#good to know I’m not completely dead inside

[xetlynn]

Scars and Faint Memories

Vanessa Palmer x Fem! Reader

chapter four<- -> chapter five -> chapter six

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, drinking and driving. Lottie’s crash out.

1996

You sit with Coach, Misty and Travis inside the cabin as the song “This is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan plays via your walkman in a metal bucket. Mari counts from the start. “One, two, one-two-three-four.” 

And on cue the girls, plus Javi break out into their choreographed dance that they’ve created from being here so long and having nothing better to do. They were grateful for your walkman and extra batteries you brought. As were you since this is one of your enjoyments in life. 

“And running man, running man!” Mari, Akilah, Lottie and Van say so the girls do the next steps in the dance. You cheer for them beside Coach, the two of you grinning at them. You weren’t much of a dancer. As much as you love music you didn’t particularly relish in dancing. You did however appreciate watching the others have fun. 

Jackie, Shauna, Natalie and Laura Lee lead into the next move: the Bart Simpson. “And Javi- Javi, you’re late!” Mari calls out the boy to which you laugh. He hurries to get on beat, Taissa jumping in to assist and the group re-synchronizes. Misty applauds the girls. You peer over to see Travis even grinning at the girls. 

But good things weren’t meant to last, especially out here. The tape begins to struggle and the song slows down, distorting eerily before stopping completely. The girls stand helplessly and you go over to it, along with Van who picks it up. Giving it a few smacks filled with hope but to no avail. You frown. 

“Has hitting something ever fixed it?” The redhead murmurs, mainly to herself. “Maybe try blowing on it.” Mari suggests and you take the small thing from Van and deeply frown. This was your sense of comfort. Something you’ve held onto ever since you got it.  You had no more batteries. You put the last ones in it last week. 

A sustained scraping noise emits from upstairs in the attic and Jackie is the first to speak. “Um. The fuck is that?” 

“You hear it, too?” Lottie asks and you give her a strange expression. “It’s probably just a branch.” Taissa replies, not believing there could be something up there. “Inside? On the floor?” Mari crosses her arms, then a small realization hits her. “What if it’s him?” She motions, bringing up the dead guy. Both you and Taissa snort. 

“You know what it probably was? The dead guys missing fingers… trying to find their way home.” Natalie deadpans and you bump her with your hip, the two of you finding it amusing. This prompts squeals from the girls though and a glare from Taissa. “You really have to encourage them?” 

“You gotta admit, it didn’t sound like it was on the roof.” Akilah says with a shaken expression. “Fine, so it was a rat. Or, a raccoon. Or, I dunno.” Jackie pouts. “Shh! Listen!” Lottie quiets everyone. Everyone pauses, but there’s only silence. “Well I don’t hear it now.” Mari huffs. 

“See?” Taissa rolls her eyes and before it can grow into a debate Coach Scott finally adds into the conversation. “You know what I think? I think the ghost decided it’s time to get some sleep. Maybe we should do the same.” 

This doesn’t lead to an argument, the girls all getting their sleeping equipment out and you cling onto your walkman sadly. Setting up your blankets with your empty hand. “I’m sorry, [Name].” Natalie whispers and you just shrug your shoulders. “It’s fine, I got a bit out of it.” You sigh, gently placing it inside your backpack. 

The two of you set up beside one another like you have been since the beginning. 

Van observes you from afar, the candle light hitting you perfectly. She can’t get over how ethereal you are. How the curvature of your face always captures light and shadows perfectly. It never fails to amaze her. Taissa comes up from behind the redhead, following her eyes and seeing you. She scoffs out a chuckle. Earning Vanessa’s attention and she furrows her brows up at the girl. 

“What?” She whispers and Taissa gives her a “are you serious?” look. “Right.” Van sighs, sitting down on her blankets. “You two seriously aren’t talking still?” Tai joins her on the ground. You glance over to them as you lay in your spot, holding onto Natalie’s hand. Playing with her fingers like you’ve done since the two of you started having sleepovers years ago. 

You wonder what the two are talking about, completely oblivious to the fact that it’s about you. Your jealousy seeps in at the sight of them sitting so close to one another. You wanted to be in Taissa’s place, but the fear of the unknown always crept up whenever you tried to speak to Van. 

The fear of what others would think about you. The fear of the secret you’ve held in for years coming out to people. The fear of rejectment, not only from Van but from others. You’ve spent so much time keeping to yourself, only holding onto your friendship with Natalie that opening yourself up to someone else was scary. 

Walls were built sturdy and you couldn’t let some girl knock them down. 

“No, she avoids me like I’m some kind of plague. I don’t know what I did.” Van runs a hand through her hair, racking her brain for ideas of what she could’ve done to you. “She will stand beside me when we’re with the others but if she finds herself alone with me it’s like I have some sort of repellent on me.” Van vents, staring off at the ground. 

Not seeing the eyes that stay on her from afar. Burning a hole into her head. 

“Try to like… corner her or something.” Taissa mutters, not knowing how to help in this situation to which Van laughs. “Yeah, cause that will really make her want me.” Van shakes her head at the suggestion to which Taissa snickers as well. “I don’t mean like weirdly corner her. Catch her at a good time where the two of you are alone.” 

“That’s the thing, I have done that. Around the time we found this place. We got interrupted and nothing’s been better since.” Van explains and Taissa contorts her face, feeling bad. “Damn… what did you do?” 

Van’s face falls and she snaps her head in the direction of her friend. “Has anyone ever told you how helpful and comforting you are?” Van says with a wooden expression. Taissa presses her lips together at her own amusement. “I don’t think I have.” She admits. “Yeah, no duh.” Van breathes out sharply. 

Adjusting herself so she can lay down dramatically. Taissa sits there, raising a brow down at her. 

In the morning everyone is on the move. Everyone has synched up on their periods so it was cruel living. Pushing yourselves to do the chores that needed to be done with a grudge to the world. 

You were in extreme pain, feeling it in your lower back and legs. Still you pushed yourself to go find wood for a fire alongside Taissa. “Shit.” You stumble, dropping the wood you’ve collected and placing your hands on your hips as pain shoots through you. “You okay?” Taissa comes to your side, picking up what you’ve dropped. 

“Yeah, this just fucking sucks.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before sucking a breath and helping regrab the large wood that needs to be chopped up. “I’m sorry, I remember how bad your cramps were in middle school.” She sympathizes with you. 

“Yeah, and I didn’t bring my pain meds on this stupid trip cause I didn’t know we’d be fucking stuck out here.” You groaned, mainly complaining to yourself but still Taissa listened to you nonetheless. It was rare you vented to anyone and for some reason when you do people treat it as a privilege. “God damn.” You huff, kicking the dirt after standing up straight, moving the wood in your arms so you can grab the others from Tai. 

“I think I have some ibuprofen. If it gets too bad. Same with Misty” She offers and you shake your head. “We should save it for emergencies or the others, God knows how long we’ll fucking be here.” You say in a sad but irritated tone. You knew you could be real with Taissa. With the others you wanted to give them a sense of hope. Sometimes it’s too much though. 

“Oh, no more, don't worry, we’ll be saved in no time. We’re just in the middle of nowhere. It takes time. Coming from you?” She raises a brow trying to bring some sort of humor out which you snort. “We’re older, we gotta comfort them somehow.” You roll your eyes. 

“I mean they’re not that much younger than us. We shouldn’t give them false hope.” She tilts her head and you scrunch your nose at her words. “Probably but also having no hope doesn’t get you anywhere. You’ll get all “pity us, pity me, what’s the point of this if we are never saved.” You mock with a higher pitched voice and this time Taissa lets out a laugh. “Do you believe we’ll be saved? Truly?” The girl goes serious and you stop in your tracks. 

Rubbing your lips together as you think. “I guess, I think we will eventually. Who knows, we could be who saves us.” You shrug your shoulders as if it were a simple answer. Taissa takes in what you say. 

“What about you, Miss Turner?” You nudge her and she laughs in annoyance at your choice of nickname for her. “I want to say yes, that we will be. As the days go on I feel myself getting more restless. More drained emotionally. I want to go home. I want to fucking eat fries or some unhealthy shit.” She rants to which you smile at. 

“I miss my bed for sure.” She glances down to the wood. “I miss not having to chop fucking wood too.” And you chuckle, silently agreeing with her. 

You miss your siblings the most, yeah your bed and maybe even your mom. But your siblings. They’re all you can think about during this time. It keeps you up at night what they’re doing, how they’re processing you not being there. How your mom told them about your plane missing. Or if she told them something else. What kind of lie did she tell them? 

You shake your head, not needing to think about that right now. You feel your heart thudding in your chest and you take a deep breath in. “So… did you have a thing with anyone back home?” Taissa randomly asks and you give her a look. “I’m trying to make conversation here.” She defends herself and you just laugh. 

“No, I didn’t. Never really have had anyone… that way.” You mumble out, pursing your lips out at the thought of a relationship with a man. “You?” You switch it to her and she shakes her head. 

“Nah, not a lot of gay girls around.” She sighs and your eyes widen. Slowly looking at her, her eyes already on you with a smug expression. “You- you’re… gay?” You stammer. 

“Is there something wrong with that?” She inquires and you press your lips together, shaking your head furiously. “Not at all, I just… I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting you to come out to me, I guess.” You breathe out nervously. 

Unbeknownst to you it was a test, not to see if you were homophobic. But maybe if she comes out to you, you’d do the same. Possibly leading to a conversation about crushes… Attempting to be a wingman for Van. 

“Sorry, I mean. I trust you. I had a feeling you weren’t homophobic.” She jokes half-heartedly and you smile. 

“Glad I give off those vibes.” You pretend to sigh in relief, walking ahead of her to get back to the cabin. Disappointing her with your lack of… coming out as well. She thought she set it up so… amazingly!

You toss the wood down beside the stump you guys have been using to chop the wood. Your next activity was cleaning up the cabin a little more so it felt more… home-y? It’s something you briefly mentioned to a few of the girls. Sort of agreeing that you can do it as a chore. As you enter the cabin you see Natalie nudging a sleeping Jackie with her foot. 

“Jackie. Up and at 'em, or something.” She mutters to which Jackie burrows deeper under the blankets with a whine. “It’s so cold. And I have cramps.” She complains to which you snicker. “No shit. We literally all have cramps.” Natalie rolls her eyes, peering over at you with raised eyebrows and you put your hands up in defense. 

Jackie pushes off her blankets, up to her feet begrudgingly. Natalie is already leaving the building to go off doing something else. Jackie looks at you who shrugs simply. 

“I feel your pain. We let you sleep in a little later though.” You give her an empathetic smile to which she tries to do back but frowns instead. You did argue a little bit with the others to just let Jackie sleep longer. Having most of the chores taken care of but of course they’re going to deem it unfair if someone gets special treatment. 

You glance around the kitchen area, humming lowly as you try to think of where to start. Getting rid of the old nasty shit could be best. You open all of the cabinets, observing what you’re working with.The dude that lived here was not very organized… You begin to wonder if the man was always alone out here. 

If he had a wife or a friend. And if not… Why would he want to be isolated? Why would he choose to be alone with his own thoughts? His own being? The thought of being truly alone with no one… ever… is a scary, scary thought. Which is funny because you hated socializing. You hated it with a passion. 

