here for five days now. You shall rest. »
« Why ? » that’s all you can ask.
You need to hear it from him. Why is he here ? Why does he sentenced you to death, why are you still alive.
« Stop asking questions woman. »
« Fuck you ! »
It’s like you slapped him hard. He looks at you utterly shocked.
« Why ? » You repeat again.
He sight and take out a piece of bread he put up your mouth.
« Why ? » you insist but he doesn’t answer.
You deny the food, turning your head.
« You need to eat. I know you are hungry. »
More like angry to you. If you could move, you would beat the shit out of him.
« Answer me priest of God ! Why ? »
« I do not want to force you to eat woman, but if you insist,by the saints, I am going to put this food down your throat even if I have to chew it myself. Eat ! »
He starts to lose patience but so do you.
« Then fucking answer me ! I am not going to eat your food until you tell me the truth. »
« THERE IS NOTHING LEFT TO SAY ! EAT, NOW ! »
« LEFT ? YOU DID NOT EVEN STARTED TO TALK ! »
He opens his mouth and close it again. He did. But you were asleep. He stayed by your side and talked a lot to you. His prayers where for God though. He offered his life to save yours. But he will never tell you.
It’s between God and him.
« Fine ! I am not eating. »
A vein of anger you know too well dawn on his forehead « You are ! »
« Am not ! »
« ARE ! »
« NOT ! »
« FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN WHY ARE YOU SO STUBBORN ?! »
« SPEAK FOR YOURSELF PRIEST. »
« Fine ! Remember you made me do that ! » he tells you before ripping a piece of bread with his teeth and chewing it.
You think you won. Until you see him bending over you, taking your jaw in his powerful hand and applying pressure on it for you to open.
You try to push him away but it’s too painful. He feed you himself, put it in your mouth and then roughly close it for you to eat.
« Swallow. » he orders.
You would spit it to his face if he wasn’t for him to muzzle you with his hand.
You cry out in pain when he applies more pressure but he doesn’t let you go. « I said swallow. I am not letting you go until you swallow, do you hear me ? »
After a few second of throwing dagger at him with your eyes you swallow and he let go.
« Now, do you want me to do it again or are you going to eat like a good girl ? »
« I am not a fucking child ! »
« Watch your mouth woman. I do not tolerate such language. »
You snort in pain. « So ? What are you going to do ? Put me at the stake ? Oh wait… »
He avoid your furious gaze but doesn’t apologize.
« I did what I had to. »
You roll you eyes at him. « Yes. Right. God’s will. Did he also told you to eat me out ? Did he tells you to shag me ? Maybe he told you to breed me before burning me up ? »
You see his jaw clench painfully but you know he will not play your game.
But you are unstoppable. « YOU RUINED MY LIFE ! I DO NOT EVEN KNOW IF I WILL BE WALKING AGAIN OR EVEN USING MY RIGHT ARM BECAUSE OF YOU ! »
Your heart beats fast and you try your best not to cry again. You need to take a deep breath, to calm down. « You knew I was not a witch. If not I will not be here and so do you. Who was it ? Who saved me ? You owe me the truth. »
He sit next to you, putting his arms on his knees and doesn’t look at you.
« I paid a rogue. I could not do anything else. Do you really think I would still be alive if I did it myself ? I needed to stay alive to heal you. The morning before your execution I went to another city to find help. But no one wanted to deal with the inquisition. I went to three other villages and a city before finding someone, it took me the whole day. He was a murderer and I had to absolve him of his crimes to make the deal… I did pay him in gold too. When I came back with him they were already gathered and ready to burn you. When they lighted the stake up, he was stuck in the crowd. The plan was to take you away before I finished to speak. God knows I did not wanted you to be harmed. »
« Where is he now ? »
Taiju take a pause and says « Gone. »
And you know he doesn’t mean gone far away. A man has died to save you. Even if he was a criminal.
« I would punch you if I could. » You mumble looking at the roof. « I despise you so much. »
The crusader, take his bag and put next to you food and water. « I will be back tomorrow to change your bandage. »
« No, I do not want to see you anymore. »
But he came back. He came the day after, and again. He came everyday just after the dawn to heal you, clean you, feed you.
Even when you tried to push him away, when you didn’t wanted to talk to him. He remained silent but he took care of you. Everyday.
Almost 3 weeks has passed and today you try to stand up. The pain is still here but you know you will never recover and have to learn to live with it. Your skin is burned in the right side. From your shoulder to your fingers and from your knee to your toes.
After a day of attempt you finally stand up. You are limping but you can walk a few steps. You wish you had at least a mirror to look at your face. He never told you what it looked like now. Never made any comment on your body neither when he changed your bandages.
You take off your clothes to examine your body but there is no other big damages you can see.
This is how he finds you when he comes in. You, naked and out of your bed.
He stops when he sees you with your hands touching your face and hair that is now much shorter because of the fire.
He looks at you not saying anything like always. « Is it bad ? » you ask trying to find any wound on your face.
« No. You are still beautiful. » He takes off his cape and put it around your shoulder to cover your body from his eyes.
You look at him not knowing what to say. You were so mad at him since he rescued you. But this is the first time he tells you what he really think about you.
He carefully take you bridal style and put you back in your bed. « You should not have left your bed. You are still wounded. »
« Do not boss me around. I am not a believer anymore thanks to you. »
« I know. » He is calm today. Almost compliant.
He takes off his bag new bandages, apples, bread, soup, whine and water. And then a holy book. His holy book.
He keeps the last one in his hand and avoid your gaze. « I thought maybe you would like to read something. Do you know how to read ? »
« The priest before you teached me. He was a nice man. A good man. Not like you. »
« Yes. Well. » He put the book near your food and stands up.
He heads up to the exit and stops, turning his back on you.
« I am leaving. There is a new crusade starting next month. They ordered me to go fight in God’s name. Our enemies are stronger this time. They need my regiment front line. »
All your anger is disappearing in the moment. Your life and hopes too. « What ? »
« Worry not woman. I already paid someone to take care of you until you can move again. I will leave you enough gold for you to buy a nice cottage and start a new life wherever you want. »
« But- » He doesn’t let you speak. « We will never see each other again. I am going back to fight overseas, I do not expect to come back anytime soon. You will be freed from me. »
You want to say that no, he can’t leave you alone after what he did. He has to take responsibility. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him you want him to stay by your side.
So you do what your pride allows you only « When are you leaving ? »
« Tomorrow. »
« No. »
« Woman- »
« I said no. You cannot go. You are going to die there. I know it. »
« I am a knight, a protector of the faith. I fight in the name of our Lord. I took an oath, if I have to give my life for that, so be it. I failed at being a good priest. I failed at being a good man. I will not fail at doing my duty. »
You try to find anything to make him stay. But you don’t. « Are you coming back tomorrow ? »
« No. »
« You have to. »
You hear him sight heavily and he looks at the ceiling. « I have to take the lead of my regiment before noon. For your safety this place is miles away from the village. I cannot come back here. Rest assured I will do what I said. You have my word. »
« I do not care ! I do not want your gold. »
« Fine. I will let it at your disposal. If you do not want it, do not take it. Know it will be there anyway. Farewell Y/n. »
He walks out of the place without giving you another look. You hear his horse moving and then he’s gone for good.
