#every once in a while i’ll find a fic where i’m like. this author knows Gojo Satoru personally. they speak to him on the phone every night.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

:((((((((( i ran out of tags . tumblr hates to see me thrive!!!!!!!

ok niku just . read the tags first and then come back here ok 🙏🙏 i have a lot i still need to say this is so important to me . this fic changed my life .

(WARNING this got long ….. really long ….. mysteriously. i got carried away 💔 PLS don’t feel the need to respond to any of this btw i mean that sincerely i know this is kind of a Lot i just need you to know much i adored this fic <3333)

BACK TO GOJO ok so his talk w reader…… it was just so satisfying to see them finally get to tell someone about their experience. it must’ve been such a great feeling for them !!!! to get some of it off their chest :((( … and to have Gojo Fucking Satoru our safe harbour of a man there to believe them and listen to them and reassure them. he’s so mature when it comes down to it and you captured that so well…… like as much as he acts childish and teasing this is exactly how i picture him interacting w someone he doesn’t know in a situation like this!! he’s flirty and unserious but he tells you he’ll protect you and means it. (i’m so down bad it physically hurts)

sorry i’m abt to go on a tangent i think BUT I JUST 😔😔 really… REALLY love their dynamic…. how it evolves so much even though he doesn’t even know reader exists for most loops!! and to them he’s just this beautiful Something that they can’t help but look at…… ”inhumanly attractive” is a great way to put it like he’s just….. this magnetic force……….. and i feel like even before they speak to him for the first time they probably find some kind of hope in him.

AND that’s so important bc to me that’s like . the main Theme of the fic? hope. reader has to find some kind of hope to make it through shibuya and more often than not they find it in gojo!!! in just seeing a familiar handsome face, in learning how to navigate the timeline through his actions, in talking to him and finally having him on their side. their choice to trust him fully at the end just made me soooo insane. and obv the hope theme continues even after that because gojo believes in them!!! believes that they’ll be okay in the prison realm….. more on that later actually bc i Still. have a lot to talk abt 😔👉👈 i’m just wildly flipping through my notes at this point i’m sorry to throw this at u when we’ve barely interacted but in my defense this fic reached into my actual skull and started rewiring my brain so!!!! yeah.

i got completely sidetracked there but . yes!! the conversation between them when gojo gets sent back in time is. so good!!!!! so wonderfully written!!!!! i haven’t mentioned it that much yet i think but i love your writing i devoured every line…… i struggle w the flow of my own writing SO much but this just flows so incredibly well??? it was sm fun to read????? and the rhythm of the paragraphs (that sounds. Insane but i hope u know what i mean 😭😭) is so distinct!!! and ofc there are SO many banger lines in this in general…. the gore descriptions and the lines abt reader and their fixation on hope. on gojo!! ”He's a terrifying sort of beauty and you can't help but be captivated by him.” <- this is just one example but!! idk i’m just so enamored by ur writing style.

and the dialogue!!!!!!!! i cried!!!!!! it’s so consistently gojo…. him going all ”oh?” ”interesting…” but not explaining anything … the ”ding ding ding!” after making reader guess what he should just be telling them (it’s the teacher in him <33) AND AND AND these too!!!! :3

“Just think of it like having a lot of MP.”

“You know, your technique kind of reminds me of save scumming.” 

THEY JUST FEEL SO CANON that’s our gojo…… that’s exactly what he would say…… he’s so unserious and so funny and so charming 😔😔 sigh.

ANDDDDD reader telling him good luck!!!! gojo beaming and squeezing their shoulder!!!!! the lil wave!!!!! 🥺🥺 that made me smile so wide niku he’s so infuriatingly cute . it felt so genuine!!!! pls know that this gojo will probably live in my brain forever like genuinely . i’ve been brainrotting over him all week and this was the final nail in the coffin. i’ll never be free.

ok but also !!!! extremely important !!!!!!! before i get to the ending i just need to tell u . how much i loved kenjaku in this ……….. kenjaku nation (me & six others) will never forget these crumbs of content like he just feels so real!!!!! and he’s so interesting!!!!! made me realize how truly down bad i am for him bc these lines made me so fucking happy 😭😭 brain started releasing serotonin like CRAZY i’m so ashamed.

“You can come out, you know.”

”How interesting.”

"I'll be nice, though. I'll make it painless."

…….. he’s just ….. yeah. yeahhhhh. 😔😔 i’ll never be normal abt him. i think it’s SUCH an interesting detail that he always makes reader’s death painless in every single loop…. he never lies about it. that feels so in character to me too!!! he’s kinda fascinated at first and when that interest disappears he kills them. but he doesn’t make it unecessarily cruel because there’s just. no need. kenjaku is a sicko but he’s oddly polite at times and i’m just……. yeah. gonna need you to take over for gege akutami actually 🙏🙏 get in the writer’s chair!!! the fandom needs u!!!!!

wait while we’re on this topic pls just know the entire confrontation between reader and kenjaku was one of my favorite moments in the entire fic <333 not JUST because i’m a kenny stan ok……… reader’s resignation and ”I appreciate it.” made my brain spin because it’s just . kinda chilling? kinda sick? that they aren’t even really afraid of death anymore… or more like they’re just so frighteningly used to it.

AND AND ANDDDD niku your writing in this scene 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 gutted me like a fish.

Time doesn't flow in the box. He didn't lie. You die again.

i exploded btw . ackkk i wish i could explain it better i just!!! :< adore your writing. these lines made me go completely batshit they’re just so good. and the ”time doesn’t flow in the box” line … how that ties in with the ending and reader’s choice. whewww.

segway time <3333 this is the final rant i promise!!! i just need to talk about the ending bc it was so perfect and like many other things in this fic it made me insane …. have i said that already …. probably at least a couple times 😔👉👈 it’s true ok!! it’s just sooo interesting to me and obviously so wellwritten and fitting and just. thematically ties everything together so well? i was FLOORED

hhhhh i don’t know where to begin so i’ll just start w the final convo between reader and gojo :> he asks for their name !!!!!!! i cried !!!!!!!!!! calling someone by their name or knowing their name as a form of like . Closeness or Affection is one of my greatest weaknesses and i also think it’s soooo telling that GOJO wants to know Your Name. he wants to know you. to hear that from someone who seems so inhumanly beautiful and violent….. for him to kind of extend a final olive branch and attempt to connect w you :((((( it just says so much without spelling it out and i. started chewing at my desk. it’s so good!!!!!!! such a genius way to tie everything together!!!! and reader’s final words to him…

“Thank you, Satoru Gojo.” You burn the glittering glow of his brilliant bright blue eyes into your mind.  And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black. 

first of all!!! so so sooooo pretty. wowow. second of all THE THANK YOU ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ that’s also such a perfect conclusion…….. reader finally put their trust in someone and had that faith returned. and they thank him!!!! i like to think it means something to gojo too…. likeeee how often do people really thank him for what he does? how often is his hard work to protect people acknowledged and appreciated? sorry to bring gojo back into the discussion all the time sadly i AM in love w him….. 😔😔 and this fic made it worse so technically it’s your fault. kind of.

okay so my brain is kinda spinning away again so i’ll get to the final final thing!!!! for real this time!!!!! reader’s decision to be imprisoned in gojo’s stead… that’s so . genius? i’m so in awe??????? it makes so much sense from a character perspective based on what they’ve been through — after being at the mercy of time for so long, wouldn’t it be nice to be free of it? completely? it’s almost kind of chilling and just the idea of it scares me LMAO but it makes sm sense that reader would be drawn to it.

AND like i mentioned before!!! how it leads to a deeper connection between them and gojo, and how at the very end of the fic he’s the one who has faith in them. faith that they’ll be alright, of sound mind.

…… and that brings me to the final final final thing because. it’s just like the opening poem!! reader is the cat in the box. nobody can say for sure if they’re alright, not to mention alive, until the box is opened. and we don’t get to know!!! you leave us on a cliffhanger and that’s so good bc it really is like the cat in the box…. we can only wonder but it also gives us the freedom to decide for ourselves if we think they come out okay or not and i’m just………….. in love. with this fic. and the ending and the reader and gojo and you.

hopefully you’ve noticed atp but i really did go completely insane reading this 😭😭 i said it at the beginning but just to reiterate!!: for SURE one of my all time favorite gojo fics . AND loopfics in general…. thank you sm for your hard work :’3 aaaa i can’t tell u how much i admire the time you spent working on this??? your storytelling and writing and characterization skills????? i genuinely feel sooo giddy and excited and happy rn bc. i just adored this fic!!!! i’m so lucky i got to read it!!!!! :33 pls pat your gojo on the head from me and let him know i love him…. it’ll boost his ego but that’s a risk i’m willing to take 😔😔 i hope you have theeeee loveliest day or night a human being can have bc you made mine <3333333

beyond the unending night (reader + satoru gojo)

notes: it's finally here. the long awaited halloween fic. yes, i know it's march, but i did start working on it in september. haha. there's so much i could say, but i will leave it at that this fic is, in every sense, a fic that i would not normally write. and yet here we are.

contains: f!reader (no physical description or gendered language is used), no explicit romantic pairing (though you don't have to look hard to find the reader x gojo implications), major character death (played with), semi-graphic depictions of death, blood and violence, minor suicide ideation, canon retelling (lines of dialogue are pulled from the jjk english dub because i'm a dirty dub watcher). opening poem is from higurashi no naku koro ni (minagoroshi-hen). fic title is from giga's beyond the way.

please note that this is a time loop fic and, by nature contains repeating scenes (particularly from canon). please do not read this fic if you do not like that sort of thing.

wc: 21,883 read on ao3 (account required)

Please tell me what happened in this night. It's like the cat inside the box.

Please tell me what happened in this night. You don't know if the cat in the box is dead or alive. Please tell me what happened in this night. The cat in the box was dead.

The first time, it is instant— you don’t even know what’s happening.

The second, it is by flame, but you barely realize it, barely feel it— a second of mind numbing heat before nothing.

The third time, it is something slicing across your throat; you see the blood spilling everywhere, then the pain follows— a moment of pure agony before nothing.

The fourth time you realize what’s going on; what’s really going on.

You realize you’ve been dying.

You think your head is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because the subway platform is crowded, insanely so— there are hundreds of people shoved into this space alongside you, packed like sardines in a can. You’ve never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you live in Tokyo. For the most part, you’ve learned to accept it, but even this crowd is a little much and you wish you hadn’t listened to your friends when they said you should go party in Shibuya for Halloween; you don’t even like partying.

There’s a sharp pain in your temple followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone is screaming it at you through a megaphone positioned right next to your ear.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

For the eighth time.

Before you can even question the thought, images flash in your mind’s eye, blurry at first before they come into focus. The platform gates open. Chaos ensues. People dropping onto the subway tracks— spontaneously bursting into flame— their heads, necks sliced off, stomachs cut open—

Bile rapidly builds up in your throat, and you clamp your jaw shut, trying to force it down. Not here. Not now. You try to focus on something else, anything else happening outside of your brain. There’s a pair next to you musing about the people standing on the subway tracks, wondering what the two (the four?) of them are talking about. You blink back tears as you look. You can only see two: a freakishly tall man with white hair dressed in all black, and another man, dressed in strange, yet more traditional looking garb. Are those costumes too? You don’t have a lot of time to think about it as another image forces its way into your brain.

Your corpse— lifeless on the ground.

Your corpse— burning to ash.

Your corpse— bleeding out.

You can’t hold it in any more. Every fiber in your being screams at you to get away from the subway tracks, but instead you rush toward them, shoving people left and right as your hands desperately reach the stability of the gate. You grip it like a lifeline as you retch over the side of it, the contents of your stomach spilling all over the subway tracks.

There’s a quiet murmur of disgust behind you but you can’t be bothered to respond. You need to get out of here. You need to leave. You need to do it before—

The gates open and the crowd starts to move like a tidal wave, pushing and shoving their way through the gate. You’re swept away, vomit long forgotten as you and a few dozen others tumble onto the railway.

Alarm bells go off in your brain, loud and deafening. A voice in the back of your head screams for you to get off the track! Get off the track now before—

The platform erupts into a cacophony of screams, drenched in horror, saturated in fear. You are surrounded by people, by corpses— beheaded, sliced open, bursting into flames.

Your terror roots you to the ground as the carnage ensues around you. It’s only when another person, another corpse, dressed in a magical girl costume collides with your body that you can finally move. But it’s too late, you realize, despaired and helpless, as your bodies fall to the ground.

It’s too late.

You die an eighth time.

You think your chest is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because it’s so hard to breathe, frustratingly so— there are hundreds of people squeezed into this space alongside you, packed like cattle for slaughter. You've never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you’re in Shibuya. For the most part, you’ve come to accept it, but this crowd is way too much and you wish you had just stayed home and ordered a pizza; though honestly, the thought of pizza kind of makes you sick.

There’s a dull throbbing in your forehead, followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone’s hollering at you from a loudspeaker that’s been installed in your brain.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You think it's the ninth time now.

Behind you, you hear a woman screaming, her voice crazed and terrified. You turn your head automatically to look at her and when you see her you realize you recognize her yellow and white magical girl costume. You can say with certainty that you’ve never seen her before and yet—

Before you can ruminate more on it, images— memories assault your mind’s eye with a clarity that is absolutely sickening. That woman colliding into you, your bodies slamming into the subway tracks before you both— Your stomach churns violently,

and you feel like you’re going to puke, but you force it down— can't afford to right now. Instead, you make your way over to the woman.

Her head is in her hands as she mutters over and over again about how everyone is going to die. People around her figure that being stuck in here with the crowd has probably gotten to her. You, however, know better.

“...hey,” you say softly.

Her muttering comes to an abrupt halt and slowly she raises her head to look at you. There’s a flash of recognition in her eyes and she grabs you violently by the shoulders. “You! You know, don’t you? That we’re going to die?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you have indeed experienced death here eight times already, then you would have thought she’s lost her mind. Slowly, you nod and she seems relieved by it, her grip on you loosening.

You can’t help but feel a little relieved too— glad to know that you’re not the only one experiencing this nightmare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that’s confused though. Why is she only remembering now? But then again, it took you a few times before you realized yourself.

Around you people start to gasp, and you glance back toward the railway to see an abnormally tall man with white hair and dressed in all black jump down from the atrium onto the railway. He lands rather gracefully for someone who jumped at least one floor and starts to converse with the other three people (you think they're people— two of them are in some pretty wild costumes) on the track.

Wait. Isn’t it supposed to be just two people: the tall man and the one in the traditional clothes? Where did the other two come from?

“We have to get out of here,” the woman says. “Before they kill us.”

Her grip shifts from your shoulders to your arms and she starts to shove at everyone around you, trying to force her way through. She seems to know, just as well as you do, that any second now the gates will open and the crowd will start spilling onto the railway, littering the tracks with bodies and ash. Neither of you can let yourselves get swept up with the rest. If you do and you end up on those tracks, you’re as good as dead.

People move aside at a snail's pace, many of them too focused on trying to see what is going on on the subway tracks. This isn't good. You need to move faster or else—

The collective sound of the gates opening echoes in your head, a metallic hiss that makes your stomach fold into itself. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you both whip your heads back to look, to confirm, but it’s a mistake.

The briefest lapse in attention is enough to pull you both into the current of people, and try as you might to fight against it, the crowd splits you and the woman apart as it swallows you both whole. You’re both spat onto the tracks at the edge of the platform and your head collides with the metal rails of the track. It feels like your skull is about to crack in two, and it takes every fiber in your being to scramble to your feet. You're close enough to the platform that if you can just climb up it, then you'll be—

“Help! Help!”

It’s the woman’s voice. You turn to see that she ended up a couple meters away from you. She’s staring at you, eyes brimming with fear filled tears as she extends her hand in your direction. You take a step toward her, reaching out.

And then, her entire body is engulfed in flames, the skirt of her magical girl costume a ring of fiery death around her.

Her blood curdling scream is the only thing you can hear, her burning flesh, the only thing you can see. You don’t know what to do.

You can’t save her.

There's something touching your back. You can barely feel the pressure, but it's hot, scorching hot, mind numbingly hot, painfully hothothot.

You know this sensation. You have felt it before. The scent of burning cloth, burning hair, burning flesh clogs your nostrils. It's too late, you realize, helpless, despaired as the flames eat at your body— your soon to be corpse.

It's too late.

You die a ninth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the tenth time.

Your head hurts, but you ignore it. There’s something more important that you need to attend to. You immediately make your way to the woman you met during your last round, the one you watched burn to death. Her costume is still pristine, unmarred by fire and death.

For now.

She’s not screaming this time and while there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that’s concerned by this, you try to ignore it.

“Um, excuse me?” you say when she doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach.

The woman turns to look at you. You’re taken aback by the distinct lack of recognition and it feels almost as if the woman you encountered previously and the one before you now are two separate people. In a way, they technically are.

“Do I… know you?” she finally asks when you don’t say anything.

Your mouth is dry. How do you even answer that? You don’t know her. You just watched her die twice. You know her. She begged you for help. You couldn’t save her.

If you explain all of this you know she’s just going to think you’ve lost your mind. Maybe you already have— you’ve died nine times after all.

You give her a weak smile. “I… just wanted to tell you that you think your costume looks great.”

She blinks, taken aback by your words. There’s no doubt that she wasn’t expecting you to say that. It’s the truth though, her costume is nice; she’s dressed up as a character from a magical girl anime that was popular a couple years ago.

“Thank you! I made it myself!” The woman breaks out into a genuine smile and your heart hurts. In a few moments she’ll die and the costume she worked so hard to make will be nothing but ash on the subway tracks.

“Sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“For?”

For watching her die. For not being able to save her.“...I just kind of came up to you all of a sudden…”

She laughs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

You consider telling her that she should try to move. That if she stays here she will die. You don’t want her to die. Again. You can still hear her screaming in your ears as she burned to death. You want to tell her.

You don’t.

“Stay safe, okay?” you say. It almost sounds like you’re begging.

She gives you another smile, kind and gentle and you think you’re far too undeserving of it for not telling her what fate will soon befall her. “You too.”

“I’ll try,” you say and move away from the woman just as the gates open and the crowd surges toward the railway. You do not fight it as you are swept up into the crowd and despite what you said, you do not try, this time, to stay safe.

You die for the tenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the fourteenth time.

There’s a slight ache in your head, but it’s subtle enough that you can ignore it. The pain you feel lessens with each round and you think it’s a sign that your body no longer feels the need to remind you of the precarious situation that you’re in.

Or maybe you are just becoming numb to everything: your death, the death of the people around you, the death of the woman in the magical girl costume—

You try not to think about it too much as you reach into your bag to check the time on your phone: 8:37PM. There’s not a lot of time: you need to move.

At the very end of your last attempt to escape this nightmare you realized something. You need to know exactly what is going on around you so you can plan accordingly: where to not stand, where to not go. Up until now, you’ve relied almost solely on the knowledge gained from your previous failures to try and survive, but obviously it’s not enough to keep you alive. You’re not sure why you didn’t realize this earlier. The panic, maybe? The fear?

Maybe you really are becoming numb to all this.

Unlike previous iterations, this time you elect to move closer to the gate, positioning yourself somewhere against it where you’re unlikely to be pushed off the platform in a couple minutes when they open. You take great care to place yourself where you can see the ones responsible for the slaughter very clearly. At the beginning, you could only see one, the one who looks the most human, but with each repetition, the other two have become more and more clear. You wonder why. You don’t have time to think about it.

Murmurs nearby alert you to the arrival of the fourth major player involved in the night’s events. You look up and see the white haired man dressed in all black descending upon the platform like an angel from the heavens. This is your first time really looking at him and you realize there’s something almost inhumanly attractive about him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it occurs to you that you shouldn’t even try; you don’t have the time to be drooling over some handsome stranger.

You’ve naturally never taken the time to try and listen to whatever the conversation the man and his opponents have before all hell breaks loose on the platform, but you try and lean closer to listen. It’s hard to hear over the dozens of conversations going on behind you, but you try anyway. There might be a clue to what’s actually going on— or better yet, a clue on how to get out of it.

It’s obvious that you’re missing context from what bits of the conversation you do manage to hear, but honestly it all sounds like stuff out of a shounen battle manga. There is one part of the exchange that you manage to hear with a startling sort of clarity. It feels almost as if your heart stops beating as your blood turns ice cold in your veins.

“If I run away, you’re just gonna kill everyone here, right?” the man in black asks.

There’s a pause, and if your heart was still beating it’d be long enough for just four heartbeats.

“If you run away?” The monster with cane repeats, the sadistic grin spreading wide across its features, displaying its charcoal black teeth. The gravelly sound of its voice sets fire to the blood in your veins, your stilled heart thumping wildly, in fear, in anticipation. Soon. It’s happening soon. You brace yourself. “We’re going to do that even if you don’t!”

You die a fourteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the seventeenth time now.

Things are going surprisingly well, even as the people around you tumble onto the tracks. You manage to hold on, desperation keeping you from falling into the abyss. This is good, you tell yourself, despite the fact that it’s not the first time you’ve achieved this. Every little victory is worth celebrating, but you have to remain vigilant. This is yet another information gathering loop, and while you know that maybe this time you’ll be lucky and live, there’s still a chance, a big one, at that, that you will die again.

You have to make the most of each and every death.

It’s such a morbid thought, but the ends justify the means, or so you tell yourself. If you have to die a few times to make it out of this unending nightmare, then so be it.

The spot you’re in is a good vantage point; it’s easier to see everything happening below you. It’s so good that it’s actually sickening. You watch as the monster with the cane and one with what looks like branches for eyes slaughter the people on the track, mowing them down, setting them aflame. In another life, in another many lives, that was you down there, and for what feels like the first time in forever, you feel like you’re going to be sick. You feel like, at some point, you likened the scene before you to some kind of shounen battle manga, but you think that was wrong.

This is borderline horror.

Everything plays out before you like a scene out of an action horror flick. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were just an extra on set, but you know the reality is that you’re just an extra to whatever phantasmal battle is taking place in front of you. The monsters and the strangely dressed man all try to attack the man in black, but he manages to block every hit effortlessly, as if he is protected by some sort of invisible barrier. When it seems the two monsters are about to hit him, he merely jumps out of the way and the two monsters seem to collide, the force of their combined strength sending a gust of air throughout the crowd. The man in black neatly lands on a nearby platform half wall and says something about curse users, whatever those are, to the monsters, before he starts to mock them, pulling down his strange blindfold in the process.

And this, you’ve found, is where you start to get in trouble.

You clearly remember thinking, at some point, previously, that there was something attractive about this man. You still don’t know what it is. You haven’t had the time to try and figure it out, but there is one thing that you do know: you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He drops back down onto the tracks, antagonizing his opponents in an arrogant tone as he approaches. When he comes to a stop between the two monsters, the second round of their fight begins. They try to hit him, but he dodges still, gracefully, fluidly, like the three of them are embroiled in some sort of passionate, yet violent dance.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he cruelly rips off one of the arms of the one-eyed monster.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he brutally kicks the branch-eyed monster in the abdomen, sending them flying to the other side of the platform.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he effortlessly hurls the one-eyed, now one-armed monster in the same direction, sending them smashing into the wall.

Only when the man in black seems to fly to the other side is the spell over you seemingly broken. Still, your eyes give chase, and your body too, rushing from one side of the platform to the other. You can’t lose sight of this fight, you tell yourself, settling in a spot you recall being safe during your last round. Doing so could mean another death, another loop, another October 31.

You watch as the man in black acrobatically dodges what looks to be vines or roots that the monster with branches for eyes seems to have summoned from the depths of the Tokyo metro. He lands on the monster’s shoulders, balancing on them as he uses its branch-eyes for leverage. The look in the man’s eyes is so crazed that you can see it from where you’re standing. He says something to it and then—

With a feral and sadistic smile, he rips their eyes straight out of their skull.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest as you watch the fight unfold. It is horrifyingly, disgustingly violent, yet still you watch as people on the track are killed by the human-like person, blood raining down as their freshly beheaded skulls go flying into the air. He and the one-eyed monster launch their counter attacks against the man in black and the blowback is so intense the power goes out causing everyone to scream.

There’s a faint glow where the man in black is standing that starts to grow brighter and brighter. You can make out his form turning to face the wall, and it seems almost like he’s slammed the monster that had branches for eyes against it with some sort of telekinetic power. Despite the panic from the people around you, you manage to hear him, chuckling like a mad man as he draws closer and closer to the monster.

The one-eyed monster yells out a name, a name you think must belong to the man, but he doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as he extends his hands out toward the eyeless monster, exerting some kind of force that you can’t really see. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as the eyeless monster’s entire body is vaporized in a flash of blue light. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster, as the lights flicker back on revealing a smoking crater stained with purple blood where the eyeless monster once stood.

But you do.

Satoru Gojo.

You make sure to remember that.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And this is the eighteenth time.

You watch as the man called Satoru Gojo stalks through the crowd of people on the subway tracks, chasing after the one-eyed fire monster. It throws people at him, in a clear attempt to slow him down.

It does not work.

Satoru Gojo climbs back onto the platform in a way that you can only describe as inhuman, and the people nearby shriek and move away from him, out of terror, out of fear. You, on the other hand, draw closer, refusing to lose sight of him.

He is relentless in his pursuit of the one-eyed monster. It continues to throw person after person at him, but he does not stop and the people float there, suspended in midair before they are gently lowered to the ground by some unseen force and scramble away.

No one dares get close to Satoru Gojo, everyone on the platform seems to know that doing so means certain death, yourself included. But you still feel the need to keep an eye on him. The monster and the strangely dressed man are focusing more on him than the crowd— anyone in between is just collateral damage.

But not you.

Especially since you’ve made it this far— you’ve never made it this far before.

A voice echoes throughout the platform; you realize it’s the automated announcement.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You can hear everyone’s relief coming from all sides. The train is coming! The train is coming! A ripple of hope makes its way throughout the crowd. With the train comes the chance to get off the platform and the senseless violence that’s been happening here. Some of the people around you are talking excitedly and others are running toward the gates, toeing the yellow line they’ve been instructed to wait behind. And you, you should be excited, you should be hopeful.

All you feel is dread.

It eats at your stomach, at your chest, at your mind. Clawing and gnawing at you in a way that leaves you paralyzed on the platform. There’s something wrong here. You can’t be sure because you’ve never made it this far, never survived long enough for the train to come, but something is just not right.

No.

You must be paranoid. The train coming is a good thing. It has to be a good thing. You are just paranoid. It’s normal. It’s natural. Dying seventeen times would do that to anyone— rob them of hope, condemn them to an existence full of fear.

It is not lost on you that the thought of dying more than once, much less, dying seventeen times is not normal or natural in the very slightest.

But you need hope, you crave it, wildly, desperately. The hope of freedom, of escape is the only thing getting you through this unending nightmare. Every time you die, every time you wake, it is with the hope that maybe, just maybe this iteration will be different, maybe this one will be the one where you make it out, make it back to your friends who must be waiting for you, make it back home where you can be safe and sound. You need the hope to keep going. Because without hope, what will you have left?

The train screeches as it pulls into the station and the people around you laugh in both disbelief and relief. They start to push and shove toward it, fighting to be able to board because there’s no way everyone here will be able to get on an eight car train and being left behind at this point is practically synonymous with death. Unable to decide if you believe in the train as a symbol of hope or a new layer of fear, you are pushed along with the crowd toward it.

The doors of the train cars slide open and the current passengers all rush off as they disembark. You as well as everyone else on the platform can see with a horrifying clarity that the train is filled to the brim with monsters. Monsters that reach out and grab anyone their hands can reach. The woman to your left. The person to your right.

You.

Hope is gone.

What do you have left?

You die for the eighteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is probably the twenty-sixth time now.

If there is anything this entire ordeal has taught you, it is that you are resilient. Whether it is some innate trait that you never had any reason to uncover before or just a byproduct of being trapped in an unending cycle of being dead and not dead, you don't know. What you do know, though, is that even if you no longer have hope, you at least have your resilience.

Whether you want it or not.

You check the time. It’s 8:35PM. Something flickers in your chest, like a faint light in a sea of darkness, but you ignore it. You don’t have time right now.

With a nimbleness born from your previous failures, you weave your way through the crowd. You’ve done this enough times to know where the gaps are— who will yield and who won’t. Your destination is the escalator that leads off the platform and up to a higher part of the station. You’d noticed previously that the escalator along with every other entrance onto the platform will eventually be blocked by vines or roots of some sort (the work of the branch-eyed monster probably). It’s not a perfect plan because you don’t know what happens on the other side, but whatever it is has to be better than whatever is happening on the side that you’ve been on.

You’d tried to get to the stairs during your last two rounds, but you’d just missed it. You hadn’t been fast enough and had gotten caged and slaughtered along with the rest. But this time, this time you have more time. It’s just one minute, but it’s enough. You know it is.

The flickering in your heart grows stronger. Hope. You try not to pay attention to it— you don’t want to be disappointed yet again. But you want to so badly. A voice in the back of your mind tells you to focus on the good, tells you that if there was truly no way out of this endless nightmare, then why would you get more and more time with each round to escape your fate?

With that thought in mind, you break out into a run, recklessly rushing through the crowd, shoving anyone who will not yield to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the stark white of Satoru Gojo’s hair as he descends upon the platform.

You need to get up those stairs.

Now.

If you remember correctly, the roots and vines don’t close off the area the moment he touches down, but a little after they start talking, so you think there is probably some time, but you can’t leave it to chance.

The stairs are packed, and for some reason no one is moving. The escalator right next to it is just as full and the power doesn’t seem to be working. You don’t have time for this. You clamber onto the escalator’s rubber handrail, ignoring the weird feeling that passes through your body as you do so. You don’t have the time to worry about whatever that is. The people around you start exclaiming around you, but you don’t care, you don’t listen. You wobble as you try to balance yourself and when you think you’re steady you try to run.

But you trip.

And you die for the twenty-sixth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This marks the thirtieth time.

And you have, finally, finally made it up the escalator, up the stairs with barely a second to spare. You pause, glancing back as the roots or vines or whatever the hell they are seal off the entrance to the platform. You notice that the area where the plants come down is actually fairly clear, despite the crowd. It seems weird, but you don’t dwell on it.

A strange feeling envelops your entire body and your legs turn into jelly. As you sink to the floor, you realize what you’re feeling is relief as all the tension, maybe thirty iterations of Halloween 2018 worth, seeps from your being. You don't remember the last time you felt anything other than fear and dread; it’s weird, but not unwelcome.

That voice in the back of your mind tells you that you can't relax just yet: October 31st isn’t over. Even though you have repeated this night again and again, burning the events that play out on the platform into your memory, you do not know a single thing that happens over here. It would be smart to scope everything out.

Legs still shaky, you rise to your feet and start walking. You think it’s probably for the best to try and head up to the surface and you make your way up to the next floor.

It’s packed with people here too, but relatively peaceful, especially when you compare it to the pandemonium taking place beneath your feet. Still, you can make out the undeniable hum of displeasure resonating throughout the crowd. People complaining about how uncomfortable their costumes are, people complaining about how much they want to go home, people complaining about how much their nights have been ruined because they couldn’t meet up with their friends and—

A thought hits you like an eight car train.

You were supposed to meet up with your friends.

That’s why you were on the platform in the first place— you were waiting for them to arrive, but then the trains stopped working, and people just started pouring into the station out of seemingly nowhere (you think you heard some people say they’d come from the crossing?). Soon after that is when everything went to shit.

You check your phone, though, for once it’s not to look at the time (8:56PM). Instead, you open LINE to check your friends’ group chat. There’s no signal here, for whatever reason, so if there are any new messages, you haven’t received them. The last one was from Kei, mentioning he was enroute, but as far as you know, you’re the only one who made it to Shibuya before the trains stopped.

Did one of them maybe make it here though? Surely, you would have run into them if—

The image of a woman in a magical girl costume fills your vision, burning to death before your very eyes as her screams echo in your ears. It is the first time in what feels like forever that you’ve thought about her and your stomach churns violently. You couldn’t help her, you can’t even help yourself, so how could you even expect to do the same for your friends if they were here? The mere thought of having to watch them die over and over is almost enough to send you over the edge. You don’t know if you could do it.

Would you even have a choice?

No. You can't think like that. You have choices. You've had choices. If you didn’t then, you would still be down below, among the fire and brimstone. Dying, if not dead already. However, instead, you are up here, where, for the moment, it is quiet and peaceful.

That thought, in of itself, is enough to give you a shred of solace, a glimmer of hope.

You take a deep breath and fiddle with your phone a little more, changing your lock screen to a picture you and your friends took at a photo booth not too long ago. The four of you are huddled together, faces squished as if you're all struggling to fit in the frame, despite there being plenty of room. You're mid-laugh because it's the first time you've been in a photo booth in years, Mio and Shin are grinning mischievously and finally, Kei is smiling, but only just slightly, the embarrassment clear on his face. It's probably only been a few months since you all took this picture, but the fact that it feels like it's been years makes your heart ache.

You press your forehead to the screen, like a prayer, like a promise.

You will make it out of this nightmare.

No matter what.