Or you just hated the idea of being judged and picked apart if someone got to know you. 

Nah… it was definitely socialization… 

You head to the pantry that also leads to the attic with a ladder. You look at what you’re dealing with in there as well. All the cans and jars. Either empty or filled with maggots and other bugs you couldn’t name even if you tried. 

And from outside the door of the cabin, there stands a certain redhead. Knocking up the courage to talk to you. Her chance to do so. She sighs at herself, walking over to Taissa. 

“I can’t do it.” She throws her arms in the air and the curly-haired girl makes a confused look. “She’s there, alone in the cabin and I can’t do it. I feel like a little bitch.” She exclaims and Taissa puts the axe down, wiping the sweat from her forehead. 

“I mean you are kind of being one.” Taissa says with no remorse. “Just act like you’re looking for something. I don’t know. If you really want to talk to her you’ll make something up.” She grabs the axe, looking at Van patiently to see what the girl’s going to do. Either bother her some more or go to you. 

“You’re so much help.” 

“So, I’ve been told.” Taissa rolls her eyes with a smirk, commenting back to last night’s conversation. “I tried helping you earlier, came out to her and everything. She did not have much to say.” She lets out a low whistle, looking down at the wood she still has to chop. 

“Why would you coming out to her help me?” Van asks with knitted bros. “I don’t know! Possibly lead to like… a conversation about girls we’ve been interested in! Ya know…” She looks back at how that was probably a stupid decision but at the same time doesn’t regret it very much. 

Van just sits there with a blankless look on her face not even knowing how to respond. “I’m gonna go talk to her…” 

She walks away and Taissa just goes back to doing her chore. Trying to hurry up so she isn’t swinging a heavy axe multiple times. Arms growing sore. 

2021

You felt yourself going crazy, quitting your job not even 72 hours ago. You lay on your couch with an almost empty wine bottle. Hair looks a mess, wearing a tank top with grossly stained sweatpants. Music playing in the background on your record player, specifically Fleetwood Mac. The only thing keeping you somewhat sane. 

You move your foot with the beat of the music, humming along with the lyrics. 

The past couple of days all you’ve been thinking about is the plane crash that happened years ago. You think about everything that went down. Everything you had to endure and experience out there alongside the few you’ve recently had the joy of reconnecting with. 

The anger that seeped through you all over again. As if you were back to where you were when you got rescued. Anger that’s even fresher than that. Losing the love of your life. Betrayed by a person you thought was a close friend.

And of course the most recent events of someone you didn’t care for but survived with, dead. Hung himself. Or to Natalie, your closest friend of them all, convinced that he was murdered. A fucking psychotic woman working with her to figure out if that’s truly the case. You have Shauna down the road who honestly only talks to you when it’s most convenient. Seeing Taissa after 8 years. After what she did. Attempting to give you some meekly apology.

Your younger siblings are out of state, miles away after your mother passed. Using their inheritance to do better for themselves. Sending cards or calling you every now and then, begging you to visit them.

The worst of it though. Is the fact that all of them have lives, living them without you. And you’re stuck in place. Living off money you made in your twenties and your mother’s inheritance. Not saying that they live better, or worse. Just that they’re living and you have no purpose in them anymore. That’s at least what you’ve convinced yourself.

You stand up suddenly from your spot, anxiety hitting you. The feeling of dread overwhelming you. “Shit.” You mumble, grasping at your chest. “Stop, stop, stop.” You plead with nobody, pacing around your living room. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You try to convince yourself, your hands shaking as you take in deep breaths. The feeling of panic wasn’t stopping any time soon though. You grab onto your hair, “Stop it! I’m fucking fine!” You shout into the air, yanking at your hair before hitting yourself in the head a few times. “Fucking please!” You cry out. 

Stumbling around as you’re begging to whoever is out there to stop this feeling. Taking the bottle of wine and smashing it to the ground. “God, what the fuck!” You sob with no tears coming out. 

You couldn’t stop it, after how many years of having these panic attacks you couldn’t stop it without someone else being beside you. A soothing voice or someone cracking a joke. Forcing you to listen to the music or the noises around you. You felt dizzy as you reached down for your phone. Unfortunately slipping on your rug and onto a rather large piece of glass. 

“Fuck!!” You howl in pain, you grip onto the couch, looking down at your calf that has a large chunk of broken glass sticking out. Gushing blood through your grey sweatpants. That sure stopped the panic attack… 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” You angrily express, glaring at the wound. You stand up with a wince. Forgetting about your phone and heading to the front door with a limp. You were huffing out of breath, stopping yourself before you did anything. You bend over, attempting to take the glass out yourself but you see the blood stain grow bigger on your pants. Along with the pain growing excruciating. “Yup. Hospital… hospital.” You grimace, snatching your keys off the hook. 

You shut the door behind you, practically jumping on one leg to your car, leaning against it as you swing the door open and plop down. Slowly remembering that you’re wine drunk. 

Should you be driving? No probably not but it’s your left leg and you’re not calling the ambulance to get a huge ass bill that you definitely could afford nor are you calling for help. 

You speed on your way to the hospital. Feeling yourself incredibly lightheaded but keeping your eyes open and focused on the road. You’ve been drinking and feeling the blood drain from your body was no help either. 

You pull into the parking lot of the hospital, climbing out and almost falling to the ground as you do so. Slamming the door behind you, you limp to the front doors of the emergency room. “Fucking hell…” You murmur, shoving your keys in your pocket. “Hello?!” You slur out, slumping against the front desk. 

A lady appears and gives you a weird look. “Hi, what can I do for you?” She asks and you laugh. “Um… my leg, I broke some glass, it’s in my leg.” You answer horribly and then point behind you to the blood that has trailed behind you. Her eyes widen and you grin sweetly with half-lidded eyes.

“You think I could see a doctor?” Is the last thing you manage to get out before passing out cold against the desk then your body slipping down to the ground. 

1996

You’re putting jars on one shelf as you put the rest of the cans that weren’t used for the shooting range outside and not in the pantry. Then you can use the jars to collect the berries and nuts, Keeping a neater storage. 

You heard footsteps creaking behind you but you don’t think much of it, continuing your thing. “Need any help?” A voice cuts through your silence and you peep over to see Van standing there. You feel yourself tense up as you shake your head. “No, thank you though.” 

“Can I just… stand here then? Like an idiot of course.” She adds in the last part and you press your lips together as you try to hold in a laugh. “If you have nothing better to do, I guess I can’t stop you.” You shrug your shoulders and she smiles. This is the most you’ve said to her in a while. 

And that’s saying a lot since you’ve only just said 17 words to her. Van patiently stands there, ever so often looking behind her to see if someone was going to head inside. 

“You going to talk at all?” You speak up first, surprisingly. “Being quiet is kind of a part of the whole idiot thing I was going for but you know… I can try talking.” She sarcastically answers and you let out a “pfft.” Looking over at her with a stupid lopsided grin on your face. “So talk, idiot.” You joke and she lands a hand on her heart. 

“Man, harsh.” 

You couldn’t stop smiling at her, trying to get back to your organizing but now all you could feel is her presence. “I really didn’t do anything… right? Like the reason we barely talk isn’t because of me?” She suddenly asks and you drop your hands to your sides with a small sigh. 

You knew you couldn’t keep this going, you couldn’t just continue to ignore her. As much as you wanted to push her away. “Van, I promise you, you did absolutely nothing.” You turn to face her to show you’re sincere. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been acting like this.” You say cautiously, not knowing what your next words are going to be. “I d- I don’t really know what to tell you it was… Other than the fact that you were getting too close to me.” You shyly admit. 

“So… I mean I did do something?” She says in a more inquisitive tone. “No, no, Van.” You laugh, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I got scared once I realized how close you were getting to me. Along with the fact that y’know you caught me fucking looking at a redhead on a porno magazine.” You blurt out, sort of without thinking but for some reason it didn’t hit you. 

Van stands there for a moment. “You’re gay?” She whispers and you let out a loud laugh. “That’s what you take out of that?” You hold your stomach as you can’t stop the giggles. It was probably the anxiety but it was also incredibly amusing. You couldn't believe you were coming out to someone. 

It was humorous because you knew Taissa was trying to get it out of you earlier too. “Well, are you?” She asks and you raise a brow. “Am I?” You tease and she looks expectant, like she needed to hear you say it. “I am.” You breathe out. “You?” You point to her and she purses out her lips. 

“Me? Nah, nah, definitely not.” She sarcastically says and you gently push her. “Okay, sure.” You move past her so you can grab some sort of container for the cans. “So… redheads are something you’re interested in, in a person?” She comes up behind you as you look for a container and you freeze. 

“They’re okay, I guess.” You try not to smile. “Just okay?” She was growing bold in this moment, taking her chance. “I think redheads deserve more love. I’ll admit that.” You pull a large plastic bucket from the bottom cabinet, turning around to face Van. “That we can agree on. The lack of love we receive…” She dramatically sighs and you scoff. 

“You finished your chore already?” You change the subject. “Yeah, just waiting for the laundry to dry now.” She tells you, right behind you as you take the bucket to the pantry. Placing the cans in it. 

“That’s cool, I wish I got laundry, I think I got a few splinters.” You pout out your lips and she makes a face. “I can check for you.” She offers and you place the bucket down. Shoving your hands in her direction. “Mm, you have two. I can get them later if you want?” She glances up at you and you nod. “Sounds like a plan.” You go back to what you’re doing. Van even helps you organize the area. 

Cleaning the cobwebs, and even cleaning out the dirty fridge that’s definitely not usable but it will possibly help get rid of smells. “I’m going to take a second outside, I’ll be back.” You tell the redhead who gives you a thumbs up in return, lifting up a heavy bunch of trash that will be burned by the fire tonight after dinner. 

Taissa comes up to you with a curious expression, nosey about what Van and you talked about. “Hey, [Name]! Wait for me!” She calls and you pause in your steps to look back at her. “Oh, what’s up, Tai?” You wait for her. 

“What’s that?” She asks, motioning to the bucket. “Trash from the fridge and pantry.” You answer, showing it off. “It’s gonna get burned tonight but I don’t want it near here for right now.”

Huffing as you carry it away from the site. “Makes sense, it’s fucking gross.” She gags at it, peering away from it to look ahead. “Yeah, I’m sick of the random scents when we’re going to bed.” You laugh, hefting up the bucket from slipping in your hands. 

“I think this is a good spot.” You call, heading over to a tree and placing it down. 

You wipe sweat from your face with your shirt before standing up straight. “I wish we had ac out here.” You complain, fanning yourself dramatically and Taissa hums in agreement. It’s getting colder out so in the same breath you were fine but the feeling of a fan or ac unit just hits differently. 

As you were going to continue your complaint, walking back to the cabin the two of you pass by the structure that holds the deer carcass. Shauna kneeled down by the blood. Startled by the both of you she hides something behind her back. “Sorry, we were just-” Taissa starts but Shauna shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Bolting out of there before anything else can be said. 

Taissa and you share a look with one another, confused. “That was weird, right?” She inquires with you and you nod your head. “Isn’t she the only one without a period?” You raise a brow and Taissa gasps. “Is she?” 