You’re stunned, like petrified, he really left. He left without even a last glance. He abandonned you here, in the middle a nowhere to go sacrifice his life in a pointless battle far away from you.
When it clicks, you start to shout until your lungs are sore. « Fuck you ! I hate you ! Hope you fucking die in your stupid war ! May the devil take you away ! Idiot ! Stupid man. I will not miss you ! Fuck I cannot think I gave you my virginity ! I hate you ! I fucking despise you ! You are the worst. You can fight as much as you want you will never erase your sinful life. Monster ! »
You take his holy book and throw it across the room. The book opens to the last page and you see a handwritten message.
You frown and do your best to stand up again but it’s to hard. So you start to crawl on the floor, trying not to lean on your right side.
When you finally make it to the book you take it to read.
There is just two words left here like a summary of what he was unable to say.
synopsis: Shuji sees you wearing the matching earring you gave him after you two have broken up.
tw: angst kinda, mild swearing
a/n: here you go hunny @sleepingem ! I hope i was able to bring your ask to life the way you expected! 💓 i honestly loved writing this, hanma and angst two of my fav things😋😌
please do not plagiarize my work.
The clock reads 2am, it was normal for Hanma to be up this late. He sat on his window sill with a lit cigarette watching the city lights. He sighed and ran a tattooed hand through his hair. Hanma usually spends his nights before going to bed wondering what the exact moment was that things went wrong between you two. It was a nightly routine: sit by the window, light a cigarette, regret his life's choices, repeat. He’s never told anyone, not even Kisaki that his life's biggest regret is letting you go.
....
You were a 2nd year in high school, the first time you remember meeting Shuji Hanma. You first heard about him because he got sent home for beating up another student who “looked at him wrong”. That’s when you caught a glimpse of him, as he was being escorted out of school. A tall and lanky boy, who had brown hair with a blonde streak. You saw the two tattoos on his hands, and you noticed how he wore a single earring. You thought he looked absolutely ridiculous, but another part of you, deep down, thought he looked intriguing. Ever since you saw him that day you couldn’t get his gold eyes out of your head. Little did you know you would come to love everything about him.
The next time you see him he is at the park you like to go to. Again it looks like he just got done beating someone up. He was sitting on a picnic table, his hands bloodied and bruised, smoking a cigarette. “He is sitting at my favorite table” you think to yourself. You like to come to this park and catch up on homework or read and you like sitting at the table that is closest to a tree that offers shade on a warm sunny day. You typically were not someone who is afraid of others so you decided to sit next to him.
Shuji gave you a weird look while wearing that signature smirk he always wears. He couldn't believe someone like you would even dare to sit next to him. Shuji knew who you were of course. You’re popular, always have good grades, and you’re always smiling.
“Why do you get into so many fights?” You ask out of the blue.
Shuji took a minute to register what you said.
“Because people piss me off.”
You thought for a minute before replying,
“Hmmm, that seems as good of a reason as any!” You said while smiling.
Shuji didn’t know the effect your smile had on others until he was on the receiving end of it. His heart swelled and he couldn't help but smile back. He didn’t do his signature smirk but genuinely smiled.
It’s been exactly a year since you and Shuji first met at that picnic table. A place you two have visited often over the course of 365 days. You told him to meet you here because you had a surprise for him. When Shuji arrived you couldn’t wait to give him your gift. You gave him an earring that matched yours. When Shuji opened it he couldn't help but smile a genuine smile, something that only happens around you. He felt tears prick the corner of his eyes but he held them back. He never thought he would be loved so much by anyone.
….
It’s been years since that day and Shuji still finds himself wearing that same earring even long after you two have broken up. He refuses to take it off, fearing whatever memories he had left of you would disappear. He remembers what it was like to be loved by you so clearly, he never felt that from another person, you were the only one. Shuji often wondered what you were up to now. Were you married to someone and did you have kids? Did you think of him as much as he thought of you? Did you even think about him at all? Do you miss him like he misses you? He decided instead of wallowing in self pity to take a walk to clear his mind. The sun was out and there was a warm breeze. “It’s just like the first time we met” , he thought to himself. He was so caught up in his thoughts of you that he didn’t realize until it was too late that he wandered to the park where you two first met.
He looked over to the picnic table where you had your first conversation. His body went rigid and cold. He saw you sitting there, but you weren’t alone, there was someone else with you. He noticed how your hands were intertwined across the table. Your smile is still the same smile you gave him, all those years ago, only now it was directed towards someone else.
Shuji was just barely able to make out that you were wearing the earring that matches his that you gave to him all those years ago. He smiled at this, and he knows you haven't forgotten about him like he thought. His heart swelled with happiness and he fell in love with you all over again. The relationship between you two must have meant as much to you as it did to him.
That day he decided he would do everything in his power to get you back. He refused to let you slip away a second time. He turned on his heel and headed back to his apartment, where he was going to start planning on how to get you to love him once again.
Summary: Two years into university, you left Jujutsu Sorcery unexplainably, leaving Nanami at a loss for where you went. Now, seven years later, you’ve returned because Sukuna’s vessel has been found and change the course of Nanami’s life.
“You’re untethered, unbothered, and entirely unpredictable. You’re fickle as the wind and your impermanence serves as a constant reminder to Nanami that your worlds are separate. You’re ephemeral while he is enduring, fleeting while he is permanent. Nanami suspects that you’ll leave when the season changes. When the orange leaves drop from the trees and are swept from the streets by the breeze you follow.”
Content Warnings: JUJUTSU KAISEN MANGA SPOILERS, shibuya arc spoilers, angst, hurt/no comfort, some fluff, nanami loves you, major character death, rumination, regret
Word Count: 7.6k
A/N: I didn’t think I was going to write this but I decided that I wanted to hurt my own feelings. Thank you to @princesatoru for beta reading this beaut <33
Also, I’ve never done this before but this fic is for the person / people who bought me half of my wishlist the other day. If you see this, thank you so fucking much. I’m so incredibly grateful and I hope you enjoy reading this. Thank you <3
Nanami Kento has always wondered why you choose to be friends with someone like Gojo Satoru. He couldn’t wrap his head around it in high school and he can’t wrap his head around it now. You’re better than him, than Gojo, always have been. But instead, you waste your time with him, with someone so powerful that he’d never need you in the first place.
He’s never been the jealous type or the envious type. It’s never poisoned his veins the way it does so many other people because Nanami Kento doesn’t particularly care about anything too much. If he’s home by 5:30, he’s content. He supposes that you’re friends with Gojo because of how similar your personalities are. You both have similar scheming smirks and a knack for getting yourselves into problems that you somehow manage to fix yourselves. That’s how it was in high school, so Nanami shouldn’t be surprised to find that that’s how it is now.