A shrill scream yanks you from your thoughts and you are instantly on your feet, alert as your eyes flit around frantically to identify the source. It doesn't take long for you to find it and when you do, you think you might have stumbled upon a new layer of horror to this nightmare.

It’s not the corpse, dangling by a noose, that terrifies you— by now you’ve seen dozens upon dozens of dead bodies that the sight of just one more doesn’t faze you in the slightest. The thing that’s the most mortifying, that’s the most disturbing is that right next to where the body is tied are two girls, two teenage girls still dressed in their school uniforms.

You can accept monsters and weirdly dressed men being responsible for the carnage tonight, but children too? Both girls look like they’re barely in high school and try as you might to rationalize things, to chalk it up to coincidence, you cannot ignore the ominous energy radiating from them.

The very notion that these two children could have killed someone here is a hard pill to swallow, but so is the fact that you’ve died.

And you’ve had to swallow that pill thirty times now, so what’s once more?

“Listen up!” one of the girls yells over the crowd, but she is mostly ignored; you don’t think everyone here has noticed her and the corpse dangling from the rafters. She scowls and turns to the other girl and says something quietly to her. The other girl nods and almost instantly she’s stringing up another person, another example. You want to look away so badly, and yet you cannot bring yourself to and you watch the poor soul choke to death.

“I said listen, you dumb monkeys!” the girl shouts, and this time she’s caught most of the crowd’s attention. “If you don’t want to end up like these two, you’ll listen to what we have to say!”

There is clear dissent among the crowd, people dismissive as they utter their disbelief. Some seem to think it’s a prank, but you know better. It takes two more examples before the crowd goes silent before the two high schoolers.

“About damn time!” The girl roars and then points toward the atrium, which is currently covered by roots and branches. “All of you move over there!”

You have a bad feeling about this.

Still, you comply; the girls have made it abundantly clear that failure to do so will result in death, though, at this point, you're almost certain this iteration is a bust and death is all but imminent. You try to keep positive— thinking you can at least gather information or, who knows, maybe there's a chance that this one is the one.

Yet when you step onto the mound of vines and branches that cover the atrium it feels as if you've crossed the threshold into hell. Your footing is stable… but for how long?

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

It's faint, but you can hear the announcement from below. The liquid in your stomach curdles at the sound as you recall the train and, in particular, what is on board. Soon enough, those monsters will be swarming the platform, massacring everyone in reach, guzzling down their blood, feasting on their flesh—

It dawns on you that the people on the platform are the monsters' first course.

And you, and those around you here in the shrubbery, are the second.

As you realize this, the branches and vines disintegrate beneath your very feet and suddenly you are mid air— falling, falling into the abyss below.

You die for the thirtieth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You've done this nearly sixty times now.

After countless failures, you've decided that you're just not going to go upstairs any more. No matter where you try to go, you still end up herded onto the death trap above the platform where you ultimately fall to your death. You've tried positioning yourself in the same spot, tried bracing yourself for the drop— but nothing seems to work: upon landing, assuming you manage to land without hurting yourself or dying in midair (which has happened a couple times) you get grabbed and killed by one of the monsters from the train. It's probably not impossible, you just don't have the physical prowess or reflexes for it.

If anything, you can try again later, but you sincerely hope you don't have to.

It's 8:32PM, and you have plenty of time to get to your chosen spot for this loop— it's close to the stairs, in the very center of the platform. Here, there's little risk of getting pushed off onto the tracks when the gates open. You'll probably have to move when the train comes, or even before (assuming you survive) to avoid the monsters, but you'll get to that when it's time.

You can't really see the fight once it breaks out after Satoru Gojo arrives, but you still try to keep track of it as best as you can. You see when he hurls both monsters across the platform and you're not sure if it's muscle memory or what but you have to fight the urge to move to the side and watch. It's been a while, yes, but you've seen the fight countless times before— it doesn't change. Satoru Gojo will give chase. He will rip the branches from the branch eyed monster's skull. He will use some kind of power to eviscerate them.

You don't need to watch, but there's something in you that wants to.

It doesn't make sense, you've seen it all before; if you're unlucky you'll see it all again.

The lights go out and people start screaming; Satoru Gojo is ending the life of that one monster. Soon enough he'll be back on the platform, in pursuit of the other. You think at that point it would be good to move, reposition yourself as far from the incoming train as possible.

When he rises from the tracks like a demon straight from hell, you realize it's the first time this loop that you've actually gotten a good look at him. You remind yourself, again, that this isn't the first time you've seen this man, this scene. You can't help but watch, but stare at Satoru Gojo as he stalks through the crowd in pursuit of his prey. His expression is an eerie sort of calm that's at odds with the acts of violence you've seen him commit— his eyes an unnaturally bright blue.

He's a terrifying sort of beauty and you can't help but be captivated by him.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

The sound of the announcement sends your heartbeat into a frenzy, snapping you out of your little trance. The train is coming and you need to get moving. As you dart to the edge of the platform, the thought occurs to you that even if you avoid the initial wave of monsters, it's likely you will inevitably be caught by them and killed. It wouldn't be impossible for Satoru Gojo to turn his attention to them instead of the two he's currently facing, but he's just one man— can he truly defeat all those monsters?

You can see the train pulling in and you brace yourself, praying that it'll work out somehow.

The doors hiss open and the screaming starts again as the monsters come bursting out of the train, biting and mauling anyone they can get their hands on. Those who were lucky enough to not be at the front start to scramble away and the monsters give chase. Your body is taut, ready to try and dodge any that come your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice something moving through the air. A person? With blue hair? You take the risk to look— they're attacking Satoru Gojo. He tries to punch them but they fly away from him to dodge— disappearing into the crowd.

You hear a loud cracking sound over the cacophony of the crowd and your stomach twists; you know what that sound is. The roots above the atrium disintegrate and bodies from above start to rain down onto the platform.

And then, you're not sure what happens— it's so quick that you only manage to see what looks like an explosion of blood surrounding Satoru Gojo. Corpses litter the ground around him and even from here you can tell he is shaken by the carnage.

The monsters have finally reached where you're standing, and you duck under one as it lunges at you. Although it's big and scary, you realize it's moving kind of slow. Right after it another one comes at you and you take a side step to avoid it; this monster is kind of slow too.

Maybe you can do this.

As soon as you think that a strange feeling courses through you. Every hair on your body feels like it's standing on edge and the voice in your head is telling you to look at Satoru Gojo. You don't understand why because you think he's the least of your worries right now, but you do it anyway.

He's in some sort of stance, one hand raised to his face, fingers bent in some kind of gesture. There's some sort of aura, oppressive and frightening emanating from his form.

Satoru Gojo is doing something.

You just can't tell what.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are utterly confused.

Barring your first few loops when you weren't fully aware of what was happening, you have very distinct memories of how each of your previous iterations of this night have gone— of each and every one of your deaths. But for your last round, the last thing you remember was feeling the immense power radiating from Satoru Gojo's body, but that's it.

You do not remember dying.

In fact, you don't think you did.

And yet, here you are again, back at the start: it's 8:32PM and the monsters and strangely dressed man are standing on the subway tracks waiting for the arrival of Satoru Gojo.

You don't understand what's going on; you didn't die but you're still stuck in this damn loop. Up until now, your death has served as the trigger to restart the loop. It's not impossible that maybe you suffered a quick and painless death but you're almost certain that isn't the case.

Something else must have happened.

Something having to do with Satoru Gojo.

You have to find out what. If you don't, you won't know how to avoid it, and if you can't do that, then you really might spend an eternity stuck in this nightmare. And so you take great care to repeat the steps of your last round. You need to make sure to survive to the same point you made it to last time.

Miraculously, you do.

The moment you feel that sensation again, a prickling sort of feeling that envelops your entire body, your eyes are on Satoru Gojo— trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. His eyes are crazed with a desperate kind of focus. You see his mouth move— he's saying something. A spell? A prayer? A curse?

You don't know.

You do know.

Your brain feels like it's going to explode.

Again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

Again.

You do not know how many times it's been the night of Halloween in Shibuya: you stopped counting around the hundredth loop. It feels like it's been a while since then. Or maybe it hasn't? You don't know any more.

What you do know is that this night ends up going one of two ways before you are forced to repeat it. Either you die, in some way, shape or form or something happens just after nine that forces you to reset. You still don't know what it is exactly; you only know that Satoru Gojo is responsible for it.

You do prefer it to dying— it's far less painful.

But if anything, you wish you could just die permanently and never have to repeat this night ever again.

Unfortunately, you know better.

The only good thing you’ve noticed about all of this is that you really do seem to keep waking up earlier and earlier. The last time you checked, it was at around 8:30. It might take hundreds of thousands of loops, but eventually you’ll certainly wake up early enough to avoid this damn entire mess.

But by the time that happens… will your sanity still be intact? Will you really be able to go back to a normal day to day life after living the equivalent of hundreds of years, repeating the same night over and over again? You don’t even know how you’ve managed to stay sane all this time and as much as you want to believe you could do it…

There has to be a breaking point.

For both your mind and this time loop.

If you’re lucky, you’ll reach the latter first.

There’s a dull ache in your head that feels foreign yet familiar. Your mind is foggy, all your thoughts hazy as you try to recall what the word for this feeling is.

Groggy.

It feels as if you’ve woken up from a nap and you blink the sleepiness away from your eyes. When was the last time you took a nap? It’s been a while… You think you maybe tried once or twice, but you were too nervous, too on edge. Awake or asleep, it didn’t matter because, either way, you were doomed to repeat this nightmare.

As you think this, you realize that something is different.

You’re used to how the start of each loop feels like waking up suddenly and abruptly and it becomes clear to you that you haven’t looped. This is completely uncharted territory.

You need to find out what’s going on.

The first thing you notice is that it’s quiet. Almost eerily so, especially when the last thing you remember was screaming and chaos. You glance around you and find that it looks like all the monsters from the train are dead, the ground littered in their bloodstains and corpses. There were so many of them, you don’t know how someone could have wiped them out so quickly… Could it possibly have been Satoru Gojo’s doing?

More concerning than the complete eradication of the monsters is the fact that nearly everyone else on the platform is standing stock still, their mouths ajar with blank expressions on their faces. It’s almost as if their souls have completely vacated their bodies…

Were you like that too before you woke up?

You hear voices, and your body immediately goes tense as you turn your head in their direction. A little ways ahead of you, you see a man dressed as a monk conversing with the blue haired person from earlier and before them is—

Your heart nearly stops: it’s Satoru Gojo, restrained and on his knees.

Honestly, you can’t make heads or tails of the conversation they’re having; it’s more shounen battle manga nonsense. Satoru Gojo doesn’t seem to be enjoying their conversation either, and he interrupts them, clearly annoyed.

“Are we gonna do this or what?” he asks. “The view sucks and I’m just kinda bored.”

“I wanted to enjoy this sight for a little bit longer, but you are right,” the monk says. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen— gate, close.”

When he says that, Satoru Gojo’s restraints move, the weirdly shaped cubes at the ends of them closing in around him, trapping him in a giant red cube. It starts to shrink until it’s small enough to fit in the monk’s hand.

You gulp and hope they don’t notice that you’re awake. The fact that they haven’t slaughtered the rest of the people standing around you is a good sign, but you don’t want to find out what happens if they know you’re cognizant.

It’s not hard to play the part of a living statue, especially when you compare it to everything else you’ve had to suffer through on this night. You watch as the monk’s allies, the ones who had attacked everyone on the platform, wake up, but before they can do or say anything, the box holding Satoru Gojo slips through the monk’s fingers and makes a dent in the concrete. The look on the monk’s face makes it clear that it’s a problem he wasn’t expecting.

You don’t know a damn thing about Satoru Gojo, but you feel like this kind of thing is the norm for him.

The blue haired person suddenly looks in your direction and you nearly stop breathing. Have they noticed you? It takes everything in you to keep perfectly still, in hopes that maybe they didn't, that maybe they’re looking at something else. They raise their arm and it extends, their hand acting like some kind of projectile. You almost shut your eyes and brace yourself for impact, but their hand flies upwards and hits something on the ceiling, destroying it.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief— you’re still safe.

For now.

You listen to their following conversation and while you still don’t fully understand everything, it’s clear they’re talking about what to do next since they’ve taken care of Satoru Gojo. Something having to do with someone named Yuji Itadori? The group seems split on what to do about him but it’s clear he’s their next target.

Eventually, everyone but the monk (you heard the blue haired person, who is apparently named Mahito, call him Geto?) runs off, probably to find this Yuji Itadori person. Once they’re gone, Geto speaks and, at first, you think he’s talking to you, but it becomes clear he’s addressing someone else. “Those cursed spirits are actually smarter than the two of you.”

“Give him back!” a voice hidden among the crowd hisses. Your blood runs cold at the sound. You recognize it; it’s one of the high school girls from the upper floor.

“We cooperated with you fully and kept dropping monkeys for you,” says another voice; it must be the other girl that was with her, the one who hung all those people.

“Now give us back Master Geto’s body like you promised!”

“Don’t toy with Master Geto any further than you have!”

You blink in confusion. Isn’t the monk named Geto? The way the girls are talking it sounds like they’re talking about someone else… Is it possible that the body is ‘Geto’ but the person they’re talking to is someone else possessing it? It sounds kind of crazy, but then again, so is every single thing you’ve experienced tonight.

Your suspicions concerning this ‘Geto’ are confirmed only seconds later as he says, “Now begone, or is it your desire to be killed by this body?”

One of the girls vows her revenge and you hear shuffling somewhere else in the crowd as they scurry away. Now you think it’s just you and whoever it is that’s puppeting Geto’s body. You see him plop down in front of the box (the prison realm, you think he’d called it) that’s holding Satoru Gojo.

“You can come out, you know,” he says after a while.

You freeze. The rest of the platform is completely silent. This time you think he might actually be talking to you.

“I know you’re there,” ‘Geto’ adds, his voice casual. “If you’re insistent on hiding, you should know that I’m not afraid of using whatever means necessary to smoke you out.”

Given everything his allies have done, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s serious. You were hoping to hide out among the crowd until he decided to leave, but it looks like you won’t be able to now.

Looks like this loop is a bust after all.

Your heart starts to race as you weave your way through the crowd. In every single one of your loops, you were always treated like a bit character, never noticed or singled out by any of the major players of the night. Although this is your first time encountering this ‘Geto’ it’s clear to you that he’s involved with everything that’s happened here and honestly, you get the feeling he might actually be the mastermind behind the massacre.

That makes you even more nervous.

You come to a stop in the place where Satoru Gojo was once kneeling before he was put in that box. Now that you’re out in the open, ‘Geto’ looks you over with some sort of nonchalant curiosity.

“You’re…” he starts, sounding thoughtful, "not a sorcerer, are you?”

Sorcerer. You heard that term thrown around by him and his group a few times. It’s what they’ve been referring to their enemies as. It probably wouldn’t be smart to lie and say you are one; you get the feeling he’d see through your lie anyway. “I’m not.”

He hums. “How interesting.”

“...what do you mean?” you ask before you can help yourself.

“It’s just you have an abnormally large amount of cursed energy for a non-sorcerer,” he explains. “Though, I suppose that all just sounds like gibberish to you."

You nod and look down at the box lodged in the floor. It has eyes, big creepy looking eyes. "...are you going to do the same thing to me as you did to that man?"

He laughs, "...fortunately for you, the prison realm only holds one person at a time and I need him sealed away more than you."

"...does that mean you're going to leave him in there forever?"

"If I'm feeling nice, I might unseal him in a hundred years or so."

One hundred years? At this point, you've probably lived roughly that amount of time through your loops alone, but for Satoru Gojo… "Won't he die first?"

"Only if he decides to," 'Geto' says, looking completely and wholly unbothered. "Time doesn't doesn't flow in the box, so when I unseal him, he'll be the same as he was just now. Physically anyway. Who knows how deteriorated his mind will be after all that."

Time doesn't flow in the box.

The words echo in your mind over and over. Time doesn't flow in the box. In other words, that means time has stopped in the box, and if that's the case then—

"Anyway, rather than worry about him, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?"

You look at 'Geto' and he's smiling at you, it's friendly, but ominous. There's no doubt what is going to happen next, though you had already resigned yourself to this iteration being a bust; it was only a matter of time.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I was thinking I might keep you around, even if you aren’t a sorcerer, your wealth of cursed energy would serve my plans well," he muses. "But… it would be too much trouble trying to teach you how to use it in time."

As he talks, you realize this is probably the first time your death is intentional— every other death you've suffered has just been a byproduct of the ongoing slaughter. You were just another casualty, a victim, never a target.

You're scared.

Even though you know that once he kills you, once you die, you'll just loop back to around 8:30 again. You'll be on the platform again. And you'll play out some sequence of events before you eventually die again. And again and again.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I'll be nice, though," 'Geto' says, raising a hand and another monster appears out of nowhere. You don’t even bother trying to figure out from where. It doesn’t matter, especially since this monster will surely be the one to end your life. "I'll make it painless."

"...I appreciate it," you say and close your eyes hoping that he's not lying about it.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

He didn't lie.

You die again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you're trapped.

You don't know how and you don't know why, but you are stuck in a time loop— forced to suffer through the horrific events of the night before you die and begin it all again. It's been a long time since you stopped counting how many loops you've gone through, but if you had to guess, it's probably somewhere in the hundreds now.

You are so very tired.

But it doesn't stop. It won't stop no matter what you seem to do. You are stuck. You are trapped. You are doomed.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

Ever since that first loop where you heard whoever is possessing Geto's body say that, the words have been stuck in your head, playing on loop.

You finally realize why.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

It's 8:25PM when you wake up; that should be plenty of time.

You need to find Satoru Gojo.

After hundreds of loops you've come to a singular conclusion: you need to prevent him being sealed in the prison realm. You've witnessed it enough to know that you won't be able to do it alone; you'll need his cooperation.

You rush upstairs as fast as you can, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine as you step onto the stairwell. According to your previous loops, Satoru Gojo arrives on the subway tracks at 8:40PM. With how crowded the upper floor is, you don’t know if you’ll have the time to intercept him and talk to him, but if you can at least figure out where to find him, then you can try and talk to him during a subsequent loop.

When you reach the fourth basement floor, however, you don’t know where you should even start. He’s pretty tall so you think you could spot him in the crowd, but… there are still so many people. It occurs to you that maybe it would be better to try and look from a higher vantage point so you head to the stairs that lead up to the third basement floor. You check your phone again. It’s 8:35PM; you need to hurry.

Luckily for you, you find him very easily on the third basement floor.

The only problem is that he’s in a hard to reach spot— squatting above a sign hanging over the crowd.

You check your phone again. It’s 8:38PM and he’s starting to move, presumably to meet with those waiting for him on the subway tracks. It’s good that you found him, but there’s no doubt about it.

You’re going to need more time.

The moment you wake up, you immediately bolt toward the stairs. It's taken many, many more loops, but you've finally brought the time you wake down to around 8:15. You're still not sure if it's enough time, but there's only one way to find out.

You barrel your way up to the next floor and zig zag through the crowd to get to the next flight of stairs. By the time you get to your destination, you're completely out of breath, your chest heaving as your lungs clamor for air. You’ve done this so many times, yet your body acts like it’s always the first. It sucks, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You slow to a brisk pace to catch your breath and check the time. It’s 8:27— a new record. Hopefully it’ll be enough.

The goal is to catch Satoru Gojo before he moves to his lookout point above the crowd. While not impossible, it would be difficult for you to follow him there. You eye the safety barricade that blocks off the area where he’ll be moving in just a few minutes warily.

Yes, getting over there would be extremely difficult.

You don’t want to think about it right now; you’ll deal with it when the time comes.

Especially since Satoru Gojo has now entered your field of vision.

Your heart starts to race at the sight of him and it feels like it’s beating a million times a second. There isn’t a lot of time. You need to talk to him, but your legs only wobble, your feet planted firmly to the ground. This is not good. You need to move. You need to move.

Finally, after what feels like both an instant and an eternity, your feet finally budge, propelling you in Satoru Gojo’s direction. The beating of your heart only grows louder as you make your way toward him, mingling with the single thought that’s echoing throughout your mind right now: will he even hear you out?

You need to make him.

“Excuse me!” The words nearly come out in a stutter as you realize that you are actually talking to Satoru Gojo. You have watched this man at a distance for so long that it almost felt like he wasn’t real, like he was just another fixture in this nightmare that you’ve been living for far too long. And yet, here he is, right in front of you, in the flesh.

And his attention is on you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is actually a little overwhelming. Your mouth is dry and suddenly you don’t know what to say, but you need to say something. You need to say something before he thinks maybe you bumped into him by accident and just walks away without a word.

“I need to talk to you!” The words just burst out from your mouth and something about it is just absolutely embarrassing. You’re not sure if it's desperation or the fact that you haven’t really talked to anyone other than the existence occupying Suguru Geto’s body in nearly forever.

Satoru Gojo’s lips slowly start to form a smile, “Oh, yeah?”

The sound of his voice makes your mind go blank. There’s something different about it right now; more playful, amused even. Maybe it’s because he’s talking to you, a harmless human being and not a monster trying to kill him. It’s almost kind of jarring, but you know, with certainty, what Satoru Gojo’s voice sounds like. And the fact that he’s actually talking to you right now has you kind of excited. You nod, doing your best to not show how thrilled you are that he’s not ignoring you.

He hums thoughtfully, “Sorry… but unfortunately I kind of have some business to attend to right now.”

“I—” You start to say that you know that he’s headed down to the platform below to fight with…Choso and Jogo, you think their names are— you don’t know the name of the monster with the branches for eyes. “It’s— it’s really important!”

Gojo tilts his head a little, clearly thinking. You should probably say something else, something to try and convince him to stay a little longer and hear you out, but your mind is both full and blank. Where do you start? From the beginning? Or do you start with what is most important? Maybe you should say what you think will get his attention. You’re not sure, and you realize you really should have thought about this earlier because you’re running out of time right now.

“...mind handing me your phone?”

You stare at Gojo, completely and wholly confused, but he just holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t move, he wiggles his fingers a little, a silent gesture telling you to hurry it up. Without thinking, you reach into your bag and unlock your phone before handing it to him.

“Kind of sucks that cell service isn’t working right now,” he remarks as he types something into your phone before handing it back. “But! Here's my number.”

You look down at your phone and, sure enough, Satoru Gojo has added himself as one of your contacts. He’s even added a little star to the end of his name. That’s… a little unexpected. Why his number though?

“Are you… hitting on me?” you mutter in your confusion.

He laughs, “Well, you said you had something really important to talk to me about, right? So just give me a call when you get home or some time tomorrow and we can talk then!”

You’re not going to make it home, or even to tomorrow, and neither will Satoru Gojo. As you start to tell him this, he steps past you. Desperate, you try to grab him, but somehow, for some reason, you can’t. You remember he did this with Jogo and the other monster, made himself untouchable.

This is not good.

He gives you a little wave, cheery as he says, “I’ll talk to you later!”

You watch, helpless as he hops over the barricade beyond your reach.

Gripping your phone tightly, you take a deep breath. It's fine, it's not like you didn’t expect things to go well anyway.

You'll just have to try again.

Every time you’ve tried to solicit help from Satoru Gojo, it has gone the same way. He just won’t give you the time of day, and in some ways you can’t blame him; he’s clearly here to deal with the monsters down on the platform. You’re fairly certain that he probably thinks that whatever is going on with you is a much lesser issue in comparison.

Plus, it probably doesn’t help that in the times that you’ve approached him, you haven’t been able to articulate yourself particularly well. Once you start talking to him, you just get hit with something akin to stage fright and the connection between your mind and your mouth just stops working. It’s gotten better with each attempt, but…

It’s just so frustrating.

It is interesting that Gojo has given you his number every time, star symbol and all. You’re not sure what kind of person you were expecting him to be, but after witnessing him literally and viciously rip monsters apart, you’d figured he’d be a little more somber. However, in the fragmented conversations you’ve had with him he’s come off as far more friendly and playful than you would have thought. Is he the type of person to get more serious when the situation calls for it? You can’t help but wonder, but ultimately, it doesn’t really matter.

What really matters is that you’re able to convince him to help you.

You have to convince him.

“Excuse me!” you say, stepping in Satoru Gojo’s path. You don’t stutter this time, and your voice is more sure. This is good.

“Yes?”

His head turns in your direction and you gulp. Gojo’s gaze, despite that blindfold of his, still feels just as overwhelming as it did the very first time you approached him. You have no doubt that he’s sizing you up, but there’s just something about it that makes you feel like you’re being picked apart.

You take a deep breath and step closer to him, hoping your voice sounds firm enough as you say, “I need your help. I’m trapped.”

He chuckles a little, “I know, but yours truly is on his way to go beat up the bad guys keeping you all trapped here, so soon enough you’ll be all free to go on your merry little way.”

Right. You were so caught up in your own plight that you nearly forgot that technically you’re not the only one ‘trapped.’ Satoru Gojo obviously knows that everyone else is confined to this station, but you doubt he knows that you’re confined to this night alone.

“That’s not what I mean!” you sputter.

“Then what do you mean?” Gojo asks. Should you tell him that you mean that you’re trapped in a time loop? You’re honestly not sure— in the movies and manga you’ve read about time travel, revealing that sort of thing risks creating a time paradox which seems to be a bad thing. If you have to tell him, you will, but— “Oh, I get it.”

You stare, bewildered. Did you maybe just spew all of that aloud?

Gojo gives you a mischievous smile. “You’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”

“No!” The word comes flying out of your mouth. You can’t deny he’s attractive— you’ve thought it all this time, but that is not what’s happening here.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he continues, ignoring you. “I totally get it, so if you want, I’d be happy to give you my number!”

Again? You’ve received Satoru Gojo’s contact details in every loop you’ve talked to him, star symbol and all— you even have his number memorized. There’s something kind of odd about how he keeps giving you his number. Part of you wonders if he’s got some sort of ulterior motive, but you haven’t thought too deeply about it. There are way more important things going on.

“I don’t need your phone number,” you say. “I need to talk.”

Your response seems to give Gojo pause. Did you somehow manage to get through to him? No way. Your suspicions are all but confirmed when he gives you that familiar apologetic smile.

“Like, I said, I’m sort of in the middle of something, but…” Gojo reaches into his pockets and rummages around until one hand fishes out a folded up piece of paper. The other hand keeps digging around in his pocket and when Gojo seems to give up on whatever he’s looking for, he turns his attention back to you. “Got a pen?”

What?

Gojo tilts his head. “Well?”

“I do, but…” You trail off, unsure why he’s asking.

He holds out his hand waiting for you to just hand him the pen. You still don’t get it, but you reach into your bag’s front pocket and pull out the pen and hand it to him. Gojo looks almost like an excited child when he takes it from you, quickly scribbling something onto his paper before shoving it and your pen back into your hand.

You look at the paper; it looks like a receipt. For a disturbing amount of mochi that Gojo bought earlier today. The amount of money he spent is almost sickening; way too much to be paying for mochi. More importantly, you notice something juxtaposed over the receipt’s print.

It’s Satoru Gojo’s name and number.

He even drew a little star next to his name.

“If you change your mind later, just give me a call!” he tells you cheerily. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while!”

You gawk at him. He cannot be serious. You literally just told him that you didn’t need it and yet he still gave it to you. He must want you to contact him later, but you can’t even begin to understand why. It can’t have been something you said or did, right? Unless, he’s actually—

“Later!” Gojo’s voice cuts through your thoughts and you notice him walking off with a wave.

You can’t let him get away.

Again.

You crush the receipt in your hand and rush after him. Despite the crowd, Gojo seems to move through the people with ease and it almost seems like they are yielding to him naturally. It’s good for you. Makes him easier to chase.

“Wait!” you yell, but Gojo doesn’t even look back. Bastard. Your muscles strain as you try to run faster. You know you won’t be able to grab him if you get to him, but there has to still be something you can do to stop him. Circle around him? Cut him off before he—

Satoru Gojo reaches the barricade.

“Wait!” you yell again. “Satoru Gojo, wait!”

He does not even acknowledge you.

You’re almost there though. Almost. If you reach out your hand, then maybe, maybe you can grab him. Something in your head tells you that it’s useless; you’ve never been able to touch him. But, you don’t care, you don’t care because you have to try. You stretch out your hand, desperate and hoping, but just as you do, Gojo effortlessly jumps over the barricade, moving to survey the crowd.

Due to your momentum, you almost collide into the barricade, but you manage to stop yourself. You stare at Satoru Gojo through the glass. He watches the crowd for at most three minutes. Is this just another bust? Is there really nothing you can do? There must be a way you can get his attention. Is it possible to climb over the barricade? No, it’s too high. There’s nothing you can grasp onto or use as footing either.

This fucking sucks.

Another minute or two and Gojo will be on the move again, and there will be no way you can follow, no way you can get his attention. You press your hands against the glass, pushing against it. Naturally, it doesn’t budge. Why would it? If only you could get it out of the way. If only you could break it. This stupid barricade is the only thing between you and Satoru Gojo and there’s no way you can climb it, but if only you could break it.

If only you could fucking break it.

Suddenly, the glass feels warm. Satoru Gojo’s image starts to look a little distorted as the warmth beneath your fingers grows. Something is happening. The glass starts to vibrate and shake. Violently. The tremors grow stronger and stronger. You should stop. You should back away.

You don’t.

The barricade starts to crack and fracture and soon the sound of shattering glass resounds throughout the entire room. Everyone starts screaming. No one knows what’s going on— not even you. But you don’t care. It’s gone. The barricade is gone.

You take a step forward, toward Satoru Gojo. He’s on a beam that’s about a two meter drop from where you’re standing. That’s fine. That’s okay. You can make it. You have to. Without a second thought, you jump—

And you land on the beam. You look up and Satoru Gojo’s attention is back on you. He’s finally, finally turned toward you, face twisted into an expression you can’t decipher or even comprehend, but—

Something’s wrong; your world is turning on its axis, but—

Satoru Gojo is looking at you, and—

Up is very quickly becoming down, and—

Satoru Gojo is coming closer, but—

You’re slipping—

But he’s right there, and—

You’re falling, but—

He’s trying to catch you, but—

It’s too late. It’s too late.

The last thing you think you feel—

—is Satoru Gojo’s arms around you.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are causing a commotion.

“Shit! Fuck!” you curse loudly. The people near you start to shift away but you barely notice; you don’t really care.

You were so close, so fucking close and yet… yet here you are again. It’s quarter past eight and you are back on the goddamn platform. You don’t know what happened; you remember falling and thinking you were going to die, but you are absolutely certain that, once again, this time, you didn’t die.

Is Satoru Gojo at fault again? Did he do something? Like he did all those other times you looped without dying? When you think about it more, you don’t think so. You don’t know what happened; all you know is that you tried to get to him, but you slipped.

And he caught you, you definitely remember that.

You still don’t understand why you looped, but there’s not much you can do about it now; it’s not like you can go back anymore. It just sucks, because you think he might have actually listened if you’d talked to him.

Or he would have come after you for… whatever happened with the barricade. It could have been taken as an attack on the crowd… But if he thought you were doing that, then why would he catch you?

You don’t know.

All you know is that you have to try again.

The only problem is that you don’t know how you managed to shatter the barricade. You think about it as you make your way up to where you’ll find Satoru Gojo. There is the possibility that it wasn’t you and something else happened to it instead, but that feels way too coincidental. It had to be you. That’s the only thing that makes sense. You just can’t figure out how you did it outside of wanting, wishing, praying for the barricade to break. It’s not like you have supernatural powers like Satoru Gojo and his enemies.

Despite your mind being completely and wholly occupied by trying to figure out how in the world you managed to break through that barricade, you still manage to make it to the second basement floor of Shibuya Hikarie by 8:25PM— a brand new record. Satoru Gojo doesn’t show up until around 8:34PM, so that gives you almost ten minutes to try and figure out what you need to do to try and replicate shattering the glass barricade again.

Except—

Except Satoru Gojo is already here.

The thought that maybe you’re mistaken flashes in your mind before it’s quickly dismissed; there’s no way you’d mistake anyone else for him. There is absolutely no denying it: that is Satoru Gojo. Bewildered, you double check the time on your phone. Maybe you misread it and you’re actually late but sure enough you read it right— Satoru Gojo is here early.

What the hell is going on?

Of the thousands of times you have experienced this night, this hell, this sort of thing has never happened before. Everything happens at a specific time, as if adhering to an unseen schedule. It’s likely that what happened in your last iteration did delay Satoru Gojo’s arrival onto the platform, but other than that there has never been a deviation to the time table.

And yet, here Satoru Gojo is, nine minutes early now.

You realize that that’s not the only thing that’s strange: he’s not moving. In previous rounds, when you encounter Gojo here, he’s walking to the lookout spot beyond the barricade. But, right now, he’s just standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. It almost looks like he's waiting for something.

Or someone.

This unexpected turn of events has you rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you should do. No. This shouldn’t change anything. You need to talk to him. As concerning as a change like this is, the extra time it gives you should be a good thing. Despite knowing that, your feet are still firmly planted to the ground.

The crowd shifts and you see Satoru Gojo start to move. Toward the barricade? No. He’s not heading in his usual direction, rather he’s—

You stop breathing.