“I thought so but I don’t know.” You lift your shoulders. Glancing back to where Shauna just was. “Let’s go.” Taissa grabs your wrist and forces you to be a spy with her. 

“Thanks for jinxing me.” Shauna yells to Jackie who glances up. “Welcome to Club Flo. Call me when you’re ready to shake Misty down for Motrin.” 

Jackie holds your walkman, attempting to get it to work again. Something she asked last night before going to bed. She looks hopeful as she fights with the batteries but again nothing comes out. “Ugh. Fucking cocksucker.” You smirk. 

“[Name]! You still cleaning with me!?” Van calls from the cabin, steering your attention away from the captain of your soccer team. “Yeah, yeah!” You excuse yourself from Taissa’s side. She hesitantly lets you go without a smart comment. Giving Van a wink whose face grows warm at the gesture. Once you’re inside the redhead flicks up her middle finger. Tai laughed to herself, moving onto her chore.

 

2021

You wake up groggily with an IV in your arm and a large bandage on your leg. “The fuck?” You murmur, dazed as you blink yourself awake. A body comes to your side, grabbing onto your arm. Startling you, you look up. A glimpse of red hair. “Van?” You breathe out but as you come to, your vision fixes itself. Showing not red hair, but an orange sweater. 

“[Name]? You’re awake, are you okay?” It’s Taissa, you furrow your eyebrows angrily. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” You attempt to sit yourself up but you’re still heavily drugged up, grabbing at your IV but Taissa stops you. “Hey, hey, I got the call you were here. I’m still on your fucking emergency contact list. Not that I wanted to be here the day before Halloween or at all.” She explains to you and your chest heaves up and down. 

“What? I changed my- how the fuck?” You question frantically, not understanding what’s happening. You sit there quietly, glaring down at the cast on your leg. Thinking about your emergency contact. You never changed your contact after 8 years of not talking to Taissa. You close your eyes, not irritated with yourself. 

“They told me you had glass so deep in your leg is scratched against your fucking bone. You’re lucky it didn’t hit an important nerve.” She tells you and you side eye her with a childish pout on your lips. “They also said you were drunk, almost hitting the legal limit. How the fuck did you drive here?” Taissa scolds you and you scoff out a laugh. 

“Barely felt a buzz.” You roll your eyes. “You say that and next thing you know you’re throwing up for four fucking hours begging for Vanessa. You’ve done it for years.” She snaps, shutting you up. 

“Look, I need to go home with my family. You have someone I can call?” She asks, folding her arms patiently. You sit there quietly. “I’m fine.” mumble. “Great, so no one. You have no one who can drive you home?” 

Silence. 

“[Name], I can’t just leave you alone, you’re obviously going through some sort of mental crisis or some shit. Who can I call?” She questions and your jaw drops in offense. “I am not going through a mental crisis!” You defend yourself and she deadpans.

“Right, so if I go to your house right now, I won’t find dozens of your favorite wine with Fleetwood Mac or The Smashing Pumpkins playing? I know you better than that.” She spits to which you just “tch” in response. 

“Have you been taking your meds?” She sighs. “No, the pharmacy hasn’t refilled them.” You answer. 

“You’re going through a manic episode. Jesus.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and you grow quiet again. She’s right… you should’ve caught it too. It started with that idiotic hook up. Quitting your job? Oh what the fuck have you been doing? Your heart rate picks up, something Taissa catches. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just have to speak with your doctor. I’ll ask my wife if you can sleep on our couch for a bit.” She tells you and you want to argue with her. Scream at her, that’s not happening. Instead you just lay there, disappointed with yourself. Just like your father you have bipolar disorder. You were diagnosed with it after being rescued from the plane crash. 

It felt like your world was ending when you got that diagnosis. Fearful of ending up like your father. 

Taissa goes to the hall to call her wife. You stare at your bandage cover, all that for some stitches. Dramatic, much? 

Taissa drives you to your house in her large SUV. The two of you exchange glances every now and then with only the faint sound of the music from the radio playing. She pulls into her driveway and you raise a brow seeing your car already there.

“How did Juno get here?” You unbuckle and she stops you.

“I’ll go in for you. And Simone drove it when she heard what happened. Said it was such a piece of junk too.” She jokes and you huff. “You said that, Simone is too nice. And I’m going in whether I have to jump or you help me.” You open the door and she presses her lips together. Rushing out to get to the passenger side and help you down. 

You use her as a crutch, leaning your weight on her. “This take you back to when you broke Allie’s leg?” You smirk and she lets out a large breath in response. “[Name], shut up.” She grunts, helping you to your front door as you’re laughing. “Man, that girl was annoying, still is honestly.” You push through the front door, noticing the hot mess you left behind. 

“Jesus, it’s like a crime scene in here.” Taissa motions to the trail of blood that leads to the broken glass and the small pool of blood your leg left behind. “Fleetwood still going strong.” You hop over to your record player, lifting up the tonearm, stopping the repeated music. Taissa makes a face, knowing that she was right about your mental crisis. 

Well by the looks of your house she was extremely correct. She observes your house as you hop into your bedroom, leaning on your walls and random furniture you have as you pack a bag. 

Taissa looks at the wall above your tv that holds numerous pictures. Pictures of Van Palmer, herself, Natalie and Shauna. Pictures of your siblings and family when you were younger. Nothing has changed in the 8 years that the two of you stopped talking. Except for the layout of your living room or kitchen. Everything is the same though. 

You never got anything new, never threw out clearly broken chairs or the clock on the wall that’s been unticking since 2008. Her gaze softens at these details of your home. You’ve never moved on. 

“Let’s go, Nosey Turner.” You lean against your doorway with a backpack. “I’m not being- Oh hey, there’s your phone.” Taissa carefully goes to the couch, picking it up. “You were being nosey, but it’s okay.” You limp to the front door and she follows behind you. Reaching her arms out just in case you trip. 

Later that night you lay on Taissa and Simone’s couch feeling incredibly out of place. Simone welcomed you with open arms, definitely undeserving of this treatment. Simone remembered you well, she didn’t know what happened between you and her wife. Something you promised Taissa before entering her home that she wouldn’t know. She’d be kept in the dark of her wife’s mistreatment towards you. 

“Do you need anything else?” Simone asks, making sure your leg is elevated and you have water on the coffee table in front of you, the remote to the tv in your lap. “I’m fine, Simone. Thank you, I appreciate you just for opening your home up to me.” You smile softly to which she does the same. Patting your shoulder. 

“Of course, you’re welcome anytime. You were like family years ago and you still are.” She assures you. Taissa comes up behind her wife. “Sammy’s waiting for us.” She whispers and Simone nods her head. “If you need help, call us. We’ll come running.” She says and you give her a thumbs up. Both of them walk upstairs. 

You threw your head back as you stared up at her tall ceiling. Disbelieving that you’re inside Taissa Turner’s out after what happened years ago. Not even that but seeing her not that long ago and telling her you don’t forgive her, she’s still willing to open her home up to you. You hated it. 

“God damn.” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them as if you’d wake up from a dream. 

The next day Simone got you your meds from the pharmacy and you wonder if this is the power of being a politician's wife or what. 

Taissa rushes outside of the house and you lift yourself up. Wondering what’s happening. Simone slowly behind her. “What’re you? Did you see someone out there?!” Simone calls after. “Keep the dog inside.” Taissa tells. 

The two have been outside for a bit and you impatiently get up, limping toward the door. “The fuck happened?” You shout, opening the door and the two women look at you.

“Go lay back down!” Taissa orders and you shake your head. “What- oh what the hell?!” You back up from the front door and see it with the word “SPILL” dripping in red paint. You give her a look, and her own are worry-ful but she seems to know where it could’ve come from. 

Nothing comes from that conversation though as you guys go back into the house. You are lectured about getting up by Simone as Taissa is back in her work office. 

Simone and Taissa take Sammy trick or treating after Taissa was stuck in her office before that.  

Leaving you to be obviously stuck on the couch, watching old Halloween movies, giving you nostalgia of when you were younger. 

When the three came home Sammy was bragging about his candy haul. You poke your head up from the couch. “What’d you get?” You ask and he jumps from the sound of your voice. He knew you were there, his mothers told him but it still scared him nonetheless. To which the three of you adults laughed. 

“Sorry, guess you forgot I’m still here.” You chuckle. He shyly nods his head. “What happened?” He suddenly asks and you’re a little shocked by it. 

Simone goes to stop it but Taissa and you stop her. “Fell onto some glass, nothing special.” You wiggle your toes. He seems disappointed by your lack of story but then you change the subject. “So, what you got in there?” You repeat your first question.  “A lot, I can show you.” He goes around the couch and dumps his candy on the coffee table. You re-adjust yourself so you can look. He puts a sucker already in his mouth. 

“Remember what we said, Samwich.” Taissa reminds him as she goes to the kitchen to sort through her mail. “Five pieces. Can I have six?” He doesn’t look back to them as he’s partly showing off his candy to you while also picking out the pieces he wants. 

“Counting what’s in your mouth?” Simone quizzes and he pops the lollipop out of his mouth. “I don’t know how that got there!” He feigns surprise and you smile at him. “And remember, no candy for the dog.” Simone points. Leaving the two of you alone to talk about the candy he got. 

You also eavesdrop to the ladies' conversation in the kitchen. “Speaking of truth, maybe it’s getting time for you to spill about your opponent’s junkie daughter.” You hear Simone say to her wife, you knit your eyebrows together. “Whatever happened to not going low?” Taissa questions. 

“Turns out, when the nut-jobs come to my house, I’m less magnanimous.” She replies. ”The contractor’s sending someone to paint over it tomorrow.” Taissa tells her, but it still doesn’t help Simone’s nerves and even you can feel that. Taissa comes over to her son. “Arms up.” She directs and he reluctantly pauses on his candy sorting to let his mom take off his sandwich costume. 

You turn your movie back on, hanging out with Sammy still who has just finished sorting his candy into different piles, he offers you the ones he doesn’t want and you take it very appreciative. 

Simone and Taissa step in your view of the TV though, Taissa setting down a brush and paint can on the coffee table and Sammy looks up. “What’s that?” He asks. “Maybe you should tell us, Sammy. We found it in your room.” Tai answers and he just shakes his head no. 

“What do you mean, no? You painted a word on the front door. You want to tell us why?” Taissa folds her arms, frustrated with her son as you awkwardly sit there with a sour candy in your mouth. Sammy shakes his head yet again. “Sweetheart, we promise not to be angry, but you need to tell us the truth.” Simone speaks up this time. 

Sammy looks nervous, he avoids eye contact with them.

“I didn’t paint the word.” Sammy tells them. “Sammy, please-” 

“The bad one did it. The lady in the tree.” Sammy tells them with some sort of fear. You furrow your eyebrows. “And did the lady in the tree also leave this paint under your bed? Sammy, you know there isn’t any lady. Please don’t lie to us.” Taissa sternly talks to her son who suddenly explodes, sweeping his candy off of the table. 

“I’m not lying! You’re lying!” He shouts as he runs to his room. 

You tense up, eyes wide as you glance up to his parents who share their own worried look. 