There’s something odd about seeing you again after so many years, especially when you’ve chosen a path much like he tried to except in a far less conventional way. But here you are in front of him, standing beside an endlessly irritating demon with white hair and giving him a signature closed-eye smile.
“Long time, no see, Kento.” You chime, leaning forward to smile wider at him through the casual use of his first name.
Nanami says your name, looking down at you through the tinted glasses he wears. You look the same but older. Nearing 30, smile lines are starting to creep up on your face, wrinkles by the side of your eyes. They’re hardly visible, but Nanami can tell that they mean in the years you’ve been gone, you’ve smiled a lot.
“Nice shades.” You laugh and Gojo elbows you. It chimes like bells.
“Don’t lie to him. You’re so cruel, _____.” Gojo’s wearing a blindfold, hands shoved into his pockets and his weight shifted backward.
“Thank you.” Nanami responds, glossing over the insult and giving a glance between the two of you. Again, he wonders why you waste your time with him. “What brings you back?”
You’ve never had an innate cursed technique or particularly strong cursed energy. In fact, Nanami would describe it as incredibly weak. You were enrolled in Jujutsu High only because you could see curses, though your ability hardly allows you to handle any at all. Maybe that’s why you opted to not work as a sorcerer. Maybe that’s why you jumped ship and ran for the hills nearly 7 years ago.
“Work!” You give him a sly smile, one he recognizes from high school. Nanami only cocks a brow.
Gojo chimes in next, tilting his head side to side. “I needed her help with something. Y’know, being so busy and all. She’s a glorified assistant basically.”
“You’re such a rotten liar, Satoru.”
“I’m not really lying though. It’s not like you could fight anything.”
“Yeah, well at least I don’t have to risk my life constantly like you unlucky lot.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I’m free.”
“I’m free too.” Gojo says, cocking his chin up. “It’s stick-up-his-ass here who’s not.”
“That’s Mr. Stick-up-his-ass.”
Then you gape at him, jaw practically on the floor. “I didn’t know you make jokes, Kento.” You slap his shoulder and laugh, weight shifting a bit when Nanami doesn’t budge.
Nanami feels like his heart is swimming. It’s so strange seeing you here in Tokyo in the same uniform the teachers and students wear. It sends a wave of nostalgia through him. He can gather that you’ve come to work with the kids and he can only pity the students who have to deal with you, though knowing them, it will probably be a treat. (You’ve always been rather likable, even when you were 16.)
He’s never dwelled on the past much, but in the first days you’re here he finds himself dwelling on it often. On your somewhat undefined high school relationship.
You made it your goal to bother him in high school, to become his friend despite the gap in your abilities. You bothered him endlessly, knocking on his dorm room door at ungodly hours and dragging him out and around the campus grounds lit only by moonlight. He was like the nerd you decided to adopt and soon enough, he became the nerd that you and Gojo decided to adopt.
Nanami thought he wouldn’t like you then, the same way he felt about Gojo. He was ever the bookworm, content with his routine life and longing for the semblances of normalcy allowed to him at such a school as Jujutsu High, but you were hungry. Always hungry for something more. Adventure, to see the world, to see the faces people make. It would have been inspiring back then had those hunger pains not awoken in the twinkling hours of the morning when all Nanami wanted to do was sleep after a long day of classes. His eccentric upperclassman, one he could never figure out.
He thought you’d always be by Gojo’s side, given the way you both were attached at the hip. Normally, Gojo stuck with those who could come as close as possible to matching him—hard to do when he’s practically a god—but you were different. Nanami noticed that Gojo took a shine to you early on. Your personalities were similar, still are, and despite the power gap, Gojo brought you along everywhere. Nanami thinks that if Gojo were inclined to relationships, he’d have dated you. But Gojo isn’t that person and apparently, neither are you because two years into college, you dropped off the face of the earth.
Nanami never knew where you went or what happened and for a long time, he wondered if you were okay. It wasn’t until after college, when he quit Jujutsu, that he realized that maybe you jumped ship as well. Maybe you decided that normal was what you wanted, like how it's what he thought he wanted.
But here you are again. Three days after your return and walking around like you haven’t been gone for nearly 7 years. It’s something Gojo would do and even now he sees the unignorable irresponsibility of it.
Nanami is on Jujutsu High grounds a lot more often than he usually is lately. With Sukuna’s vessel being here, he finds himself on campus regularly, which means you have become a regular part of his routine for the week. A quick “good morning” nod and a short conversation in which you give him a glittering smile that tells him you know more than he does.
While it’s strange to have you back, there is also a strange relief in seeing you living life. There’s something comforting in knowing you’re here, most likely living in an apartment close to the school, and protected by the sanctity of jujutsu barriers when you work.
When friends disappear, no matter how much of a nuisance they are, people worry. Nanami is no different. Contrary to popular belief, he is still human with human emotions and desires. One of those desires just so happens to be your well-being. The well-being of his weak, flakey, inconceivable upperclassman. And that means that with your presence, there is the anxiety that you will vanish again. As a result, Nanami tries to not get too attached.
He limits his contact with you, dead-set on his everyday life. Until you show up one night at 11 pm at his apartment door and suddenly Nanami remembers that with you, there is no wall that cannot be broken down or jumped over.
“Hi.” You smile as if you haven’t just intruded on his nightly routine.
Nanami is in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He knows it must be odd to see him dressed like this. “Hello. Is everything okay?”
You laugh and roll your eyes, pushing your way into his apartment and removing your shoes. “Everything’s fine. I just thought we could throw it back to high school tonight.”
“Hm. Do you often show up to people’s homes unannounced?” You just give him a cheeky grin and Nanami checks around the door momentarily before asking his next question. “And do you have the blue-eyed cretin with you?” Nanami shuts the door to his apartment once you step inside, glancing over his shoulder. If Gojo wants to get in, he won’t be using the front door, let the creep warp.
“Satoru?” You chuckle, crossing your arms. “Nah, he’s out tonight.”
Nanami nods, padding over to the living room and sitting on the couch. The room is still dark, illuminated only by the light of the city flowing in through the window. It’s strange to have you in his adult home, both of you grown now and with leagues of life experience between you.
“Hey, Kento,” You sigh, running your hand over the things on his kitchen counter before leaning against it. “Remember when I used to climb into the window of your dorm room and get you to come sit out by the shrine with me?”
“How could I forget? I lost so many hours of sleep over that.” Nanami resists the smile on his face. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t want to make a habit of whatever this is.
“Gosh, not that many.” You laugh, walking over to him and narrowing your eyes. “Bet you were just about to go to bed, huh?”
He’s amazed at how quickly you jump topics, closing whatever emotional distance he’s struggling to put up between you. “You’d be correct.” Nanami sighs, glancing at you.