He’s headed toward you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is absolutely mind numbing.

He comes to a stop before you, lips curled up to form an amused sort of smile as he says, “Soooo, you needed to talk to me?”

You try to answer but no words come out of your mouth. Are you dreaming? You have to be, right? There's no way that this is actually happening. Could it be that, after thousands of loops, you’ve finally lost it? Your mind shattering along with the glass of the barricade at the end of the last one?

Gojo tilts his head, indicating that he's still waiting for an answer. When you open your mouth, at first, nothing comes out, the words stuck in your throat. You force them out, your voice cracking, “...how did you know?”

He smiles, looking almost mischievous as he reaches up and lightly taps the side of his head. “I remembered, of course!”

All you can do is stare at Satoru Gojo. He remembered? How is that possible? From his perspective, this is the first time you’ve met and while it shouldn’t be possible for him to remember there’s something in your mind that’s keeping you from completely dismissing the possibility.

Gojo laughs, “I take it from the look on your face that you’re not used to this sort of thing happening. Is this the first time?”

“No.” The fact that the word is out of your mouth before you can even really think about it surprises you and you really have to think. Your face scrunches together as you try to remember. Is this really not the first time? Then, the memories assault you, overlapping as they replay simultaneously in your head— a woman in a yellow and white magical girl costume— begging you for help as she burns to death— smiling as she tells you she made her costume herself. “...it happened just once a long time ago.”

“‘A long time ago,’ huh. Sounds like you've been at this for a while now.”

“...unfortunately.”

Gojo hums. “So when you said you didn’t need my phone number…”

“You’d already given it to me a few times,” you say, figuring that’s where this conversation is going.

“Really now?”

Does he not believe you? Or is he just being an ass? You’re not sure, but since you had taken the liberty of memorizing Satoru Gojo’s phone number you recite it back to him to prove your point.

Just when you think you may have stunned Gojo into silence he starts to laugh, obviously finding something funny about the fact that you know his cell phone number. “Seems like you've got quite the fascinating technique there.”

Technique? What is he talking about? Your confusion must be plain on your face because he adds, elaborating, “The time travel.”

You continue to stare at him. You don't think you'd consider what you've been going through time travel, because traveling implies moving from point A to point B, but you've been stuck walking in circles at point A for a long time. What really gets you is… “What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“You mean you don’t— oh. I get it; no wonder you’re trapped.”

That does not answer your question in the slightest. “Can you please explain what you're talking about? What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“Right, right… So basically, a technique is like a special sort of power,” he finally explains. “Like I said, your technique seems to be a kind of time travel. Whenever you activate it, your mind is sent back in time.”

What he's saying makes sense, but… “How come you were sent back too?”

He laughs again. “Isn't it obvious? Think back to before— do you remember that I caught you as you were falling?”

You nod slowly. The memory of his arms around you is almost embarrassingly vivid. “...is it because we were touching?”

“Ding, ding, ding! That's correct! Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!”

Something about his tone annoys you, but you try to ignore it. He could have just told you rather than make you guess. “How do you know that for sure?”

“Well,” he continues. “You’ve done your little time loop a bunch of times, right? If your technique affected everyone, or even a few people in a select range you would have noticed for sure. And if it affected only just you then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, now would we?”

When you think about it, you do think that the woman in the magical girl costume might have bumped into you before the loop where she remembered.

“That’s honestly just conjecture, but I've got pretty good eyes, so I’m hardly ever wrong.”

Gojo gives you a grin and while you do think that his reasoning is sound enough his confidence is a little grating. More than that, though, you’re glad that this conversation is actually going really well.

“Either way,” he says thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look like you can control your technique. Usually a person’s technique manifests when they’re a kid, but you seem to be a special case… in fact, I bet your technique activated for the very first time tonight— probably under some pretty extreme circumstances, too.”

“...dying counts as an ‘extreme circumstance,’ right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Or legitimately thinking that you’re gonna die, but it seems like your body has been unconsciously activating your technique as a sort of defense mechanism. Which is why you’re trapped.”

“So, if I could control it I’d be able to make it out of this time loop.”

“Yeah, but in this case it probably wouldn’t end very well for you,” he points out with a chuckle. “It’s not like you actually want to die, right? I mean, if you did, then your technique wouldn’t even activate in the first place.”

You don’t; what you want is for this night to finally end. To be free from the endless cycle of dying over and over again and again. You don’t think death is quite the answer; even if you were to learn how to control this supposed technique of yours, there’s no guarantee that you would just unconsciously activate it when the grim reaper comes knocking on your door. No, the answer is…

“Anyway!” Gojo’s cheery voice cuts through your thoughts. “I highly doubt that you’re the type that makes a habit of jumping off ledges for the funsies, so the fact that you’ve been dying tells me that some pretty gruesome stuff is about to go down, so, tell me what happens tonight.”

The sudden drop of his voice sends a shiver running down your spine. If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve seen how serious Gojo can get, the sudden shift in demeanor would probably freak you out a bit, but it doesn’t. This is the Satoru Gojo you’re familiar with.

You do have one concern though. “That… won’t create a time paradox or anything, will it?”

“Nah,” Gojo shrugs. “You wouldn’t cause one with the way your technique works, besides, if you’ve only been going back at most an hour or two in time it’s hard to believe you’d be making a really big impact… unless you really believe in the butterfly effect.”

You’re still not quite sure.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

His voice sounds strange. Gentle. Kind. It's the most soothing thing you've heard in a long time and it makes you want to believe him.

“...okay.”

Anxiety is still gripping at you, but you try to dispel it, taking a deep breath before beginning your explanation. For the sake of brevity, it’s probably best that you’re as concise as possible. There isn’t much need to really get into the nitty gritty of things unless he asks specifically.

Naturally, you begin with his arrival onto the platform and how soon after a fight breaks out and how the crowd is unfortunate enough to be involved. Gojo’s expression is passive for the most part, but he does crack the faintest hint of a smile when you mention how he manages to eviscerate one of the monsters.

It disappears once you tell him about the arrival of the train. Between the dozens upon dozens of people being dropped onto the platform by those two high school girls and the hoard of monsters disembarking from the train, everything devolves into pandemonium.

“Wait,” Gojo holds a hand up and you pause. This is his first interruption since you started recounting the night’s events for him. “Everyone is able to see the monsters?”

You stare at him. What a weird question. “...yeah?”

His mouth twists and it looks like he’s thinking about something. You can’t even begin to imagine what. Finally, he comments, “Makes sense.”

It does not, but you don’t ask him to elaborate. Surely if it was important he would have just done so.

“Anyway, in the middle of all that, you… you do something.” Your brows bunch together as you remember the stance Gojo took, the crazed and desperate look in his eyes, the feeling of your head about to explode. “I don’t know how to describe it. At first, it would just force me to… activate my technique, I guess. But now, it just knocks me out for a few minutes.”

Gojo frowns and he rubs at his chin, obviously thinking about what you’ve said. Eventually, he raises a hand and bends his fingers into a familiar gesture. It’s the one that preludes whatever he does on the platform. “Do I do this?”

“Yeah.”

He hums. “Interesting.”

You wait to see if he’ll explain. He doesn’t. Great. Even if he doesn’t think you need to know, it certainly would be nice to. It’s annoying otherwise, but you ignore the feeling and continue. “I can’t tell you what happens when I’m knocked out, but when I come to everyone is basically a zombie and all the monsters from the train are gone. I think you kill them.”

“I probably do,” he says casually. “But what about Volcano Head?”

“...you don't…get a chance to kill him,” you say slowly. Gojo tilts his head, waiting for you to elaborate, but you hesitate. You have to tell him, you know you do, but…

You have seen the interaction so many times and though you don't know the exact nature of the relationship between them, you can tell that seeing Suguru Geto (or rather seeing his body) shook Satoru Gojo to his very core.

There's no doubt in your mind that he will not take this news well.

“Come on now,” Gojo's tone is light-hearted, unaware. “Don't keep me in suspense here.”

It's as if you're withholding the punchline to a joke. In a way, you suppose you are, but you don't think he's going to find it funny.

You take a deep breath. You need to tell him. The worst thing that could happen is that he doesn't believe you, but if that's the case… you'll probably just end up repeating this all again until you find a loop where he does.

Having made it this far, you'd like to avoid all that.

“Before you can get Volcano Head you get restrained by something called the prison realm,” you say slowly, “by someone calling themselves… Suguru Geto.”

The second the name leaves your mouth, there is a clear and obvious shift in the air. Gone is Gojo’s laid-back and frivolous demeanor, replaced with something more somber and almost frightening. The tension grows more and more palpable to the point that you think it might almost choke you.

You almost wish that it would.

“You can’t be serious,” Gojo finally says, once your words have fully sunk in.

“I—” You start to speak, but come to an abrupt stop when you see him shove his hand into his pocket to yank out his phone of all things.

The both of you know full well that there’s no reception here, but you don’t think that he’s planning on making any calls. Gojo scrolls and scrolls on his phone before he stops and shoves the screen in your face. It shows a picture of three people— a teenage girl with a cigarette in her mouth, a younger, happier version of Gojo sporting a pair of round sunglasses and—

“When you say ‘Geto’ is this who you’re referring to?” Gojo demands, using his other hand to point at the third person in the frame— a handsome young man with long dark hair pulled up into a bun.

“Yes, but—”

“That’s impossible. It can’t be him,” Gojo interrupts, his voice firm, cold even. “He’s dead.”

There’s a note of finality in his words that is definitely meant to leave no room for argument. It doesn’t stop you, though. Instead, you glare at Gojo’s stupid blindfold and say, “...being dead doesn’t mean a damn thing! I’ve died hundreds of times and yet I’m still fucking here, but—”

“Your situation is different,” he interjects, the temperature of his tone hiking up, his words like heated hissing. “I killed him almost a year ago. There's no way—”

“You didn't get rid of the body properly!” You cut him off, raising your voice in hopes that he'll take even just a second to stop and listen. It seems to work and you add something you remember ‘Geto’ saying. “You should have had Shoko Ieiri get rid of it, but you didn’t and now some… some kind of gross brain thing is possessing the corpse!”

The air between you both is silent as the grave. Though you can't see it, you can feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. He’s definitely having second thoughts about everything you’ve said so far. There’s a chance he might even think you’re his enemy now. You stare him down though, refusing to look away. You’ve made it this far, you can’t— you won’t back down.

“...you’re not lying, are you.” Gojo’s words are more of a statement than a question. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows the answer, and yet he’s still asking. You wonder if maybe he’s clinging onto some vain hope that maybe, just maybe this all a sick, cruel joke that’s gone way too far.

“I’m not.”

Gojo holds your gaze for a second longer before he lets out a curse. “Fuck!”

“...I’m sorry,” you say quietly, mostly because it feels like the most correct thing to say at this moment. You don’t know the whole story, but it seems like they were close. If so, then it must have hurt Gojo a lot to have killed him, and must hurt even more to know that someone is desecrating the body. You hate that you, a complete and utter stranger, happened to be the person to tell him, but…

It had to be done, for the sake of getting past this unending night, it had to be done.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair and lets out a ragged sigh. “Okay. What happens after that?”

You give him a rundown of what follows; he gets sealed, the monsters wake up and all but ‘Geto’ leave in search of their next target. When you mention the high school girls demanding the brain give Geto’s body back, Gojo snorts loudly.

“Fat chance of that,” he says derisively.

You nod in agreement. It was clear to you that the brain parasite has no intent on giving it up any time soon. “After they leave, he… talks to me.”

“Probably couldn't ignore all that cursed energy you have,” Gojo remarks offhandedly.

You stare at him, expression twisted in a way that shows that you have absolutely no clue what that means. It should be fine for you to ask this one question; it actually concerns you after all. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, though… probably doesn't make much sense to you, does it?”

You give him a pointed glare and all Gojo does is laugh.

“Just think of it like having a lot of MP.”

“...Like in a video game?”

“Exactly!” Then, Gojo tilts his head, clearly thinking. You don't bother asking; you don't feel like he'll explain.

“He does ask me if I'm a sorcerer, whatever that is. Is that why?”

“Probably. Ordinary people don't have even a fraction of the energy you're packing.”

‘Ordinary people’ he says as if you’re not an ordinary person who got caught up in all this supernatural sorcery bullshit. Or at least you were, but if the time loops are really a product of your own doing…

“Does he kill you when you answer?” Gojo asks to get the conversation back on track.

“Not right away. What happens next kind of varies,” you answer. “He usually lets me have a question or two before he kills me; I've asked him a couple different things.”

“Really taking advantage, aren’t you?” Gojo says and you're not sure what to make of his tone. Is he mocking you or is he easing back into that laid-back persona of his?

“If I’m doomed to repeat the same situation over and over, I might as well make the most of it,” you respond flatly.

“You know, your technique kind of reminds me of save scumming.”

He’s definitely gone back to acting almost completely unserious— all signs of his earlier agitation are nearly gone.

“So what did you learn?”

“Well, the prison realm only holds one occupant. Once they’re sealed, time stops for them and the only way out is if the bearer unseals them or if they choose to kill themselves.”

“I see… And what about our body jacker?”

“He didn’t go into detail but he said something about… striving toward the evolution of mankind?” You frown a little at the memory. He didn’t explain further because he said that you wouldn’t understand.

“Huh. Interesting. Wonder how he was gonna go about doing that.”

“I don't know, but I can't imagine you'd like it since he goes out of his way to seal you into that box,” you say. “Said you’d get in the way because you’re too strong.”

Gojo shrugs his shoulders and grins a little. Cocky. “Well, I am the strongest sorcerer around, you know.”

You would think him overconfident if you hadn't seen the magnitude of his strength first hand.

“Anyway, that's as far as I ever go. When he's decided he’s done talking to me, he kills me and I loop back.”

“So, in short, what you want help with is getting past that point, right?”

“More or less.”

“And all I have to do is avoid getting caught by the prison realm?”

You nod.

“What’s it look like?” he asks. “A big cage with a bunch of metal bars?”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t woken up early enough to see it before it traps him, but you can’t imagine it looks that much different. “No.. It’s a small box with eyes… It gets big enough to fit you in it, though.”

“Huh.” He stretches his arms out above his head as if he’s trying to emphasize how large he actually is and shoots you a grin. “Should be easy enough then. I bet our body snatcher used the shock of seeing Suguru to trap me but since I'll see it coming, avoiding it'll be a piece of cake.”

Gojo makes it sound so easy, and maybe it really is as simple as that, but you can't help but be worried still.

“Don't tell me you don't think I can do it,” he says, tilting his head.

“It's not that,” you admit. “I'm just concerned I might die before we can get to that point.”

Truthfully, since you know that will just result in another loop you're less concerned with dying itself and more worried about losing the progress you've made in convincing Gojo to help you. Even though it's been clearly proven you can loop him as well, there's no guarantee you'll be able to make the physical contact needed to do it upon death.

“You've made it pretty far on your own, though, right?”

“Yeah, but… I’ve messed up plenty of times.” More than you can even count. “There's also the possibility that taking the time to talk to you might have thrown things out of whack.”

Speaking of time, you check your phone. It's 8:39PM. You curse.

Gojo leans over to check your phone. “Let me guess, I'm supposed to be somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, this is when you’re descending down onto the platform.”

“You know where I am down to the exact minute?” He asks and you tilt your head back and forth a little. It’s not exact per se, but it’s close enough. Gojo chuckles a little. “Man, I didn’t realize that you were actually that into me.”

That earns Gojo a glare from you, but he just laughs it off. “I doubt being a few minutes late is going to make a big difference.”

You certainly hope so.

“Don't worry,” Gojo says and you notice he's using that tone from earlier. “You won't die.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he uses such a reassuring sounding voice and yet, you still open your mouth to try— to voice your doubts, but what he says next silences you before you even can.

“I'll protect you.”

You think your heart stops beating in your chest and your words dissolve in your throat.

He grins at you. “Did you fall in love with me just now?”

That catches you a little off guard. You're willing to admit he's hot, but surely he must be joking. “How could you even think of something like that at a time like this?”

Gojo laughs again. “Well, since someone is so worried about their time table being all messed up, I better head down there; can’t keep Volcano Head and friends waiting, right?”

You blink. Is that it? “Wait, shouldn’t we make a plan or something?”

“Isn’t the plan for me to not get caught in the prison realm?”

Yes, but… “But what about me? Is there anything I can do?”

Gojo stares at you, or at least you think he does. “...I don’t know, is there?”

You’ve seen the encounter between Satoru Gojo and those monsters so many times and you try to picture a version of it where you intervene and… all you can see is yourself getting in his way. You’re no fighter, no… sorcerer, or whatever he is, you’re just some ordinary person that was unfortunate enough to get all caught up in this mess. The most you can probably do is kick the prison realm out of the way when the time comes, but otherwise… “...no, I guess not.”

His expression turns sympathetic. “You’ve done plenty by telling me everything that happens. So just wait up here, and let me handle the monsters.”

You almost nod. Almost. But then you remember what transpires up here above the platform. You know it sounds safer up here where you’re less likely to get involved in the carnage, but… “Wait, no, if I stay up here then I’ll fall to my death when those girls—”

Gojo laughs, interrupting you. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be fine.”

“How?”

“Just trust me.”

“I…” It’s hard to. After everything you’ve gone through it’s hard to trust in anything, to believe in anything. Even though you’ve made it this far this time, the worry that something will go wrong and that you’ll have to do it all again still lurks in the back of your mind.

Despite all that, you want to believe.

You want to believe that you can make it past this unending night, that one day you’ll wake up and it’ll no longer be October 31, 2018. And the first step towards that is trusting in Satoru Gojo.

“...okay,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Gojo chuckles then asks, “Anything else before I head off?”

You start to ask if there’s anything you should say, in case things don’t work out, but you stop yourself. You’re choosing to trust him, to believe in him— you can figure out that stuff later if things end up going south after all. So, instead you give him a smile and it feels a little weird because you don’t remember the last time you did. “Good luck!”

For a split second, Gojo looks almost surprised, but then he laughs again, beaming widely at you. He starts to move past you and reaches out to give you what you think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder and then he’s off. You turn to watch him go, the crowd, once again, parting almost naturally for him.

When he reaches the barricade, he pauses, raising his hand as if he’s giving you one last wave. Then he jumps over it onto his little perch and then less than a minute later he’s gone, descending to the platform below.

Now, all you can do is wait.

You check your phone again and it’s 8:44PM. If you remember correctly, the high school girls start threatening everyone right before 9PM. With Gojo’s arrival being shifted back almost five minutes, does that mean that they’ll be shifted back too? It would make sense, but you’re not too sure.

Out of habit, you keep checking your phone and at nearly 9PM, you hear the shrill voice of one of the girls over the crowd, commanding everyone to do what she says, her partner stringing up bodies until everyone listens. Everything plays out just as you remember it, which is mildly comforting, though you know that the events that happen up here are more or less independent from what happens below.

Surely, just as Gojo said, a few minutes aren’t going to change anything, but—

No.

You agreed to trust him. To trust that everything would be fine.

When the girls start to demand that as many people as possible climb onto the roots and vines covering the atrium your heart starts to hammer in your chest. In just a few minutes, all the foliage will disintegrate beneath you, and you and everyone else here will fall into the abyss below.

You are afraid.

There isn’t a single loop where you’ve really survived this fall. If you don’t die in midair, you die right after landing. It’s a death trap, and that’s why you’ve stopped coming up here. There’s a part of you, the part that knows what’s about to happen, that wants to try and run back onto stable footing. But you can’t, because you know if you do then the girls will kill you for sure; you have to stay.

It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, it’ll be okay.

You just have to trust Gojo.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You hear the announcement faintly below you. It’s almost time. You brace yourself and try to stay calm. Gojo said he would protect you, that you wouldn’t die. You don’t know how he intends to keep that promise, but all you can do is believe in his words.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.

The vines and roots start to crack and the ground beneath you starts to give out. You squeeze your eyes shut as that sickening weightless feeling overtakes you. It occurs to you that this is actually quite literally a trust fall— will Satoru Gojo really be able to catch you?

As you fall, you realize almost instantly that something is different.

You’ve experienced this fall dozens of times and so, even though it has been a while since you’ve gone this route, you are very familiar with what it feels like. Something is different. You’re falling faster. The trajectory is changing. It’s like some force, other than gravity, is pulling at you.

Is this Gojo’s doing?

Just as your body collides with the ground you hear the sounds of mutilating flesh meld with the screams surrounding you. Blood and severed limbs litter the ground, but you try to ignore it. You need to focus on your own survival right now. Quickly, you scramble to your feet scan the area around you; you’re on the platform right now and right in front of you is—

Right in front of you is Satoru Gojo.

His back is turned to you, his focus currently elsewhere. Looking at him you realize you recognize this scene, though it’s much closer and at a different angle. He’s about to do that thing, that thing that knocks you out.

Something in you tells you to move closer to him, after all, he used his mysterious powers to deliberately bring you closer to him, right? You rush toward him and as you do something he said earlier pops up in your mind.

Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!

Whatever he’s about to do… Is that his ‘technique?’ And if it is, would it work the same way as yours? If so, there’s only one way to find out: you need to touch him. You dodge monsters and other people as you run toward Satoru Gojo and—

A monster still manages to grab you, its large hands wrapping around your wrist. You try and yank it free, but it's much stronger than you are.

“Shit!” you hiss as the monster starts to pull you toward it and away from Gojo. What do you do? Your other hand is still free, should you try to punch it in the face? Or—

Before you can do anything, something blasts the monster’s head clean off. Shocked, you stare as the monster’s body slumps onto the ground, its grip loosening on you instantly. You whip your head around to find that while Gojo still has his back to you, his arm is bent back in your direction, his palm open as if he fired some invisible blast from it.

Then you feel it again, something pulling at you, but this time it's more forceful. Your body is yanked toward Gojo and the second you feel his hand press against you, you see him make that gesture with his other hand.

“Domain Expansion,” he whispers in a strained voice. “Infinite Void!”

Something happens and your vision flashes for a fraction of a second. And then—

The room is enveloped in an eerie stillness; all the violence and bloodshed coming to an abrupt stop. Monsters and humans alike stand like the living dead, unconscious with their eyes wide open as if they are staring into an infinite abyss. You recognize this scene, you’re familiar with it because it’s similar to the one you wake up to after being hit by Gojo’s ‘domain expansion.’ The only difference is the presence of the monsters, who are all but gone when you regain consciousness.

The pressure from Gojo’s hand is gone and he says to you, his voice still low. “If you’re squeamish when it comes to blood and gore, it might be best for you to close your eyes.”

And then he’s gone.

You do not take his advice. You do not close your eyes. How many loops were you unable to witness what’s about to unfold? A few hundred? A few thousand? And if all goes to plan, then you will never get another chance again: there’s no way you could possibly look away.

And what you see unfold before you is that Satoru Gojo was right.

He is the one to kill all the monsters.

It’s not as if you really had any doubt, after all, it seemed like the most logical conclusion to come to and yet…

There’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

All the violence resumes and the platform is engulfed in the sounds of carnage and slaughter once more. The lack of terrified screams makes everything more disconcerting— without them, all you can hear is the squelching echo of mangled flesh and blood splattering all over the place. You can’t really see him, but you can tell where Satoru Gojo is in the crowd as he leaves dozens upon dozens of decapitated heads soaring in his wake. Once or twice, he leaps out of the crowd and even from where you stand you can see the crazed glow of his inhumanly blue eyes as he massacres monster after monster.

Even though you don’t think you have anything to be scared of, you are still terrified: Satoru Gojo is no longer a man, but violence incarnate. You want to move closer to where Gojo gets trapped, but you’re afraid to. What if you get in his way? What if he kills you by accident?

Dying again when you’ve made it this far is definitely not ideal, but isn’t being killed by Gojo the best case scenario? Because then the two of you would probably loop together again and—

No.

Gojo said you wouldn’t die.

He said he’d protect you.

It’s hard to believe when he’s in the middle of a massacre, slaughtering monsters left and right, but you remind yourself yet again that you have to believe in him.

You take a deep breath and start moving, taking care to keep an eye on where Gojo is. You don’t know how long this is supposed to take, but you do know where he ends up when he’s just about done. The closer he gets to that spot, the sooner the prison realm will be unleashed upon him.

There’s a small group of zombified people nearby and you settle yourself among them. It’s not super close, but you think it's close enough that you'd be able to run over and kick the box away from Gojo if you have to. You do a quick survey to see if you can spot the body snatcher, but he's nowhere to be found. Hopefully, he hasn't noticed you moving around, or, if he has, he's more concerned with Gojo than he is with you. Given that you always seem to be the last thing he acknowledges, you'd like to think that he doesn't consider you a threat.

Which you're not, not really anyway.

The sounds of slaughter start to die down and you look to see Gojo approaching the spot where he gets caught. He looks beat, his eyes unfocused and his breathing heavy. You do another quick scan around him and notice a small box a few meters away from him, wrapped in what looks like paper charms or seals or whatever they're called. That has to be the prison realm— though it looks different than what you saw before. Gojo seems to notice it right after you do, his gaze honing in on it, examining it with some measure of bewilderment. Then, some invisible force slices through all the paper seals covering the box and it expands, the corners of the box floating up in midair to reveal what looks like a large sheet of dark red flesh with a large bloodshot eye stapled to the middle.

Disgusting.

If Gojo didn’t realize before, he seems to now, because he takes a step back, away from the grotesque thing. Good, good—

“Hey! Satoru!” Your blood runs cold at the sound of the body snatcher’s voice. He emerges from the crowd, smiling widely as he gives Gojo a wave. “Long time no see!”

Satoru Gojo’s entire body goes rigid. Shit. You told him, you warned him about what was going to happen, who he was going to see, but was that not enough? It’s possible that no amount of warning would have been enough to mentally prepare Satoru Gojo for the sight of the man he said he killed a year ago. After all, you know that there’s a stark difference between knowing and seeing. Even then, if Gojo doesn’t gather his wits and move now then he’s going to get caught and you can’t let that happen.

Your body moves before you can even think about it.

You scramble out from your hiding spot in the crowd and throw yourself in between Satoru Gojo and the prison realm. There’s no way you can kick it away from him now, not when it’s in this form, but maybe, if you get between them you can at least keep it from capturing him.

The eye quivers erratically, as it flits from Gojo to you. Every hair on your body stands on end as it watches you, the pupil dilating and contracting uncontrollably. You can’t look away from it, your own gaze fixed to your image reflected in the black abyss of the pupil. Something in the back of your mind tells you to stop, to get away, it’s dangerous, but you keep your feet firmly planted to the ground.

A second, or maybe even a minute passes and the prison realm shifts, its fleshy form morphing to restrain you.

The body jacker looks at you, his frown tinged with disgust. “Don’t you think you’re being rather rude by butting into what could have been a touching reunion?”

You scowl. Is he still trying to play the role of Suguru Geto?

He sighs and looks past you at Gojo. “Satoru, I thought bringing lesser sorcerers to fight alongside you was more trouble than it was worth?”

You hear Gojo snort from behind you, “It is… but this person here isn’t a sorcerer… Just like you aren’t Suguru Geto.”

The faker almost pouts and presses his hand to his chest as if Gojo's words have wounded him. “Satoru, I’m hurt, how could you say such a thing to your best friend?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Gojo snarls. “You can’t fucking fool me. You might be in Suguru’s body but I know with all my heart and soul that you’re not him.”

The corpse snatcher stares at Gojo, expression blank before he sighs once more. Then, his gaze shifts back to you, his eyes narrowed as he looks at you with sheer disdain. It feels as if you’ve been drenched in ice cold water. There's no smile this time but you already know what's going to happen.

He’s going to kill you.

“I intended to deal with you later since you seemed harmless enough,” he says, raising a hand to summon a monster— the same one he always uses to end your life. “But you’re in the way. So, I think it’s for the best if I just get rid of you right now.”

Instinctively, you try to take a step back but the prison realm’s restraints keep you in place. Not that it would have mattered much, even in the loops where you’ve tried to escape the faker’s monster, it still kills you, too fast and too agile for an ordinary human like you to avoid. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the monster to kill you. At least, it’s always painless.

Something touches your back.

Your eyes shoot open.

Before you is the monster, wiggling and writhing only mere centimeters from your face. It gurgles and snarls at you, desperate to fulfill its master’s wishes and kill you but it doesn’t move any closer. You stare at it with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

Someone behind you clicks their tongue— Gojo. You try to turn your head to look at him, but your movements are too limited, the most you can do is turn your head to the side. The sounds the monster is making start to change, sounding more frenzied, almost as if it’s in pain, and you flit your eyes in its direction just in time to see its entire body explode. The monster's guts and bright purple blood fly off in every direction, getting on the floor, the ceiling, the zombified bodies of the people unfortunate enough to be nearby, but not on you.

This is Satoru Gojo’s doing.

He steps in front of you, half turned towards you as he moves in between you and the body snatcher. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he loudly says, “Did you really forget about me?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the body snatcher.

Past him, the imposter scowls, raising his hand once more, probably to summon even more monsters, but Gojo’s quicker, and it almost looks like his eyes are glowing even brighter, the blue looking almost white as he whips his head in the faker’s direction. The sound of mangling flesh and breaking bones echoes throughout the room as Gojo, using that mysterious power of his, seems to break the faker’s arm.

The body snatcher hisses loudly and despite the fact that his face is twisted in very obvious pain, he tries to shoot Gojo a mocking smile. “Do you really think you can kill your best friend again?”

“I already told you,” Gojo turns to fully face the monster inhabiting Geto’s corpse. He tilts his head a little to the side and some force starts to squeeze at the faker’s neck. “You’re not Suguru.”

You hear a loud crack as Gojo telekinetically snaps his neck.

The head rolls onto the ground and you almost look away, but then you notice his eyes still moving, looking around. Is he still alive? Then you remember: the thing possessing Suguru Geto’s body was some kind of parasite. “Gojo! Wait! The brain!”

He reacts almost instantly, head turning and in an instant the skull is crushed and all that remains is red splotch on the ground.

You almost relax. Almost.

But the body is still standing.

Horrified, you watch as it quivers violently before falling to the ground. Then what looks like dozens of black spirits start to erupt from the corpse and the entire room is engulfed with a shrill howling.

What the hell is going on?

“Those must be all the cursed spirits he consumed,” Gojo explains uselessly, voice barely audible over the screaming. “Guess he was empty before.”

You don’t bother asking what he means. There are bigger problems right now. “What do we do?”

“No choice to exorcise them,” he answers plainly.

For him to exorcise them, he means. You both know that there’s not much that you can do. You still can’t move and honestly, you don’t even know if it’s possible to get out of the prison realm’s restraints. Not without dying. And if you die now…

Everything will have been for naught.

You’ll reset time and have to do this all over again— assuming you can even get to this point again.

There has to be something, you just have to think outside the box.

Or rather—

“Gojo!”

He glances back at you.

“You need to seal me in the prison realm!” you exclaim. He turns to face you fully, looking bewildered and you start to explain as fast as you can. “Those things are going to attack any minute right? I can’t move or try to hide and I can’t expect you to protect me the entire time and if I die then I’ll end up looping time again, but— but, if you seal me in the prison realm then that won’t happen.”

Gojo frowns, looking conflicted. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“Wouldn't it be easier if you didn’t have to?”

He tilts head and you think he’s conceding your point.

“Please,” you beg, staring at him desperately. “We don’t have much time. The other… cursed spirits will wake up soon too!”

You don’t have to explain that you mean Volcano Head and friends.

It takes only a second for Gojo to consider the very few options you have. “...how do you seal it? Do you know?”

“I think so,” you answer. “There’s no guarantee it’ll work but I think that if you say ‘prison realm, gate close’ it should seal me inside.”

If anything, it’s worth a shot.

Gojo nods. “Do you know how to break the seal?”

“I… don’t,” you confess. You never asked, and you don’t think the body snatcher would have told you even if you did. He only told you that it holds one and that…

That time doesn’t flow in the box.

“...you don’t have to break the seal.”

Gojo frowns, “Wait a sec—”

“Even if I make it past tonight… What if this all happens again? What if I inadvertently trap myself in another time loop?” you ask. “I… I don’t want to have to go through all of this again. It’s better for me in a place where time doesn’t pass.”

You don’t know for sure if it’ll be better, but right here, right now, it seems like the best option.

It feels like an eternity passes before Gojo says anything.

“...fine,” he agrees and you don’t quite know how to feel about it. The howling around you all grows louder. You wonder why the cursed spirits haven’t attacked yet. Maybe Gojo’s power is holding them at bay… for now anyway. You both know that he can’t ignore them forever.

“...before I do, though, mind if I ask you just one thing?”

You blink. “Not sure what I can do for you in this state…”

He laughs. “I just want to know your name.”

What an odd request. Though, now that you think about it, you don’t think that during this loop or any other loop really, you’ve ever told him your name. It only seems fair to tell him, since you’ve known his for longer than he’s known of your existence.

You tell him your name.

He nods, looking as if he’s committing to memory. Probably easier to remember than his phone number. “Any last words?”

You try to think of something. Nothing comes to mind and you just shake your head.