1996

You sit on the porch of the cabin with Van beside you, you’re leaning on her tiredly. All of a sudden Mari is shrieking, rushing out of the building. “Get it off me! Somebody get it off!” She shouts, reaching behind her. Shauna rushes to her as well as Akilah. “Get what off? I don’t see anything.” Akilah says. 

“I don’t know! I was standing under the trapdoor and something crawled down my shirt! Please…” She esaperates, and Shauna inspects her. “There’s nothing on you.” She tells her. 

“Must’ve been the ghost.” Taissa walks up and you smirk. “Don’t say that.” Mari huffs. “You guys… you guys! I just had a brainstorm!” Jackie announces, earning everyone’s attention. “We should do a seance.” 

“That’s a terrible idea. We’re also not in middle school.” Taissa rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but remember how fun this shit used to be? Maybe if we could laugh about this, it would help.” Jackie defends her idea and you knit your eyebrows together as you observe everyone else’s reaction. 

“The occult is no laughing matter.” Laura Lee gravely speaks. “It’s not the occult. It’s a game. Shauna, tell them. It’ll be fun.” Jackie turns to her best friend who’s not on the spot. “I mean… it’s not like we have anything better to do. Besides, maybe the dead guy can give us some life advice.” Shauna shrugs her shoulders, attempting to support Jackie. “It’s settled, then. Tonight, the attic. We make contact.” 

You stand up and look to Van who doesn’t look too displeased with the idea. You don’t really care either way. You don’t have your walkman anymore so like Shauna said no one has anything better to do. Leaning back on the redhead, you place your head on her shoulder. Letting out a yawn. 

“You’re tired?” She quietly asks and you nod. “My period and all the moving around I did I guess wore me out.” You close your eyes, not seeing Taissa who’s making a face at the girl you’re leaning on. Van subtly flicks her off. 

2021

Taissa sits at the kitchen table and you awkwardly watch your movie, trying to pretend like you’re not there as Simone comes back downstairs. “He’s asleep, finally.” She informs her wife. 

Joining her at the table. “I’m worried about him.” Taissa exclaims. “Glad you’re catching up.” Simone scoffs out but it doesn’t seem to be cruelly intent. “I know I’ve been distracted.” Taissa frowns. You glance back at them from the couch. Being incredibly nosey but they don’t seem to care that you’re listening. 

“You’ve been worse than distracted. You’re losing weight, you’re exhausted. You want to know what’s wrong with Sammy? I think a big part of it is that he’s missing the mom he knew. You’ll never get the time back, you know. None of us will.” Simone gives Taissa a speech that seems to have been needed as Tai sits straighter at her words. “All this, just to lose a bid for state senate,” Taissa weakly jokes. 

Simone sits there, not giving a pep talk and you wince at the scene. “You think I should drop out.” 

“I would never ask you to do that. I just don’t want you to have regrets. You have a long career ahead of you. Maybe this just… isn’t the year.” Simone carefully admits how she feels. Taissa takes it in with a grain of salt. 

You anxiously sit there, wondering what her answer will be as if you’ll be affected much. 

You watch as Taissa takes Simone’s hand. “I’ll make an announcement.” Taissa says. 

Your eyes widen but even you can see that glimpse in her eyes where she’s already regretting it. You squint and you worry. This isn’t going to go well. 

1996

You end up falling asleep on the girl’s shoulder without even meaning to. Your head about to fall forward but somehow Van catches it, putting her arm around your torso to keep you still. Jackie and Shauna are already off to set up the seance. 

And when Natalie and Travis get back, Natalie immediately notices your figures with a soft smirk upon her lips. The girls crowd the two, telling them about Jackie’s idea. The two find it idiotic but go along with it nonetheless. Van wakes you up, figuring you’d want to talk to your best friend. 

With a jump your eyes shoot up. “Sorry!” You gasp. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Tiredly rubbing your eyes as you stretch your arms and automatically Van is missing your warmth.

“It’s fine, Nat’s back.” She points and you thank her before getting up. Hearing all the cracks in your legs from being in the same position for a while. 

“Debrief time?” You grab your best friend’s wrist who only nods, holding a smug look on her face as you drag her off somewhere. “Debrief. A-way!” She laughs and you hit her. 

“I came out to Van!” You spit out and Natalie’s eyes widen. “No fucking way!” She nudges you to which you nod your head. “Yeah way, I don’t even know why!” You groan as you throw your head back. “You’re into her! Just admit it already!” Natalie dramatically motions. 

“Ugh, I can’t hide it, I am. I most definitely am. I’m trying to fight it. I’m trying to put out every excuse there is but I can’t this time!” You cover your face as you feel it warm up. She grins at you, wanting to squeal for you but not wanting to be loud where the girls would hear her. “Finally!” She excitedly says. 

You’ve had attractions but never crushes. Never ones that you’d admit on. “But I can see the eyes you’re giving Travis… so…” You change the subject and her face drops. “What?” 

“Oh don’t even! I might hate the guy- kind of despise him. But I know you.” You cross your arms as she rolls her eyes. “The two of you were laughing before you left. Laughing. I couldn’t even smile in that guy's direction, that's how I know you got it bad.” You tell her earnestly, half-joking. You really didn’t like Travis but that’s for your personal reasons. If Natalie liked him, you would have to get over it. 

“He’s not as bad as he comes off.” She murmurs and you scrunch your nose with a certain smile. “No denying it…” 

“Shut up.” She avoids your eye contact and you clap your hands. “You’re so readable.” You make kissy faces. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” She shoves you away from her. 

“O, keeper of this wild and hidden place! We anoint ourselves with blood and earth…” Jackie passes the bowl to Travis who makes a disgusted expression. You sit between Natalie and Van. “It’s just dirt and deer blood, classic witch recipe, relax.” She giggles as Travis dabs at it, passing the bowl to Natalie. 

You notice their reactions to their fingers touching and you try not to laugh. “O spirit! We offer our sister as your instrument. Come to us, and speak your peace.” Jackie continues. The bowl given to you. 

You grimace down at the blood, making the cross on your forehead, handing the bowl to Van who matches your facial expression. It’s silent as the bowl is fully paced. 

“It is I, Jacques.” Shauna suddenly speaks as if channeling the ghost. 

This earns laughter from everyone. “Ahem.” She speaks in a lower octave. “Ahem. Jacques. Ask your questions. The pendulum will answer.” 

Van is the first to lean forward with a serious look. “Dear dead hunter guy… Did OJ do it?” She asks, the girls giggle and you nudge her knee with the back of your hand. 

“C’mon you guys, real questions.” Jackie pleads. “The veil is thin between our two planes. Ask what is in your heart.” Shauna re-commences. “I’ll go. Is principal Berzonsky screwing Ms. DeWine?” Mari sits straight.

Arm out, Shauna starts the knife-pendulum swinging and you all watch as the arcs widen, eventually becoming a circle. “It is certain.” 

And now this grows a pique of interest. “If we hadn’t crashed, would we have won nationals?” Akilah speaks up. 

The pendulum swings once again, moving back and forth instead of a circle this time. Boos fill the attic, Lottie even laughs at this. Your eyes flicker to Jackie who beams. Proud of her contribution to the group. 

Making them have a good time. 

The conversation switches as someone brings up a classmate's boobs. “They’re obviously fake, you really need a ghost to tell you that?” Natalie laughs out as Javi wedges himself between her and Travis, waving to you, you do the same with a gentle smile. 

“You think? But who would’ve paid for them? Her parents?” Mari tilts her head curiously. You overhear Travis whispering to his brother. “I told you to stay downstairs.” “Whatever, it’s boring.” Javi responds. 

“I think they got divorced recently. Maybe it was guilt money.” You speak up, not wanting to intervene between brothers. 

“Well that’s just creepy.” Mari says. “You mom and I are splitting up, but don’t worry- your tits are gonna look amazing!” Van grabs onto her own chest and everyone bursts into laughter but the only person she really cared about making laugh was you. Your hand is on your stomach from how hilarious and idiotic this conversation is. 

“Okay guys, focus, next question.” Jackie spots Misty from across the room who’s ecstatic and eager to be chosen to ask a question. “Misty?” 

The curly blonde straightens her posture, avoiding eye contact as she begins. “Dear spirit, I need to know the truth. Does the person I like like me back?” She breathes out and Shauna loops the pendulum, a circle; a yes. 

Misty blushes, grinning ear to ear as the girls all give her an “ooo-ooo.” 

“Who’s next?” 

Javi waves his hand and Jackie gives him the go ahead. “Are we gonna die out here?” 

And just like that, all the fun exits out the room. It was real. Serious, too serious for anyone to want to know. You look at Shauna who hesitates. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Travis hits him and he turns to you, almost for comfort. You give him an empathetic look but you truly didn’t know what to do for him. 

The pendulum moves into an infinity shape. Unsettling to everyone. 

“Eight? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not an eight, it’s infinity?” 

“Oh, okay Aristotle.” 

As tension grows with the arguing you sit there. Body tensed but still aware. Observing Lottie who is slowly turning her head, staring at the window behind her. Then all of a sudden screaming, full of terror. You, Van and Akilah rush to her side, springing into action. Lottie grabs onto your arms as you try to soothe her. 

The window blows open and the candles are extinguished by the wind. Stopping the girl’s scream but confusion engulfs the room. The three girls cling to you as you stand there. “Hey hey, it’s okay.” You say, letting go of the girls to close and latch the window. 

“Who has the matches?” Jackie asks as you’re trying to calm the girls around you. A flame flicks up by Shauna’s hand as she re-lights the candles on the ground. “There’s something wrong with her.” Van points, her hold on you once again. You bend down, Lottie back to gripping onto your arms. The three of you are attempting to keep her still. 

All eyes on Lottie who slowly opens her mouth. “Oh, I don’t think-” Akilah’s dread washing over everyone else. “It- it… it wants-” Lottie begins to jerk around, letting out a guttural and unintelligible noise that freaks everyone out. 

She pauses, her chest heaving up and down. Her eyes roll back as she twitches with a violent tremor ripping through her. You feel her nails digging into your skin, rubbing against your almost fully healed burn. 

“Should we, uh… Misty?!” Van shouts, the blonde gets up seemingly with delight. She approaches but Lottie goes back to speaking random words. 

“It! Wants!”

“Lottie, I swear to God, if you’re fucking with us…” Mari comments. “Is she, like…” Akilah can’t get the word out, backing away with Misty. Van standing over you with her hold still on you since you can’t move anyways with Lottie’s grip. 

“Lot, what’s going on? What is it?” You mutter out, trying to look her in the eyes. Her thrashing doesn’t help though. “Hungry. Hungry…” She then looks up to you.

“It’s in her already.” Her eyes flicker to Shauna. You follow it and Shauna’s face drops, not understanding what Lottie is talking about at first. 

But you see her small recognition. 

“Alright, Lottie, let’s cut it out now.” You warn her, trying to take your arms back now but she doesn’t let go. Only gripping tighter. Giving you a manic smile.

“You understand. You’ll feel it. I know you will.” She whispers to you, and only you. Your eyebrows knit together. “What?” 

She lets you go, standing up. “Ce n’est pas un jeu.” 