He’d almost forgotten how pretty you are. Sure, everyone knows you’re attractive, but there’s something about the way you look in his apartment, bathed only in moonlight and the fluorescent lights of shops about to close for the evening. It hits the curve of your cheeks beautifully, sloping across your forehead, nose, and dancing across your lips. They look soft.
“You’re like an old man now. Where’s your spunky, youngster spirit?” You laugh and sit down beside him, far enough away that you’re out of his reach, and despite only being a year older than him, you speak to him like you’re far wiser. “Ah, though I suppose you always did like routines. Sorry for ruining this one.”
You rub at the back of your neck and Nanami finds your embarrassment endearing. He won’t ask you to leave.
“Don’t worry.” Nanami says. “Though I do wonder, why come back now of all times?”
You pause before tilting your head. “Does it matter?”
“I think so.”
“You think everything matters.”
“Does it not?”
You inhale. “Not really. I came back because Satoru said he needed help and because I wanted to. Isn’t that enough?”
Nanami shrugs. “I can’t imagine doing things on a whim like that.”
“Imagine harder then.” You laugh, tucking your feet under you on the couch. “No but seriously, I’m back because of Sukuna’s vessel. It’s an important time. We need all hands on deck. Even if those hands could hardly be considered hands at all.”
Nanami would expect you to sound sad saying that. No one wants to admit their own weakness, but instead, you’re smiling and the joy in your voice is sincere. It’s almost child-like.
“You shouldn’t sell yourself short like that.” He chastizes, even though he knows you don’t need it.
“Oh relax, I came to terms with my own weakness the moment I met Gojo Satoru.” You pause for a second, leaning back. “And you.”
“Me?”
“Mhm, you.” You chuckle. “I mean, come on, you’ve always been strong. Cool fuckin’ technique too. All I get is the ability to see those stinky old curses.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Kento.” You poke him with your finger and he finds himself bewildered at your admittance.
“What’s not to understand?”
“You stay cooped up playing nine to five all day.” You shrug. “I don’t understand it.”
“Well, it’s better than disappearing.” He retorts. There’s a smile ghosting on his lips.
“I didn’t disappear.” You huff. “I saw some of the world.”
“Did you?”
“Mhm. When I left Jujutsu Sorcery, I went to Nepal, America, Europe. It was hard though, to pretend that curses didn’t exist when I know they do. Made me feel small, like I wasn’t doing enough.” You stare off into space for a moment.
Nanami knows the feeling all too well. The feeling of trying to ignore that innate part of him, the one that can see and fix the problem of curses. He’s glad you have something in common, even if it’s small.
“Well, at least it’s more than you can say. All you did was go get a boring desk job.” You stick your tongue out.
“It paid well.” That’s all he can really offer because he knows you’re right. Nanami is content with his choices, but that doesn’t mean he’s not curious about other people’s.
You stay for a little while longer, asking him about his life, commenting on the almost sterile feel of the apartment he considers homey. It’s odd, the way you so easily sink back into something like normalcy with him and he thinks for a moment (against his better judgment) that you might fit nicely here.
“Well, I should head out.” You say rather suddenly, standing up off the couch with a slap of your thighs.
You glance to the digital clock in the kitchen, visible from the neat and tidy living room. Nanami’s gaze follows and the numbers read 1:23 am. “It’s late. You can stay on the couch if you’d like.”
“Nah, I think I’ll enjoy the walk home. Thanks though.” You smile and start to step towards the door, slipping on your sneakers in a way that makes Nanami cringe.
“Wait, one more thing.” He says before he can stop himself. “Why did you leave in the first place?”
You give him a cheshire-like grin over your shoulder and shrug. “Got distracted.” Then you’re leaving out of his front door.
The statement is so irresponsible that Nanami is grinding his teeth.
Remember when Nanami said he didn’t want to make a habit of this? Yeah, well, your visits become regular and frequent, much to Nanami’s chagrin. He’d like to say that he finds it irritating, that the intrusion is unwelcome, but the more you show up, the more he finds that he’s falling back into that pattern of trailing at your heels like he did in high school. You were never as strong as him, but you always had Nanami following you.
He finds out that you go from job to job in whatever country or city you’re living in and that before you moved back to Tokyo, you lived in Portugal running grocery deliveries. Nanami finds out that you’ve nearly gotten married not once, but twice, both on a whim. And he finds that you’re indubitably the most irresponsible person he’s ever met.
You’re frivolous with your money, which is always running low, and you laugh off paying your rent late as if you’re living in some sitcom where everything is fine after each episode. Nanami finds that you get along well with Yuji, as expected, and that Nobara has become your favorite “student”. You like her spunkiness, as you put it. You’re not their teacher, nor are you qualified to teach, but you let them call you Sensei anyway and Nanami thinks that that is so stupid it makes him want to punch a wall.
Finally, Nanami Kento finds out that he is far more idiotic than he ever thought and that it is entirely your fault. He’s started going out when you call him, drinking with you and Gojo until the early morning hours before he walks you back to your apartment in an all too concerning area. You’ll have long chats on those walks, about life, about why you do what you do, but never broaching the subject of your own irresponsibility.
And when you come over to his apartment, his pristine, adult-like apartment, you never stay the night. Nanami tells himself that it’s nothing sexual, that he’s not attracted to you, and that the way he tracks your figure through the dark hall of his home does not belong to a small beast inside of him that wants to fuck your lights out. What a crude thought, he never would have thought that a month ago before you arrived.
Still, it’s nice having you in his life. This temporary springtime he’s experiencing is because of you and he’s grateful for it. You grow close because of that. Nanami Kento and his summer—fall, really—demon. The enigma of his adolescence now sat together in his living room every evening.
“Alright!” You say, standing up off his couch. He watches with a raised eyebrow as you pump your arms into the air. “Let’s go!”
“Go… where?” He questions, still sitting on the couch.
“Do you have to know?” You pout slightly. “Is it not enough to just go with me?”
“I’d like to know.”
You huff, taking his big hand in both of yours and pulling at him to get off the couch. Your hands are soft and the touch takes Nanami by surprise. They look small compared to his. Nanami has always had big hands, but they look bigger now cradled in your smaller ones.
Nanami stands, unable to say no to you, to the way you make even the most stagnant of rooms alive again.
“That’s the spirit, Kento! Grab your coat!” You cheer triumphantly before marching towards his front door. You grow a little quieter. “You’re gonna like it. I promise.”
Nanami gives you a small laugh, wordlessly putting on his shoes and sliding on his coat. He expects you to take him downstairs to the lobby, but instead, you turn towards the stairwell where you begin to walk up the flight of stairs. You’re taking him to the roof. It’s funny that you assume he’s never been up there, though you’d be right in the assumption. But still, it means you have him figured out and something about that brings a warm feeling to his chest.