Gojo takes a deep breath, “Alrighty then… Prison realm, gate close.”

Just as it did the many times you’ve seen Satoru Gojo sealed away, the boxes and restraints around you vibrate a little before they start to close around you, growing large enough to fit your body as they approach.

You won’t see it, but once you’re inside the box will shrink and become small enough to fit in the palm of someone’s hand.

Will it be quiet inside?

In your final seconds, some words, some last words come to mind, and you say them, hoping that he hears them in time. “Thank you, Satoru Gojo.”

You burn the glittering glow of his brilliant bright blue eyes into your mind.

And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black.

It’s November 30, 2018— morning on the campus of Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.

Satoru Gojo strides through the school grounds, casually tossing a small silver box with eerie blue eyes known as the prison realm up and down in his grasp. Walking at his side is Shoko Ieiri, a pretty woman who’s been unfortunate enough to have been Satoru’s friend since high school.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shoko asks, twirling a few strands of her long brown hair.

“What do you mean?” Satoru responds nonchalantly. “All my ideas are good ideas.”

Shoko hums in clear dissent, but doesn’t say anything more. Even she knows better than to try and waste her time trying to argue with Satoru. “I’m just worried about their mental state. Didn’t you say that time doesn’t flow in the box?”

“I’d be worried if it was some normal person,” Satoru says. “But after what they’ve gone through I think they’ll be fine.”

“...well, if you say so.”

The two arrive at their destination: the largest training area on the Jujutsu High grounds. Satoru places the prison realm at the center and takes a few steps back with Shoko standing behind him, in case anything happens.

He doesn’t think it will, but it’s always good to take at least a few precautions.

“Gojo, are you sure we should be doing this?” Shoko asks again. “Didn’t they want to remain in the box?”

“Of course I am,” Satoru says with his usual air of confidence before looking back at the prison realm nestled in the grass. He grins and then—

“Prison realm, gate open.”

if you made it this far. thank you. it's my sincerest hope that you enjoyed the ride. 3

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

support for palestine | masterlists | joel miller masterlist

PAIRING: JOEL MILLER X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY

Joel wants to go camping for his fiftieth birthday. He makes it worth your while. Part of the Cruel Summer series, but can be read as a oneshot.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is my (late) entry for the Summer Lovin' Challenge hosted by @chaotic-mystery , @pedgito , and @amanitacowboy. This prompt had me spiraling with like five different drafts but in the end, it actually got me thinking of Cruel Summer, which is one of the first fics I wrote for this fandom and holds a very special place in my heart. If you've read that fic, I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into their lives. Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💕

WARNINGS

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), established relationship, age gap (35F and 50M), able bodied reader, no use of y/n, camping as a plot device, brief mentions of their relationship history as written in cruel summer, semi-public sex - tent, vaginal fingering, oral - female receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, pet names. please let me know if there are any that i missed!

When you agreed to go camping, you didn’t think it would be this miserable.

“Joel, where’s the bug spray?” You call from inside the tent. “I’m getting eaten alive out here!”

“It’s ’cause you’re so sweet, darlin’,” Joel replies. He pokes his head inside the tent flap. “Try the side pocket.”

You check the pocket in question, mumbling under your breath as you finally locate the bug spray. Joel backs up to allow you outside to douse yourself in the spray until you’re coughing from the fumes. When you’re done, you hand the bottle to Joel with a glare. He grins at you.

“Think you might have missed a spot,” he jokes, spraying himself with a more conservative amount.

“Very funny,” you reply. “Is it time to go home yet?”

“Not even close.” 

You groan. “Fine. What do we do now?”

“We enjoy what nature has to offer.”

“We could have done that with air conditioning. Have you watched Animal Planet?”

Joel reaches for your hand, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. “I know it ain’t your idea of a vacation, but it’ll be fun. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his hands sliding down your back until they rest on your ass. He gives one cheek a rough squeeze that makes you gasp. “If you behave.”

“Define behave,” you reply. He laughs, head thrown back with the force of it. 

“As little whinin’ as you can manage,” he says.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s my girl.”

You kept your word throughout the hike Joel leads you on, only complaining about the hills once. It all becomes worth it when you break through the tree line and find yourself on a cliff overlooking the canyon below, the scene so picturesque it takes your breath away. 

“It’s so pretty,” you say, breathless from the view and the hike in equal measure.

“Sure is,” Joel replies, but when you turn to look at him, you find he’s watching you. The attention makes you feel warm and giddy. “Was it worth the bugs?”

“Maybe. Jury’s still out,” you tell him. He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Thanks for comin’ out here with me.”

You kiss him back, his beard rough beneath your lips. “Of course. It’s not every day you turn fifty.”

“Don’t remind me.”

When you first met Joel twelve years ago, he’d been hired by your parents to work on their house while they were off on a cruise and you were home from college for the summer. The start of your relationship was rocky at best but now the two of you have managed to build a life together despite the early hurdles. 

“Let’s get back to the tent before it gets too dark,” he suggests, bringing you back to the present. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Is the surprise your—“

“Don’t be a little devil,” Joel says, cutting you off as you laugh.

Back at the campsite, Joel drags the cooler out of the tent and opens it, gesturing to the contents like he’s on a game show. Inside you see a stack of chocolate bars, a box of graham crackers and a bag of marshmallows. 

“Are we making s’mores?” You ask, unable to hide your glee. 

“Yep. But first, you’re goin’ to build a fire.”

You stare blankly at him. “Come again?”

“I’ll make sure you do,” he says with a wink. 

“I can’t build a fire.”

“You can’t build a fire yet. I’ll teach you. Come on, let’s find some kindling.”

Joel leads you around the campsite, helping you collect dry twigs and leaves. At the fire ring, he guides you through the steps of setting up the tinder before handing you a box of matches. You strike a match and attempt to get the kindling to catch, but the flame almost reaches the tips of your fingers before it can and you drop the match in panic.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up,” Joel says. 

“Then why don’t you help me?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Despite his joke, Joel kneels beside you and takes the matches from your hand, lighting one. He holds the flame to one of the dry leaves in the pile and once it catches, he leans in to gently blow into the building flame until it’s strong enough to sustain itself. He leans back and gives you a smug smile that makes you roll your eyes. 

“There. Now you’ve built your first fire,” he says. 

Joel brings the cooler and the roasting skewers he packed over to the fire and begins arranging the supplies on a plate while you sit nearby on the log bench. You tip your head back to look up at the sky, the last remnants of the sunset fading and the stars beginning to blanket the inky darkness. There’s a tranquility out here you’re not used to, not with your busy schedule at the hospital and the chaos of having a teenager and a pre-teen at home. 

Joel taps your shoulder for your attention and hands you a roasting fork loaded with a jumbo marshmallow on the tip. You take it from him and lean closer to the fire, sticking the marshmallow straight into the blaze.

“That’ll burn it,” Joel warns, keeping his further away.

“They’re better crispy,” you argue. When the marshmallow catches fire, you pull it back out and let it burn for a moment, watching the exterior turn black before you hastily blow out the flame.

“That just ain’t right.” Joel continues to slowly roast his, turning the fork periodically. 

The two of you spend a few hours enjoying the s’mores and each other’s company. When the fire dies down and you run out of supplies, you lean your head against Joel’s shoulder.

“You ready to admit that campin’ ain’t that bad?” Joel asks. 

“I don’t know. I could still use a little convincing,” you reply, lifting your head to look at him.

His warm, broad palm settles on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl. It’s slow and deep, none of the rush you feel back at home because the pace of your lives calls for it. This moment, under the stars and in front of the fire, has you feeling like you’re twenty-three again, jumping head first into what would be the best decision of your life.

You’re breathless when Joel pulls away and brings his hand to your cheek, his thumb swiping across your kiss swollen lips. 

“Why don’t you go get comfortable in the tent for me and I’ll take care of puttin’ out the fire?” He suggests. 

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you reply, standing up so quickly you nearly knock your husband off balance. He smacks your ass as you turn to leave and the sound of his laughter follows you into the tent.

Once inside, you turn on the little battery powered lantern Joel hung up and find your bag, rifling through the contents for the lingerie you brought along for the trip. You quickly strip yourself of your clothing from the day and change into the matching set before settling on the pile of sleeping bags with your feet towards the entrance.

You hear the zipper on the tent flap and your heart races as Joel comes into view, pausing to look his fill and whistling lowly. He crawls inside, hovering over you on his hands and knees.

“All this for me?” He asks, ducking his head down to kiss your collarbone. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself,” you joke. Joel laughs, warm hand cupping your breast and his fingers pinching your nipple through the fabric. Your back arches at the sensation.

“Some things never change.” 

Joel’s lips meet yours in a languorous kiss that pulls little moans from you as it progresses into something heated and urgent. You’re arching beneath him, demanding more touch, more attention, and he’s never been one to turn you down. One of his hands traces the length of your body until his fingers dip beneath the elastic of your underwear, immediately tracing through your wet heat.

“Goddamn,” Joel says, voice dark and eyes darker with lust. “Already so wet for me, huh?”

It’s not a question to be answered, not when he dips two fingers inside of you and curls them with an expert precision that makes you gasp. His thumb circles your clit each time his fingers draw back. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs. “Always so fuckin’ pretty.” 

He keeps the perfect rhythm with his fingers until you’re gasping his name and he’s talking you through your release with whispered praise and dirty words. When you’re boneless and breathless, he withdraws his hand and lifts it to your face, pressing his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth and he slips the digits against your tongue, the distinct taste of yourself exploding across your tastebuds.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clean ‘em up,” Joel commands. His eyes are fixed on you as you obey, his jaw tense as you put on a show for him, licking and sucking his fingers like you would his cock. 

Joel pulls his hand away and makes quick work of removing your underwear, sliding the fabric down your thighs and tossing it aside. He spreads your legs wide enough to settle on his belly between them, face inches from your now bare pussy. 

He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, repeating the attention until he’s so close to where you desperately need him that you can feel the warmth of his breath and you shiver in anticipation. When the heat of his mouth envelopes your sensitive clit, the sudden stimulation has you thrusting your hips against his face. His grip tightens on your thighs, holding you in place as he lavishes your cunt with messy attention.

You reach down to tangle your fingers in his dark hair, the strands now streaked with more gray than they have been in the past when you’ve been in this exact position. Joel groans against you, the vibration making you whimper and beg for more, more, more.

He’s a man on a mission, not stopping for breath or pausing to tease and taunt you with pet names and dirty words. His tongue circles your clit in broad strokes that has another wave of release cresting and crashing over you in record time. Your thighs shake in his grip and your fingers tighten in his hair to a point that you know must be painful but you just don’t care, and neither does he.

Your muscles finally relax and that’s when he sits up, frantically unbuttoning his flannel shirt with uncoordinated fingers and wrestling his boots and jeans off with equal fervor. His cock stands at attention and your mouth waters at the view, the thick head flushed and glistening with precum. You’re close to offering an equal exchange, his mouth on you for your mouth on him, but he has other ideas.

Joel’s hands paw at your hips, turning you over so that you’re flat on your belly. You lift your head to look over your shoulder as he shoves your right leg up with a bend at your knee, baring your pussy for him. He settles between your legs and takes himself in hand, running the head of his cock through the mess he’s made of you.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, slipping himself inside of you the tiniest bit, just enough to feel the stretch of him and want more. “Tell me you’re ready.”

“I’m so ready,” you moan, lifting your hips to take him in deeper. He wraps both hands around your bare hips as he sinks inside of you with one smooth thrust that leaves you gasping.

Joel lowers his body on top of yours, his chest to your back and his lips on your shoulder as he starts to thrust his hips, the angle deep and perfect on every slide inside of you and his cock dragging against your g-spot each time he draws back. He takes his time using your body for your shared pleasure and you relish the way he’s taken over every one of your senses.

“Gonna come,” he murmurs against your neck before biting at the skin over your pulse. You tighten around him and he groans, hips growing erratic in their movements. It’s only a few more sloppy thrusts before his hips are pressing tightly to your ass and he goes still, warmth flooding you as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You whine at the loss when Joel pulls away but he’s quick to return with a wet wipe that he uses to clean you up a bit before settling back down beside you. You rest your head on his chest and his fingers trace patterns on your shoulder as the sweat cools on your skin. 

“You ready to admit campin’ ain’t so bad?” Joel asks. 

“Consider me convinced.”

[fayes-fics]

Friends & Family

Friends + Masterpost

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Anthony has a very important question to ask, but the universe appears to be conspiring against him. Threequel. Set a year after the first fic in this series

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Public sexual acts, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, woman on top, back-to-back orgasm. Also, on a non-sexual front, all sorts of emotions and thwarted proposals.

Word Count: 5.4k

Authors Note: This is VERY, VERY belated request fill for the divine @colettebronte. She has had the patience of a saint as I have grappled with this request for many months. I hope this is worth the wait, but to be honest, after this delay, I'm not sure anything could be. Thank you to @sorryallonsy for betaing. Please enjoy <3

I

“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, what is this??” 

There is an undignified yelp, and a spatula drops to the floor with a loud splat. Apparently, he didn't hear you come in.

“Bloody hell! You scared the shit out of me… And what is the full-name business all about?” he exclaims, spinning around, holding his hands aloft as if in a hostage situation. The sight is made even funnier by the fact he is wearing one of your novelty aprons, complete with floppy bunny ears.

You have walked in from afternoon coffee with old friends to find your kitchen in absolute disarray. Pots, pats on every surface, opened containers, the contents of your spice cupboard all pulled out and haphazardly dotted around. There is a large pile of reusable shopping bags with half-open veggies in and what looks like a sourdough loaf cut open and likely going stale next to the complete wrong knife for the job at hand. There is almost no worktop surface that is left unused or covered in some sticky-looking residue from god knows what. 

“I said yes to you making dinner while I was out; I did not say you could conduct some kind of controlled explosion in my kitchen,” holding your hands up in exasperated resignation. 

Frankly, it’s a mystery why he offered to make dinner in the first place; you have never seen the man so much as boil an egg in all the years you have known him. And certainly not in the twelve months you have loved him. His idea of cooking is usually stopping at Whole Foods to pick up a hot rotisserie chicken.

He walks towards you with that adorable puppy dog expression, his perennial get-out-of-jail-free card. You pick a fleck of what you think is broccoli from his hair as he reaches you.

“Points for effort?” he pouts, a tiny smile toying with the corners of his mouth, seeking forgiveness. You let him pull you into his arms and kiss your cheek. “Do you still love me?” he teases, pulling back to shoot you that perfect-toothed charming grin.

“I’ll love you even more if you tidy all this up,” you counter, raising an eyebrow as he chuckles. “Although I’m intrigued. You have never once made dinner since we’ve been dating; why now?”

“Well, I wanted to do something special…” he says pointedly, pulling away to switch off the hob when there is a slight burning smell in the air.

“What’s so special about today?” You frown.

“Really?” He spins around to look at you, a slight pout as you wrack your brains. “What happened on this date one year ago?”

Ohhh…

You feel bad you had completely not realised it. Exactly one year ago to this day, you got together after many years of combative flirting. Heart melting in your ribcage as you suddenly realise this is him attempting to cook an anniversary dinner for you. 

“You secret romantic, you,” you murmur, contrition and affection burning inside as you can't help but seek his touch.

“Don’t let anyone know,” he jests as he pulls you into his arms again and kisses your temple. “I have a reputation to uphold….”

“Of course…” you giggle, resting your head on his shoulders as you sway together in the bombsite that was your kitchen. “And here was me thinking you would do something far more risqué…”

“Such as..?” he prompts, intrigued by where your thoughts have gone.

“Oh, I don't know….” you run your fingers into his lush hair, pressing into him. “Maybe take me back to that same penthouse your friend owns. Maybe make it to that overpriced sofa this time…” his eyes flash dark and dangerous, licking his lips, and you feel compelled to continue, “Maybe even that enormous bed. And the balcony….”

He groans gently as his mind no doubt fills with the same images as yours. “Fuckkkkkkk….” he rues, “I should have done that. I’m definitely no Gordon Ramsey….”

You laugh and run your hands up his biceps. “Maybe not. But I do have a suggestion…” you offer, dropping your voice a little smokier.

“Tell me…” Anthony rumbles, nudging your cheek until your lips brush, fingers digging into your flesh where he holds you.

“Let's work up an appetite and then order from our usual. Tidying up can wait…” you whisper, mouth ghosting over his, fingers opening the top button of his shirt and toying with the patch of chest hair.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

You squeal gently as he picks you up and strides towards your bedroom. The little navy velvet box burning a hole in his suit jacket pocket can wait for another day. Perhaps.

—

II

During a boring editorial meeting the following morning, your phone buzzes in your lap.

AB: Can you be at mine at 7pm tonight?

Y/N: Yes… but why?

AB: All will be revealed 😉 

AB: Come hungry for delicious protein 

Y/N: Filthy. I like it. 😉😛

AB: OMG NO! Not THAT. Bloody hell…

Y/N: Shame…

AB: Well, okay, maybe a bit of that. Afterwards. 😉

Y/N: *victory dance* 💃 

AB: I love you, you filthy animal 😛😘

—

You walk into Anthony’s kitchen at precisely 7pm that evening to find some very posh-looking man in a bowtie pouring some wine into the good glasses. The ones you are too scared to use. 

“What is all this?” Your curiosity piqued.

“Cooking was a disaster, so this is recompense,” Anthony greets you with a hug and a brief kiss on the lips. 

He looks handsome in his usual crisp shirt, undone just enough at the chest to be distracting, and custom-tailored trousers that cling to him just right. It takes some effort to tear your eyes away from him, but when you do, you now see a smorgasbord of cheese on his expansive, pristine white marble kitchen island, with fruit, crackers and all manner of chutneys.

“Oooh, lovely. Fancy cheese and wine night?” you guess.

“Indeed,” he replies warmly. “Baxter here is a world-renowned expert on such things. He will be taking us on a cheese world tour paired with the very best wines.”

“Sounds lovely. Thank you,” you nod to the man, then crowd into Anthony again. “The anniversary of our first proper date?” you guess, kissing his jaw, enjoying the slight rasp of stubble there.

“The lady is learning…” he ribs genially, taking your hand and pulling you along to take a seat on one of the stools.

Baxter speaks engagingly and knowledgeable, and admittedly, every cheese and wine pairing is exquisite. Just a bite from each, but after 10 countries, you are a little tipsy, leaning into Anthony and shooting him goofy smiles, resting your chin on his shoulder, cheekily grabbing his thigh where the fabric pulls taut right over his quad muscle so temptingly. You want to climb into his lap and wrap around him.

After an hour, the man politely takes his leave, mentioning he has left some more “adventurous” choices in sealed boxes in the fridge. 

“What does adventurous cheese mean?” you tipsily ponder after the man has left. “Do you think it's abseiled down a mountain?”

Anthony laughs accommodatingly at your goofiness, taking your hand and leading you outside onto the balcony. “I assume strong-flavoured maybe. But I’m quite sure it's all bravado,” he assures.

You lean on the railing, looking down upon the Thames below, all of London seeming reflected in its inky depths, a thousand lights twinkling in its choppy waves, like a sea of stars beneath you.

“I could never tire of this view,” you declare wistfully, a warmth behind your ribs as he crowds into your back, placing a light blanket around your shoulders.

“It is yours to enjoy for as long as it is mine,” he breathes into your hair, kissing your temple and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sway together gently in the breeze, your hands over his, pushing back into his warm body.

“I love you,” you say quietly, turning to nuzzle his cheek.

“I love you too,” he responds immediately, “and I have for so long now; it feels wrong when you are not with me,” his tone ardent, gentle. “Wait here….” he whispers, a waver in his voice that makes you pause.

You wait patiently as he slips back inside, the breeze dancing through your hair as you inhale deeply and soak in the city. Although you are high above street level, the sounds are still there, like a background hum. It’s as energising as the country air at his rural ancestral home in Kent, just in a different way—so vibrant and teeming with life. 

Anthony seems to be gone for a while, so out of intrigue, you wander inside to the fridge, grab one of the containers Baxter left and take it back onto the balcony before he reappears. When you peel it open, you are taken aback by the smell. It's very pungent, even out in the open air. 

“There is an important question I wa…” Anthony freezes mid-sentence. “Dear god, what is that smell?” he exclaims, his face scrunching violently.

“Oh, I think it's the cheese Baxter left.” 

You swing the container around so it's right under his nose and watch him go white as a sheet and then double over to one side, dry heaving.

“That's disgusting!” He gags, quickly putting something small from his hand into his trouser pocket as he coughs roughly, almost bent double.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” you frown, bringing the container back to your own nose, closer than you had it before.

Then, a wave of nausea hits you, too. It smells of decay and bad feet and turns your stomach so violently that you have to grab the balcony railing to stop yourself from stumbling.

“Fuck that's terrible,” you stutter, trying hard to keep down the rich wines and cheeses you have already consumed.

“Throw it!” Anthony blurts, somewhat frantic.

“Where?” you panic, holding it away at arm's length, desperate to stay upwind of it.

“Off the fucking balcony! Fling it in the Thames! I can't even have that shit in my bins….” he yelps before another wretch doubles him over again.

Gripping the container, you fling the contents as hard as you can, watching the blob of cheese sail downwards in an arc for twelve storeys, hitting the river below with a distant but satisfying plop. You both stand there wheezing and gasping as you reseal the container immediately, fearful of any residual scent.

“Dear god, am I going to inadvertently ruin every one of these special evenings?” he grumbles under his breath, sounding more like a rhetorical question than anything.

You have no idea what he could mean, but you don’t have the capacity to ask - you have to run to the cloakroom as the mere olfactory flashback makes you nauseated.

When you reemerge ten minutes later, full of regret and needing toothpaste, you find him in his en suite bathroom in a similar fragile state. You both crawl into his bed feeling delicate, curling up foetal and holding hands across the expanse of the bed, him muttering apologies.

—

III

The following week, Anthony takes you back to the same restaurant where you had your second date, one year to the day later. Seeing the pattern in advance, you wear the beautiful little black dress he bought you recently. And you are pleased to make him temporarily tongue-tied when you slip off your coat to reveal it, whispering coquettishly in his ear that you are happy to skip dinner and return to his.

“Oh, we will,” he rumbles, a promissory note that lights a fire low in your belly.

After perusing the menu, you decide to order the same dish you had last time. You are certain everything is terrific, but you remember it being so delicious it had you making noises only Anthony usually can. Also, you are hoping for a complete repeat of the same night from a year ago. Memorably, it was the first time he managed to give you three orgasms in one night—you are very keen to repeat that. 

But rather strangely, Anthony’s energy seems slightly off, almost nervous. You can only assume it's apprehension that this night does not go as the previous two attempts at anniversary celebrations have. 

While you are sharing a delicious starter, a familiar face over the room at the bar catches your eye.

“Is that Benedict?” you frown, causing Anthony to twist in your booth and look.

“Probably,” he sighs.

You are nonplussed by his reaction, so you take it upon yourself to wave to him, to Anthony’s seeming chagrin.

When Benedict wanders over, you notice his shoulders are hunched, a shuffled gait. Not the usual mister sunshine he is.

“Hey Ben, everything okay?” you check as he pulls up nearby, hovering a little.

“I got dumped,” he exhales. “So I’m drowning my sorrows,” he explains, holding his whiskey tumbler aloft in a rueful toast.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you grimace, knowing he has been more unlucky in love than not, which seems a shame; he’s a sweet, good-looking man but often gets used, attracted to people who take advantage of his giving nature.

“Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner…” he placates modestly, glancing at his older brother, who seems to be brooding.

“Don't be silly, you can join us,” you beckon him into the booth.

“No, he can’t,” Anthony interjects.

You frown at him. “Why not? It’s just dinner,” you dispute.

“No, it’s not; it’s our anniversary,” Anthony argues before turning to Benedict. “Brother, I love you and all, but would you kindly fuck off?” Anthony grouses, gritting his teeth.

“Anthony!” You admonish. “Don’t be a dick!” You roll your eyes. “Ignore your grouchy brother, Ben; of course, you can join us,” you offer again, seeing the hesitancy but also the sadness tugging at the corner of his eyes that means you are worried about leaving him alone.

He acquiesces, and as he wanders across to the bar to grab his jacket and join you, you scowl at Anthony. “He’s just been dumped. You could be nicer,”

“I could… just not tonight,” he says, almost harangued.

You decide not to dwell on why he seems unduly hung up on this evening’s plans, being so particular, watching him seem to fiddle with an item in his jacket pocket, then look askance across the restaurant, defeated. 

“Anthony, are you okay?” You check quietly as Benedict walks back over.

“Yeah, I just….” He sighs and finally meets your eye squarely with a tinge of sadness. “I had other plans for us tonight. Not babysitting…”

At one point during the main course, Benedict excuses himself to the bathroom. Anthony has been mostly monosyllabic, almost sulking, and you feel guilty; perhaps he did indeed have other ideas for the evening.

You shuffle around to lean into him and grab his hand, placing it high on your thigh under the table, the message unmistakable.

“We can still have our plans for later…” you whisper hotly into his ear.

He seems to perk up immediately, his hand grasping your flesh in a way that catches your breath. “You always know what to say to make me feel better…” he murmurs, at once playful and reverent.

“Touch me…” you whisper, the need for him an instant, tart taste in your mouth.

“Here, in the restaurant? With my brother coming back to join us any moment?” His tone is incredulous but unmistakably aroused.

“Yes…” you hiss, pushing his hand up higher to the junction of your thighs where you burn molten for him always.

He growls when he realises you have made another style choice, this one scandalous—no underwear.

“I’ll do more than that, you wonderful minx,” he huffs, pulling your thigh over his lap under the tablecloth. He plunges two fingers into your aching pussy and presses his thumb over your clit. You gasp and grip the table hard, just as Benedict reappears.

It certainly does wonders for Anthony’s disposition, like he is a different man now. Chatting amiably to his brother as you subtly try not to look flustered, dripping silently into his palm as he holds still. 

“Whatever you did to put this one in a better mood, thank you,” Benedict jests at one point.

“I just had to give the old grouch a hug and his favourite toy to keep him entertained,” you joke back, him not realising exactly how true that is. Anthony’s fingers flex deep inside you at your cheeky riposte, and you can feel his smirk as you have to cough to hide your moan.

“Well, thank you,” Benedict smiles, “you bring things out in my brother I never thought I would see. So whatever magic trick you are pulling, keep doing it.”

Anthony’s fingers curl hard against your g spot, and you have to laugh loudly to not scream.

“She’s the very best brother,” Anthony replies, lips brushing your temple as he flicks his thumb teasingly over your clit. “I hope one day you find someone as special as she is,” he offers, his first sympathetic noise to his brother of the evening.

“I should be so lucky,” Benedict adds quietly, tone pensive, glancing at his phone as it lights up by his elbow.

Anthony withdraws from your pussy; you whimper mutely, feeling bereft but also relieved, not sure you can act any longer. You watch as he brings those fingers up to his mouth and sucks them decadently as Benedict is distracted by his phone.

“Thank you for dessert, my love,” he thrums into your ear, “and the show,” he adds cheekily, your clit and pussy clenching, denied, so very aroused.

“Take me home right now, Anthony!” Your order is through gritted teeth, quiet but brokering no argument. 

And he does.

—

IV

A tide of relief hits you as the door to his sleek penthouse clicks softly open; tossing aside your umbrella and slipping off your shoes in the fancy hallway. It's been a taxing work day; all you can think about is climbing into the shower, then curling up and watching something mindless until Anthony gets home.

“Y/n…” 

An enticing but distant call in that familiar voice.

“Anthony?” you respond, puzzled. “I thought you would be out late tonight?” you add, wandering forward, trying to find the source.

“Change of plan….” 

You cross the open-plan lounge area with its floor-to-ceiling view across the rooftops of London. It's been more than a year of dating, and still, you aren't entirely used to the sheer scale of his place compared to yours. It feels like it takes ages to get across just his living room.

“Where are you?” you frown, hands on hips. It sounds like he's likely in the bedroom.

“Follow the sound of my voice,” he entices, and yep, it's definitely from that direction.

However, when you wander in, the room is empty, the early evening sun blazing onto the soft, luxurious white duvet on his vast bed.

“Getting warmer,” he offers, quieter now, and you recognise his voice has an echo. He can only be in his en-suite bathroom.

You round the corner into that tastefully masculine room - all slate and birch - to be greeted by a sight that makes your lungs feel too tight.

There, in his sizeable sunken whirlpool tub, is one Anthony Bridgerton. Very naked and very wet. Standing so that the bubbling waterline hugs his hips—acres of toned torso, water droplets meandering down the washboard of his stomach and glistening in the thatch of hair across his chest. You bite your lips without even realising it, shifting your stance as you feel a ripple of excitement over your skin.

“Hello, Ms y/l/n,” he preens, knowing exactly how much the sight before you makes you tongue-tied and aroused.

“Hello…” you stutter back, eyes still feasting. “What is the CEO of Bridgerton Enterprises doing taking a bath at….” you glance down to check your watch, “... 5:25 pm on a Thursday?”

“It's a special occasion…” he smirks, wading towards the edge of the tub closest to you. “I thought a bath would be nice.” 

You can't seem to look away from the wake of waves cresting his Adonis belt as he does so. The sight of something delicious just below the surface is almost hypnotic. 

“My eyes are up here, you know,” he mocks gently, tongue literally in cheek, as you cut your gaze to his triumphant face.

“Wh… what special occasion?” you manage to stumble out.

“Surely you recall what happened on this night exactly twelve months ago?” 

When you look nonplussed - frankly, you can barely remember your own name right now - he mock sighs.

“I surprised you on my way back from the airport?” he prompts.

“Oh!” you suddenly cotton on, “it's been a year since we exchanged keys!”

He nods, and a fetching beam breaks out across his face. “Ahhh, the lady remembereth,” he winks.

“So this is how you’re celebrating?” your eyes again drag covetously down his body. 

“No, this is how WE are celebrating…” he corrects and gestures towards a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket at one corner of the tub, along with two long-stemmed flutes.

You can't help but match his grin now. “Well, I can’t find fault with that idea,” you admit, taking a step closer until you are at the edge of the tub surround.

“Hmm, I thought not,” he says silkily, closing the gap between you.

Grabbing the back of your neck with a firm hand, he draws you down into a deep, sensual kiss. His mouth claims yours. You shiver as warm water trickles down inside your top from the hand in your hair. He crowds into you, soaking your clothing with the press of his body as you kneel on the sunken tub surround.

“Oh no, this is all wet,” he feigns, tugging lightly at your sleeve, “you will just have to take it off.”

“Hmmm. I rather think that is your doing. How about you take it off?” you challenge, the banter between you never seeming to get old.

“Maybe I’ll just pull you into the water fully clothed?” he posits, raising an eyebrow.

You laugh and take a step back, revelling in his undivided attention as you strip for him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression hungry; the only sounds are his panted breath and the bubbles roiling in the tub. You are down to your underwear, a new matching lacy set, as if you knew, on some subconscious level, it was a special occasion, when he lunges forward and makes you squeal as he effortlessly picks you up and hauls you into the huge tub with him. The warm, effervescent water is a balm and tonic, making your skin tingle. 

“What is the point of celebrating anything if it’s not an excuse to get naked?” he offers silkily, cupping your jaw with both palms, his wet thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones, then his lips are back, plundering, seeking, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands roam your skin, arranging so you are straddling his lap, his cock a solid press against your inner thigh.

This is indeed how you always want to celebrate every milestone of your relationship—with wonderful, sensual intimacy. Anthony pulls back from the kiss, and you stare into his rich eyes, blissfully tracing the lines of his face with fingertips as he easily unhooks your bra and pulls it gently over the rounds of your shoulders. This close-up and soaked, his face is all sharp contours and smooth, lightly tanned skin.

“You are too handsome,” your internal monologue spilling out with a light mewl as his thumbs brush your nipples.

“I love you too,” he chuckles drolly to make a point. 

“Oh yes, that too,” you append with a playful pout. Then, a more sincere “I love you.”

“Wonderful to hear,” he rumbles into your ear as his hands slide underwater to tug down your underwear. 

He pulls you deeper into his lap, your thighs pushed wide around his slender hips. His rigid cock nudges your slit promisingly, and you wait with bated breath for his much-wanted invasion. But he pauses, and you feel the curl of his smile against your cheekbone.

“Champagne?” he teases, holding still.

“Now?!” you splutter. “How about you get inside me first?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” he answers, wry and laconic. 

Any witty riposte you may have dies on your lips as he surges into your body, knowing you need no warm-up, ready for him the minute you rounded the corner of the room. 

“Happy key day,” he murmurs as your eyes flutter closed and you moan loudly, him nudging that spot that makes you so addicted to him.

“Happy key day,” your response is a ragged exhale as you adjust to his deep invasion. 

Every time it still feels like the first, like it's just too good, and you just want to cling to him and be fucked into oblivion or fuck him into oblivion. A potent, heavy feeling inside that makes you crackle with energy and feel sated at the same time.

“Fuck me, Anthony,” you sigh into his wet hair, pushing closer into his embrace, voicing your exact desires.

“With pleasure.”