Van helps you stand away from the girl. “Au début, il a pris soin de moi. Je l’ai nourri.” 

“Is that French?” Van looks around. “Il m’a apporté ses cadeaux. Les cadeaux des bois…” 

“Since when does Lottie know French?” Natalie urgently asks. “Mais il avait toujours faim…” Lottie continues in a low voice. “Jackie, aren’t you guys in the same class?” 

“Mes offres étaient trop maigres.” 

“Yeah, but she sucks at French!” Jackie exclaims. “Il voulait du sang.” 

“Well what’s she saying?” Mari inquired, panicked. “I dunno, I suck at French too!” Jackie shrugs her shoulders with wide eyes. “Il veut toujours du sang.” 

“Well damn it, Jackie, try not to!” Van spits out, the two of you holding onto one another. You rub the marks that were made by Lottie, wincing at the pain in your burn mark. “Il veut du sang!” 

“He, no, it- wanted… something.” Jackie attempts to translate. “Il voulait plus de sang.” 

“It… blood? I think she’s saying blood.” Jackie thinks. “Not the word I want to be hearing right now.” Mari frowns deeply. Lottie gets up walking quickly to the window and starts jabbing at the glass. Pointing at something. “Le sang coule ici.” 

“Shit… more blood stuff?” 

“Ici. Ici.” Lottie repeats, pointing with more urgency. “Here? I don’t…” 

“There’s blood where, Lottie?” Van speaks up. “Would you stop encouraging her!?” Taissa shouts only to be ignored. “Here, or out there?” 

“Il faut.” 

“It’s fake?” Jackie asks. “You must spill blood or… or else.” It seemed to be an effort to speak English as if Lottie doesn’t do it on a regular basis. Lottie falls silent, breathing heavily but still pointing at the window.

“Or else what, Lottie?!” Jackie yells but suddenly Lottie smashes her head against the glass. Everyone screams but you rush to her aid. Ripping off your shirt to place over her wound on her head. 

“Help me!” You yell at the girls, Lottie unleashes a long wail. Natalie and Van restraining her as you keep the shirt up to her forehead. Laura Lee appeared from downstairs, beelining for Lottie with her bible in hand. 

“The power of Christ compels you!” She orders. Lottie’s eyes still rolled back, wailing still. “Be gone, Satan! I said the power of Christ compels you!” She shouts, more determined than before. Stern and certain in what she believes in. Lottie continues to wail. Trying to move her head away from your hold. 

“Lottie! Stop!” Laura Lee then chucks her bible right at Lottie’s stomach. Lottie’s eyes focus, confusedly looking up to the blonde. “Ow! What the hell, Laura Lee?” She glares upward. Trying to push you away but you don’t let go of her head. 

Forcing her to look at you instead.The girls stare at each other, hearts pounding but you’re immediately aiding the wound. “Seriously? What the motherfuck just happened?” Mari motions to the room. 

“I need my kit.” You order, Van nods her head, rushing downstairs. “Lottie, I don’t even want to know why you did what you did. But Jesus christ.” You clean up her face a bit harshly. The girl is dazed, not understanding what happened either. What she does notice though are the claw-like marks on your arms. 

Prominently over your burn mark. “Did I do that?” She softly asks, touching them. You glance down and huff. “Yeah, but it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

Everyone has gone to their spots for bed, almost instantaneously Lottie is the first one knocked out. Snoring even. 

You set your stuff beside Van, taking in a deep breath. The stinging in your arms not going away, neither is the anxiety you feel from Lottie’s words earlier. You knew Shauna was feeling the same way. 

“At least someone’s getting some rest.” Van comments. “Raise your hand if you’ll never sleep again.” Mari speaks, being the first to do so and it leads to others. Except Taissa who won’t admit she’s afraid.

“Do we think it’s still up there?” Akilah shakily asks, a few eyes seem to look to you for comfort. 

“Guys, I think we need to take a deep breath. Lottie hasn’t been acting well for the past few weeks we’ve been here.” You point out to them, still standing with your hands on your hips. “I promise nothing is up there to get us.” You place a hand on your heart the girls would like to believe it but there’s still discomfort covering the room. 

“I’ll prove it.” Taissa scoffs, gathering her bedding. Heading for the trapdoor. “You’re going to sleep up there??” Akilah furrows. 

“That’s right. Anyone with me?” She shoots a look your way and even to Van. Van shakes her head, still incredibly frightened. But you sigh, gathering up your things as well. Van gasps. Reaching out to stop you. “Are you serious?”

“Van, it’s okay. You don’t have to come but I’m not leaving her alone up there.” You tell her. “Great.” Taissa smiles, heading up the stairs. 

You follow behind quickly in case you change your mind. 

“You didn’t have to come with me, I know you’d rather be with Van.” Taissa quietly says and you snort. “That could be true but I have more nights to do that it seems.” You set your stuff down next to hers and she smirks at you for not denying your feelings. 

Moments later, Shauna is at the top of the stairs. “What’re you doing?” Taissa asks. “Keeping you two company. If that’s okay.” Shauna glances between the both of you. You both nod and she tosses her bedding on the floor. You are in the middle between both of them. 

As you all settle into your spots. Lying there almost awkwardly until Taissa speaks up. “How far along are you?” 

“You are pregnant right?” She asks the question that even you didn’t think would be answered. 

Your heart thumps at the confrontation. Your head turns to look at Shauna who’s frozen in place. “You guys won’t tell anyone, will you?” 

“No. I won’t. But if we’re stuck here long enough, I have a feeling it’ll come out one way or another.” Taissa whispers and you nod your head with a sad expression.

“We’ll stick by you though, if you need anything.” You assure the girl before she rolls onto her back. Staring up at the ceiling. 

2021

You lean on Taissa as you try to keep weight off your leg, the both of you standing in front of a motel door. Taissa knocks one time and the door swings open.

“Since my press conference my phone hasn’t stopped ringing with folks trying to interview me. So tell me: why am I here?” Taissa questions as she helps you inside. Natalie looks confused at the two of you together but decides to ignore it for now. 

Holding up a photo collage of the Symbol. Both of your faces drop. Afraid. 

“What is that?” Taissa asks. “It’s the floor of the barn where they found Travis. The police ruled it a suicide. But there were candles on the floor underneath him. Tai, [Name]. Arranged like this. Someone burned them and then took them away.” She explains to the both of you. And you squint your eyes at it. 

“But who would do that? Why?” Taissa blurts and just then Natalie’s phone buzzes along with Taissas. But yours doesn’t. “Gather 50k cash and await further instructions. Do not discuss this with your teammates- I WILL KNOW.” Natalie reads the message and you give a disgusted look. “What the fuck is happening??” 

“I’m calling Shauna.” Taissa steps further into the motel room as Natalie turns to you. “The fuck happened to you?” 

“I was drunk, slipped on my rug and caught it on glass… that I also broke.” You quickly sum it up. She presses her lips together at you. “Taissa?” She then points back to the woman and you put a finger up. “I’ll explain later.” 

Taissa finally gets Shauna on the phone. “I’m with Natalie and [Name]. You need to get over here. Travis is dead, and-” A beat takes. 

“She says she already knows.” Taissa looks at you two. “What? How?” Natalie quizzes. 

“Misty called her.” Taissa rolls her eyes. “That conniving, poodle-haired little freak. Give me that.” Natalie angrily takes the phone from Taissa’s hand. 

“Shauna, we need you here. Now.”

taglist: if you want to be added lmk!

@caught-the-feels

@freakyjorker

@callsignwidow

@sjprongs

@suzybuddy

@sofia-r-1604

[velvet4510]

A Defense of Snow White’s Prince Florian

“He kissed a random corpse in the forest!”

“He’s preying on a child!”

“He stalked her!”

Please, please, you guys, I’m begging you to actually WATCH the original Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

WATCH.

THE.

MOVIE.

Because the Prince kissing Snow White is, to me, one of the most heartbreaking scenes in Disney history.

And here’s why.

First of all, the Prince is clearly close to Snow White’s age. He is both drawn and voiced as very youthful. He looks and sounds about 16 or 17, at the oldest. He is NOT a “predator”. He’s a boy who loves a girl, like in any good fairy tale.

Secondly, the Prince meets Snow White early in the movie. She’s NOT a complete stranger to him at the end. And their first meeting is significant. The Evil Queen makes a big deal out of Snow White’s looks, being “the fairest of all”, etc. But the Prince is first drawn to Snow White’s VOICE. He’s captivated by her singing and her kindness to the birds. He sees beyond her looks. He sees past the rags she wears and recognizes that this is a good person, a beautiful person on the inside. Then when she’s startled by him, he’s very polite and soft-spoken, apologizing for frightening her. He’s a total gentleman. Then he serenades her, letting her know how much he admires her. (Words that she has NEVER heard from ANYONE else in her life, by the way.) Then he even smiles at and is kissed by a dove that lands on his finger, hinting he has a connection with animals somewhat like hers.

And then there’s a fade to black. So we actually don’t know if she came out again, if they talked for a while. Maybe they didn’t, but maybe they did. The film doesn’t clearly tell us one way or another. But there is a possibility that they did get to know each other a little there. And if they didn’t, something is still beginning between them. They share warm smiles and affectionate looks. They both feel it, and they both hope to pursue it.

Then Snow White finds out her stepmom wants her dead and has to run away. Which means the Prince noticed her absence.

And the narrative text later tells us that he “searched far and wide” for her after she disappeared. (This guy walked so Fiyero could run, let’s be real.) Imagine the person you’ve been thinking about, hoping to get to know, wondering if they may be the one, suddenly vanished without a trace. And she’s the Princess of your neighboring kingdom. And then the Queen of the same kingdom also suddenly disappears. Wouldn’t you be alarmed? There’s a chance the huntsman may have gone to the Prince’s kingdom for help, and warned him of the Queen’s horrible actions. There’s also a chance that the Queen already had a bad reputation in the area, and the disappearances were a confirmation of what was already suspected. So the Prince nobly tries to find out what happened to his newfound love, worried about her safety. Snow White sings about her hope that she will see him again and tells the dwarfs about him … but the full truth of the situation is that he’s been thinking about her too. It’s a mutual young first love, pure and innocent.

Then the Prince FINALLY finds his beloved… in a coffin. After a “far and wide” search, there she is, apparently DEAD! All his hopes and wishes for a possible relationship with her are dashed. A 17-year-old who once dreamed of reuniting with his first love has just found her dead. He knows absolutely nothing about the poisoned apple’s spell or its cure. He doesn’t know a kiss will save her. He thinks she’s gone. Forever. All he knows is that he has found the girl he loves too late, and he couldn’t help her, despite all his searching. So, he kisses her goodbye. He kisses her as an apology, a sign of regret for lost dreams, a chance that he seems to have been denied. A 2-second touch of her lips to show his devotion. Then he bows his head and grieves.

This moment demonstrates than in him, Snow White has found the genuine love she’s been yearning for. While her stepmother tried multiple times to murder her, now she has someone who genuinely values her, so much so that he searched everywhere to find her when she went missing. Who was so heartbroken and crushed at the notion that she was gone forever that he gave her what he thought was a goodbye kiss, his one and only way of showing what she meant to him before he became haunted by the ghost of her memory, of his failure, of his lost chance at love.