When you arrive at the roof, you open the door somewhat quietly, and the wind immediately whips against your cheeks. It’s getting colder out. The beginning of October has a slight chill setting in and Nanami wonders why he can’t feel it in his bones the way he usually does. Instead, the blooming heat in his chest warms him.
You walk over to the edge of the roof, standing as your toes hit the side of the building and Nanami feels his heart jump into his chest.
“Be careful!” He says it out of habit and you just look over your shoulder and laugh at him, motioning with one hand.
“Relax, come look.”
Nanami has never been up here at night. The thought never crossed his mind. His apartment building is tall, full of working-class people going to and from work, so the roof sees little activity. But it’s beautiful up here. Nanami can see the Tokyo skyline with perfect clarity, skyscrapers glittering in the night. It’s peaceful from up here and he finds his breath stolen from his lungs when he first registers it. He’s 28 years old and he’s never felt quite at a loss for words like this. 28 years old and only seen this small corner of his small world.
You sit down on the ledge, feet dangling off. Below you, about 10 feet down, is another platform and when Nanami sits in the same manner, he’s grateful for its presence.
“What makes you think I’ve never been out on my roof before?” Nanami asks, voice flat.
“I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t have thought to do it.” You shrug and smile, nudging his shoulder. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
He chuckles through his nose. “Yeah, it is.”
“Not the only pretty thing about the world.” You sigh contentedly, leaning back on your hands.
Nanami finds himself agreeing, but for another reason entirely. The city lights on your face look angelic right now and the smile ghosting on your lips is enough to send a confusing rupture of butterflies through his stomach. “No, it’s not.”
There’s a long bout of silence for a while where you both just enjoy the breeze. It’s nice, being here, doing this, and Nanami inhales deeply before looking at you, the smell of the city from so high up hitting his nose. He’s never been one for childish things, never the type of person to go to parties or skip classes, and certainly not the type to sit on the edge of roofs. But here you both are, sitting on a ledge above Tokyo and drinking in the night air like wine. He can’t stop himself before he poses the heavy question. “Why don’t you settle down? Get a stable job and live a stable life.”
You look at him, shrugging your shoulders and smiling lightly. “Never thought of it.” It’s a lie, but a good one. You settle back on your haunches and tilt your head towards the sky.
“What is it exactly that you want to do? You can’t live like this forever.” Nanami says, gaze returning over the city.
“I dunno.” You inhale, taking in the night air and the cool breeze. It’s a perfect night. “I wish I could stop getting distracted all the time.”
You don’t look like you mean it. Your expression reads as happy, as perfectly at peace with where you are, and the statement comes across as more of a wispy breath of what could have been than something needed.
“Then why don’t you?” Nanami asks genuinely, voice gentle. For him, it’s easy. Discipline has never been something that the blonde man lacked.
He knows he’s chastising you, that he sounds like a stick in the mud. It’s ironic, that he’s telling you your way of life isn’t sustainable, meanwhile, he faces life and death on a regular basis. You should yell at him for it. He has no right to tell you something so hypocritical. But you just laugh, closing your eyes and letting that brilliant smile spread across your face like you think he’s funny.
Nanami watches as you pause slightly, admiring the feel of the wind on your face from this high up. And then you turn to him, a content smile on your face. “Because I have so much to say and the world has so much to offer.”
You look so happy saying it, so sure of yourself, and if Nanami wasn’t sure before, he’s sure now that he’s in love with you. He probably always has been, but Nanami Kento is bad with emotions and better with routine and you are the farthest thing from routine.
You’re untethered, unbothered, and entirely unpredictable. You’re fickle as the wind and your impermanence serves as a constant reminder to Nanami that your worlds are separate. You’re ephemeral while he is enduring, fleeting while he is permanent. Nanami suspects that you’ll leave when the season changes. When the orange leaves drop from the trees and are swept from the streets by the breeze you follow.
Nanami has always been rooted to the ground, feet planted on the floor. It’s truly ironic that he’d fall in love with someone whose feet have never been on the ground. Still, in his ever-sturdy heart, there is desire that matches yours. It grows stronger every moment he’s with you, every moment he can feel your passion for adventure, Nanami’s longing grows. It’s true that he’s only seen his small corner of the world and he’s content with it. He’s always been happy enough with good enough. It’s only in these few months you’ve been back that he’s considered that there might be more, even if he’s not ready to confront it.
Nanami has never been a jealous person, but on the rooftop of his apartment building, he finds himself jealous for the first time. Jealous of Gojo of all people, who—if he so desired—could follow you. Whose personality allowed him to match your wide stride.
“Kento?” You look to him, tilting your head with an eyebrow raised. “Have you?”
“Sorry, what was the question?”
You laugh, kicking your feet out. “I asked if you’d ever thought about traveling. Y’know, stepping out and seeing the world?”
Nanami shakes his head, a bit dazed as he looks at you. “No. Not particularly.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re no fun.” You pout your lips, crossing your arms over your chest. Nanami finds that the sentence bothers him more than it should but he keeps quiet, instead turning out to face the expanse of the city.
It’s quiet for a little while longer, only the breeze whizzing by his ears as you both soak in the evening. As you sit, Nanami is growing accustomed to the fact that he loves you. That he loves your impermanence and the way you make him a little less permanent with each meeting. That he loves the way you talk, the way you smile, the bounce in your walk or lack thereof when you’re tired. The alarming thought crosses his mind that this probably means he likes Gojo as well in some capacity, but that’s a thought for another day. He always did think you were better than him anyhow.
“Brr. It’s cold.” You move to stand. “Let’s go inside, make some hot chocolate.”
Nanami, in that moment, wants to take a page out of your book. He wants to kiss you, your lips that look so pretty at night. But he doesn’t change easily. Nanami does things right, that won’t go away overnight whether or not he loves you.
He doesn’t kiss you. Nanami only wordlessly follows as you slowly make your way back inside. He tracks your steps, the way your hips sway slightly as you walk back to the front door of his apartment. Nanami is still thinking about what you said, about getting distracted, about the wideness of the world he hasn’t seen yet.
Humans long for attachment. They want to be a part of the world around them, connect with people and form bonds. They are the most social creature. You are social, but Nanami wonders how you can be alone so often, how you deal with loneliness because, despite your content-ness, he can feel it. The loneliness that comes with moving around, with never being stagnant, pouring out through your skin in the fleeting moments he gets to touch you. Do you want those connections too? Do you want it with him? Would you stay if he asked?
You make him hot chocolate, knowing his kitchen well now from the rummaging you do late at night. You melt it yourself from a chocolate bar because Nanami doesn’t buy hot chocolate packets and you make yours sweeter than his. He’s always preferred bitterness to saccharine sweet.
Then you sit on the couch with him and sip it quietly as the news drones on in the background and Nanami wonders where you will be in a month. Will you still be here in Tokyo, sitting in his apartment? Or will you have followed your whims to the next place?