You squeak as his hands grasp tight around your waist and haul you up until just his tip is still inside you, then slams you back down, a curse falling from your lips as he does. His handling is slightly rough in a way that feels perfect, his teeth glancing your earlobe before he sucks it into his mouth and bites lightly.

Then it's a wondrous carnal dance, your joint noises echoing up the slate tiles as you fuck wantonly. Taking over at one point and gripping the edge of the oversized tub, you ride him for all your worth, chasing that feeling only he, his cock, has ever given you. So addictive ever since that very first night.

“I only ever want to fuck you, always…” the words tumbling from your lips unbidden, no filter between your thoughts and mouth as you spiral higher.

Even in the full throes of passion, his expression softens as you confess it. 

“Forever?” something vulnerable in his panted tone as you rise and fall upon him.

“Forever, Anthony Bridgerton,” you vow, sensing his need to hear it, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing all of your being into him, wanting your bodies to be forged together somehow.

His thumb slips between your legs, and you cry out as he snags your clit perfectly, eyes rolling, feeling like a live wire.

“I need to feel it; please give it to me,” he implores desperately, thumb flicking almost violently over your engorged pearl.

It doesn't take much more, and you are fracturing around him. Crying his name, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his shoulders as you reach that high, unable to stop slamming upon him as you flutter, your whole body spasming in pleasure but unwilling to stop. Him roaring his approval as you squeeze his cock tight, rippling around him.

“Please don't come,” you plead to him, “I need more, Anthony, more,” a wrecked sob, wanting to orgasm again. He snarls, his teeth on your cheekbone, his grip tightening around your hips, staving off his orgasm as best he can.

You grab his face and babble nonsense, saying you need his cock forever, strung out on the edge, almost a mania in your being, needing everything he can give. He pants harshly into your open-mouthed, sloppy kisses as you keep riding wound so tight like a coiled spring, wanting to be speared open by him always.

“Marry me!” he cries as you both reach that peak together, an explosion in both of your beings, feeling him come inside you harsh and deep, moaning your name like a prayer.

You collapse upon him, the bubbles of the jetted tub tickle your skin as you heave breaths, wracked and sated to your very core. A high like you have never known.

“Did you just…. propose?” you stutter as your brain comes back online, his cock still buried inside you.

“Shit…” he laments. “That was NOT how it was supposed to go! I had it all planned out!” he decries, burying his face into your shoulder where you still sit upon him.

“Anthony….” there are no other words, shock tying your tongue. 

He pulls back and looks contrite. “Please allow me a do-over?” his face so beseeching.

Raw emotion and victory crest hard in your veins, and you can't help but banter with him - as you always have, as you always will, until death do you part now.

“No, Viscount Bridgerton,” you rag, holding his face, “No do-overs. You will just have to live with the fact you proposed to me as we came together….” 

His face is a jumble of warring emotions as you realise you have kept him on tenterhooks about your answer. 

“…And you will just have to accept that I said yes with you still inside me,” you add silkily.

A handsome grin claims his whole face, relief and devotion coursing through him. “We can’t tell anyone,” he whispers as you resurface from another kiss.

“Our little secret,” you smile back as he finally slips from your body.

—

“You know I might be the first-ever Viscountess with a garden flat in Zone 3,” you chuckle, sitting in matching fluffy robes on his balcony, the sky a riot of colour as the sun sets. 

A few minutes before, he had gotten down on one knee and produced a little velvet box. You squealed and said yes again, watching transfixed as he pushed a flawless, elegant three-carat diamond onto your finger.

Anthony frowns deeply. “Err, no. You are moving in here with me,” he asserts loftily.

“I’m not selling my place!” 

“You can rent it out!” he waves dismissively.

“Urgh, tenants. Hassle.” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, fine, then we can just use it to store all of my stuff you hate, alright?” he counters, catching your gaze with a fiery challenge. Your insides ablaze that your trademark flirtatious antagonism will always be there, even once you are married.

“Oh, Viscount Bridgerton, you have a deal…” you whisper coquettish and swing off of your lounger onto his, straddling him and sealing the pact with a kiss.

“I’m just so glad I could finally make it happen.” 

You flip around and settle between his legs, your spine on his chest, lacing your hands together over your robe. “What do you mean?”

He barks a laugh you feel echo into your back. “So this is not the first time I have tried to propose to you. Remember that disastrous cooking? Attempt 1. Cheese night when we almost died? Attempt 2. Benedict interruptus? Attempt 3.” He holds up a hand before you, counting each on his fingers. “I almost gave up.”

You laugh and realise with hindsight how he seemed off kilter on those occasions, a soft ache behind your ribs in empathy. “I’m so glad you didn’t. Give up, that is,” you murmur, running your fingers over his lovingly once he lowers his hand back to your belly.

“I jest; I would never give up trying to make you my wife,” he pledges solemnly into your hair, kissing the shell of your ear. “And I hope you will never give up on me, as terrible of a husband as I will likely be….” he demures.

“I can do that, old friend…” you tease, a callback to that first night you got together.

“Less of the old,” he chides, immediately picking up your invitation, an exact repeat of your words to each other that first night you got together, heart melting as you realise he remembers the conversation word for word, too.

“I've known you my whole life, Anthony,” you continue, that conversation etched into your brain, turning back over in his arms. “You can't lie to me…”

“I never will,” he goes offscript, and you exchange laden looks. Then, a dangerous smirk takes over his face as he leans closer. “But you can handcuff me to our bed anytime,” he adds, a nod to the joke you made that night.

“You wish, you lucky fuck,” you respond, aping his line. 

He grins widely and pulls back, handing you a champagne flute from the nearby lounger table.

“From old friends to new family…” he toasts, sincere and ardent, clinking his glass softly against yours.

“Friends and family…” you smile, your diamond ring afire in the setting sun, as you take a sip and pull him in for a blistering kiss.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

It isn't your proudest moment. You don't have many of those. There is little remarkable about, nothing of note, nothing admirable. You might stand a bit taller than most but it's rarely given as a good thing. 

You never expected much of life. You resigned yourself to living in the shadows. In particular, you knew you would always bet outshone by your sister's light. You can't hate her for it; it's your own shortcoming. Besides, no one can hate Riannon, she's just that nice. 

You are dark smear on the family name. It's why you didn't even think to ask your parents for help. You didn't even ask your sister, she offered, insisted really. You could never deny her and in this instant, you couldn't afford any other option. 

It’s just for a while, you keep telling yourself. You’ll find a new job and a place soon. For now, you’ll just stay out of the way. It isn’t very hard; you take up much more room than your few possessions. 

You keep yourself holed in the guestroom as you settle into your second day. You have your laptop on your thighs as you scroll the job boards. You have the experience but you expect your reference would be any good. You didn’t exactly end on cordial terms. Starting from square one, though the industry isn’t exactly even ground for men and women alike. 

You hunker down to search through the various postings within your purview. Every classification is ticked off, even the years, it’s just that little note about contacting your previous employers that makes you nervous. Well, you at least have to try. 

A knock comes at the door as you edit your cover letter once again. You sit up and close the computer. You slide it aside and get up. You cross the room and crack the door open. You sister smiles from the other side. 

“Am I making too much noise?” You ask as your music plays music from its tiny speaker. 

“No, no, not at all. Um, so you know Andy is out of town for the day so it’s just us,” she rocks, “and there’s a barbecue down the street so... I thought you could get to know the neighbourhood.” 

You look down at her, the offer catching you off guard. You were prepared to spend the whole day hidden away and poring over job listings. Even when you had your own place, you tended to spend most of your own time inside. 

Still, she is doing you a huge favour and it would be rude to say no. You shrug, “okay.” 

“Great, I have some potato salad I'm bringing,” she chirps.  

“Uh,” you look at her blue checkered capris and pristine white blouse, “should I change?” 

“It’s up to you. I'm just going to get packed up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

Her excitement is palpable. She probably expected you to say no. You don’t want to let her down again. You’re tired of that feeling. 

You close the door as she bounces away and you retreat to search through your still unpacked suitcase. Your clothes hang over the sides. You pick out a band shirt and a pair of dark grey jeans. You don’t have any shorts and you know your repertoire of dark colours only draws in the sun’s fury, and like of the vaunted HOA, but you don’t have many options. 

You emerge with a pair of converse in hand and head into the kitchen. Rhiannon snaps the lid onto a big bowl as she beams up at you. You don’t understand how you share the same blood, she’s so different than you. Where you’re tall and gangly, she’s small and dainty; where your dour and reticent, she’s bright and bubbly. Your parents even kidded that you must’ve been switched at the hospital. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

You nod and look down at yourself. 

“If you want to borrow a skirt or something, it’s pretty hot out.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You don’t take her offer as any comment on your choice, only genuine concern. If it was your mom, you would know it was more than that. To be fair, your mother is very direct with her critiques. Besides, even if her clothes would fit you, you don’t want to risk ruining any of her things. 

“Alrighty, well, Marge will kill me if I’m late again,” she sings and sweeps around with the bowl. “It’ll be nice to get out, huh?” 

“Mhmm,” you grumble and follow her down the hall to the front door. 

She steps into her wedged sandals as you sit to pull on your converse and lace them up. You stand and get the door for her as she prances towards it. She thanks you and you trail her out. The sun hits you like fire. It’s so hot, though you think some of the heat comes from your own self-consciousness. 

As you catch up to your sister at the bottom of the steps, you slow down to keep from outpacing her shorter legs. Even with her platformed soles, she’s still ahead shorter than you. You turn down the sidewalk as you shy away from the strange faces headed in the same direction. 

“You want me to carry that?” You offer. 

“Hey, I might be small but I can handle a salad,” she chirps. 

“I know, I wasn’t--” 

“I’m teasing. It’s fine, I got it,” she assures you as she hugs the bowl to her stomach, “I just want you to have a good day. Don’t think about everything else, okay?” 

“Mm, okay,” you keep your head down as you slink next to her jouncing steps, “sorry, I'll try not to be too grim.” 

“Whatever, you’re awesome,” she nudges you with her elbow, “you just be yourself and I know you’ll find some good friends around here.” 

You try to smile but it hurts. She always sees the best in others, even when it’s not there. You keep pace with her and turn up another curated lawn. The walk is perfectly laid and the blossom tree sways overhead. 

Rhiannon is welcomed through the open gate by one of those blonde women she has her book club with and you shuffle in with your hands in your pockets. You feel the woman’s harsh gaze and peek up. She looks at you the same way your mother does. Her name is Marge and her friend is Callie and there are dozens of the Stepford-like figures posted throughout the yard. 

“Come, let’s put your salad out,” Marge insists. 

Rhiannon looks at you and you chew your cheek, “go, I'll be fine.” 

She looks reluctant but you’re already walking away. You ignore the smell of sausage and beef rising from the barbeque and the splash and laughter of children from the pool. You aren’t going to find any friends here. That much is clear. Housewives and little kids, you don’t really fit the bill. 

You find your way to the far end of the lawn and stand by a tree you might just blend into. Or maybe you might bury yourself in the rose bushes. You pull your hands from your pockets and hook your fingers into your belt loops, swaying as you watch a bumble bee hover over the grass. 

“Foo Fighters, huh?” A low drawl brings your head up as a man approaches with a beer bottle in hand. 

“Um, yeah,” you look down at your shirt, tugging on the hem. 

“You go to a show?” He asks as he stops near you, drinking from the bottle as he waits for your answer. 

“Never been to one,” you cross your arms, “but I listen to them.” 

“Ah, yeah, well, they put on a hell of a show,” he wiggles the bottle as he talks, “lot more fun than these things.” 

You look up the yard towards the mingling of voices and sound. Despite your efforts to hide in a corner, you must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Shoot, maybe he thinks you’re trespassing. 

“I came with my sister,” you point and shift towards the party, “sorry, um, Rhiannon. I didn’t... I was just looking at the roses.” 

“Not my party,” he scoffs, “I don’t care.” 

“Oh,” you blink and look at him. He's about your height, dark curly hair, and vibrant blue eyes. His dark beard is thick and stubble prickles along his neck. He wears a plain white shirt and jeans; the bare minimum. “Right, er, well...” 

“Not a bad idea, hiding behind a tree,” he remarks, “but you're missing the key ingredient.” 

He stops and stares, crooking a brow as if you should know what he means. 

“Alcohol,” he raises his bottle, “they got a keg even. Probably the only good part about these bull—these things.” 

“I don’t drink,” you mutter, “but thanks.” 

You put your head down and stare at the grass around his shoes. You don’t know why he’s bothering you if it isn’t to make you leave. Obviously, you don’t belong. 

“Never too late to start,” he snorts and stays as he is. 

You don’t know how to make him leave you alone so you say nothing. The bee dips into a tulip’s mouth and you turn to watch it. Maybe he’ll take your silence as a hint. 

[crowandmousewritingco]

The Correspondence of the Contagious

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x gn!reader x Ellaria Sand

Words: 1.4 k

Rating: G

Summary: Oberyn is away for a few days and illness comes to Dorne.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: This is one of my entries in @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Challenge! This was so fun to write (and thanks to Mod Crow for the help!) Hopefully I'll have the other fic out next week.

My Dearest Viper, 

I hope the Northern kingdoms aren’t dimming your fiery spirit. I know you were hesitant to adventure so far away from your paramores, but I assure you we aren’t going anywhere. Soon you’ll return to the warm embrace of your land and your lovers. On your return we shall keep you in your room drinking and enjoying the company, filling us with as much pleasure as we could handle. 

Dorne is still quite warm despite the seasons changing. Ellaria and I have been spending our days basking in the sun while we still can. We even made up a nice lunch that we enjoyed under the lemon trees in the grove that you adore so much. Once we were full of delicacies (and a taste of each other) we followed the path through the Water Gardens. We look like pies straight from the oven with the amount of sun on our skins. But it was much needed for the both of us. 

Although something must have kicked up some retched pollen because Ellaria has been stuffed up since then. She insists she is okay (you know how stubborn she gets with this sort of affair), but after some well placed cuddles, she allowed herself some rest. That’s where she is right now. Snuggled up beside me as I write this to you. She’s as beautiful as always with her dark hair spread out like crow feathers on our shared pillows. I wish I could illustrate how beautiful she is. You would delight in the sight of her my dear as I am in this moment of time.

With plenty of rest and your herbal tea mix, she should be right as rain in a day or so. No need to worry your little Prince head about. I can handle our lover’s moods while you handle your duties. We shall see you in a fortnight. I shall pray to the Seven for your safety on your journey. 

Your Dove. 

My Dearest Viper,

I know politics have kept you busy so I hope this letter finds you well. At least in a better condition than our paramore. I fear that whatever illness has graced her body has stayed longer than the foreseen time. Her sniffling has turned into a cold. Poor thing has been coughing bouts that last several minutes. Diluted wine helps in the end but only after acquiring a sore throat. 

That wasn't the only thing she received from this illness. She has acquired a bit of a fever over the last few hours and her energy has lessened. But the Maester believes it’s just the bug that has been spreading throughout the castle. He has given her more herbal remedies and plenty of rest as her medication. 

I will continue to watch her with a careful eye. Once again she is resting beside me. Even in sickness she has my deepest love and adoration. I thank the gods every day that I get to be simply in her presence. 

When she wakes I shall see if she wants to spend some time on our balcony. The Maester said that sunlight would be a nice addition to her healing. Oh and I’ll have those berries brought from the kitchen for her to snack on. She was delighted when we went for our walk. They shall lift her spirit and body. 

I’m afraid my time with you is cut short my dear. Our lover stirs beside us. I will write to you once she finds slumber again. I hope the North is treating you as well as they can. 

Your Dove.

My Dearest Viper 

I pray to the Seven that you receive this letter. I’m afraid the sickness was much worse than anyone could have expected. Her fever is at an ultimate and she hasn’t eaten for a few days. The Maester claims that she will arrive on the other side of this pestilence mountain and I am hopeful too. But it’s hard to have reassurance when your lover shakes like the leaves in the wind. Pelts have been placed on her body but they do nothing to keep her from shivering. She sleeps like a princess with a spell placed on her. I rouse her only to eat and drink. 

I pray your journey will end soon so that your presence can heal her as much as mine. I didn’t want to raise your worry while you were away, but I’m scared. Less severe sickness has taken loved ones, and my soul is in an unrest. I wish for your strength my dear. You have an aptitude for these sorts of situations. 

I wish to keep writing to you, for I feel your presence in these words, but I fear I’ve run out of subjects to discuss. Please return soon my dearest Oberyn. 

Your Dove

What you didn’t tell Oberyn was that you were suffering the same ailments Ellaria was currently experiencing. Your fever was just as high as Ellaria’s and you clung together in sickness, bodies shaking in unison. The need for food seemed like a distant afterthought, and your stomach cramp every time you coughed. 

Ellaria whimpered and your head peaked up. You had tuned your senses to anything she might need during this time even if it meant ignoring your own needs. “My love, let me get you something to drink.” You weakly kissed your head as it took all of your energy to even sit up but you had to do this for her. 

You swung your legs over the sides. The wind felt cold against your bare skin despite the warm summer heat still lingering. Your breath seemed to struggle to enter your lungs, but you pushed yourself up. Ellaria needed you; your body be damned. Carefully your hands braced themselves on the wall. Using the rough texture as your guide, you shuffled your feet in slow deliberate steps. 

But the pestilence in your body had made you weak, for your legs could no longer hold your weight. As you felt yourself pitch forward a strong pair of arms was the only thing stopping you from hitting the ground. The sudden stoppage of momentum threw you off and you couldn’t make heads or tails of what just occurred.

A familiar voice filled the room. “My dove what are you doing out of bed?” You glanced up despite the pounding in your head. Oberyn looked down at your body with worry. Gently he situated you so you were sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I thought…you’re here,” You said and the weight of the last days finally made themselves known. You teared up and Oberyn guided your weak head to his shoulder, letting your body rest against his chest. 

“I’m here dove,” He soothed your anxieties. Up and down your back his hands soothed your anxieties. He could feel the exhaustion in the way you held your body. You went to speak, but a coughing fit seized you instead. 

“Easy love,” Oberyn soothed, sitting you up slightly, holding your weakened body up. You whimpered as the coughs turned into labored breathing before calming down completely. 

“I-I thought you would never return,” You whispered as tears formed in your tired eyes. 

“My dove. I left the Northern kingdoms as soon as I heard of Ellaria’s ailment,” He reassured you gently brushing your hair from your sweaty forehead. “Those clever ravens still found me. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill too?” 

Tears streamed down your hot cheeks, and with a gentle swipe of his thumb, Oberyn rid of them. “I-I…I was so worried about Ellaria.” 

“Shhh none of that now. I know you were so brave my dearest, but now let me care for my paramores,” Oberyn kissed your forehead before gently laying you back alongside Ellaria. 

Just like you had done for the last several days, you curled up beside her touching your fevered heads together. Oberyn arranged the blankets back into place. He turned around and grabbed the washcloths from the nearby water basin, wringing the excess water. With a gentleness unusual to such a warrior, he placed the cloths, one on Ellaria’s forehead and then one on yours. 

You sighed at the cooling relief of the water, and you felt your eyes drooping the weight of handling this alone dissipating. A gentle hand caressed your cheek. “Rest now my dove. I’m here now,” Oberyn whispered, leaning down to kiss your chapped lips. With your safety net here, you finally let yourself relax as a much needed sleep consumes your consciousness.

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

Thanks to the lovely @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

[ihaechans]

Die 4 You || L.JN — TEASER

❝ You won't find no one that's better... ❞

PAIRING ▸ street racer!Jeno x flag girl!reader

GENRES ▸ smut. angst. fluff

WARNINGS ▸ profanity. sexual content. more tba

SUMMARY ▸ There's a new guy in town. That's the word from the others. Typical news, so typical you don't pay him any attention, minding your business as usual before being interrupted by none other than the 'new guy'. A simple encounter erupts into much more, spiraling into something only he could fix. A broken heart.

WORD COUNT▸ Estimated 20k-22k

RELEASE DATE ▸ February 2023 (Put on hold)

Part of the upcoming "The Weeknd" Series

Note to self: Buy sound-proof headphones.

Sometimes, you wished you weren’t driven by thrill and attention, maybe then you wouldn’t be a flag girl. Wasting entire weekends just to do a single gesture before stepping aside, completely nonexistent to most of the crowd once a race began was not as easy as it sounded.

Although it’s a well-paying job, dressing up like an attention-seeking whore just to wave a flag around for a few seconds took lots of courage. Creepy old men in the crowd cat-calling you was something you would never get used to, shivers running down your spine every time it happened.

In this state, it was almost ten times easier to be taken advantage of by men, but that was your job after all. Dress like a slut, wave a flag around, sleep, repeat. That was your life. Weekend after weekend, it was the same.

Nothing around here was interesting enough for you to care about, not even your flag girl co-workers fawning over the new guy. The one you had never seen before.

“God Y/n,” Hands find place on your shoulders, shaking you slightly as a high-pitched voice fills your ears, “He’s so dreamy, and those arms of his, god the things I would do to him are unimaginable.”

“I’ll buy you candy if you shut the fuck up,” you offer, finally turning your head to face Chuu, one of your good friends. 

Her smile falters, “Well, I guess I do like candy.” and with that, she walks off, leaving you alone in the tiny shed where all the flag girls rested before and after races. 

Genuinely, you adored Chuu, but she should know you well enough by now that you whole-heartedly had no interest in any of the racers here. You had one job and one job only, wave the flag and dip. You weren’t here to make friends nor hook up with the racers like many others who worked here.

Something you had that many others didn’t was self-respect.

In the distance, you hear the rev of engines, assuming the previous race had ended and another one was about to start, Chuu acting as the flag girl this time around. She was always cute and charismatic, one of the most loved workers around the place.

Compared to you, she was the complete opposite, her baby face and cute colorful clothing contrasting your serious and stubborn demeanor. One thing about her was she was a natural people-pleaser, something you forced yourself to be while at work.

Sighing, you grab a water bottle from the minifridge beside you, nearly choking on the beverage as an unknown voice speaks from behind you. “Jesus!” you scream, water dribbling down your chin, a wet patch forming on your shirt.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, just wanted to say hello and properly introduce myself. I’m Jeno.”

“And I’m not interested. Get out.”

Author's note: It took nearly 4 hours to plan this entire fic out because I wanted everything to be perfect. If I actually end up working hard on this fic I believe I can actually get it done on time. This is supposed to be my first full fic and I'm lowk nervous but I'm just gonna write my heart out and hope y'all enjoy it! 😸

[janumun]

Being the brand new omega roommate for alpha Alhaitham and alpha Kaveh, who were both carefully looking for a needed extra to fill in the space in their housing near Port Ormos, purely for important research purposes Alhaitham claims.

And conveniently, they were also looking for another proper lover (Preferably an omega) for their alphan pod for their upcoming ruts, both of which just so happen to be right around the corner.

Poor sensitive alpha Kaveh, and absolute buster alpha Alhaitham, are both equally slick and suave in pursuing what they desire. Once they put their mind to something none can ever stop them from achieving their appointed goal.

Kaveh is more romantically obvious than Alhaitham, but that doesn't mean Alhaitham won't have his fair share of aces up his sleeve to properly convince you to join them in their pack. And with their ruts coming up alongside the brand new omega moving in, time is short and ever increasingly fragile.

Surely you will be so kind as to aid their little predicament?

OBLIGATORY NSFW 🔞 BREAK

Before we dive pussy first into this, I’ll have you know that your Ask was what took me out of commission for this long, Nonny. I had to sink back into the sofa and just stare into space for the next several weeks. 🤣

While I would’ve really loved to write something more cohesive for this (I am so, so insane for the ABO AU), the ideas I had would’ve ended up spanning a multi chapter fic, which I simply could not afford to work on, at the moment xD You are so ✨big-brained✨ for this, though!

If you’ve read a couple of my stories, you might’ve noticed I prefer romance dashed spice over hot, sweaty, sexy spice (very good on you if you prefer the latter!).

I’m currently working on a story where Traveler (/my MC) lives with the Akademiya duo and part of their dynamic might be reflected in these few headcanons I’ve got for Alpha Hai/Ω Reader/Alpha Kaveh.

I cannot believe this is nearly 1k words of ABO thirst because I simply hold no control over myself.

Al-Haitham’s fond of you. It isn’t quite what he intended — nor the direction he intended it in — when he divulged the fact that he was interested in you.

Perhaps, it is your unconventional ideologies, only on par with Kaveh’s naivety, or perhaps the way you seem to have Kaveh so domesticated (he was at Al-Haitham’s ear for weeks for daring to point out how the two of you seemed to get on like a house on fire, worded perhaps in less kinder terms) it’s an amusing sight to witness.

Or your unwitting genius, when you come across Al-Haitham on days he’s going through new texts, and strike up a debate regarding the contents of the author’s mindset and the degree and quality of said research.

He isn’t quite as obvious as Kaveh; ready with his smiles and clear affections worn across his sleeve.

…Nor is he quite as lacking as his former friend in self-discipline, when it comes to reigning in his instincts as an Alpha. Finding himself against you at the weakest callings of an approaching rut, or the siren call of your heats. Al- Haitham supposes you too are to blame, for spoiling Kaveh as you do; you never turn the man down and try as Kaveh might, to be a gentleman and spare you, it is always you giving him the go-ahead to fuck you as he pleases, wherever…

And later on, whenever—

His ruts are close at hand, Kaveh finds it physically intolerable to have you close and not bury his entire body into yours, threading his limbs about your body and sinking his face into the soft heat of your breasts.

He started off gentle and slow at the beginning of your arrangement, and he remained determined to follow through his resolve to relieve himself on your scent alone. The idea of tackling you down like some sort of… beast every time a rut hit, seeking you out for mere physical relief — despite your arrangement — didn’t sit right in his heart.

But you are a curious and fascinating creature, and Kaveh did not quite bet on being as infatuated with you as he is; you seem almost crafted to complete a whole of him. And you are… unfortunately, incredibly persistent.

And—

Incredibly tight, he gasps. When Kaveh finds himself buried up to the hilt within you, he’s blind to all sense except the feeling of your wet heat, the burn of pleasure streaking up his length and knotting into his abdomen with the force and desperation of his thrusts. Close, the need to have you closer burning at the back of his throat and gnawing with the bite of bitter teeth into the swell of his lip.

“K-Kaveh.” Before you scold, and he complies, immediate; love-stricken, lust-driven, clenching his teeth into a bite at your shoulder and moans deep and long, mirroring the intensity of his release into you.

Nosing at that spot against your neck in post coital euphoria and overwhelming protection. Uncharacteristic burst of an intolerable instinct to bite into you and mark you his.

When Kaveh and Al-Haitham have their ruts coincide on the rare occasion—

The Scribe does not shy away from availing his privilege of several days of paid leave, off his roster of scarcely used holidays, when his ruts are near carnal, and certainly not when they happen to fall upon the same cycles as Kaveh’s (perhaps a natural result of bonding with the same omega). He needs the entirety of a 24/7 workday and more, when he is forced to share your body, pleasure and time with Kaveh. The latter not ceasing to whine and huff, even as he moans at Al-Haitham about positioning her right, going slower so she can concentrate on us both.

Taunts usually he answers with silence, or on occasion, when Kaveh is unbearably loud,

“Perhaps you aren’t pleasing her as well as you seem to think yourself able, if you believe she cannot concentrate simply because I am “harsh” on her.” Punctuating his statement with a particularly firm thrust, your quivering moan breaking along with Kaveh’s fumed sputtering.

Your tightening, at the punishing pace Al-Haitham sets for you both, dragging their orgasms from the Alphas at the same time, flooding you to the brim with their hot seed. Their knots traveling up and lodging into your pussy undoing your own vehement release from how large the stretch is, all of a sudden, and you see stars as you collapse against Al-Haitham, his low grunt burning at your ears from how incredibly hot you find him, so undone inside you.

Squeezing around them on instinct, pulling a collective groan from the two men. Al-Haitham raises his head, his gaze inspiring a fresh wave of nervous anticipation inside you, from how he looks at you as if he has no intentions of stopping until he has you well and truly bred. A man of spare words but the intensity of his lust and emotions once unstoppered, is enough to have your legs aching for days after.

A shudder creeping up your body from where he treks a gentle thumb against your cheek and just before he kisses you, a whisper of one, “Well done,” has your heart soaring within your chest.

And if Kaveh’s soft brushes of kisses against the crown of your shoulders, venturing just shy of your glands, is anything to go by, you know he too, is far from done yet.

[booasaur]

Pinned post - F/F Fic Recs

  Anonymous asked:

Hi, I've see you saying that you're reading a lot of fic lately and I was wondering if you could rec some? I so trust your taste and I think we have so many fandons in common...

Hiya! So first, what I was reading over the summer were some new fandoms that I'm still mulling over. Those ships and fics, I'm not ready to recommend anything for, I'll come back to them later.

As you know, I find it hard to pick out faves and recommend things but coincidentally, some time back, when I hadn't read fics for years, I decided to see which I could easily remember. It’s not close to being an exhaustive list, I just noted down whatever came to me over a few hours, and almost all are pretty old, often from my first go-around in each fandom, but it’s a fair number. I've read other great ones that might not be as easily remembered for any number of reasons, like if I was in a particular frame of mind or if I read too many good ones at once so none really stood out, if I read them in between other things going on in life, etc. These ones slotted into the ole memory bank but that doesn't say anything about those left off.

I'm not sure how many of these are fandoms you're into, but when I'm in a real fic-reading mood I'll often try fandoms I don't know, so hopefully you can still give some of them a shot. I tried to organize by fandom though they're mostly in the order I remembered them, so it's not alphabetical or fave first--though it did end up being pretty chronologically backwards. I was literally going back through the years and I don't think I've read some of the anime ones in like, more than a decade? And while for my own list, I often was like oh, all of that author's fics for this ship and would know what I meant, here I tried to narrow it down to one fic per author, since it can be hard to know where to start, but definitely give their other fics a try if you liked that one.

Added a cut for length. All stories are f/f and complete unless specified. As I go through some of these, let me come back here to add that it’s worth keeping in mind as you read these that they are products of their time, some more than a decade ago. 

Gilmore Girls - Paris/Rory

The Best Of It - by dollsome - 74k words » Canon, fake dating, set after the original series (so ignoring A Year in the Life). To win a point on a talk show, Paris announces she's dating Rory. It's incredibly in voice and matches the show vibe so it's just so funny and sweet and just a plain delight. It's what actually made me create this list, I was idly wondering what else I'd read that brought me this much joy.  

Boston Marriage - by Jae - 5k words » Canon, college years, Paris has a proposal. The first fic for this ship I read, I think? Where I was like, oh, so it’s possible to be that in voice and replicate everything about a show even as distinct as this one. One of the ship’s classics (and being from 2005, just a f/f classic overall?).    

The Unbearable Weirdness of Being - by klynkey - 3k words » Canon, assumed high school years, Rory and Paris get into a debate. After having read the one above, I found this soon after and was like, okay, is everyone able to easily replicate that Gilmore Girls patter? (No.) Another ship classic.

Agents of Shield - Bobbi/Jemma

To Keep My Wolves From Your Door - by pirateygoodness - 41k words » Werewolf AU, so elaborate and for a ship so relatively rare, I’m not sure how this exists but I’m glad it does. It’s got some plot, a sweet romance, smut with feelings, just a rewarding read every time I go back to it, which is pretty often. Given my main audience, I’ll mention there are some flashbacks to Bobbi and her ex husband but that didn’t affect my enjoyment at all.  

Soulmate AUs (just chapter 2) - by alittleunstable - 3k words » Canon, cute little soulmate AU, which I’m always a sucker for. 

Star Trek Voyager - Janeway/Seven of Nine

Where the Dream Takes You - by nejvit - 27k words » Canon, one of the tamer getting together Trek setups, more introspective rather than caused by some alien tomfoolery, but I really like how it handles the very commonly featured J/7 conflict of Janeway dating someone in her crew. It is a bit dense but I found the character and dynamic exploration so insightful and interesting. When I first read J/7 fics years ago (in the late ‘00s), this author’s fics didn’t particularly stand out but when I came back to the fandom more recently, they were among my very favorite.  

The Rod and the Staff - by Trek in Tandem - 13k words » Canon, deals with the aftermath of an existing ep where Janeway went on a mission and ran into trouble. The religious stuff comes across as more the writer playing with the episode’s actual religious references than anything heavy-handed so I found it easily ignorable. Really great, clean prose, one of the writers who always stuck out to me for that.    

Not Just Strip Poker - by Pink Rabbit Productions - 15k words » Canon, a funny, lighter piece that definitely starts out as full comedy, after a misunderstanding, but there’s some deceptively interesting discussion later on in this one too.

Stargate SG-1 - Janet/Sam

Bits and Pieces series - by Pink Rabbit Productions - 278k words, WIP » Canon, this series integrates Sam/Janet into the first season of the show and I don't think it was ever finished, and the last one especially was left on a cliffhanger, but the rest of the “episodes” are worth the read. Also, when I put this down for my own list, I just said "Pink Rabbit's Sam/Janet stuff", because I remember going through all of them at some point, the stuff outside this series was fun too, and if this full incomplete series is too daunting, definitely some of the one-shots might be more fun.