This is a deeply and tragically romantic moment that has sadly been widely misunderstood. Do not slander Prince Florian! He doesn’t deserve it!

[envy-of-the-apple]

Infinite Rewind

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: Instead of dying, you are sent 13 years in the past, but this isn't your face. "Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

Word Count: 18.1k

(Warnings: slight yandere, death, murder, inaccurate Tokyo geography, blood, violence, mild gore, obsession, unhealthy relationships, child abuse/neglect, time looping(?), fem!reader) Ageless blogs that try to follow me will be blocked

First, you saw a monster. 

It was big and horrible—nasty teeth. You heard screaming. People. Running as fast as they could away from the creatures. Pain. 

And then, you saw a bright, clear sky. 

The sun was blaring down at you. It was so hot. Wasn't it December? How was the sun out at night? 

"Hey, you good?" 

A girl is looking at you. Short brown hair. A high schooler, judging by the uniform. How is she wearing all black when the weather is so hot? 

When you don't respond, her eyes squint. 

"Suguru, are you okay?" 

That's not your name; your mouth moves faster than your brain.

"I-I'm fine." That wasn't your voice. It was deeper. More masculine. What the fuck happened to your voice? 

The girl gives you another strange look but you're too busy freaking out over your new voice. Your hands are different too. A completely different skin tone, larger. 

And then you're fumbling with your pockets, clothes you know you didn't buy. The girl is calling for you again but you're too busy pulling out a fucking flip-phone and looking into the black screen, the only thing you have for a mirror. 

Purple eyes stare back. These aren't your eyes. This isn't your nose. This isn't your hair. This isn't your face. You blink. He does too. You open your mouth. So does he. You pinch your cheek. In the reflection, he winces. 

Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone. 

ⴵ

Ten minutes later, you conclude that your name is Geto Suguru, you are a 16-year-old boy, the year is 2006, and you attend a religious academy. 

"You're finally acting normally again." The girl-newly discovered as Ieiri- says. "No more weirdness." 

You don't blame her, considering you grabbed her by the shoulders, asking ridiculous questions like: what year is it, who am I, why am I here, who are you, am I dead, is this Hell, etc. For a teenage girl, she took your outburst well. 

"Sorry," you say and by now you've gotten used to your voice, "it must have been the stress from studying." 

She just hums, continuing to walk beside you. Though, Ieiri had a point. You were definitely calmer, and it was mostly because you figured it out. 

You were dreaming. 

You were lucid dreaming, to be more precise. Your brain was conjuring up a weird setting and you just happened to be placed in another person's body. You heard about this happening before. You were just so freaked out because this was the first time anything like this had happened to you. 

An impulsive part of you wants to tell Ieiri that this is just a dream, but you've heard weird things happen after a lucid dreamer tries to break the illusion. It's best if you just let it just play out and see where this goes. 

“Excited?” 

“Hm?” You ask. And Shoko rolls her eyes. 

“For the mission you have this evening. Special grade. Sounds scary.” She says, her sarcasm evident. 

Mission? Special grade? You don’t know what those words mean but it sounds like a school field trip. Shoko takes your hesitance as something else. 

“Ah,” she says, “so you forgot.” 

“I didn’t.” You reply on instinct. 

“I expected this from Satoru, not you. You should stop hanging out with him, he’s starting to rub off on you.”

You give a sheepish laugh, and it’s enough to quell her questions. 

She leads you into the school, all through the winding halls and through an office door. You couldn’t be more grateful, it’s not like you would have known where to go. It’s a teachers room. Two people are already inside. 

“Wait, for once, I’m early?” The boy with sunglasses asks, voice dripping with amusement. He’s leaning dangerously on a chair. You stare at him. You’ve never seen someone with white hair before. It can’t be real. 

“He forgot.” Shoko pipes up and the boy cackles. 

“That’s hilarious. I’m starting to rub off on you.” Ah, this must be Satoru. 

You give a nervous smile. “Haha, yeah.” 

The boy stops rocking in the chair. Three pairs of eyes look at you. Your uniform feels itchy.

“Gojo, stop making such a ruckus.” The man, presumably his teacher, gruffs. "You two got the briefing yesterday. Do your job and for the last time do not leave your assistant manager behind again." 

Gojo groans, and you delve into more confusion. Before you can say anything, the kid is hopping out of his seat before lazily striding out the door. Shoko and the teacher look at you expectantly. 

Oh, you were supposed to follow him. 

Not wanting to make a scene, you catch up to Gojo. He's tall, his footsteps are long and wide. But you're tall now too, so it's easy to keep up with him. This new body of yours has a lot of pros. 

"Yaga's so annoying," Gojo suddenly says, "constantly nagging us like that. It's not our fault the assistants can't keep up." 

What should you say? You clear your throat. 

"He just wants what's best for us." 

Wrong answer. 

"Where'd that come from?" He snorts. How charming. "I know you agree with me. You're just tryna' act like the nicer one, again. It's starting to get a little old." 

Is that how 16 year-olds talk? Rude, but also strangely off-putting, like he can see straight through you. Or more accurately, he can see straight through Suguru. How close are these two, anyway? 

Why did any of these questions even matter? This is a dream! You need to wake up already. 

On the campus grounds, a sleek black car waits outside for you two. Along with a miffed man in a black suit. This must be a very rich school for a field trip to have a chauffeur. Where were you two going again?

Gojo hops in the back, taking one of the window seats. You take the other. In your own body, you would've fit nicely. But Suguru's legs are long, and the spacious car feels cramped. You should've taken the passenger seat. How do tall people live like this? 

The ride is quiet. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Satoru type away on his flip phone. A moment later, yours beeps. You still have no idea how to use Suguru's phone or his password, so you ignore his message. Satoru groans. 

Quickly, you learn that Satoru has a very low attention span. When looking out the window gets boring, he bugs the chauffeur. When the chauffeur ignores him, he starts bugging you. 

"Hey heyyyy," Satoru says, "when this is all over, we should go to that new ice cream place. Like you said, we should." 

You look at him. "Uh, sure." You say. 

"And you should pay for it, 'cuz you said you owed me last time." 

Fine, whatever. "Sure thing." 

He grins. You can't see his glasses, and it makes his smile even more unnerving. This kid. 

This doesn't feel like a normal field trip at all. Why did you stop in front of some rackety house that looked as though it were about to collapse? You turn back to the only adult in the vicinity, but he's out too. He takes out a lighter and a cigarette. In front of impressionable children, too. Wonderful. 

"I'll wait out here." He says, though his tone is uncaring. "Since we're out in the country, there's no need for a veil. Do your best." 

Veil? What? Gojo's already going off again and you've already decided to be his chaperone, so you follow. You reluctantly trail behind him. Feet crunch the leaves. The house grows bleaker and bleaker. 

"Okay, I have a plan!" Gojo exclaims when he gets through the squeaky door. He's so loud, can't he be quieter? "I check upstairs and you check the ground floor and the basement. Got it?" 

Check the house? Were he and Suguru electricians in training or something? That still wouldn't explain why a grown man decided to drop off two teenagers in front of a creepy mansion. And why in God's name did Gojo want to split up?

"I-I don't think that's a good idea," you say, "shouldn't we try to stick together?" Or, better yet, leave. 

He clicks his tongue. "Ugh, you're so lame. Not like Suguru at all." 

Wait, what did he say? You're about to call out to him when he climbs up the stairs, disappearing from view. Unbelievable. 

This kid was starting to get on your nerves. Enough, you were leaving. You could have a nice dream where you met and fell in love with Zendaya, not babysitting some teenager, whilst possessing another person's body. You were going to wait outside with the man and hope your dream finally came to an end. 

Except, you couldn't go outside. The door was gone. 

It-it was right behind you, right? The entrance was right behind you. You couldn't have gotten turned around so quickly? What the hell happened? Or maybe you had gotten turned around? Considering how distracting that Gojo kid was, you might not have realized it. 

You look around the house. Looks like it'd been abandoned for a while. There's dirt on the shelves. Chairs were toppled over and left to rot. The wooden floorboards dangerously creaked beneath you. Just what had happened here? 

There's no patio door. No door leading to the outside. At the same time, you hadn't explored everything yet. Each door led to a room. The only door that didn't, led to a basement. And no, you weren't going down there. 

When you got back to where you started, you noticed something had changed. 

There was a person. Seated right at the base of the stairs? 

Gojo? Was he done with urban exploring? Maybe he knew the way out. He stands up, reaching to his full height, then higher, then higher. 

Gojo was tall, but this thing was taller. Gojo was human. This thing wasn't. 

What the fuck you can only mouth because your voice is stuck in your throat when it takes a shaky step towards you. It's a black husk of a figure, too skinny but too tall and twitching fingers. You don't know how you could've mistaken this for the kid. 

Another step. You're running, back into the house, leaping over the fallen shelves and creaky floorboards. It gives chase, and you can hear it groan behind you. It's deep and rumbly and terrifying. It just motivates you to go faster. 

It's slower than you. That's good, but it seems to realize this. You can barely celebrate your advantage before something heavy is smashed into your back, sending you toppling to the floor. You and wooden chair crash on the ground. 

It hurts. 

Everything hurts. 

Dreams aren't supposed to hurt. Because this wasn't a dream. 

This was real. You were stuck in the year 2006, stuck in another person's body, about to get mauled by a monster. 

You were going to die. 

You aren't even fighting anymore. How pathetic is that? The shock numbs your body as the thing grows closer and closer, all you can do is reach your hands up, protecting your face. 

And then the creature explodes. 

An implosion. It's skin and bones twist in a way no one should. There's a shriek, something wrong and high and inhuman before it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place. 

After all that, he's still smiling. Like the cat that just caught the mouse. 

"I guess we're not pretending anymore, are we?" Gojo asks, stretching his arms. "That's good. That game was starting to get a little boring, anyways. Now, then." 

He folds his glasses, tucking it on his uniform. Blue, his eyes are. As blue as a clear sky. 

"Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you, and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"

ⴵ

Contrary to your belief, Gojo Satoru is a good listener. 

There's never an interruption. Not even once. Every once in a while, he nods, a hand on his chin. It's probably because he can't interrupt. You just keep going on and on. Word vomit. 

He only speaks when you pause to catch your breath. "So you are from the year 2017, and you went back in time to body-snatch someone. I had a feeling your technique had something to do with possession." 

You look at him warily. "Wait, you knew this entire time?" 

You two hadn't moved from your earlier spot. You were still sprawled on the floor, still feeling the adrenaline surge through you. Gojo had transitioned to squatting on the floor. He scratches his neck, still so casual. 

"I have good eyes. Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Anyway, you seem pretty harmless, and as annoying as it is not having Suguru around, I doubt killing you would do any good." Why is he being so nonchalant about murder? Is this kid really sixteen?

"I think we gotta' just wait around until your technique reactivates." Gojo whistles. "2017. That's like a decade away. I wonder what happened for your technique to show up." 

You blink, trying to remember the date. 

"It was Christmas Eve..." You glance at him. "And then I was here." 

He thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I got nothing." Of course. 

He sighs, before sprawling on the dirty floor, belly up. You grimace at his antics but choose to keep your mouth shut. 