It makes him sad and suddenly Nanami is grateful for the warmth of the drink in his hand.
—
Things get busier after that night. Nanami is usually off dealing with curses while you remain on campus, managing something for Gojo. You don’t show up to his apartment often anymore but he’s grateful when he gets to see you in passing, when you slap his shoulder and ask if he’s been up on the roof since that night and the small shrug he gives as an answer.
Curse activity has been fishy and dealing with a mole within the school is never an easy thing to do. He supposes that’s what you’re up to while he works off on his own, dealing with his own issues and missions assigned to him.
Everyone is on edge, including you. It’s odd because Nanami has never seen you so nervous, never seen you when you’re glancing over your shoulder or when your eyebrows are pulled up in genuine worry. The only person not worrying, as expected, is Gojo. Maybe that’s why you’re not coming around anymore. Nanami is worried that soon you’ll stop showing up to the school altogether.
Life has never been a guarantee for Jujutsu Sorcerers. For Nanami, when he goes on dangerous missions, he is never guaranteed another day. Maybe that’s why, when you call him out on the evening of Halloween, he goes.
It’s before dark by the time he meets you and he can feel his shoulders slump with relief when he meets your eyes. Warmth blooms through his chest again as you walk up to him with your arms behind your back.
“Like my costume, Kento?” You raise an eyebrow and Nanami takes a moment to take in what you’re wearing.
He sees nothing special about it. You’re wearing the clothes you usually wear, flattering on your body shape.
“Are you supposed to be something?” He asks, voice flat.
“Yeah! I’m dressed up as ‘Nanami Kento’s best friend’ this year.” You give him a cheeky smile and Nanami’s cheeks flush red. He attempts to hide it by adjusting the glasses on his face.
“I was under the impression Gojo was your best friend.”
“Nah,” you grow quiet for a minute, beginning to walk as you scuff your feet on the floor. “I can’t talk to him like I can talk to you. He’s a bit too fickle.”
“Fickle?” Nanami tilts his head down towards you. “Ironic coming from the woman who can’t stay in one place.”
You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. The casual touch sends him reeling. “Hey, that’s a low blow, Nanamin.”
“Oh god, you’re taking after Yuji.”
“What? It’s a cute nickname. Suits you.” You smile again.
Nanami doesn’t respond, instead continuing to walk. “Why did you call?”
You bounce in your step slightly. “I just wanted to see you. Been busy lately and haven’t had the chance to disrupt your evening routine.”
Nanami’s chest hums at your admission and he mumbles an affirmation under his breath. He’s never been good at navigating these types of things. Nanami is usually very forward. He is normally the one to initiate a date or confess his feelings because he’s all too familiar with life’s cruelties. But it’s different with you.
As the evening progresses, Nanami finds that taking that step past friendship is hard. He cannot bring himself to ask if he can take you on a date or to tell you exactly how he feels. That it’s more than friendship and that it most likely always has been.
Nanami doesn’t want to be in love with you. It frightens him, the uncertainty of you, the enigma that is your existence to him. He longs for normalcy, for routine, and watching you sit across from him in this restaurant reminds him that this moment, like you, is fleeting. It will be gone soon. You will laugh and he will smile and then, eventually, you’ll vanish.
He walks you home again and your walk is lit by the red-orange glow of sunset. The light burns what it touches, temperature cooling after your short outing. The two of you wind your way through the streets, opting for the long way home, until eventually the red glow of sunset is cast out by the shadows of the buildings in your neighborhood. Medium-sized buildings protrude with small balconies stained by rainwater. White popcorn walls tinged yellow with age and small side streets. It suits you, this quaint neighborhood a little ways away from small family-owned shops. You fit into the scenery here, livening it up.
Your neighbors greet you as you pass them and Nanami watches the way you remember even the smallest details about their lives. He’s reminded again of just how over his head you are, the leagues of distance between you both.
You pause when you reach the entrance to your building, looking down at the floor. It’s a single small door framed in thick wood with chipping paint. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Do you mind coming up?”
Nanami had expected to simply return home and he pauses at this too, turning to you. Are you being forward right now? Is this a proposition? His thoughts must show on his face because you burst out into a laugh.
“Nothing like that, Kento! I promise!” And Nanami is disappointed.
Nanami nods, letting you lead the way through a small staircase with apartments on either side of the stairwell. Your footsteps echo softly against the concrete as you march up to the third floor.
You warn him of the mess as you unlock the door, glancing behind you with a nervous smile.
Nanami has never been inside of your apartment and when he steps inside, he’s shocked to find it piled with boxes. You haven’t unpacked save for some small plants and dishes stacked neatly in a drying rack.
The apartment is small, two rooms in total, a bathroom and a combined bedroom and kitchen. He expected it to be somewhat messy, but he wouldn’t call this messy, he’d call it temporary. Thinking about it now, he should have expected that you wouldn’t have unpacked. It’s very like you to remain ready to leave.
It smells like an old apartment building and your shampoo. A warm and fresh floral smell mixed with the scent of an old building, of aged wood. The floorboards creak under Nanami’s feet when he walks in and slips off his shoes, stepping past the entrance and into the place where you find rest. Where that little death of sleep has taken you many times.
“You haven’t unpacked.” It’s the first thing Nanami says.
“Yeah.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Is there a reason?” He knows the answer but he asks anyway.
It’s confirmed when you tilt your head down at him and give him a small smile. “I never planned to stay long anyway. That’s actually what I wanted to tell you.”
“When?”
“Two days from now probably.” You shuffle your feet along the floor. “Satoru said I should get out of Tokyo, for my safety.”
“I thought he brought you here?”
“He did. But you know Satoru… he’s worse than me.” You laugh.
Nanami’s mouth feels dry and you’ve yet to turn on the lamp by your bedside despite the subsiding glow of daylight. He doesn’t want you to leave. Nanami wants to see your apartment unpacked and made a home. He wants to see the plants you grow on your balcony flourish in the little hours of sunlight you get here. He wants to be able to come whenever, to bring you meals, to take you out. Nanami wants to make a life with you.
“I see.” He says in response, tongue-tied.
You don’t say anything, instead looking at him like you’re disappointed. Did you want him to say something else? The air is charged with something, sadness, tension, overwhelming uncertainty. Nanami feels it weigh on his chest.
“Stay.” Nanami inhales. “Stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to leave again.”
You take a deep breath, studying his face. “But I want to go.”
Nanami looks at you, eyes wide. He doesn’t want to lose you but this is a part of you he loves. Your freedom, your willingness to change. He thinks that if you had more cursed energy, these qualities would have made you an incredible sorcerer. But he’s selfish. Nanami is too selfish to let you go and be where you’re meant to be. So he asks again.
“I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it worth it.” Desperation creeps into his composed facade. Nanami is cracking because he cannot make up his mind. “Don’t you want a real life?”
“This is my life. I’m happy with it, Kento.” You’re not angry. In fact, it seems you’re just as hurt as him, your eyebrows pulling up despite your smile.