The Devil Wears Prada - Andy/Miranda

Truth and Measure - by Telanu - 272k words » Canon, diverges from the end of the movie as Andy decides to stay with Miranda. What even is there to say about this one? A true f/f classic, has been in the top three of my general f/f recs for more than a decade and still holds up. Just a perfect continuation of the movie, same world, same characters, continuing growth and development of characters and dynamics, a true believable slow burn romance. And the author’s published it without taking down the fic. :)

Facts of Life - Jo/Blair

Ribbon - by Della Street - 15k words » Canon, diverging in the college years. This is the first of her fics I read for this pair and I fell in love with her writing. Back in an era when a lot of authors started off with lots of exposition and setting up the scenario, I was so impressed by how quickly and easily she did her worldbuilding and character development, and how in-voice and and close to the show everyone was. Definitely recommend going through the rest of her Jo/Blair fics.

Birds of Prey (2002) - Barbara/Helena

And Another Thing - by fembuck - 12k words » Canon, a straightforward getting together fic, things come to a head after Helena starts pulling away. After seeing which of the fics I remember best and like most here, I think I really just favor a great execution of a simple premise. And because this is fembuck, whose fic was a load bearing pillar of f/f fandom, there’s a nice balance of humor and angst with the romance.    

An Empirical Question - by harper_m - 30k words » Canon, an accidental fake dating situation spins out into something much more. In a funny coincidence, the same things I said about fembuck apply to harper_m, such a significant contributor to f/f fic over the years (see also this older archive account). This fic is again mostly a well done exploration of the characters and their dynamic if suddenly an explicitly romantic layer was added to canon.

Skins - Effy/Katie

An Imperfection in an Otherwise Perfect Plan - by harper_m - 21k words » WW1 AU, they’re nurses in the army. As with the Mockingnerd werewolf AU above, I’m surprised that for such a rare ship, there’s such a specific (and good) AU, but definitely not complaining. It feels that much nicer to find a true gem in such a tiny collection.    

fate is overgrown - by thememoriesfire - 53k words » Post-series, years later, Katie’s in a rut and stumbles into Effy again. I do find it funny that I have no Glee rec from TMF and instead went for the Skins fic that isn’t even transatlanticism but I really love this one, to the point where there were a couple of months where I just reread it constantly, even downloading my own version to fix formatting and typos. It’s almost slice of life, as Katie and Effy find themselves surprisingly healing together, after their fraught history. 

The Sarah Connor Chronicles - Sarah/Cameron

Resistance - by Anklebones - 120k words, WIP » Canon, diverges from season 2 as Cameron continues to glitch. Like a lot of the good Sarah/Cameron fics, this is a great dissection of AI and sentience and what it means to be human and have free will. I mean, within a great story, not just characters debating. It’s not finished but I really like what’s been written so far.   The author also has a three-part complete fic where Sarah and Cameron are already in a messy thing and then have to confront some things when there’s an attack at school: Just Another day in Paradise… 1 2 3 (19k words).    

No Rest for the Wicked - by InspectorBoxer - 172k words, WIP » Firefly AU, River Tam takes the place of Cameron while Sarah’s a new character to the universe. This is such a fun blend of the two universes and the romance is such a good slow build. As with most of the WIPs I’m linking, there’s enough to really enjoy even if not complete yet.

Once Upon a Time - Emma/Regina

The Secret's in the Telling - by pyrophoric - 250k words » Canon, set pretty early on but where Emma and Regina are at least nominally getting along. Things are set into motion when a mysterious thief shows up and keeps bullying Emma. This is one of my favorite iterations of their dynamic, with long-suffering secretly fond Regina and hapless too-earnest Emma.    

You do not have to walk on your knees - by dollsome - 10k words » Canon, mid-season 2, Regina and Emma learning to get along. As is dollsome’s specialty, a lot of character work and humor. Also would recommend Teenage ... Dream? (12k words), where Regina gets like...kind of emotionally aged down? You’ll see. The premise sounds cracky but again, the character exploration and humor and sweetness. :)

Once Upon a Time - Aurora/Mulan

a story, a tale - by maleficently - 27k words » AU where it’s Maleficent who casts the original curse on Aurora and her true love, not Regina on Snow and Charming. This is so fun because you can see all the similarities and differences in how the story unfolds compared to the show, including flashbacks to the fairy tale world before the curse is cast.    

Object Permanence - by badlance - 18k words » Canon, after Aurora and Phillip have made it to Storybrooke. Aurora’s still furious at Mulan for leaving them to go off with Robin Hood, but suddenly something happens to Mulan and Aurora can’t stop thinking about her. It starts off an interesting look at Aurora and how someone acclimatizes to the real world after Fairy Tale Land so like, therapy, jobs, but it’s quite romantic and sweet in the end.   Also Could Have Been A Year (5k words) and its sequel Bear It Out Even to the Edge (17k words), where Mulan learns the price of staying away from Aurora and gives up everything to make sure Aurora’s okay.

Wicked - Elphie/Glinda

Gelphie Trilogy: 1. Easier Said Than Done 2. Inevitabilities & Eventualities 3. Possibilities and Certainties - by mecelphie - 3.8m words » Rape trigger warning for the very first chapter: Elphie suffers a violent attack and much of the first story is her healing from that, though the other two stories also occasionally bring up the lingering effects on Elphie.     Back when I read it, the first story had some typos, missing punctuation and the like, that might also make it hard for some to get into it, but the world really unfolds into something incredibly rich and rewarding. Note that full series word count, it IS that detailed and extensive a story, almost slice of life, except for the precipitating event and things like homophobia and when Elphie's background is tackled. I haven't actually finished it yet, I pause every once in a while till I have a large chunk of chapters and then reread from the start and get sucked in anew each time.    

The Thrill, Basis Determined - by Ridiculous Mavis - 24k words » Bookverse, just delightful, beautifully written fluff. Everything this writer writes is beautiful. The further down I go on this list the less restraint I feel in linking multiple stories by the same author, so of her other Gelphie fics, I'll also specifically rec The Way Out of Myself (22k words), bookverse bodyswap with Avaric and Elphie where they both learn something about the other and Invitations Under False Pretences (27k words, WIP), bookverse fake dating, it's not marked as complete but it doesn't leave you hanging, if you know what I mean.    

The Week of Ill Repute - by Chudley Cannon - 37k words, WIP » Bookverse again, which, I don't prefer them over musicalverse, it's just worked out that I've remembered (liked?) these fics best. This one I remember from my very first Gelphie fic-reading tour and thinking, wow, this is so good. It never updated after that and I believe it actually does leave you hanging, but I mean, you specifically remember a fic more than 10 years later, it's gotta be on the list, right?

The Bletchley Circle - Millie/Susan

In the Blackout - by RidiculousMavis - 11k words » Canon, set during the Bletchley years, Susan’s just arrived and meets Millie, her flighty and irreverent roommate. A wonderful look at how they start to get along after their personalities and keen minds first clash.    

Clerical Work - by Kivrin - 3k words » Canon, also set during Bletchley, Susan tries to figure out her feelings the way she would a code and then things fall into place in a surprising way. Relatively short but I loved the sharp little characterizations of the main four, including Jean.

Legend of the Seeker - Cara/Kahlan

All the Days - by tcbg77 - 67k words » Post-series, some years after, everything seems to be going well until Richard and Kahlan’s child is kidnapped. Cara, now Richard’s general, sets off with Kahlan to rescue the child. I love the pacing of this one, the length allowing for a full quest and a slow burn, and combined with the well-written action makes it seem like a fantasy story with romance on its own. I basically treat it as exactly that and reread every few years.    

Within My Heart There Is Another Heart - by badlance and pirateygoodness - 26k words » Post-series as well, magic pregnancy. This is pretty in a way that makes my heart ache. i was surprised to see it was 26k words, since it feels so much longer and shorter than that at the same time.

The 100 - Clarke/Lexa

Within Me An Invincible Summer - by badlance - 62k words » Canon post-s2, Clarke gets over her anger at Lexa. One of the many great fics written during the hiatus, I’d put off reading it when I first got into the ship, during the start of s3, wanting to focus on what was canon at the time. And then of course 307 happened and I moved even farther away from canon, but this fic, its two-line summary, it showed up again and again in rec lists and bookmarks and was so haunting at the time, you know, seasons and people not changing, but finally I caved, and it was as wonderful as it had promised to be.    

Love on the Ground - by hedaswolf - 19k words » Also canon post-s2, taking the s3 knife scene from the trailer and again spinning it into eventual forgiveness. There’s a bit in it that is one of my favorite moments in fic ever.     

they take their shots but we're bulletproof - by nightshifted - 10k words » Again, canon post-s2, it’s like a whole genre of amazing fics just within one fandom, all the more precious for how that all turned out in canon. Like Within Me An Invincible Summer above, I couldn’t bear to read it for a long time but I knew it was one of the classics, I’d seen it pass by my dash very early on because of our shared Glee past. And yeah, it was very good, like all these post-s2 fics, allowed to be a little rougher and harsher because they didn’t yet know how much comforting the ship and fandom would need.    

More Women than Warriors - by steklir - 172k words » Boarding school AU, new American student Clarke arrives at a British boarding school where Lexa’s the Head Girl. I don’t know what was going through the author’s mind when they were writing this but given the timing and content, it felt like an extremely low stakes and ultimately fluffy take on these two kids. There’s a lot of the show’s language and customs worked into this school, so that only adds to the impression, but in the end I’ll remember this for being a rewarding sloooowwww burn and really flowery, pretty writing.    

Stud: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, Pride - by coeurdastronaute - 61k words » Modern AU, Clarke’s a teacher and Lexa’s a CEO. Really plays into the effortlessly cool Stud!Lexa thing that was going around at the time, but tbh, she was confident but nice, so I liked it. coeurdastronaute tends to write most chapters as self-contained, so it’s more like a string of connected stories than one long narrative. They’re super prolific and have a lot of stories I liked, I picked Stud as the one I remembered first, and then grabbed a few of the other more memorable ones, all modern AUs: Strip:  1, 2, 3 (10k words) -  Lexa gets a lapdance HSAU (37k words) - College AU, I’m kidding, high school AU Heart: 1, 2, 3, Thanksgiving (30k words) -  Lexa’s a heart transplant patient at the hospital where Clarke works    

Aftermath - by MaraudingTurkey - 8k words » Canon, diverging from the middle of s2, Clarke accidentally courting Lexa. It’s super charming and cute (and because of how early it was written, avoids a lot of the angst to come).    

Prompts Collection: Clexa - by nutalexfanfic - 114k words (as of 2022-12-30) » Lots of various short stories with all kinds of premises, canon and AUs. The author has several popular longer stories going as well, but they’re at various levels of completion and I actually remember really liking of the one-shots here. If interested in the longer ones, the firefighter AU Polis 433 (131k words, WIP) is quite popular, and I think the first one I read was the Olympic AU Individual Medley (95k words, WIP).    

Abby Doesn't Ask - by onlyasdark - 3k words » Canon, some vague point past 307 where Lexa doesn’t die, short vignettes in Abby’s POV. A great example of an external perspective on a ship, because you get deliberately limited glimpses, and in this case especially colored by Abby’s not exactly positive feelings about Lexa, but despite all that, the relationship shines through.    

The Library - by ethiobird - 55k words » College AU, they work at a bar (called The Library). I think what drew me to this one is that the Lexa characterization is more stoic than you often see in modern AUs, especially high school or college. I’ve ended up liking a lot of different takes on her but as much as it’s obviously nigh impossible to recreate the circumstances that created canon Lexa, I do have a particular fondness for that version so I like any fic that approaches it.    

although i'm not making plans (i hope you understand there's a reason why) - by brokendevil - 6k words » Modern AU, friends with benefits but secretly in love. The kind of second person fic that really lets you wallow in the angst before the rewarding payoff. The author has several other popular works, especially a year of sundays (98k words), a small town AU, but this one just stuck in my mind.   

To the Victor Go the Spoils - by exfactor - 11k words » College AU, Clarke and Lexa’s sororities are locked in a fierce competition. The author has some other very popular (and angstier) works but this one’s cute and fun as hell.    

the business of caring - by coldmackerel - 72k words » College AU, pretty much a workplace comedy set at campus police. Someone’s painting graffiti masterpieces all over the place and as the head of campus police it’s Lexa’s job (she thinks) to catch the culprit. This author is so good at humor, and also can be really poignant at times, like in it's called contraband for a reason (54k words), a jumbled up timeline of the two in prison. I’m told the canon amnesia fic is quite good but I’ve not yet felt emotionally up to it.    

The 300 - by Bucklethorpe - 66k words » Modern AU, Clarke accidentally burns down 300 of Lexa’s trees. This starts off as a bit of a joking take on canon, and is laugh out loud funny the whole way through, but also quite sweet. Definitely a frequent reread.    

sworn under an oath - by faithtastic - 14k words » Canon, diverges from 307, smut with feelings but the feelings are so good. This authors probably far more famous work is don't wanna be your girl (105k words), with one-shot extras and even AUs, in which Clarke is a porn star, and that is funny and hot, but this fix-it so soon after ep 307 will always be a particular balm.    

beat the devil's tattoo - by isawet - 53k words » Modern AU, they’re in college but Lexa’s secretly actually planning to take back the leadership of her small country. They fall in love anyway and it’s funny, hot, sweet, romantic, just a great well-written story with excellent reread value.    

Your Heart On My Sleeve - by aredpen - 58k words, WIP » Soulmate-marking AU set in canon, if that makes sense. Starts when Clarke’s still up in the Ark and it’s just an interesting exploration of how it all would work in those circumstances. I love the little details and insight into what would change and how.     

AGAINST THE MULTIVERSE - orphaned - 13k words » Modern AU, art student Clarke reads an article Lexa wrote and fires off an angry response, starting a correspondence. Despite not being particularly long or having a unique premise, I remember this one because the writing’s so confident and sure of what it wants to be. It feels like a lot of fics--most writing in general, really, tends to flatten itself to not stand out and it was nice to read something so strong.  

To Wear it Like a Crown - by Laney_builds_cathedrals - 42k words, WIP » Teacher/student, kinda, and definitely an age gap, so don’t read if that’s not your thing. Clarke’s the new art therapist at a school for troubled kids and realizes things aren’t quite right. It hasn’t been updated in years but the writing is just gorgeous and I couldn’t leave it off, it’ll always have a place in my lists.    

Remember Me. - by C_AND_B - 11k words » Amnesia AU, they were in a relationship and then Clarke gets in an accident. God, the perfect mix of angst and fluff. This writer has a bunch of adorable one-shots, so check the rest out too.     

tear down the walls - by wariangle - 5k words » Modern AU, Lexa’s an MMA fighter but it’s not really about that, just Clarke falling for her. Extremely hot in a very matter of fact way, but also plenty of feelings involved.    

five times clarke and lexa aren’t sure if they're a couple or not - by nutmeg101 - 8k words » College AU, everyone keeps on thinking Clarke and Lexa are together. They’re not so sure they aren’t. It’s cute! I mean, it’s exactly what a fic like this should be.    

Help, I Need Somebody (Not Just Anybody) - by thesummerofrain - 92k words, WIP » College AU, Clarke volunteers at the college helpline, Lexa writes in. It’s an anonymous line, so no worries about weird tracking or anything like that, things just organically progress so that they meet and slowly become friends. It’s mellow in general and includes lots of slice of life moments with other people as well, and of course the romance is slow burn as heck.

Maleficent - Aurora/Maleficent

The Queen of Sunshine and Bright Things - by alittlelesspain (oprhaned) - 31k words » Canon, after the first movie, Aurora has to learn how to rule while Maleficient has to learn what her place in Aurora’s life is now. Through time skips, distance, and political crises, they relearn how much they still mean to each other. It’s beautiful and romantic and a great fic for those who wanted their connection from the movie to go further.

Glee - Quinn/Rachel

This Kiss - by poetzproblem - 141k words » Canon, set in s2, starting from a game of spin the bottle. Rachel and Quinn are shaken by their kiss and Quinn especially doubles down on her mean girl persona. Faberry’s had a lot of great fics and I’ve loved so many but I remember thinking while reading this one that this is probably how it would go, if it ever happened. It’s patient and takes its time and is one of my definitive fics for them.     Also the Don’t Blink series (788k words as of 2023-01-13) is this expansive, ever-growing universe set after graduation. I haven’t read it all, but I’ve reread some of the earlier parts many times, for the super rewarding payoff to them realizing their feelings are mutual, and others finding out about them.    

A Family of Trees - by powergrapes - 8k words » Canon, diverging after s1, Quinn keeps Beth. Rachel’s somehow the only one the baby will calm down for and Quinn is reluctantly forced to call on her for help. It’s sweet and funny, my favorite from this writer but they’ve written several great fics, most popular being Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 - 60k words), a real Faberry classic, where to cheer up Quinn up after giving up Beth, the club goes on a road trip.     

Summer Mornings (oldest chapters at bottom) - by freshtilapia - 35k words » Canon, post-s1, we follow Rachel every morning of her summer vacation as she sees Quinn pass by on her daily run. Slowly they begin to hang out and bond. I think this was one of my first Faberry fics? I was a late bloomer, it took me a while to see their potential, but I really loved how authors saw their post-s1 dynamic and this was a super cute, endearing version of it.    

Boats in the Sky - by WaveGoodbye - 39k words » Canon, diverging after s3, now both in college, Rachel and Quinn are actually friends. Such good friends that Quinn’s roommate thinks maybe there’s something more. As with Clexa above, it’s so interesting how much character dynamics and fandom attitudes change depending on when a fic is written, because unlike the tension in s1 or s2 fics or Quinn being strung so tight with internalized homophobia, now she’s chill, they’re getting along. I love seeing a fic starting with them as friends, plus, a good chunk of it is external POV, which is a fave.    

Our Brilliantly Tangled Thanksgiving - by Elly-Bells - 4k words » Canon, diverging from s1, Quinn has kept Beth--actually, kind of AU too, because her parents are super nice here as well. But it’s just a super fluffy, super cute funny little fic. The author has a fair number of other fluffy fics of varying length to check out as well.    

Crazy on You -  by roxystyle011 - 82k words » Canon, futurefic written early on, Rachel’s a big celebrity now but gets into trouble and is court ordered to see a therapist, who turns out to be Quinn. This is written so early on I’m not sure if people would consider it the most in-character fic out there, though what is in-character when it comes to Glee, but it’s bold and fun and, as with the Clexa multiverse fic above, I just like when people take big swings with characters. There’s a moment near the end of the fic, when a certain page is turned, that still remains one of my favorite, most memorable reveals in fic to this day.

Dune - Chani/Irulan

Serendipity - by Tamoline - 26k words » Canon divergent, Duke Leto survives and Irulan ends up living in the Atreides household as a guest, while Paul is openly with Chani. When Irulan is called off world to testify, Paul sends Chani as her bodyguard. I’m always so grateful that I picked that year to randomly go through the f/f Yuletide entries because this is such a good fic and I could so easily have missed it completely. It’s got politics, action, enemies to lovers, just this great little novella that happens to be set in the world of Dune. It’s fics like this that have me going through the lesser kudosed out there because it’s a genuine fave.

Marvel - Carol Danvers/Jessica Drew

Smell Like I Sound - by Sineala - 7k words » Comicsverse, Carol meets Jess who’s great except Carol can’t shake an unpleasant feeling whenever she’s around. Mostly fluff surrounding the concept of pheromones.    

He Picked the Wrong One - by beckydawolf - 34k words » Comicsverse, Carol and Jess are knocked out in a battle and wake up in an alternate universe where most things are similar, except that Carol is dead and there’s no Jess. They have to figure out what happened and why they were brought there and certain feelings come to light. It’s plotty and fun and the reveal of why they were brought to the alt universe is actually pretty great.    

put them back in poetry (if only I knew how) - by singalellaby - 31k words » Coffee shop AU, Carol and Steve Rogers are best friends and come back from the army to open a bakery together. It’s a lot of slice of life stuff, making friends in the neighborhood, developing crushes on the regulars like one Jessica Drew, grad student, that kind of thing.

Teen Wolf - Allison/Lydia

Untitled - by elvesarebad - 13k words » Canon, post-s2, after recent reveals they’re no longer friends but Lydia asks Allison to help kill Peter. It’s angsty, a lot of raw edges and slow thawing of their frosty relationship in the middle of difficult circumstances, but the canon characters and friendship are so interesting and the writer captures that.

Bleach - Soi Fan/Yoruichi

The Art of Transformation - by siyentista - 30k words  » Mangaverse, mostly, Soi Fan is injured during a big battle and Yoruichi realizes how much Soi Fan means to her. Despite an action-filled start, it settles into more of a slower character-centric fic, lighter and often comical. Given their canon relationship, it’s refreshing to see the dynamic be more mutual and balanced, and despite the relatively short length, the story feels satisfyingly built up (perhaps because of how much history they already have in canon?).

Brooklyn Nine-Nine - Amy/Rosa

Farm-to-Table, Non-GMO, Responsibly Sourced - by impertinence - 6k words » Canon, going undercover as a couple to bust a maple syrup heist ring. I mean, what more is there to say, except that it’s appropriately funny and cute.     

Margin of Error - by idiopathicsmile - 8k words » Canon, Amy needs a place to stay and Rosa offers. The humor matches the show so well, and it’s great to see Rosa’s POV since she’s so deadpan.

Les Misérables - Cosette/Eponine

Any More Obvious - by idiopathicsmile - 2k words » High school AU, Cosette decides to befriend the school goth. It’s just sweet and cute.    

This Longing I Inherit - by myrmidryad - 44k words » College AU, Marius starts dating Cosette and brings her into the friend group. Cosette’s so shy and sheltered, she’s thrilled to meet new people, including the cool and intimidating Eponine. As they all become closer, Eponine realizes maybe she’s crushing on her friend’s gf. It’s much more gentle and sweet and friendship-focused than how soapy and angsty this description makes it sound, and the length allows it a slower burn. A frequent reread, especially to get to the payoff.     

she knows her way around - by lavendersgreen - 18k words » College AU, Marius is too nervous to talk to Cosette so Eponine, pining after him, volunteers to be their go-between. Cosette turns out to be surprisingly fun and as they become friends, Eponine starts to question some things about herself. The premise is already cute with even a but the characterizations and dialogue are so snappy and flow so easily, it’s a great execution of this trope.    

to be loved and to be in love - by missandrogyny - 7k words  » Soulmate-marking AU, they’re musical artists who meet at a concert and immediately get along. They start challenging each other to try songs outside their main genres, much to their fans’ excitement. The soulmate reveal is pretty satisfying as it’s seeded early, and the whole fic is sweet and cute.

The Lizzie Bennet Diaries - Gigi/Lydia

get loved, make more - by allthingsholy - 10k words » Post-series, Lydia feels uncomfortable around Gigi, given what they share in common and that everyone knows. In a series of vignettes over time, for each of the family events they meet up at, she slowly gets over it, given they have so many other things in common, including a love of gossip, fashion, and teasing their siblings. It’s a great character exploration and the writing’s so sharp and pretty.     

Searching For a Sound We Hadn't Heard Before - by Care - 13k words » Post-series, again things are uneasy at first but they thaw and the two end up taking a road trip. That’s a trope with a lot of potential, now that I’m thinking about it, the way people get to know each other under those very specific circumstances, and this is a great execution of it.    

from the dark with you above - by cairophoenix - 22k words » Post-series, again, an awkward meetup to slow friendship and in this case some prime pining afforded by the longer length. The strangers to friends to lovers pipeline just applies really well to these two, what can I say.    

Improvising - by krakens - 3k words » Post-series, some years after, Gigi decides to surprise Lizzy and Darcy with an epilogue posted on Lizzie’s vlog. She enlists Lydia’s help and things escalate. It’s cute and perfect for this particular series, it would have to be that vlog as the catalyst again.    

Candid - by rhymeswithblue - 5k words » Post-series, by simply hanging out with their famous siblings, Gigi and Lydia face some of the same online scrutiny. Again, I kind of love this aspect of a fic set in this world, because of course part it is that there’s a whole audience watching them and it influences them just as much they influence it.

She's the Man - Olivia/Viola

Loose Ends series - by fraidy_bat - 38k words » Post-movie, Olivia comes to terms with the fact that Sebastian isn’t Viola. By the time I was branching out and reading popular f/f fics many years ago, this was already a classic, both as a general f/f fic and in this particular fandom. One of those ships that makes so much sense, and this is an angsty but ultimately very rewarding take on what should have happened after the movie.

Tomb Raider (2013) - Lara/Sam

she traces your scars and rebuilds your world - by lescousinsdangereux - 18k words » Post-2013 game, Lara and Sam are still traumatized by what transpired on the island and lean heavily on each other, even as Lara heads off on another research mission. It’s a great character study at their PTSD but also building on the relationship from canon and sweet and romantic and funny. This was my definitive version of post-game canon, not the other games or the movie or the comics.

Game of Thrones - Margaery/Sansa

Keep the Bouquets series - by Netgirl_y2k - 7k words » Canon diverging...earlyish on, I don’t know the series, but most characters are still alive. Not thinking either’s worthy of Joffrey, the Lannisters arrange a marriage between Sansa and Margaery and they...make it work. Despite being relatively so short, each individual part under 3k words, they’re so effective, these two finding something in that brutal world.

St. Trinian's (2007) - Annabelle/Kelly

This Town We're Painting - by Fahye - 8k words » Post-movies, they’re an established couple, going about the not so normal lives of St. Trinian’s graduates. Funny and in the vein of the movies, bringing in many of the other former students, and solidifying the Annabelle/Kelly dynamic that seemed so full of potential.

Mai Hime - Natsuki/Shizuru

Inter Nos - by ethnewinter - 1.2m words, WIP » Ancient Rome AU, this very detailed, intricate story with all the Mai Hime characters, Shizuru’s a general and Natsuki’s assigned as her bodyguard during a visit to an allied kingdom. I’m gonna be honest, I haven’t read this in many, many years and definitely haven’t caught up, but even back then when it was a fraction of the size, it was already considered a classic. At this length, I feel like just reading what’s there is a reward in itself.

Kim Possible - Kim/Shego

Alone, Together - by Failte200 - 108k words » Canon, Kim and Shego accidentally get sent to an alternate dimension, same Earth, but no human. They have to get along to survive. Another f/f classic, I remember being much younger and the scale of the fic, the years they lived alone and grew older together, took my breath away.   

BSP01: Best Sidekick Possible - by Sobriety - 62k words » Canon, there's a King of Thieves competition and Shego wants the best sidekick possible, i.e., Kim. I think I ended up really liking the romance in this one.

Phoenix Wright - Adrian/Franziska

Follow the Fool - by CantFaketheFunk - 53k words » Canon, post-Phoenix Wright 2, Franziska feels guilty about advising Adrian to perjure herself so when Adrian asks to see her, she invites her to Germany to stay with her. The setting can be a bit goofy, as it is in the game, but the characters and relationship are taken seriously.

Sailor Moon - Haruka/Michiru

FwB - by harukaze - 321k words » AU, no powers, they meet as adults and decide to become friends with benefits. I remember this one Greyhound trip I took from NYC to Toronto, I was riveted to this fic and just read for most of the trip, wanting to see how it'd end. Soapy and angsty and very addicting.

Annnd then these two het fics:

The Big Bang Theory - Penny/Sheldon

The Paladin Protocol - by SpaceAnJL - 88k words » Canon, the guys take Penny LARPing and she ends up enjoying it, and bonding with Sheldon while Leonard feels left out. Very character driven slow burn romance while being funny and presumably true to the characters, I've not actually ever watched the show, but I've seen a few clips on Youtube. Just a great fic and one of the few m/f fics I've read more than once.

Star Trek (2009) - Spock/Uhura

The Place Between - by PsiCygni - 309k words » Canon, set before the movie, Uhura needs an advisor for her project and Commander Spock needs a partner while negotiating with a particular alien species. The only answer? Fake dating! Slowwww burn and since I like both the characters in all their forms, an enjoyable fic.

And ya know, however old some of these might be, if you liked them, think about leaving a nice review. I had a saved fic from a site that’d gone down and like, more than 10 years after it was written I sent an email to the address provided and actually got a reply! 

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Big bros and period comforts; Steve Harrington x sister preteen reader

*Author’s note*

And here is yet another request that recently came to me so to the anon who asked for this, I hope you’ll find this in the tags when you go to search this up. Anyways like I said, while I do love seeing some romantic steve fics, I think he deserves some more platonic big bro fics cause let’s face it he may always be the babysitter but he’s sure as HELL one HELL of a damn good one and deserves to be a big brother.

Warnings: period descriptions, swearing, some angst, brotherly fluff, Steve being a good brother.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@queen-paladin​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

___________________________________________________________

I tossed and turned in my bed feeling a cold sweat coming onto my brow.  I have been feeling pain in my lower stomach since last night but I just labeled it to that Big Mac Steve got me last night but there was something in the back of my head that told me it wasn’t just the late night McDonald’s.  I turned to my clock to see that it was just half past 6am.

I got up from my bed and went to the bathroom and when I pulled down my pants, I noticed how they were stained brown.  What the hell?! I took them off and quickly closed and locked the bathroom door.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! This cannot be happening. Not now! Mom’s not even here to help me with this. I don’t know where she keeps her stuff at, hell she could’ve taken all of those stuff since she’s never home! I can’t-I can’t—I can’t do this right now!” I hissed as my lower stomach began to cramp up even more than it had all night.

I quickly sat on the toilet and did my business but I decided to just stay on it cause now my underwear was completely stained just like my pants.

“I can’t believe this is happening now. And why now? I wasn’t prepared for this. I can’t go to school like this. My insides are coming out of my outsides, my stomach is all in knots and cramping every ten seconds, I can’t do this!” I buried my face into my hands and felt tears burning in my eyes.

Great! Now I’m crying! I’m crying at the butt crack of dawn and all because of my stupid period finally decided to make its appearance right here and now with no one to help me through this.

“Hey (Y/n), you okay in there?” oh god no. And to make matters worse, Steve’s gonna find out.  There is no way in hell I’m letting my brother anywhere near me in this state.

“Don’t come in here Steve!”

“I’m not. I just wanna know if you’re alright. You sounded pretty frantic just a bit ago.” Shit I forgot.  Steve’s room is literally right across from the bathroom, he must’ve heard my frantic ranting earlier god why couldn’t I be quieter? Or better yet why can’t we have a soundproof bathroom?!

“I’m fine. Just go away now and don’t use this bathroom.”

“Sorry squirt but you do realize this is our bathroom. Not just yours.”

“You use this bathroom a lot longer than me and that’s just to do your stupid hair!” I snapped.

“First of all, cut the attitude. I get it’s early but there’s no need to throw a fit. Second, it’s not my fault mom and dad made us share a bathroom. And third, my hair is not stupid.”

“Steve just—leave me alone. I’ll be out soon okay, but just get out of here.”

“Fine. But if you’re not out in the next 20 minutes, I’m breaking down the door with my bat. And you know I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever your scary bat with nails. You take on a few Demogorgon’s and a few demodogs and you think you’re Hercules or something.” I said.  I knew Steve probably was flipping me off and I heard the creaks of the floorboards leave the bathroom.

I turned towards my towel and wrapped it around my waist before peeking out the bathroom door just to be sure Steve was really gone. Once I knew he was, I quickly darted back to my bedroom, grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and raced back to the bathroom.  I tried using toilet paper as a base to protect my underwear but it kept falling out or sticking out too far so I just decided to screw it and go bare.

Maybe if I just ignore it, it won’t leak or if I try to squeeze my legs together as tight as I could, maybe that’ll stop it from staining my underwear.  I put on some new sweatpants and went downstairs to see Steve eating his breakfast.

“Finally done hogging the bathroom I see.”

“Haha you’re hilarious. Like I said, if either one of us is hogging the bathroom it’s use and your Farrah Faucet spray.”

“The threat still stands. I don’t care if you’re my little sister, you tell any of your nerdy friends about it, and like Henderson your ass is grass.”

“Whatever.” I said getting the count chocula.  “Hey, do you know when mom’s coming back?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I said so now quit being a smartass. Do you or do you not know?” I snapped.

“You know I’m really not liking this sudden attitude (Y/n). You do realize I’m the older sibling around here.”

“Steve I’m serious just tell me when mom’s coming back!”

“I don’t know. You know her, sometimes she doesn’t call or even send us a letter to tell us when she’s staying on her business trips longer. Just like our old man.” I groaned and took my cereal upstairs.  “Where are you going now?! Hey! (Y/n) I’m talking to you!”

“Well I’m through talking to you!”

“Hey!” he grabbed my arm roughly which caused me to drop my bowl of count chocula all over the floor.

“What the fuck Steve!?”

“Don’t turn this on me! Why are you acting like such a spoiled little brat!?”

“It’s none of your damn business!”

“When mom and dad are gone, that makes me in charge therefore what you do is my business!”

“This is basically child abandonment you’re not even 18 yet so you can’t legally watch over me for this period of time!”