He doesn't seem very worried. At the most, he looks mildly inconvenienced. Why isn't he worried about his friend? 

When you ask him, he just snorts. 

"Sorry, but you're not that scary. Besides, I don't have to worry about Suguru. He's strong." 

Well, that's nice to know, but one other thing still bothers you. 

"You speak so casually to me," you mutter, "You know I'm older than you, right? I'm 22." 

He laughs. "22? Damn. You're old, man." 

"That isn't old!" You argue. "You have no concept of age since you're just a teenager." And why did he assume you were a man? Oh right, you were trapped in a teenage boy’s body. Of course.

"I mean, technically, I'm older than you, right?" Gojo ponders with a grin. "If you're 22 in 2017, that makes you what—11 in 2006?" 

You say nothing because you have a feeling that if you continue to argue with him, he'll just drag you down to his insanity. 

"Technique, you've said that a couple of times." You look at him. "That's what you call your 'powers', right? Does Geto have one too?" 

"Yeah," Gojo says, "but you can't use it. You have zero cursed energy. Honestly, it's at the same level as a plant. A bit lower than regular humans. It's a little impressive, actually." For one second, could he stop being so condescending? 

"What's his technique?" You ignore his comments. "Could it be related to how I got here?" 

He gives you a look over. "I doubt that, but Suguru's technique is curse manipulation. Uh, you remember that thing you saw earlier." You nod. "Yeah, he can control and absorb them." 

He sounds pretty awesome. You look at your hands. Not your hands. Geto's hands. They're paler than yours, and a lot longer. This isn't your body. Your soul can feel it. You can feel the guilt too. 

'I'd give it back if I could,' you think, 'I just don't know how.' 

Gojo's getting up. He stretches. He was lying on the ground but you can't see a speck of dirt on his uniform. 

"Okay, then. No use mopping around." He grins down at you. "Maybe Yaga can do something about you. Let's get you back to jujutsu tech." 

You blink up at him. His hand is outstretched, reaching out to you. He's still grinning that insufferable grin but his eyes have slightly melted. 

"Okay." You say, barely touching his fingertips. "Let's-" 

And then Gojo's gone. And then, you're standing. And then it's cold. 

You're wearing a coat; weren't you wearing a uniform before? There's no clear sky. It's nearly dusk. 

You were standing on the sidewalk, where people bustled all around you. You fumble through your jackets, putting out a phone. An actual iphone. You flick on the screen. 

December 24th, 2017, 7:06.

Holy shit, you were back. 

Was it because you touched Gojo? That makes no sense, but how could you explain anything else that happened so far? God. You rake a hand through your hair. Your hand. Your hair. You can't believe how much you missed yourself. It felt so good to be back. 

Your mind is spinning, you had no idea what the fuck just happened.

For now, you just wanted to turn your mind off and grab a drink. 

You know there was a bar not too far from your location. Along the way, you pass by the bustling town. There's a couple walking side by side, giggling over something you couldn't hear. Right, it's the 24th. You remember your empty bed with no one to share it with, and you cement your desire to drown yourself in alcohol today. 

Your self-pitying session is almost how you nearly miss him. His shoulder brushes past you. You're about to apologize when you hear his voice. It's familiar. 

It used to be your voice. 

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. His broad back is the only thing you see, you're almost afraid to reach out to him. 

"Suguru...?" 

He halts in his tracks. When he turns around, it's like looking into a fractured past. He looks older, no longer a youthful teenager. You should have paid more attention to his eyes, how scrutinizing they were, how condescending his fake smile was. All that you could think of was that it was actually him. 

"Do I know you?" He tilts his head. "Apologies, but my girls and I are quite busy." 

You don't notice the two young ladies beside him until Geto points them out. Teenagers, maybe just around the age when you first met him. He was a father now. 

You're so swept up by the emotions that you barely notice they've continued walking. You stumble behind, ducking behind the alleyway they went into. 

"Wait! Geto!" You call. "Please! We need to talk!" You still needed your answers. You didn't know care how desperate you came off as. 

In hindsight, you should have noticed that they looked more annoyed than worried about a stranger chasing them across the street. 

The one with the ponytail scoffs. "This one talks an awful lot. How annoying." 

Geto sighs. He leaves his daughters, finally standing in front of you. This is what you wanted, right? A chance to talk to him. 

Still, you can't help but feel wrongness within you. His smile is off. 

"Most monkeys are just that, unfortunately." You don't move. You can't. Not when he places a hand on your skull. "I suppose it'd be humane to put this one out of its misery." 

Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die. 

ⴵ

Again. You died again. 

This is the second time Geto has killed you. Fuck, you should've realized. 

"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks. 

He and Suguru were sitting outside in the grass. Satoru's holding up a few playing cards. You look at Suguru's hands and find yourself doing the same. 

Not again. 

"What year is it?" You ask warily. "And what did you just call me?" 

Gojo grins with teeth. You remember he compared you to a plant before, didn't he? He's so clever with nicknames; someone should give him an award. 

"Welcome back to 2006!" Gojo beams. "It's only been a couple of days since you left. And why are you so grumpy? I'm the one who just lost a player." 

You weren't grumpy, you were pissed. You figured out what's been going on with you, and it's all because of the asshole you're possessing right now.

The look on his face when he killed you. Like you were nothing more than an animal. A monkey. Now, you feel a lot less guilty about possessing his body. 

At least you figured out two things. You know how your technique works. Whenever someone kills you, you are sent back in time to take over their body. But you can go back whenever you touch Gojo, or perhaps just another sorcerer. 

Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories. 

It didn't happen the first time you died. It must have been because the kill wasn't direct (from Getos curse, rather than himself), but milliseconds after Geto split your skull in two, your brain was overwhelmed by his past, his present, as well as his future. 

Geto was set to die on December 24th, 2017. At the hands of his best friend, Gojo Satoru. 

Fuck him. Let the bastard die. You didn't give a shit. 

You reach over to touch Gojo's arm, ready to leave. He pulls back with a snicker. Ugh, the brat must've figured out your technique, too. 

"Stop messing around." You tell him. "I need to go back to my timeline." 

"Sure, sure," he says as though speaking to a time traveler is just another Tuesday. "But first, finish the game with me." 

"No." You tell him before leaning out even further. He isn't moving away anymore, but you still can't reach him. Fuck, he must've activated his technique. 

Despite your annoyance, you decide to keep the future away from Gojo's ears. He doesn't need to know that he'll be the one to kill Suguru. He shouldn't. Not at his age. He's just a kid. 

"Just one game! I promise!" He pleads. "Then I'll let you go. Suguru never lets me beat him, I want an easy opponent to boost my ego." 

You roll your eyes, but you settle down, picking up the cards. You already know the rules; you have Geto's memories, after all. 

It's silent, save for Gojo's humming. When you place down your King of hearts, you ask:

"Hey, is my cursed energy different at all?" You ask.

"Not really." He squints. "Wait, it has grown a little. Aw, Greeny sprouted!" 

So, every time you die, your cursed energy increases. That, or your cursed energy, increases every time you time travel. It doesn't matter either way. Does this mean you can use Geto's technique now? It couldn't hurt to try, right? 

There's a demon-no, they're called curses you know that now- floating beside you, just a little ways away. Small. Barely fourth grade. You stick your hand out, calling out Geto's power. There's a pull, a rush of energy. 

A blue ball drops into your hand. 

"Holy shit." Gojo leans forward. "So you can use his techniques." Surprisingly, there's no wariness in his voice. Just awe. 

"Yeah." You breathe before glancing up at him. "Shouldn't you be focused on your cards?" 

He shrugs, tossing the cards away. "What cards?" 

You sigh before staring at the ball. Well, you captured the curse. All that's left to do is swallow it, right? You can do that. You open your mouth. Gojo is still staring. You scowl. 

"Look away." 

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen you do this before. Well, not you, the guy that you bodysnatched." 

Ass, you keep that in your head as you hold your breath. You swallow the ball down. 

Instantly, you choke. 

It's horrible. Like a rotten carcass on the highway, oozing blood and oil and pus. You start dry-heaving, suffocating, spit dribbles down your chin. Nothing comes out. You've already absorbed it. The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. Like swallowing a rag that was used to wipe up vomit and shit. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. 

"Is it really that bad?" Gojo observes you. "That guy swallows them down, no problem." 

Because Suguru was used to this taste. He was used to the responsibility. The hoarding mass of distraught absorbing a curse comes with. It was a disgusting art. Something he'd perfected to mask for years. Until he couldn't take it anymore. 

Fuck, you might have lost your mind, too, if you kept having to eat this. To protect people who were happy you failed. 

You snapped out of it. Suguru's memories were affecting your own. That's probably a sign that you need to get out of here. No way would you be sympathizing with someone so monstrous. 

"Hopefully, I never do that again." You slowly recover, wiping your spit away with your hand. You lean back on your hands, exhausted. 

"Something I've always wondered." You call out to Gojo. "What did Suguru ever think about someone possessing his body." 

Gojo laughed. "Funny thing. He never knew." 

"What?" You look at him. "No gaps in his memory? Nothing?" 

"Nope," Gojo said, "he remembered what happened in the house, but he thinks he did everything. And then he said something weird." 

You perk up at that. "What did he say?" 

Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs. 

"I forgot." Typical. 

You pinch your nose bridge. "So, did you tell anyone else about...this?" You gesture to yourself. 

"Wait, you're supposed to be a secret?" You look at him in alarm. "In my defense, I didn't know, but I haven't gotten the chance to tell anyone. After the mission, Suguru and I went to the arcade, and then I kinda' forgot about it." 

Well, at least Gojo's arrogance works in your favor sometimes. You can't let anyone know, especially anyone connected to the higher-ups. From Geto's memories, you know they don't like anything new. It's best to stay under their radar. 

"Good, well, from now on, we're keeping it a secret. Got it?" 

"What are you two keeping a secret?" A new voice pops up. You jump. 

You know him—at least from Geto's memories. Haibara beams at you. He looks so alive in the sunlight, smiling and with bright eyes.

He'll be dead within a year or so. 

Gojo takes advantage of your shock. "The bodysnatcher wants me to promise that I won't tell anyone that a curse-user is possessing Suguru's body." 

"What the hell? You just promised that you wouldn't tell anyone!" 

"Uh, technically, I didn't promise anything yet." Gojo retaliates. "But okay, fiiiiine. I won't tell anyone....except for Haibara." You groan. 

"What's going on?" Haibara's smile fades. "Wait, Gojo, is this not Geto? Is this person actually a curse-user!?" 

"I'm not a curse-user." You correct. "I'm not a sorcerer either, for the record." 

"You just used a curse technique to travel back in time to take over someone's body." Gojo enunciates. "Sounds like a sorcerer to me." 

"Wait, you're a time-traveler, Mr. Not-Geto?" Haibara asks and you are genuinely impressed he's able to keep up. 

"The name’s Greeny, Haibara." Gojo supplements. Haibara nods, still a bit unsure. 

"So...do we fight Greeny?" 

"It's not my name." You get ignored. 

"Nah, it's all good. Greeny's harmless. Just a weakling, don’t worry about it." Rude, but you don’t think you’d want Gojo to take you as much of a threat, not after knowing what he can do.