“Be happy with me then. In Tokyo.”
“I couldn’t be happy in one place.” You smile at him. “I think you know that.”
Nanami nods, defeated. You’re right. You’re right and he loves you for it. Nanami loves you for this part of you. Your certainty, your composure, your willingness to make and break ties as he has never been able to. You share a connection with the world because you don’t have a connection to any one place. You’ve managed to somehow find the balance between freedom and loneliness, despite the fact that Nanami always thought they were the same thing.
Then, Nanami’s phone rings and the tension is broken. You fall back onto the bed, humming as if you haven’t just promised him that you’ll vanish and he answers as composed as ever despite loving you the way he does.
Ijichi is on the line and he asks hurriedly where Nanami is. He tells Nanami that there is currently a series of curtains over Shibuya station. That he’s sent a car to bring him to Exit 13 where he’ll find him and Megumi.
You sit up on the bed, eyebrows furrowed as you listen to Nanami speak and he watches you as he talks into the receiver, voice clear as day. The conversation is short and concise, just how Nanami prefers things and when he hangs up he immediately puts his phone in his pocket. You stand, rushing across the room to him.
“Is everything okay?”
“No. Something is happening in Shibuya.” Nanami responds, adjusting his jacket. “They’ve called in everyone they can. Gojo included.”
You still. Nanami knows that calling in Gojo as a necessity means something is very wrong, that this might be more than anyone can handle. Your eyes search his.
“Stay at home tonight. We can’t communicate with any sorcerers within the curtains so we don’t know what’s happening.” Nanami looks at you, expression serious. “I need you to be safe, okay?”
“W-wait! Wait!” You grab his lapel as he starts to turn on his heels. He can feel the way your fingers tremble as you pull him to face you, stepping close to him. “Come with me. Out of Tokyo. You don’t have to go. That’s what I wanted to ask you. I’m going to leave but I want you to come.”
Nanami looks at you, hands coming up to cup yours. “You know I can’t do that.”
“We could have a life. You could see the world with me, away from jujutsu sorcery. You could live safely.” You’re pleading with him.
“I have a responsibility.” But Nanami is doubting himself.
“Fuck your responsibilities. We could leave tonight.”
Nanami brings his hand to the back of your head and pulls you into an embrace. He holds you there while you tremble and he finds that this feels so right that it hurts. “I’ll come back to you, okay?”
“You don’t know that. None of you know that.” You stutter and there’s fear in your voice. “You can’t hide it from me. I’ve seen it before. There’s no guarantee.”
It clicks for Nanami that this is why you left. This is why you won’t stay in one place, why your attachments are deep but short. Because you’ve learned that tomorrow is not promised and have been powerless to stop it. In your desperation, in your plead for him to go with you, you’ve laid your cards out on the table, but Nanami cannot find it in himself to lay out his. He cannot break whatever fragile peace you both have found, mission or not.
Nanami inhales deeply and he feels your head rise with his chest. “Let me give you my answer after the mission.”
He can’t choose now. He has something to do, a difference to make. Nanami is a man of his word, of his responsibilities, and it breaks his heart to let go of you in exchange for getting in the black car waiting for him downstairs. It breaks his heart to see your expression as he slides into the seat, standing by the door of your apartment, grabbing onto it tightly as if you’re about to sprint after him.
—
Shibuya station is a waking nightmare. It’s in chaos and when he enters the curtain, he loses contact with everyone. Nanami doesn’t know about what’s happening inside or the status of anyone outside. All he knows is that they’re calling for Gojo Satoru, that this is bigger than what they expected, that there are civilian lives at stake.
It doesn’t take long for Nanami to realize that his life is also very much at stake. That this mission is larger than himself, that he is being asked to lay down his life once again.
Nanami has exorcized scores of curses. As a grade 1 sorcerer who has had time to hone his craft, he is confident in his abilities. Doubt is only cast over that when you are in the picture. When he is fighting to get back to someone else, for someone else.
Mahito is an entity unto himself. A special grade cursed spirit who he came into contact with in the early days of his existence. Nanami is not prepared for his growth. For the way Mahito seems to have compensated for his weaknesses and some in Shibuya station.
He is exhausted. His body is screaming for him to stop, to rest, to find peace. Nanami fights through hoards of transfigured humans. Humans. Not curses but people whose lives were stolen from them by Mahito and driven into the ground by him. Nanami’s feet drag along the floor, the left side of his body is broken and he suspects his eye is missing, though he can’t feel it.
His muscles ache as he slices through another hoard of them, chest heavy from the loss, from the exhaustion setting deep in his bones. Is he going to die? Is this it?
There is a hand on his chest and in his delusional, fatigued state, he wants to believe that it’s you. Instead, he raises his gaze to meet Mahito’s.
“Wanna chat? We go way back after all.” No. Nanami wants to see you. He knows now.
Nanami wants to go with you to Malaysia. He wants to see the beach, read the books he never got to in your unpacked home together. He wants you to come home to him. Nanami wants to see the world with you. Nanami wants to follow you.
He can hear Itadori call his name. It’s a shame he has to see this. Nanami knows that it will haunt him, that he is going to die and Itadori will watch, helpless to it. Mahito has already touched him, his cursed technique is already activated. Idle Transformation is far idler than Nanami expected because right now, things are moving in slow motion.
“Itadori…” Nanami is glad that you’re safe.
What can he say? What will Nanami’s last words be? How can he mitigate this damage?
“You’ve got it from here.”
Nanami has so many questions. Will Itadori tell you? Does he understand what he means? What comes next? Will he see you again in another life? Is there a god? No, there is no god. There is only freedom.
Freedom is not loneliness. Freedom is not irresponsibility. Freedom is loving you. Freedom is choosing to wait before losing his chance to decide. Choosing to love you and losing himself.
It’s ironic that he’s only just realized that he will follow you anywhere in the only moment he can’t. In a moment where the only choice to mitigate damage and accept his unavoidable demise. Nanami remembers his promise to come back, to tell you after the mission. He knows now that there will be no after. Tomorrow is not promised and you learned that earlier than he did. You jumped ship while you could and Nanami has been left to sink.
The French call an orgasm the Little Death. That moment of exhaustion after when you close your eyes and sleep finds you. Nanami thinks he read that in a book once, not that he’s ever had time to read. Maybe when he was working and living normally, when tomorrow was promised. He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about it now. What a crude thought, he never would have thought that before you got here. Nanami thinks that the Little Death is preferable to this one. The real thing.
He has to laugh. Mahito’s palm is so heavy on his chest and his limbs are so tired. Everything moves slower.
Nanami thinks about that Little Death. About how he’ll never get to see your figure covered by thin white sheets. About how he’ll never get to tell you that his answer is yes. That he’ll follow you anywhere. That he wants to go to Malaysia. That he wants to finish the books he never got around to picking up and he wants to do it with you.