“Whether we like it or not, that’s the way things are around here. Believe me I’ve dealt with it longer than you have. Now you have two options; tell me what’s wrong without the attitude, or you can continue to mope while I drag your ass to school.”

“Oh there’s no way I’m going to school today.”

“And why’s that?”

“I just am.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“People do it all the time.”

“But not you. Your only excuse is if you’re dead, sick or just came out of the hospital for broken bones. And you’re not either of the three.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?”

“You just wouldn’t.”

“Why? Because I’m stupid? Because I’m slow? I may not be as smart as you, but I’ll have you know that I—”

“This has nothing to do with scholastic intelligence Steve! This is because you’re a boy and I’m a girl so please don’t bother even trying to fix this because I know you won’t want to!” I took back my arm and immediately raced upstairs and slammed the bathroom door shut before feeling the tears coming down my face.

I slid down against the door until my butt hit the floor and I wept into my knees as I wrapped my arms around my legs.  My shoulders shaking as I choked on some sobs.

Truthfully I hate fighting with my brother.  We’ve been fighting for years ever since he became ‘King Steve’ and only just recently with the whole Upside down have we’ve tried to rebuild our relationship with each other.

Now thanks to my stupid period and damn hormones, I might’ve fucked everything up.  I didn’t mean to snap at him but I knew he wouldn’t understand this.  No guy would, hell just last year when I got with the guys after our first ever health class (when they separated all the guys and girls to talk about the reproduction stuff and how our bodies change and shit as we get older), Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will were all pretty scarred from it.  So if they acted like that, how would my own brother act alone when I told him I finally started my period?

Knock. Knock.

“(N/n)?” Steve’s voice said in a more calming manner.  “Did you—what you said back there, did you umm…..you know?” there was the awkwardness in his tone.  He was starting to piece it together.

“What would you’re answer be if I said yes?” I asked as I wiped away my tears.

“Well…..I’d tell you that if you needed, you know the pads. There’s some in the bathroom vanity just above the towels.” Wait what?

“How did—”

“I had seen mom take the last remaining stuff she had before they left. I figured you’d need some just in case it happened now or something.”

“You—bought period pads?”

“Well I wasn’t gonna buy you those tampons. Not even I know how the hell they work. So if you’d think you’d be using those, think again.” I stood up and went over to the vanity closet and just as Steve said, on the shelf above the towels were some pads.

I reached up and took a box down and slowly opened it up. I took a pad out and took off the tape before unfolding it to reveal the pad inside.

“I think you first place it on the—”

“I can manage Steve!” I quickly interrupted him feeling my cheeks flush in embarrassment.  “Don’t listen Steve!”

“Okay, okay my ears are covered.” I heard him say from behind the door.

“You swear it?”

“What was that? I can’t hear you my palms are practically sucking out my brains.” I rolled my eyes at him.  I took the pad out of the sleeve and saw the wings tucked in under the tape.  I placed the pad along the main part of my underwear and then removed the small square tape holding the wings in and then folded them over my underwear to make them stay.  I pulled my underwear back up and then put my pants back on before coming out of the bathroom.  There Steve stood against the right side of the door with his ears covered.

I tapped his elbow and he looked down at me and I motioned for him to uncover his ears.  He did as I told him and he asked me.

“How you feel?”

“Like I got a diaper on.”

“Unfortunately that’s something you’ll have to get used to. Maybe next time we need to do a store run you can come with me and you can pick out—” I stopped him by exclaiming and shaking my head.

“Why are you the one talking about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh c’mon Steve, don’t pretend. I know you’re trying to pull off the supportive big brother card on the outside but on the inside, I know talking about this stuff is really making you uncomfortable. Squeamish even.” He hummed for a second before saying.

“Not really.”

“Stop lying.”

“I’m not, seriously. You think if I were that squeamish I would’ve bought you those pads in there?” I shrugged.  “Well I’m wasn’t.”

“But didn’t you get weird looks when people saw you buying this stuff?”

“Some douchebag guys did, but when I told them it was for my little sister they shut up. Then next thing I knew, one of the store’s female employees told me to get you that brand of pads for a first time period.”

“That story true?”

“As true as the nose on my face. Listen,” he placed his hands on my shoulders and we looked at each other.  “I know you wish mom were here. She could answer the questions I know that are going through your mind. And she could definitely answer them a lot better than I ever could. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. But you don’t have to be embarrassed about coming to me with these types of things. I had to sit through three years of health class just like I know you are doing right now when they first did it to you guys last year. They still do that thing where they separate you girls and boys and—”

“Yes Steve. They did it last year and we’re supposed to do it again in two weeks.”

“Okay and again they’ll do it when you go into 8th grade. But my point is, it’s biology. You’re not the only girl going through this, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch earlier Steve. I was just—scared but also angry and god I don’t even know what other emotions. But I remembered how last year Dustin and the guys came out of that first health class and they had that thousand yard stare. Like they had been to hell and back, and that was before Will had even disappeared into the Upside down. I thought you’d get that same look or be so uncomfortable you wouldn’t even want to be near me.”

“Well unlike your friends, I’ve lived through this with many girls. Plus I’m more mature to handle that type of stuff than they are.” I couldn’t help but laugh and shake my head.  “I’ll allow that just for today. So besides starting your period, anything else bothering you? Cramps? Cold sweat?”

“I’ve been having bad cramps all night, didn’t really sleep well.”

“Okay, so back into bed with you missy. No school for you today.” He said guiding me back to my room.

“I thought you said—”

“Again making an exception. I’ll call the school and tell them you’re sick today.”

“Ahh man!”

“What you have a test or something?”

“No. But Max was gonna teach me some cool moves on her skateboard today.”

“Well she’s gonna have to suck it up and hear your excuse tomorrow. For now, into bed.” He removed the covers and it was then we both saw the stained brown spot on the bed.

“Oh god!” I exclaimed turning embarrassed.

“Hey no worries. Just change the sheets, like I said no big deal.” He tucked away my two main sheets before starting to remove the main bed sheet over my mattress and wadded it up before taking it out of the room. A few minutes passed and he came in with a new bedsheet and asked me, “Care to help me out with this?” I nodded and together we placed the new bed sheet over the mattress before placing my pillows and blankets back on the bed.  “Alright, now that that’s taken care of, into bed.”

I did as he said and he tucked me back into bed.

“Need a heating pad? Nance used to say they always helped whenever her cramps got really bad.”

“Can it really do that?”

“Yeah something about extreme heat helps ease the muscles or something. I really can’t remember, maybe you could ask her next time you’re over at Mike’s.”

“You’d really allow me to talk to your ex-girlfriend?”

“There’s no law that says you can’t talk to her even after our breakup. Plus she did enjoy having you around, I’m sure she’d be happy to give you any advice on this kind of stuff.” I nodded.  “So heating pad? Got any cravings? I’ve seen and heard some girls talk about their cravings for sweets, mainly chocolate. Would you like some?” I nodded.  “Okay, back in a few.” He soon left my room once more.

Even after our intense spat this morning, once he understood what was happening he really was becoming a good big brother in helping out his little sister in her time of need.  Not walking around eggshells or being super awkward about it, he understood and seemed to have everything I needed.

Soon he came back with the heating pad, some Hershey bars and a few bags of M&M’s, as well as some of my favorite movies.

“Okay so put this against your lower abdomen, and I’ll plug it up and switch it onto warm first. Then we’ll see if you want to go hotter or cooler.” He handed me the heating pad and I did as he said while we went over to my desk and plugged it into the socket just underneath my work desk.

He flipped the switch and soon I began to feel the warming sensation starting to come around my lower abdomen.  I moaned in relief as I shut my eyes and held the heating pad closer to me.  I felt something tap my forehead and I saw Steve holding one of the Hersey bars.

“Figured you’d want to eat this now before you pass out.” I took the bar from him and unwrapped it before taking a bite out of it. I don’t know whether it was the hormones or the enhanced senses from my period but this was the absolute, most heavenly thing I’ve ever had in my entire life (and I’ve been eating Hersey bars and kisses for as long as I can remember).

He set the rest of the candy at my bedside and he stroked my hair before telling me.

“I’m gonna quickly call the school and then get your sheets in the washer.”

“Directions are taped to the dryer.” I told him.

“I know, I know. God you let the washer overflow one time.”

“Twice. Remember the first time when mom and dad came early to see soap all across the hallway.”

“Right. But you just get some sleep okay kid?” I nodded. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead gingerly before brushing some of my hair out of my face.  “I’ll check on you in a bit.”

“Thank you Steve.” I whispered before feeling the pull between consciousness and unconsciousness and the urge to sleep gripped tightly on me. And thanks to the heating pad, it was increasing greatly.

“You’re welcome (Y/n). Sleep well.” He then went over to the tv and turned it on and the last thing I heard was the opening to Lady and the Tramp playing in the background.

[yearnforag0ny]

The MD and DVM; Chapter 1

Author’s note: hii omg this is the first fanfiction I’ve written in about five years now loool…I wrote this because I’ve never seen a harvey fic where the farmer is a veterinarian, and I have seen many questionable things said about farming. I work on a farm, and I am working towards going to veterinary school, so I felt my knowledge might contribute to a unique Harvey fic lol correct me if I’m wrong, tho, and please let me know if I should continue this! Crossposted on ao3 under xxdeaduniverse.

spring 1

You had always loved your grandfather’s property. His death almost broke you. However, you were delighted to find that he had left you his farm, Cinnamon Meadow. It was a quiet slice of heaven nestled away in Pelican Town. It still had all its old charm, just some added overgrowth and a lack of crops and animals. 

You graduated from veterinary school a couple of years ago. Visiting your grandfather’s farm ignited your love for animals, and it only grew the older you became. After eight years, you earned a bachelor’s degree in animal science and were officially a doctor in veterinary medicine. 

Since your veterinary school was near Zuzu City, you picked up a job offer at a clinic in the heart of the city and worked almost exclusively with dogs and cats. It was incredibly fun; however, you had forgotten your initial dream of working with farm animals instead of small ones. So when your grandfather died, you were happy to see he left you the farm in his will. While living in Zuzu City, you would visit Pelican Town every so often to say hello to your grandfather, but more so because Marnie was a client of yours. She called you whenever her animals were having the slightest of health issues. You were happy to answer her calls because it meant you would see cows, catch up with Marnie, and say hello to your grandfather. 

You sighed while you stood on the porch of your grandfather’s old house, which was technically yours now. It was a beautiful spring day. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the sounds of birds chirping. 

Marnie interrupted your peace by slamming the front door on her way out of the house. 

“Whoops! Didn’t mean to let that door slam,” She chuckled. You smiled at her. You were so grateful she agreed to help you move your stuff today. 

“Well, that was the last box,” She sighed in relief. “I’ve gotta run. Shane has to work a shift at JojaMart, and I need to watch Jas. You should stop by Robin’s house today so she can start building you a coop!” Marnie exclaimed, smiling at you.

 “Yeah, I probably will. I want to get this place up and running as soon as possible,” You said, looking out onto the land again.

“I’ll be at the saloon Friday night. You should stop by and introduce yourself to everyone then,” suggested Marnie. 

“That’s a good idea, actually. Gives me enough time to do some work and mentally prepare to meet all the new people,” You chuckled. Marnie rolled her eyes. 

“They’ll love you. Just come by whenever you’re ready, okay?” She winked at you before walking off towards her farm.

You waved goodbye and groaned once you realized you would have to clear some overgrowth to build a chicken coop. You cracked your knuckles, grabbed your axe from the porch, and got to work.

A couple of hours of hard work later, you had a small clearing of land by the farmhouse. You decided that would be enough hard work for today, you weren’t sure when Robin would close up, and you haven’t unpacked anything in your house at all. You set the axe back on your porch and made yourself look somewhat presentable. You noticed your cat, Horace, had already taken a liking to the new digs. He had plopped himself on top of a pile of boxes. Horace was a fat, tuxedo tabby cat and essentially your best friend since you had adopted him your junior year of college. You gave him a pat on the head before heading out to Robin’s.

You admired the peace on your walk to the mountains. At some point, the hours must have melted away because three o’clock. You finally noticed how tired you were from moving in and doing physical work on the land. However, your dreams of dozing away were cut short. The walk to Robin’s was not as long as you had anticipated, though, as her house suddenly appeared hidden behind pine trees. You took a moment to admire her house, assuming she had built it herself. Wooden with a blue roof. You liked it. Once you spotted the telescope on the left, you immediately wondered how beautiful the skies must be here. You hadn’t seen a sky free of light pollution in years.

You cautiously opened the front door to see a counter with a ginger woman standing on the other side reading a newspaper. She looked up when the door opened, smiling at you. 

“You must be Y/N! I’m so glad to meet you finally. I heard someone was moving into Cinnamon Meadow, but I didn’t know so soon. I’m Robin,” She said, coming out behind the counter to shake your hand. You shook it, happy to realize she wasn’t startled by some stranger entering her home. You smiled at her.

 “Hi. Marnie said to come see you if I wanted anything built, so here I am,” You chuckled. Robin looked delighted. 

“Well, sure! What were you wanting to have built?” She eagerly questioned. It was easy to see she was excited; not many villagers in Pelican Town needed new construction. 

“I’m going to get Cinnamon Meadow up and running again, so I’ll need a new chicken coop. And then a barn. And probably house renovations. I need a lot done,” You sheepishly rubbed your neck, wondering if this was too much to request all at once. Robin defied you and lit up even more. 

“Great! I can get started on the chicken coop tomorrow!” She exclaimed. 

“Deal.”

~

After paperwork and settling payments, you returned to Cinnamon Meadow to continue yardwork. You felt so relieved that the coop wasn’t too expensive to build. You had been saving up since you paid off your tuition, and you were finally happy to invest some of the funds into your future. Around six o’clock, your exhaustion won over your ambition, and you decided to settle down for the night. You unpacked enough kitchen supplies to scrounge up some frozen dinner, took a hot shower, and promptly fell asleep with Horace in your small bed around eight.

You slept better than you had in ages. You even had a dream where your farm was complete, cows and all. But you knew something was missing. Or rather, a special someone. What was the farm if you had no one to share it with? You thought to yourself within your dream. You had always told yourself you didn’t need to be with someone, that as long as you made yourself happy, it was all that mattered. But you still ached for it. Your dream was cut short by a particular fat cat lightly smacking your cheek. 

“What the–Horace!” You exclaimed.

 “I was sleeping so well…” You sighed. You checked the time on your phone. 6 AM? Might as well get up now and get some yardwork done I guess… You thought to yourself with an elongated yawn. You realized you were a little sore from all the work yesterday. You groaned, knowing there would be more to come today. Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed and organized some food for Horace. As expected, he flew to his breakfast and you figured you should do the same for yourself. A cup of coffee and one granola bar later, you pulled on your favorite pair of overalls and stretched. Today was going to be long. You intended to clear more of the land and buy and plant seeds.

You headed outside to start working and saw Robin hammering away at the coop. Her enthusiasm for her work made you smile. 

“Morning, Robin! Any coffee for you?” You greeted. 

“NO THANKS!” She yelled back with a smile. You wondered why she was screaming before noticing she was wearing headphones. You chuckled, grabbed your axe, and went straight to work.

Around one, you figured you should take a break to go to the store. You briefly recall Marnie mentioning a place called Pierre’s. After trading your axe for your wallet, you started heading in the general direction of town. It was another beautiful day. Are all the days here going to be as lovely as they have been? You wondered, smiling to yourself. You noticed that the change of scenery from moving here had already positively affected you.

You walked into town and focused on the square before you. It's small but adorable. Lamposts and trees lined the square, along with a few buildings. The one before you was the doctor’s clinic, with Pierre’s store on the other side. You briefly wondered about the town doctor for a moment. You knew you should get yourself checked up sooner rather than later. After doing farm research in your undergrad, you unfortunately found out the hard way that farm work was no joke. You filed away this thought for later and walked into Pierre’s.

The general store was small but had everything you could ever need. The older gentleman with glasses behind the single register smiled at you.

 “You must be the new farmer! Y/N right? I’m Pierre. It’s so nice to have somebody new in town!” He exclaimed. You wondered when the last time somebody new moved into Pelican Town. 

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” You smiled back. 

“I’m so sorry to hear about your grandfather. He was a great man. Sold me the best crops,” Pierre sighed. You felt a tinge of grief bite at you, pushing it away immediately. 

“He was a good man. I fully intend to restore the farm, though, so I’ll have some crops for you,” You chuckled. Remembering what you came here for, you grabbed a bunch of random seed packets and essentials for your kitchen. You accidentally bumped into a woman with bright green hair in one of the aisles. You quickly learned she was Pierre’s wife, Caroline. 

“You should come to the aerobics class here on Tuesdays! Great way to get to know everyone,” She smiled. The thought of any more exercise than you already had to do on the farm made you cringe. 

“Maybe,” you tentatively said before mentioning it was good to meet her and heading to checkout. You went right home afterward, excited to plant your new seeds. You may have been a little ambitious when you started tilling the dirt; the field you created was large. You also knew if you wanted to make money anytime soon, it would be from crops.

It took forever to till, plant, and water the field. By the time it was 6, you were wiping sweat off your brow and decided that was all you could take today. You headed into your house to make a proper dinner from the groceries you picked up at Pierre’s today: homemade pizza. You savored every bite—your first meal in your first owned house. The thought made you smile. After a shower, you watched TV, cuddling Horace before finally falling asleep for the night.

The following two days seemed to blur together. At some point, you went to Marnie’s to catch up and buy chickens after Robin was done with the coop. You were overjoyed to finally have animals back on the farm and made a mental note to return to Robin’s on Monday to have her start building a barn. However, today was Friday. The day you were going to the saloon. You thought about it–stressed about it–while doing your farm chores that morning. Was everyone going to like you? Would they insist on kicking you out of Pelican Town? Or would you drink enough to forget these irrational thoughts and let go? You decided on the latter. 

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you had showered and started getting ready for your first night out on the town. You threw on your favorite pair of jeans and a sweater with some jewelry. After a little makeup and tweaking your hair, you decided you were ready.

Walking out the door, you felt a cold spring breeze on your back. You were immediately grateful you picked a sweater. As you walked towards the saloon, you looked up at the sky. The sun had just begun to set. It was your favorite time of day. A part of you felt like having drinks on your porch alone instead of being crowded by strangers in a bar, but you knew better than to be a hermit tonight. You had told Marnie you would be there, so you would. 

You could hear faint music and laughter inside as you approached the saloon. A warm glow of light emitted from the windows. You took a deep breath and walked in. The villagers were having so much fun not many even noticed you came in except Marnie. She sat in the center of the bar, smiling and waving at you. A wave of relief washed over you. You smiled and sat down 

next to her.

“I’m so glad you came! I’ll have to introduce you to everyone,” She said, handing you a glass of wine—even more relief. You gulped to soothe your nerves. One by one, Marnie introduced you to some people in the town. You knew you would struggle to remember some of their names after tonight. You met Emily, tending the bar, along with Gus. Leah, an artist who had also moved to the valley from the city. Pam, who seemed like the local drunk. Willy, a sweet fisherman. Marnie pointed out other people; you determined Demetrius was married to Robin because they were dancing together. Some younger kids in the other room were Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail. A young woman with glasses suddenly sat herself next to you.

 “Marnie, is this the new farmer we’ve all been hearing about?” She questioned, smiling at you. 

“Yup! Y/N, meet Maru,” Marnie motioned to her. 

“Hi,” you shyly said with a smile.

 “Y/N is a veterinarian,” Marnie blurted out. You nodded. 

“Good to have another scientist in town,” Maru giggled. “Dr. Y/N, then?” She asked. You laughed. 

“Oh, no, please don’t call me doctor…except when I’m looking at your animals,” You winked, and they laughed. Maru looked in the other direction of the bar, and you saw something go off in her brain.

“I should introduce you to the only other doctor in town,” Maru giggled. 

“Oh, sure, I’ve meant to meet them, actually,” You nodded. Maru took your hand and led you to a table near the jukebox. At the table sat two men having wine. One had long hair and wore a reddish coat, the other with glasses and a mustache wearing a green coat. Before you had time to think further, Maru set her hands down on the table. 

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N. She just moved into Cinnamon Meadow. Harvey, she is also a doctor,” Maru said with a smirk. You briefly wondered which one she was talking to before the man in the glasses smiled. 

“Is that right? I’m the town’s doctor, Harvey,” He introduced himself. You were taking him in. Handsome. Really handsome. It didn’t help you had a thing for mustaches, but he was also smart, evidently. 

“I’m a veterinarian. I planned on getting my MD for a while but decided I liked animals more than people,” This raised a laugh out of them all. 

“Good to meet you, doctor Y/N,” Harvey said, sipping his wine. The man with the long hair introduced himself as Elliott. You immediately let his name slip your mind because you were considering how you would further get to know Harvey. Marnie interrupted your thoughts by calling for you from the bar. 

“Y/N! Come here, you gotta tell me what breed of cows you want to invest in!!” You blushed. 

“I suppose I’ll see you later,” You said, mainly to Harvey. You could feel the alcohol working its way into your system, so it was probably best you get away from him now before you were completely drunk. Harvey looked a little disappointed. 

“Be sure to come see me some time to get checked up,” He quickly mentioned. You nodded, smiling; maybe you weren’t just delusional, and he thought the same about you. You walked back to Marnie, but every fiber of your being wanted to stay and have another drink with him.

[storiesbyrhi]

Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 15: Christmas

Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader 3605 words Series Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; smut; reference to suicide (specifically Virginia Woolf’s); no beta; grief/mourning; verbal fighting; meat (turkey)... for the vegans; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: It was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Author's Note: We also continue with our little peppering of glimpses into Eddie’s masterplan. Bonus: We find out what's in the Garfield mug.

“The roads are awful,” you tried to argue.

It was just under a week until Christmas, and from where you sat on the bed, you could see snow falling outside. Forest Hills had already become a depressing version of a winter wonderland.

“I’m taking Wayne’s truck. He got chains put on.”

Eddie continued to shove things into his duffle bag, not bothering to face you as he spoke.

“Why can’t they at least meet you halfway?”

Eddie held back a smirk. “It’s not the same as me driving over to someone’s house to sell them a few joints. Not your friendly neighbourhood drug dealer. They’re a supplier, you know?”

“Okay but doesn’t that make them dangerous?”

“That’s why you’re not coming,”

“Eddie,” you whined, but the pitch is sad and he heard it.

Eddie stopped packing and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s one night, angel. I’ll be in and out there. I promise if there was a different way of getting the product, I’d do that. But no Rick means I gotta fend for myself, and I want it done before Christmas, ‘kay?”

He felt like shit for lying to you, but there was no other cover story. Eddie had spent hours thinking about it, but all alternatives made no sense. Driving to Chicago to buy a few months’ worth of drugs got him to the city without you.

Eddie had added flourishes to the story to make it seem more real. People suffered through the holidays; weed was a saving grace he could charge a premium for. People partied through the holidays; coke and party drugs at holiday rates. Supply and demand.

It was hard for you to come up with a valid enough reason for him not to go. The income generated from the product would be supporting you after all. Regardless, you felt sick knowing Eddie would be alone on the icy roads for so long, and you were terrified at the thought of who he’d be meeting in the Windy City.

When Eddie kissed you goodbye, he held your face in his hands and studied it. “I love you,” he said softly while his expression was set in a hard frown.

“I love you too. Be safe.”

Once he was gone, you went back to bed with the hopes of sleeping through the subsequent forty-eight hours.

At the wheel of Wayne’s truck, Eddie had Hawkins in his rearview mirror, and a list of addresses and times riding shotgun.

…

It came as a surprise to you that you had, in fact, not met all the different sides of Eddie. As Christmas Eve Day dawned, your boyfriend was running on adrenaline, black coffee, and a questionable amount of sugar.

You sat at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of milky tea, watching him measure out herbs and spices. At first, he was explaining the recipe to you. Quickly it descended into Eddie muttering something about oven hot spots and internal turkey temperatures. It would have been funny if he didn’t look so unhinged.

When Wayne came home from his night shift, he froze in the doorway at the sight of Eddie in the kitchen.

“Jesus. This shit starts earlier every year,” he said.

“Yeah. Yeah. And every year I get closer to the perfect fuckin’ bird, don’t I? Huh? Yeah?”

“Alright. Calm down. Don’t get your turkey in a twist… If this is happening, I’m taking the bed for a couple’a hours,”

“Yeah, ‘kay. Don’t mind the wet patches,” Eddie replied with a dumbass smile.

You closed your eyes and felt your cheeks heat.

Wayne made a noise of extreme discontent, grabbed the blanket hung over his fold-up bed, and disappeared into the bedroom.

“Why did you have to say that?” you whined.

Eddie cackled and returned to his precious Christmas Eve roast. “After you eat this, you’ll let me say whatever I fucking want.”

When his prized bird was safely on its way to cooked perfection, you joined Eddie to help prepare the sides. Mashed potatoes and peas. Gravy and cranberry sauce. Most of it was store-bought mixes because Eddie had spent so much on the bird. You didn’t care at all. With the trailer smelling of food and pine, and a small collection of gifts under the tree, it was shaping up to be a kind of beautiful Christmas.

When Wayne emerged from the bedroom, it was late afternoon. Dinner was well on its way to being cooked, and Eddie was sitting on the floor in front of the oven. He’d let you bake gingerbread on the condition that he watched the oven to ensure his turkey wasn’t affected.

“If anything, my cookies are gonna smell like it!”

“Lucky them!”

Wayne took his usual position in the single armchair in the corner of the room. He’d put on a record then relaxed in for the night.

“We don’t always get Christmas Eve together,” Eddie explained. “He asked for it off this year,”

“That’s good,”

“For you,” he added. You had joined Eddie on the floor next to the oven, and looked over at him when he said it. “My first Christmas with him was awesome. I mean, all things considered. Reckon he wants yours to be too.”

It felt good in that way that hurts.

When your cookies were out and cooled, you and Eddie sat at the little table against the wall and began to decorate. Your first three were gingerbread replicas of you, Eddie, and Wayne. You glanced over at Eddie’s plate. He had bitten limbs off his men and eaten them happily.

“They fought valiantly,” he told you.

“Who was the war against?”

“Christian fundamentalists,” Eddie replied, not missing a beat.

“Jesus,” you laughed.

“Nah, he’s actually on the other side.”

You watched him for a few more moments, lost in his own little storyline of broken soldiers and religious zealots. Truly, there was nobody else like Eddie.

After gingerbread men and spiked eggnog, the Christmas crackers were brought out. You won against both Eddie and Wayne, wearing a pink and a blue paper hat on your head. Wayne won against Eddie, leaving Eddie to pout and smell the gunpowder sticks left in the halved crackers.

“Like sparklers,” he told you, inhaling dramatically.

Wayne unraveled the tiny piece of paper in his hands and sighed. “Why did Santa’s helper go to the doctor?” You and Eddie shrugged. “Because he had low elf esteem.”

Eddie snorted. “Alright, gimme one?” You handed him one of yours. “Ahhh, ‘kay… What’s the best Christmas present in the world? … A broken drum… You just can’t beat it,”

“We should save that for Gareth. Okay, mine says… What do you get when you cross Santa with a vampire?”

“Frostbite,” Eddie answered immediately.

“Yeah,”

“That’s my favourite Christmas joke,”

“You have a favourite Christmas joke?”

“Yeah. That and: what do you get if you cross a bell with a skunk? Jingle smells,”

“That’s bad,” you said but laughed anyway.

“Wayne has a photographic memory for shitty jokes,” Eddie told you, pointing up at his uncle.

“What did one snowman say to the other snowman? … Can you smell carrot?”

And it went on like that until the oven timer binged and Eddie screamed so loud beside you that it hurt your ears.

“Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck. Yes. Yes, this is it. I’ve done it. I’m a god. I’m a culinary god. The best goddamn chef in all of Indiana.”

You and Wayne stood and watched Eddie pull the turkey out of the oven. He’d done the math and timed all the sides perfectly. He began to mumble to himself (although you were beginning to suspect he was actually talking to the turkey) and put things on serving plates.

“Guess we better set the table,” Wayne said.

The small table against the wall was pulled out and a third folded chair was fetched from somewhere in the trailer. You set out three plates and lots of cutlery. The table wasn’t big enough to put everything on, so Eddie arranged a buffet on the kitchen bench where you each could serve yourself from.

“Looks good, kid,” Wayne offered when you were all at the table.

Eddie took a swig from his can of beer. “Thanks,”

“Really good,” you added. Eddie smiled at you. For a split second, less than even, you saw something in his expression. “What?”

He chewed his lip. “I just… It’s good to see you excited about food,” he said softly. Only months earlier, it would have been a risky thing to say. Not anymore.

You smiled back at him.

“We eating? Or…” Wayne hesitated. “You wanna say grace or something?”

Eddie snorted. “Grace?” They pulled faces at each other, then Eddie conceded. “How ‘bout… Here’s to… graduating, having a hot girlfriend, and a perfectly cooked turkey.”

Wayne shook his head but held his drink up anyway. In unison, the three of you said cheers.

…

Christmas dessert was bags of candy and the final dregs of eggnog. You and Eddie were laying side by side on the floor under the tree, looking up at the twinkling lights.

“What time you start tomorrow?” Eddie asked Wayne.

“Early.”

You hadn’t thought about the fact that so many people work on Christmas Day. You had been living a life of privilege with your parents, one that included holidays off.

“Let’s do presents tonight then,” you suggested.

“Good idea,” Eddie agreed, sitting up and pulling Wayne’s haul out.

A couple of records, novelty socks, and a book of gift vouchers Eddie and you had made that entitled Wayne to things like ‘get out of your turn to vacuum,’ ‘one night alone in the trailer,’ and ‘get out of jail free.’ He laughed at it and Eddie made a comment about how it was probably going to come back and bite you on the asses.

“Your turn, angel,”

“We agreed one thing each,” you whined when Eddie pulled out multiple gifts.

“This one’s from him, so that doesn’t count. And also I was born to break the rules baaaaaa-beeeee,” he replied, his big brown eyes jellifying you. 

Wayne’s present to you was a gift card to Build-A-Bear. “I know it’s a bit of a cop-out, but… you know… you’re always happy when you get back from that place.” The gift card was the type you could only buy in-store. The picture of Wayne Munson in that rainbow vomit of a room was somehow even stranger than Eddie in one. You wondered if Kasey had served him.

Eddie had bought you two books, and much like the one you received for your birthday, one was suspiciously aligned with what you would have had to read if enrolled at college. The other was about how modern sociological ideologies can shape the supposed objective understanding of ancient art and literature, therefore ancient culture. Eddie got the gist of it but winced when he flicked open to a random page and tried to read the academic writing. He knew you’d love it.

After the two books, he handed over a final gift. After all the birthday presents and other things he’d given you, you wondered what there could be left for Eddie to wrap.

“Oh, fuck. Hang on,” Eddie exclaimed, jumping up and running to the bedroom, returning with Hellfire. “You might need him for this.”

Unwrapping the small box, your heart melted and you giggled at the cuteness. It was a small replica of Eddie’s pick necklace obviously meant for Hellfire. When you put it on him, it sat perfectly around the cow’s neck. Eddie had used his miniature figurine equipment to make it for you, pulling apart old jewellery in the process.

“Now he really matches you,” you said holding him up, beaming.

“Actually, he matches you. There’s more in the box.”

With Hellfire next to you, you picked the box up again and moved a piece of tissue paper. You hadn’t noticed when Eddie stopped wearing his necklace. Now, it was in the box, offered to you in an act of devotion. It was a promise that he was yours, completely and entirely. And, you were his, adorned with his trademark.

“Eddie,” you started.

He knew that tone. It was the one that voiced shaky thoughts of inadequacy.

“Before you do the whole routine,” Eddie interrupted, waving an accusing finger at you but still wearing a soft smile. “Don’t be a grinch.”

You breathed out, then nodded. The weight of the chain and pick was nothing, but still, it felt like a grounding force weighted with love.

Honestly, you didn’t know where to go from that, didn’t know how to process what the gift symbolised, so instead you picked up your Christmas present to Eddie.

“Well, I stuck to the one thing rule…” you teased.

There was a strange little store in Hawkins, barely a hole in the wall. It sold candles and incense and glittery rocks. Not long after Eddie had passed ownership of the ruby ring to you, you had seen another like it in the store. It probably wasn’t a real fancy ruby, but the red stone was genuine. The ring was less dainty than yours, but you were drawn to it every time you passed by the store.

The woman who worked there reminded you of Stevie Nicks, always in lace and hand knitted things. She had watched you come and go from her store, always lamenting over the red garnet ring. “What does it mean to you?” she asked one day.

You felt embarrassed to be so seen, but she was kind. When you told her about Eddie and showed her the stolen ruby ring, she smiled, saying, “Red garnets are gemstones full of love.” After she told you about how scientists were making synthetic garnets but without the earth energy or characterising imperfections, you moved aside so she could help a group of teenagers.

The group was vaguely familiar, maybe they had been Juniors that year. On top of the usual anxiety you felt whenever groups of kids were nearby, you sensed something else. The girls in the group were asking lots of questions about things on one side of the store, while the boys huddled together on the other. Doing your best to stay off their radar, you slowly made your way to where you could spy better. They were lining their pockets with small trinkets and crystals.