It’s ironic that he should die in a station, unable to take the train and leave with you.
Nanami is 28 years old and will never see more than this small corner of his small world. Nanami is 28 years old, on death's doorstep, laughing at the cruelty of his situation, at the strangely content feeling in his chest. He will die knowing he loves you. He will die knowing that if he could, he’d go wherever you take him.
He’s looking at Itadori, still smiling. Mahito’s cursed energy swells and as he finishes his sentence, all he can think of is you. You. You. You. Someone give him a second chance. Nanami would do it differently, all of it.
He’s sorry he didn’t tell you. He’s sorry he didn’t say y-
cw: toxic behavior (really OOC for oikawa but it’s for the plot); non-explicit smut; I do not condone any of the actions, verbal manipulation, and toxicity in this one-shot.
pairing: oikawa x f!reader (she/her pronouns); 1.3k words
notes: this is my second addition to my 100 followers event, 5 seconds of haikyuu!! and my submission for @bratinc‘s toxic collab! <3
“Tooru.”
Uh oh, that’s never a good sign. “Tooru”— not “Toto,” not “babe,” not “my love.” Just Tooru. Oikawa gulps as he waits for you to deliver the final blow.
“I think we need to stop seeing each other.”
He sighs in his head. It’s not the first time you’ve tried leaving him; in fact, it seems like it happens every other week. His mind begins to trail off as you continue your monologue, reusing the same argument points that your bitchy friends hammered into your fickle brain about how “terrible” of a boyfriend he is or that you “deserve better.”
Sure, you’ve been spending every other night together for the past year, and sure, he keeps a toothbrush at your apartment and a box of menstrual pads for you at his penthouse. And yes, he’s met your parents but has yet to introduce you to anyone in his life aside from his 3 friends from high school. And maybe, he’s been caught by the paparazzi a few times doing incriminating things— hanging out with models, clubbing with actresses, getting into cars with influencers— but it’s all just a ploy to throw the press off of his, and inevitably your, ass. He knows how harsh the papers can be, and the last thing he wants is for a slew of his fangirls to find your Instagram account and leave hate comments, at least that’s how he reasons it to himself.
All of these “toxic”— your friends’ words, not his— things that he does aren’t done to hurt you, but instead to shield you. He knows that you don’t have thick skin like him and wouldn’t be able to handle the pressures of dating an Olympian athlete— that you’re brittle at the parts where he wishes you were strong.
So he keeps you in secrecy, choosing to only love you in the dark and associating himself with famous women, in order to protect you.
And he just doesn’t understand why you can’t understand that— why you listen to your lying friends who don’t know jack shit about your relationship, why you don’t defend him when they say such vile things about his character, and why you let their insidious words seep into your brain and fester there.
Your tired voice breaks him out of his trance.
“I just can’t keep living like this,” You let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t like feeling like you’re embarrassed of me.”
The whole time you speak, Oikawa watches you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the floor, your eyes out of his line of sight. But then you gain enough confidence to lift your head and say your next line.
“I think I deserve better...”
His eyebrows cock upwards at your bold statement— he didn’t intend to have such a readable expression, but he was so taken aback by what you said. Catching onto his shock, you immediately stare back at the ground.
“T-Than that,” You stammer, this time your voice significantly weaker and more uncertain. “I think I deserve better than that kinda treatment.”
The room falls silent except for the sound of crickets chirping outside of your window; Oikawa slowly makes his way over to your couch, heavy steps bouncing off of the wooden floors and reverberating throughout your apartment. His body feels heavy as he sinks into your couch, elbows resting on his knees and his feet pressed flat to the floor.
“You’re right,” He admits, his voice low and quiet. “You do deserve better.”
He runs his fingers through his hair before cupping his face in his palms. The tension in the air is so thick that a knife could slice right through it. He continues, his words muffled by his large hands.
“I told you that I’m gonna change.” Then, he looks up at you, a somber expression painting his face.
“But I don’t think you have enough respect to see me try.”
He watches your eyes become glossy and your bottom lip start to quiver.
“What do you mean?” You croak out, barely comprehensible as tears begin to stream down your face.
Oikawa sits back into his seat, arms crossed as a clear indicator that he’s growing defensive. “The picture that you paint of me looks better in your mind.”
He rubs his forehead in frustration and continues. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to meet your high expectations. I’m just a man after all, and I’m bound to make mistakes. That’s why I’m trying to be better— for you.”
He looks down at the ground before delivering his next line, his voice nothing more than a soft whisper, barely audible, and if you’re not careful you’d easily miss it.
“Because I love you.”
You're silent as your brain tries to grab at straws to come up with a response. “B-But my friends…”
He immediately cuts you off. “You mean the ones that don’t like me? The ones who talk shit on me and attack my character all the time?” His voice slowly grows in strength as his anger rises to the surface. “Babe, you can’t keep letting them dictate how you feel about me and our relationship. They don’t know jack shit about us, and I don’t like feeling like I’m dating your friends and not you.”
Oikawa raises his face and narrows his eyes at you. “And I don’t like knowing that they’re able to sway you so easily, or much worse that you actually agree with them. I’d hope my girlfriend would at least think of me highly and defend me when she’s with other people.”
His accusations crack all of your defenses. You fall to your knees and grab his hands, running the soft pad of your thumb over his knuckles. He lifts his face and is met with your ever-loving gaze, and it’s clear that you’ve forgiven him and have shouldered the blame for this argument.
“Hey,” You whisper. “Toto, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more patient from now on.”
Toto. That’s the sound he likes to hear. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. He feels you sob and hiccup into his shoulder, and he rubs your back to try to calm you down.
“Shh,” He coos. “It’s okay. I forgive you. It’s okay.”
You pull away and wipe your eyes with the back of your hands. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know what came over me. I guess my friends just got into my head again.”
He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his thumb rubbing circles on your wet cheeks. “Babe, you know they don’t like me and just want you for themselves.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s my fault that I ruined our date night,” You laugh dryly, a sheepish embarrassment flooding your face.
“No need to apologize,” Oikawa assures you. “You just need to be more careful about the company you keep.”
You nod your head in agreement, like you always do. His word is scripture after all.
“Also,” Oikawa begins as he rises from the couch and helps you to your feet. “The night is still young, and I know just the way we can fix it. Let me show you how much I care about you.”
He interlocks his fingers with yours and drags you to your bedroom. He doesn’t really remember much of what happens next— the blur of you both hurriedly stripping yourselves of your clothing, the feeling of your nails running up and down his back, the way you clamp down on him as you both reach your orgasms at the same time, and the warmth that he feels inside as he pulls your tired body close to his.
Nestling your face into his neck, you whisper before drifting off to sleep.
“I love you, Toto.”
He whispers it back and kisses the crown of your head. While closing his eyes, he thinks to himself about how happy you make him— how it almost makes him want to stop fucking around, take your relationship seriously, and spend the rest of his life with you.