The woman had been so gentle with you, never making you feel bad for not buying whenever you stopped by. You imagined it was hard to own a business like hers in a town like Hawkins. Besides, you thought, there were rules about shoplifting. Eddie had told you he never used his five-finger discount anywhere where the owner was also the person at the register. Honour among thieves.

The kids in the store didn’t get the memo and it filled you with a dash of bravery. You quickly moved to the closed door and knocked over a stack of books that sat neatly by it. Everyone in the store looked to see what the commotion was.

“Sorry,” you said. “I’ll pick them up. You guys can pay for the stuff you’re getting while I do it. I’ll be quick.”

The boys all looked at each other. “What stuff?” one tried.

You began to slowly rebuild the book tower.

“Guess I should get baskets so customers don’t have to put things in their pockets,” the woman said, leaving the girls to go stand in the boys’ personal space.

They dumped all the things out onto the counter, legging it out the door just as you opened it wide. “Fucking bitches!” and “Freaks!” were thrown in as they left.

“Did they break anything?” you asked, walking over to help the woman put things back in their rightful homes. 

“Thankfully not. I normally just let them leave with it all,”

“Why?”

“Apparently confronting people makes myself a target, according to the Chief. S’not been the same since Hopper died…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Not your bad to apologise for. Anyway, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

You thought on it… “I did. It was the right thing to do.”

The woman looked at you, almost through you. She had that otherworldliness to her gaze that Eddie sometimes got. People like them saw the universe differently.

When she offered you the ring as a reward for stepping in, you declined. As you did the next time you were there and she offered, and the third. The fourth time you sighed.

“This ring stopped being mine the minute you walked in here,” she said. “I think it’s meant for your boyfriend.”

Sitting on the floor cross-legged, Eddie mirroring your position, you knew that the witchy woman was right all along.

“Just one is one more than I need,” Eddie said, tearing into the small gift. The wrapping paper gave way to the small velvet box. “Oh my gawwwd.” It was a new voice for him. “Baaaaabe. Honey bunny. Cupcake. You shouldn’t have.” He hadn’t even opened the box. “I do. I will be your wife.” But then he opened the box and his impersonation of bouncy fiancé girl dropped. His eyebrows knitted together.

“You don’t like it?” you said more than asked before you could stop yourself.

“No, no, I love it. It’s just too much,”

“Oh. No. It’s not…” You went to say more but didn’t really know how to begin to justify something so small to someone so big.

Thankfully, Eddie shut up and accepted it, putting the ring on and staring at it. You knew him well enough to know he was holding back tears. His eyes glossed over and he scrunched his nose up like a rabbit. When he was ready, he looked back up at you.

“I love you,” he said so seriously. There were so many things going through his mind. A masterplan with so many moving parts he felt tired all the time. It was coming together though, and he was so close to the reveal.

“I love you too,” you replied, voice shaky.

Wayne waited a few moments before breaking up the intense gaze-off you and Eddie were in. He cleared his throat. “I’ll put this here for safe keepin’,” he said, standing and reaching up to a shelf of his mugs to put the book of vouchers in it. As he angled the Garfield mug, he heard a sound. You watched Wayne pull the mug down and peer inside. “What the hell?”

“You would not fucking believe how long I’ve been waiting for you to find that!” Eddie said, loud and proud, shooting up and clapping his hands.

Wayne fished out the object and held it up. It was a human tooth. “Jesus. Is this real?”

“Ah-huh,” Eddie answered, cackling. You and Wayne both waited for him to explain. “You remember when one of my wisdom teeth was coming in?”

“Do I bloody remem- Yes, Eddie, I do. Bitched and moaned about it day and night but wouldn’t go see anybody ‘bout it,”

“Yeah, well, you know Hacksaw Henry? Got him to pull out the back tooth so the new one could just come in. Worked a treat.”

It was hard to tell who was more horrified.

“You did what?” Wayne nearly yelled.

“Hacksaw Henry?” The name told you a lot but you needed to know more.

Eddie laughed again. “That’s been in there for almost two years,”

“Hells bells, you’re going to be the death of me,” Wayne said, flopping back down on his armchair and throwing the tooth across the room to Eddie.

“No, seriously, Hacksaw Henry?”

“He’s from the other side of the park. Watches too much T.V. and reads these weird medical journals. He’s Forest Hill’s resident quote unquote doctor,” Eddie told you while examining his old molar, remembering the day it was pulled from his jaw.

“You let him pull a healthy tooth?”

“Nah; I paid him to pull it. ‘Sides, the tooth wasn’t perfectly healthy. When the wisdom one started to break through, this one started to rot. See?” he explained, handing the tooth down to you.

You could see what he was talking about, but all in all, it still seemed like an insane thing to do.

“Cheaper than an actual dentist. Hurt like a bitch, but heard getting your wisdom teeth out does too. Skulled a six pack before to calm my jangled nerves… And voila…” Eddie added. “Honestly thought you’d find it sooner, old man… Guess Garfield isn’t your favourite?”

“You know those are the special ones,” Wayne said, pointing to that particular shelf of mugs.

“Can I keep this?” you asked, still studying the tooth.

Eddie looked at you and grinned wide. He loved that you wanted it. That you’d asked for it. He would have pulled all his teeth to give you a complete set if you’d use that soft voice again.

“Consider it your final present. Merry Christmas, babe.”

Forest Hills was loud and lit up with Christmas cheer. Once you and Eddie had retired to bed that night, you held each other under the covers.

“It’s weird we both went with jewellery,” he said, finishing the sentence with a kiss on your forehead.

“Great minds?”

“Great minds,” he agreed.

The stretch between Christmas and New Years was a strange liminal time for most people. As you and Eddie drifted to sleep, bruises from his lips leaving a trail from your neck to your underwear, your two great minds thought of that in-between space and what it meant for you both.

Next Chapter: Fireworks

End Note: RIP at Wayne sitting there while you and Eddie get all lovey dovey over a tooth lmaoooo. Also, If you’ve seen the episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob starts talking to the bird and falling in love and shit, that’s the energy we were channeling here.

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04 @eddie-munson-is-a-sweetheart have you changed your URL? @nerd-squad-headquarters @word-wytch @harrys-tittie @munsonsmel0dy @sidthedollface2 @eddiethesexy @bardicfrustration @orpheusredux @munsonsgirl71 @a-time-for-wolvess @eddieswifu @rosaline-black @thegirlwhohides @emotionaldreamer @e0509 @briasnow-blog @kiyastrf94 @erinsingalong @rainylana @thescarletangelsstuff @mrsdollardog @tayhar811 @chickennug90 @b-irock @nana90azevedo @eddiemunson95 @akiratoro420

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24

[mlbigbang]

2022 General Fic Rec List

It's the end of the year which means it's finally time for the ML Big Bang's yearly fic rec lists! We're really excited to bring you our contributors' favourite fics started this year to supply you with plenty of reading material while you're waiting for the Big Bang fics' publication in January.

deliverin' by @fragileizy 5,750 words, General, 2/2 chapters

“Is everything okay?” “Yeah. Yes, of course it is, I just”—she swallows ash and ice—“it was just the Book I was reading. It, uh… their family separates after a bit, and it’s all a misunderstanding, and—” she can’t finish. She’s not allowed to. “Do you need a hug, Jules?” I need you to stay, she wants to cry. You’re my only brother. And I’ll miss you so terribly when you’re gone. Every day, I’ll be alone without you, because Mom will try to visit as often as you always visit me, but she’ll keep feeling guilty for the rest of our time together because she knows how upset I am. And she’ll be upset, too. I’ll never be able to watch her cry, but I’ll hear her. And I don’t think I’m strong enough to deal with that. “I do,” she says instead, wings closing up around her like a ball. “Please. Just for a little while.”

"Cute!!!"

Telling the bees by @feather-dancer 5,768 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Chloé and Zoé have a routine where at least once a week they meet up somewhere for a chat which is an excuse to get away from their shared mother and to vent as much as anything. Folklore says it is very important to keep the bees up to date with the coming and goings of their keepers, these two are no different. Part of Haven of Strays.

"Canon has denied us any real Zoe&Chloe sisterly content. It's up to the fanfic community ot make up the difference. This author does all that and more in a weighty interaction between two sisters who are not friends, but are sisters."

Chaotic Company by ADeadmansBliss 5,450 words, Mature, 1/1 chapter

It's been nearly a week since Adrien's acquisition of a new pet and unfortunately traumatic injury is not something that can be recovered from quickly. Bored with only an unconscious former hero for company he decides to sneak out to find some entertainment which goes fine until Hawkmoth decides to ruins it.

"It's unlike anything I've read before and it's so super fantastic!!!"

Stranger Acquaintance by @bugchat 1,885 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Marinette just wants to live her Special Agent life as quietly as possible. Put bad guys behind bars, maybe make friends with three people at work, and eat pizza once they close a case. What makes its way into her life is a mop of blond hair with a stunning smile and too much of a back-talking mouth to be healthy for her.

"It's an good AU concept with fun dynamics, and it's a short, easy read! Detective Marinette and her team of four being Alya, Nino and Kagami. There's so much room for sequels if the author chooses to!"

maybe shake a tambourine by noirshitsuji 1,703 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Written for a Miraculous Writer's Guild blog request: Start a story with "I need a place to stay." Felix looks at his cousin, sometimes. Looks and wonders. The silver ring he’d taken to wearing a couple of years ago is gone. But the Adrien he’s known since childhood isn’t there either, and, much as Felix would like to attribute the tapping he’s noticed his fingers do every time Adrien doesn’t answer one of his questions to annoyance, he knows it’s truly because he feels unnerved by it all.

"It's a lovely exploration in Felix's character and his feelings toward Adrien while absolutely teasing a glorious plot about Adrien, Marinette, and Gabriel"

(may we write it all down) in cursive light by @sunfoxfic 3,503 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Since retiring as a journalist, Alya hasn't been involved in an interview in several years. But now that her identity is out, that's about to change.

"An amazingly written future!fic that beautifully explores a time long after Hawkmoth's defeat and "our" heroes' retirement."

Off the Mark by @buggachat 4,632 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Ever since Nino's (frankly embarrassing) akumatization into Rocketear, Chat Noir's behavior had taken a strange and sudden turn in the presence of Carapace, and Nino could only think of one possible explanation: Chat Noir hated him. Somehow, Adrien didn't seem to agree.

"Any fic that focuses on Nino and Adrien being bffs is important. After Rocketear, Nino may have rambled a bit to Adrien about how weird it's been being around Chat Noir. Adrien is weirdly invested in this problem. A lot of misunderstanding leads to heightened emotions and eventual revelations. Just a really good examination of the difficulties of secret identities and being best friends."

Infestations and Maladies by @sunfoxfic 100 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Bunnix called Chat Noir to go to a mysterious version of the timeline and fix… something.

"A well-written drabble exploring a reverse Chat Blanc. A very clever concept written in a very clever way!"

In Memory Of by @graaythekwami 3,012 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Gabriel Agreste was never good with kids, but his granddaughter needed him.

"A very interesting story with a dark backstory, but it's very sweet and well-written."

I Am Your Ghost by @emmalylis 1,559 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Adrien attends one of Gabriel’s galas in his mother’s old dress.

"Adrien in a dress. Need I say more?"

goodbye, goodbye, goodbye (you were bigger than the whole sky) by @hanaasbananas 865 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Distantly, he hears the music still blaring behind him, the song mocking in its cheerfulness, imprinting itself into his memory as the soundtrack to his devastation. For a moment–the longest of his life–everything stands still, the universe holding its breath and then Sabine shrieks and it shatters like glass beneath his feet.

"This is short but its just so damn sad😭 hit me right in the feels"

Moon mission by @ultrakart 2,789 words, General, 1/1 chapter

For Fei, escaping her past is as difficult as trying to escape the Earth’s orbit.

"Kart is the king of the Shanghai special and this is such a sweet short fic that showcases just how great his writing over it is."

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 30: Love Letters

AKA the fic I let get extra self-indulgent because it’s my birthday present to myself lmao. Geode is a little earth ghoul oc I’ve had rotating in my head for about a month and a half, and I figured I’d write something about them for today. I’d like to draw them at some point, when I’m actually in the mood to draw.

Mushy May put together by @forlorn-crows  

Pairing: Swiss/Geode (OC)

Rating: Teen

Words: 2178

Contains: Dew stirring shit and a panic attack

***

Geode is a quiet ghoul, which makes sense, given that they work the library desk, where it’s expected the patrons are quiet as well. 

It’s a slow day, and on slow days, when Sister Imperator or the other upper clergy members aren’t around, Geode journals. Their journal is their prized possession, a book of high quality paper bound in soft, red leather. They have a collection of nice fountain pens in their bag, but the one they’ve selected today is filled with purple ink. 

Geode plays with the end of their braid as they write. Their hair fades from dark grey at the roots to a snow white, always braided back between their horns, where they get their name. A set of curling ram’s horns, but one broken from an incident not long after they were summoned, revealing purple crystal growth on the hollow inside. 

They write about anything that filters through their mind, but today their mind goes to Swiss, because for some reason they can’t keep him out of their mind. He was there when they were summoned almost a year ago. He had been the first fellow ghoul they had met Up Top, had given them the tour of the abbey. 

Geode still doesn’t know why a band ghoul was tasked with showing them of all people around, seeing as they have nothing to do with the Ghost Project, besides hanging out with the ghoulettes every once in a while. It doesn’t stop them from replaying the memory of Swiss taking their hand as the two of them walked down the hallways, of how kind his eyes were as he looked at them, helping them to their feet in the summoning circle. 

They write down everything they want to say to him, that they’re too shy(? Nervous? Embarrassed? They don’t know) to say to his face. He’s never going to read it. How could he? It’s their journal, for Satanas’ sake. 

The bell at the top of the door chimes, and Geode jolts up from their journal. It’s just Sunny and Dew, a pair that normally makes Geode worry about the books, but the way that Sunny is grinning as she approaches their desk makes that worry disintegrate. 

“Morning, Geo!” Sunny chimes, “Mountain wanted me to check out a book for him, but I have no clue where the botany section is. He wrote down the title and the author for me.”

She passes Geode a note, written in Mountain’s scrawling handwriting. Fortunately, they have plenty of experience decoding people’s handwriting, and they know exactly which book he wants. 

They come out from behind the desk, leaving their journal open so that the wet ink doesn’t smudge. “I’ll show you where you want to be looking, follow me.”

Geode leads Sunny back to the botany section while Dew hangs behind at the front desk, and with two sets of eyes, they find the book Mountain wants rather quickly. They return up front, and Geode checks it out. “Okay, so this’ll be due in two weeks, please make sure Mountain knows because otherwise we both know this will end up in the greenhouse and we’ll never see it again,” Geode laughs, handing Sunny the thick tome. 

“Thanks for the help, Geo. Do you want to hang out with me and the girls tonight?” 

“Oh, absolutely. Once I get off of my shift. Same common room as last time?”

Sunny nods, grinning. “See you then!”

The two of them leave, and Geode turns back to where they think they’ve left their journal. 

It’s not there. 

Geode’s not incredibly worried, however. Their sense of object permanence is iffy at best. They’ve lost their glasses wearing them. Not wearing them on top of their head and forgetting about them, like Aether’s prone to do with his reading glasses, but wearing them on their face. They’ve probably just put the journal away and forgotten. It will turn back up. The things they lose always do.

After their shift ends, the sun having just set, Geode makes their way to the band ghouls’ common room. Sunshine, Cirrus, and Cumulus are all there already, chatting on two of the loveseats. 

“Oh, hey, Geo!” Sunny calls, waving them over. “Mountain says thank you for the help. He promises it’s not going to the greenhouse this time.”

Geode laughs, sitting down on the loveseat next to Cumulus, easing their way into the ghoulettes’ conversation. 

After a while, the door to the common room opens. It isn’t sudden, or slammed open, but Geode’s head still snaps up to see who it is. They immediately regret this as they make eye contact with Swiss, grey meeting gold. Their heart starts rattling at their ribcage as they look away frantically, before their eyes land on what Swiss’s holding: a red, leatherbound notebook. Their journal. Where they were writing a fucking love letter to-

“Oh, fuck,” they whisper. “Oh, shit.”

Cumulus turns to face them. “What’s wrong, Gee?” 

Geode swallows hard, quickly tying off the braid they were putting into her hair. “Lus, Sunny, Cir, I know I promised we were going to hang out, I’ll make it up to you, but I’ve gotta get some fresh air.”

“Alright,” Cumulus says, patting their arm. “Feel better, okay?”

Geode nods, getting up from the loveseat. Swiss walks towards them. Dew is right behind him. Geode tries to be nonchalant as they turn around and leave through the other door, latching it behind them.

It’s no use to make a scene inside of the abbey, so Geode keeps walking, picking up the pace. They hear the door open behind them and don’t dare turn around. They know the smell of their anxiety is turning acrid, leaving an obvious trail. Hopefully, once they get outside, the breeze will throw off the scent. 

There’s a set of footsteps following after them, and even though it sets Geode’s heart on fire, knowing they’re being followed, at least it’s only one set. They reach the door to the gardens, and spare a look behind them. Swiss is rounding the last corner, and he catches sight of them, his face lighting up with an expression they’re too far away to place. Geode’s eyes go wide and they shove the garden door open. 

They’re not the most athletic ghoul, but they break into a sprint as soon as the cool night air hits them, darting through the lilac bushes, no clear destination in mind. Swiss is taller than them by a long shot. If they want to lose him, they have to go.

They hear the door behind them slam open, and a yelp leaves their mouth involuntarily. They break out of the gardens, paws skittering across the mulched path down to the lake. The full moon shines brightly down, reflecting off of the still surface of the water. 

The old gazebo is their best bet. Geode could be brave and try to make it into the woods, but the treeline starts on the other side of the lake. With the full moon and the long sprint, Swiss could probably see them from a mile away. 

Geode scrambles up the steps of the gazebo, pressing their back against one of the posts and sliding until they’re on the ground, drawing their knees to their chest. They press one hand over their mouth, trying desperately to slow their breathing, and the other grips onto their broken horn, the sharp edges digging into their palm. Their tail lashes behind them. 

“Geo?” Swiss’s voice echoes out over the lake. “Geode! Where are you?”

Geode whines, pressing their hand tighter against their mouth. His voice gets closer, footsteps crunching on the mulch. They pause, and then resume at a much quicker pace, getting louder with every second. 

Swiss walks up the gazebo steps, sitting down right next to Geode, his feet resting on the second step. Geode can’t bring themselves to look over at him as the scent of cloves and honey fills their nose. 

“Hey. I was just trying to give you this.” Swiss says softly, pulling their journal out of his sweatshirt pocket and handing it to them. “Dew took it while you were helping Sunny. Trying to start shit for no reason. I’ll get him to apologize, promise.”

Geode tries their best not to rip it out of his hands, and clutches onto the notebook. “Thanks,” they say, feeling a lump starting to rise up their throat. 

Swiss takes a deep breath through his nose, his eyes narrowing. “Geo, can I see your hand?”

“Huh?” They whisper.

“Let me see your hand, Geo,” Swiss says, reaching out with one of his own. 

Geode lets go of the notebook, placing their hand in his hesitantly.

“Oh, Geo, you’re bleeding,” Swiss says, running a finger along a cut that they didn’t notice they had. Their horn’s broken edges had dug into their palm, and they didn’t even notice that it had broken the skin. “May I?” 

“Huh?” Geode asks. With him holding their hand, their brain’s misfiring. 

“Can I use what quintessence I’ve got to heal that cut?” Swiss tries again. 

They swallow hard and nod. Swiss’s brow furrows as he focuses, running his finger gently along the cut. Geode shudders as the static of his quintessence jumps up their arm, running up and down their spine. The cut stitches itself back together, and Geode expects Swiss to let go of their hand. He doesn’t. He traces his thumb back and forth across their palm, like they’re something fragile, delicate. 

Geode’s eyes start to water. They’re so tired, and they can’t stifle the sob that escapes them in time. 

“Geo, babydoll, are you okay?” Swiss asks. 

They laugh wetly, even as the nickname sends a shock up their spine. “No. I’m really not.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and Geode’s surprised to hear genuine concern and confusion in his voice. “You smell afraid. Are you scared of me?” His voice goes small, and he starts to pull away from them. 

Geode shakes their head frantically, not willing to lose the contact. “Not scared of you. Satanas, you make me incredibly nervous, but I’m not scared of you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, then what’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong, Swiss,” they whisper. “You read what I wrote about you.”

“Huh?” He leans back, resting some of his weight on the hand not still holding Geode’s. “I didn’t read anything. Dew wanted me to read it, but it’s your journal, Geo. I wasn’t going to.”

“Oh, fuck,” they laugh. “Oh, you’re fucking kidding me.”

“What?”

Geode sighs, running their hand over their braid. “You know what, I might as well just show you. Damage’s already done.” They reluctantly take their hand out of Swiss’s to flip open their journal to where they left off. They hand it back to Swiss. “Read this for me?”

Swiss nods, starting to read quietly out loud as Geode buries their burning face into their thighs. “Swiss, I don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough to give you this letter. You were the first ghoul I met Up Top, after my summoning. You were so kind, and sweet to me, a stranger. I think I fell in love with you then, the first time I saw you, that afternoon you spent to show me around this place. 

I’m not really part of your pack, I’m just the ghoul the clergy summoned to run the library. I exist on the fringes of your periphery. But you? You shine like the sun and the moon and I am just the dull exterior. You sing like an unholy angel, and I’d love more than anything to be yours. I’ve loved you quietly, from a distance, this last year that I’ve spent Up Top. You’ve bewitched me, heart and soul.

If I’ve overstepped, if I’ve crossed the line, please disregard all of this. Forget you ever read it.

Yours, if you’ll have me, Geode.”

There’s a long silence as Swiss finishes reading the letter. Geode digs their claws into their shins, trying desperately not to cry. They fail. 

“Hey, Geo,” Swiss whispers, setting a hand on their knee, smoothing his thumb back and forth. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Geode swallows hard. Raises their head. Swiss’s brow furrows as they make eye contact, and he hums, moving his hand up to cup their cheek, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “Oh, don’t cry, babydoll, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t want it to go like this,” they whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, gem,” he says. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I should have said something earlier. I thought you were afraid of me, so I tried to give you space. I would have you, Geode, however you want me to.”

Geode barks out a laugh, leaning into Swiss’s hand. “Father Below, I’m such an idiot.”

“We both were,” Swiss smiles, his eyes crinkling. “You wanna go back inside?”

They shake their head. “Not right now. I want to sit out here with you for a bit.”

“Then we shall.”

[cypanache]

Cy's 2023 Fic Replay - Track 9

I am very sorry, but this is continuing ...

track 9: Let's Hurt Tonight - One Republic

I'm pretty sure I found this song just this year through Spotify and from the moment I did it went to the top of the playlist for the modern obidala 'padme lives' AU that I've been working on off and on for the past year.

fic: wires

[obidala, anidala | modern-au | padme lives]

This fic has lived in my head for almost as long as Unintended has. I mean honestly, are you really an obidala author if you don't have at least one 'padme lives' au swimming around in your head? And while I adore all the gentle domestic 'obidala helping each other heal after Anakin' AUs, this is not that. After watching OWK, I really really wanted to just let them swim around in that mutual self-hatred for awhile. So Wires is where I get to do that

Which is probably why this song fits so well. Because really could anything say more clearly "I enjoy watching two characters I care deeply about tear great gaping chunks out of each other" more than this song. Particularly this part:

I'll hit the lights and you lock the doors Tell me all of the things that you couldn't before Don't walk away, don't roll your eyes They say love is pain, well darling, let's hurt tonight

I worked on it quite a bit for PadMay, and it expanded out into a non-linear character exploration of Padme and her relationship with both Anakin and Obi-Wan. And while I haven't managed to finish it, it's got some wonderfully dark and raw bits that I can't help but want to share, so indulge me:

SPOILER WARNING

“I am not testifying against Anakin.  I told you that.” “No one’s asking you to.  My testimony should be enough for them to–”  “To what?  Lock him up?  Let him rot in prison?  You know what things would be like for him in there.  Is that really what you want?” “He’s dangerous, Padme.  His being in a wheelchair doesn’t change that.” “Says the man who put him there.  What are you trying to do?  Finish the job?” He jerks his head away.   Padme falls back against the bed. “Maybe we should talk about this when you’ve gotten some sleep.” Like that’s going to happen.  “Why?  I’m not going to be any less of a bitch about it then.” “Then maybe we should talk when I’ve gotten some sleep.” Of course.  This is how all their other fights end.  She says something completely unforgivable, and he…doesn’t.  Either retreating or calling a truce for the kids or distracting her in other ways he finds effective, but never never actually returning fire.  And she knows that control, that ability to keep himself distanced enough, detached enough to never let his emotions get the better of him, is what kept him alive for all those years undercover.  But god if she doesn’t hate it.   Just once she wishes he would fight back.  Just say it.  All of it.  Every why didn’t you and you should have and this is your fault  she knows he’s been carrying around in his back pockets. She knows they’re there.  She can see in his eyes, feel it in his touch.  She doesn’t understand why he won’t just say it.  What’s holding him back.  If he would just say it, just blame her, accuse her, something, anything, then she could at least mount some kind of defense, build a case, explain herself.  But if once, just once, he would fight back, beat her up a little, then maybe she could finally stop doing it to herself. Padme stares up at the ceiling and doesn’t say anything. Obi-Wan turns to go. “I’ll never forgive you.  If you do this, I’ll never forgive you for it.” He stops, back still turned.  “I’m not asking you to.” No.  No he’s not.  He never has.  As if he knows she used up all her forgiveness on Anakin ages ago, and doesn’t have any left.  For either of them.

[ginnsbaker]

Ginny baby I’m having a mini-crisis

I think I like my best friend and I don’t know how to go about getting rid of this. I’ve known her for 7 years and throughout that time I’ve had two separate occasions where I developed feelings for her, first time not that serious but I can’t say that about the second time. Admittedly the second time I surely panicked briefly but the feelings faded both times, what always followed after was that I’d feel insane for even believing I could feel that way about her in the first place.

BUT now it’s back and I’m in a sort of denial about it? I talked about it with another author here before but we ultimately chalked it down to it just being attraction. Now I’m scared that’s not the case?

Last night I went clubbing with some close friends but I ran into (let’s call her Wanda I guess?) while waiting in the line to get in. Wanda looked so damn good, I’m already shorter than her normally but she’d was in all black wearing her platform shoes along with a skirt and a blouse. Wanda and I are touchy drunks(with other friends too) but the way that we’d been last night had me feeling something. Whenever Wanda and I would talk, we’d lean our bodies closer together and start talking directly into each others ears, her hands finding mine after the start of every sentence- one would assume we were doing that because we couldn’t hear one another but it wasn’t loud and when we’d talk to the people around us we’d stay firmly in place. Wanda went out with three friends and one of them was this guy who I knew liked her, I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that he saw me holding her and talking to her in a way that looked intimate.

I didn’t really think much of it last night cause I’d been focused on having a great time, but now that it’s day I’ve realized all of that really put a different angle to the perspective I once had about what I was feeling and why. I hate it, i want it to go away because I’ll always prioritize maintaining our friendship above anything else, this is not something I’ll ever admit to anybody I know but I guess I’m saying all this because I wanted to ask if you’ve ever been in a similar situation and how did you cope? How did it play out for you?

Somebody once told me it might only be attraction and a gauge that I could use to see if it was is imagining a future with them and I wish they hadn’t said that. I’d genuinely believed it was just attraction but I’ve been thinking about that question all day today, the answer to that question has my heart racing at the imagination of it all, but I swear I’d been indifferent to it when I’d first been asked.

The less I think about it, the more I ignore it, the less it feels real so thanks for letting me rant to you gonna go back to gaslighting myself out of this(SI SE PUEDE). Needed to get all this off my chest. 😮‍💨

omg sorry I was already asleep when this went in.

*wears calliope's hat* before we proceed i have a couple of questions:

how long have you known you're attracted to your bestfriend? was it even before you were friends?

have you been in relationships with other women?

(disclaimer: im not a therapist of any sort im just experienced when it comes to being gay cause ive been gay since i was 2 and now im almost thirty lol)

I'm assuming she's straight? so here's my #1 piece of advice is: NEVER FALL FOR STRAIGHT GIRLS

fine, there might be few instances where falling for straight girls will eventually shake their sexuality and give us a shot, but dude, that very rarely happens. Fics, movies, tv series love to portray them often but in reality.... NO.

Feelings for bestfriends WILL pass. I assure you that. Cause yea, I've been in your shoes. I met my best friend in college during sophomore year, and we were from different groups of friends and I intentionally got to know her because I had a crush on her (turns out later on, she also has a crush on me, but it's the type of crush where she finds me pretty so it's basically straight people crush). She had a boyfriend when we became close/bestfriends and I was hang up on her for two years before the feelings finally went away.

Now she's married, and she's still my bestfriend and everytime I think about the past where I was very attracted to her, I'd laugh.

I coped by just letting it run its course. And definitely being interested in someone else helps. Go out there, meet new people, get to know new people. You have the luxury of using a dating app without being judged for it (in the 2010s that's not the case).

Again, whenever possible: DO NOT FALL FOR STRAIGHT GIRLS

The less I think about it, the more I ignore it, the less it feels real so thanks for letting me rant to you gonna go back to gaslighting myself out of this(SI SE PUEDE). - Dude, keep thinking about it. exhaust yourself. go through the drama and the wonderful feeling of being attracted to somebody. it's all part of life. accept that you have feelings for her and then decide: 1- if you want to pursue it 2- if you want to let it pass.

I decided not to pursue it because she's really straight despite the fact that she's touchy and back in college, i'm the only one she'd ever sleep in her apartment and we kissed like 1-2 times on the lips (yes straight girls dont mind)

But in the future, lemme repeat: DO NOT FALL FOR STRAIGHT GIRLS

[letstrywritingmaybe]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love🫶🏻

I’m curious to know your personal favorites! I’ll treat it as a fic-rec hehe

You are so cute! I love you! 🩵

Hm… this is a tough question cause I guess it depends on the day and what I’m feeling. I mean all my stories are honestly the same in terms of my ship being together and it ending happily, but the journey and the way I choose to tell it can differ. What exactly are quintessential lots of love fics? I guess currently I will go with these (I’m only doing Det Co ones cause I know you’re in this fandom, plus I don’t write enough for my actual otps in other fandoms)

In no particular order cause I don’t really have a true top five:

I Can Make Your Heart Race: They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so then what’s the way to a woman’s? Obviously you have to get her heart racing. In which scare tactics does little to impress a scientist, instead it backfires on the detective. Well, maybe not completely. Rated G (ShinShi)

It’s really short, but I find myself thinking about this fic some days. Maybe cause it is a fix it fic of sorts since my heart will never keep the canon ship in tact, and it’s fluffy with the potential for more. They’re my most slowburn ship and it kills me

I Hate Accidents, Except When We Went From Friends To This: Post Black Org and Permanent Antidote. A month-long look into the relationship of Shiho and Shinichi. Written with prompts from flufftober on tumblr. Rated T (ShinShi)

I was actually proud of how I was able to follow not one, not two, but 31 whole prompts! Even though every chapter is super short, but still. I’m the worst at following prompts, so I got excited I was able to get through this and keep my brand of fluff

Lo Lo Love Me: The change from fighting to be Shinichi again, to being her Edogawa. Or the fic where Shiho becomes a little delusional.

“You’re not him.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not Edogawa Conan. You’re Kudo Shinichi.”

Rated T (CoAi but technically it’s ShinShi)

Truthfully my ending for this verse is just the first chapter, this idea wouldn’t die and I still find myself thinking about it some days. I think I ended it too soon but also don’t think I should’ve added to it beyond the first chapter. So yes I still think about revisiting it all the time

You Belong With Me?: It’s a matter of principle. She was here first and they grew up together for goodness sake! Of course people can change their minds, but she waited patiently for two years with the title as his girlfriend, so how can it be over just like that? It’s not fair. Rated T (ShinShi told from Ran’s pov)

Who would I be if I didn’t include a song fic? And yes while I love that this love affair with this fandom began with Folklore Twist, but I really do have some strong feelings for Ran. And it’s all because of projection, so yes I want better for her and I want her to be her own knight in shining armor and let my queen be the one who gets the romance story book ending for once

A Day Out With The Kids: An impromptu date holds no weight against an already established play date with the Detective Boys. It doesn’t stop Kaito from wooing Shiho anyway, even with the children’s attempts at sabotage. Converting these CoAi shippers to board the kaishi ship may not be as difficult as one might think. It’s a good thing Kaito’s great with kids. Rated G (KaiShi)

I couldn’t resist okay, yes I know my most popular fic is probably one that’s rated E or even my fuck the childhood friends to lover fic. And yeah I do sometimes go back to those verses, but some days kaishi owns my entire heart. So yeah, I had to include one even though I know it’s a crack ship

(A bonus/ honorable mention would be the Fleeting Feelings verse. I would be unstoppable as a multishipper, but alas I’m not.)