"Oh, okay!" Haibara instantly relaxes. The kid's really trusting, huh? 

"Okay, fine, but no one else can know, got it, Gojo?" This promise doesn't matter. It's not like you're planning on returning to the past anytime soon. As soon as you return to the present, you are leaving Tokyo and escaping the night parade of 100 demons. Fuck that. You don't want to die again. 

He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."

He's so insufferable. You don't know who's worse: the genocidal maniac or this brat. 

"Give me your hand. I want to go home." 

Haibara looks confused. "Wait, why does Greeny need your hand?" 

"It's how the curse technique works," Gojo explains. "Greeny gets sent back in time, and then my true-love's touch sends him careening forward into the future." You frown at his comment, but he turns to you before you can say anything. 

"Which reminds me, Greeny: ever figure out how your technique works?" 

No way are you telling a kid that their best friend killed you....twice. Instead, you just shrug. 

"Haven't figured it out yet." 

Gojo stares at you. "Huh." He responds. "Well, if you ever figure it out, lemme' know." 

Sure you will. You hold up your hand. Gojo, finally holds his own up. Out of the corner of your eye, Haibara waves. And then you're back in your own body, on December 24th, 2017, 7:06 pm.

You waste no time. You push at the crowd, squeezing through the hoards of people. You need to get out. You need to leave before the death parade starts, before you're trapped in that terrifying cycle of death again. 

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

No no no. Shut up. This wasn't you. This was Geto's memories. 

Exorcised. Ingested.  

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

You need to survive. 

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. 

You stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. People glare, cursing as they move around you. They don't know this place will be a bloodbath in a matter of minutes. They'd all die. But you could stop it. 

If only if you hadn't accessed Geto's memories. If only if you hadn't eaten that damn curse. If only if you hadn't sympathized with a murderer. Maybe you'd have the courage to escape your future. 

But you'd felt that taste. Horrible. If you eat enough, you could go insane. If you were lonely enough, that would do it too. 

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. No one except for you. 

At 8:06 the screams start. The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more. 

ⴵ

For once, when you open your eyes, Gojo isn’t there with you. 

You’re still on the campus of Jujutsu tech. Suguru was just about to grab his soda from the vending machine. You finish his job. The can feels cold. It feels refreshing on your tongue. It’s a momentary distraction to the fact that you have no clue what you’re doing. 

You understand your cursed technique, but you still struggle with the application. Fuck, what did you do? You were utterly fucked. You’re playing a dangerous game. If you died- if Geto died- here, what would even happen? 

 The worst part is that you can’t even think of the hypothetical because there’s no other choice. You needed to do this. To not only save the people in Tokyo from the Night Parade, but to also save Geto Suguru. The man who has killed you three times now. 

Geto’s dissent starts to worsen at Riko Amanai’s death. If you could prevent that from happening, you could probably change history. But Geto’s true fracture begins with the curses themselves. They were rotting him from the inside.

You grimace, but you have to do it. You have to eat every single curse that Geto couldn’t swallow down himself. 

One was coming up. In less than an hour, Yaga will call you and Gojo for a mission. It’ll be a special-grade grave-type curse. Dispatching it will be simple, but Geto would be the one to exorcise it, ingesting the screams of all that the curse devoured. You needed to prepare yourself for that. 

Maybe you should save some of this soda to wash the taste off later. 

“Geto!” Someone cheers, you jump, but Haibara’s already poking his head around the wall. He grins. 

“Hey! Oh, you’re not Geto, aren’t you?” He tilts his head. “Greeny?” 

“Keep your voice down,” you whisper, “wait, you can recognize me?” 

He nods, after checking to make sure no one’s around, he says, “yeah, your eyes are different? It’s hard to explain.” He tells you. 

Huh. Interesting. 

“You’ve been gone a while.” Haibara beams. “It’s been a few weeks. I’m glad you’re back, Gojo was starting to get cranky.” 

It’s probably because he had no one to mess with. Poor him. He has all your sympathies. Ass. 

“I’m glad to return as his punching back.” You mutter. 

Haibara shyly shuffles his feet. 

“So, are you really from the future?” He asks. “Was Gojo telling the truth?” 

You nod. “Haibara, you haven’t told anyone, right?” 

“Of course not!” He instantly says. “Not a soul. Not even Nanami, and I tell him everything! Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“And Gojo, too! I know he doesn’t look very trustworthy, but me and him have kept it under wraps.” 

Reluctantly, you can’t help but agree with the kid. Gojo is annoying, but so far, he hasn’t done anything super harmful. 

“So anyway, Greeny.” He clears his throat. “Considering you’re from the future and all. Would you mind telling me what my future will be like?” 

You blink at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. “Nothing much! I just wanna know what I’ll be doing in 2017. Will I finally be a grade 1 sorcerer?” 

You think of Geto’s final memories of Haibara. A child burying another child. 

“Sorry,” you lie through your teeth, “but I didn’t know you in my future. Again, I’m not really a sorcerer.” 

Haibara nods, disappointed but still very excitable. He asks you about other things about the future, and you try to answer to the best of your ability, but you can’t shake off his dead glass eyes, staring at you from the morgue. 

“Another thing, we should have a code word.” Haibara exclaims. 

You blink. “A code word?” 

“If we ever meet in the future,” he explains, “y’know, in 'Groundhog’s day', he has to keep explaining what’s happening repeatedly? In order to prevent that, we should have a secret word between eachother so I instantly know who you are.” 

Not the same exact situation, but it sounds like exactly something a child would come up with. You indulge him anyway. 

“Okay, what did you have in mind?” 

“Well, it can’t be anything too crazy, or we might attract unwanted attention.” Haibara puts a hand on his chin in serious thought. You smile. 

“Got it! If you ever see me, just yell ‘brocolli head’ really really loudly. Then I’ll know.” Haibara chirps. 

“Wait, why broccoli head?”

“Because broccoli heads are green!” Haibara chirps happily.

You’re starting to learn it’s best not to question his logic.

You nod, very amused. “Sure thing, Haibara.”  

Someone calls out his name. He jumps before he waves to you. You watch as he joins with Nanami. They talk about something you can’t hear. Haibara laughs and you decide it would be a shame if his laugh was lost to death. 

Gojo finds you eventually. You can’t hide from him forever. You were walking into the school when he caught up with you. He’d ran there. His breath was slightly ragged. 

“Greeny, couldn’t get enough last time, huh?” You shoot him a look. 

“What are you talking about? Doesn’t matter, we need to go, the missions coming up.” 

Gojo’s smile dips ever so slightly. “How’d you know about that?” 

It’s probably not a good idea to tell the guy's best friend that you’re possessing that you’ve unlocked his memories. 

“Haibara told me.” 

“Ah,” He replies, “let’s go then.” 

The car ride is different this time around. Less tension. You aren’t as confused. Gojo is seated quietly beside you, watching the scenery go by. The assistant is too preoccupied with belting the radio to notice Gojo's words. 

“Figured it out yet?” He asks. “Your technique.” 

He's persistent about that answer, isn't he? You're sure the only reason Gojo cooperates with you is because he thinks you're inhabiting Suguru's on accident. How would he react if he knew you were doing it intentionally? It's best not to get on the strongests’ bad side. 

“Oh, not really, but I think it’s random. I can’t seem to find a set pattern. Maybe Suguru calls out to me, somehow?” 

“Maybe.” Gojo replies. His time is flat. Anxiety flips through your stomach. 

“You’re different this time around,” Gojo says. 

“Am I?” You ask. “I guess I’m just more determined today.” 

He gives you a look over. "Oh yeah? What for?" 

"The curse. I'll exorcise it, today." 

You don't know how you wanted Gojo to react to that, but you're still disappointed when he turns back to the window. 

"Do whatever, Greeny." 

In the end, you do swallow the curse. You manage to hold your gags in this time. 

It's worse than before. It makes sense. This curse was first-grade. Stronger. In terms of taste, it was like curdled blood and mold. You were so grateful for that soda. 

Gojo only watches with a tilted head. 

"You're getting better at that."

You give a weak grin. 

"Practice makes perfect," you reply, "do you think I'll get strong enough to absorb a special grade soon?" 

He doesn't like your question. You can see it in his stiff expression. 

"Maybe. Why do you want to swallow up curses, anyway? Last time you were here, you were practically begging to go back." 

His response wasn't exactly hostile but far from his usual playful attitude. You knew you'd have to confront this eventually. Despite how nonchalant he acted, it's clear Satrou doesn't enjoy watching someone prance around in his friend's body like this. If he starts to dislike you, it could rupture your entire plan. You need his cooperation, more than anything, to save Suguru. 

A little bit of the truth. Just a bit. It can't hurt, can it?

"Curses taste horrible," you say, looking at the ground. You can still taste the remnants of it, "it's the worst thing in the world. I can't even explain how wrong it feels to eat one. I thought...while I'm in his body...I could maybe help Suguru a little. I could ingest the curses in his stead, so that way, he still gets to absorb it." But it'll lessen the trauma it has on his mental state. 

You can't see how Gojo feels about that. Those glasses of his cover everything. But you know he's staring at you. The six eyes are taking you apart, observing you whole. 

"Did you know Suguru in the future?" He asks. 

"I didn't." The man that killed you. The man that will keep killing you. And you'd forgive him each time. 

Another beat of silence.

Finally, he just sighs. "You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?" 

You give a sheepish laugh.

"That isn't a compliment, by the way. You're just really reckless. And maybe stupid, Greeny." His tone isn't mean. 

"My name still isn't Greeny." You tell him. 

"Oh yeah, what's your name, then?" He's reverted back to that teasing lilt, and it almost makes you relax if you don't note the curiosity underneath. 

So far, you've been lax giving away information regarding the future, but you don't think you should continue that. What if you're too careless and the future changes in a way you didn't intend? A name, personal information, that could be way too dangerous. 

"Actually, just call me Greeny. I like that name a lot better." 

"You complained about it all the time, though?" Gojo argues. 

"It's starting to grow on me." You grin. "Grow? Get it, because you compared me to a plant and-"

"Stop stop, you really are an old man." Gojo groans. You just grin wider. Then, you grimace.

“I can still taste it.” You complain. “I’d kill for a cigarette right now.”

“I caught our assistant manager smoking a while back,” Satoru suggests. “Maybe you could go and beg him for one.”

You toss him a look. “Suguru doesn’t smoke, and I’m not giving a teenager a nicotine addiction.” You have found lighters inside Suguru’s pockets, but you have a feeling it isn’t for his own cravings.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" 

He gives a wordless hum.

"Maybe after this, could you take Suguru out to a cafe'? I can taste the aftertaste of the curse." You shudder. "Just get him something to wash it down." 

Also, Suguru couldn't go back to his dorm after this. Suguru dissented because of his fractured relationship with everyone, not just with Satoru. You'd try to bridge the gap between him and his peers as much as you can. You go through Suguru's flip phone, asking Shoko if she wants to join the two. 

When you're done with that, you snap the phone closed. 

"Okay, I'm done here. You two have fun, okay?" You raise your hand. 

Gojo just huffs, amused. "Sure sure. By the way, someone wanted to thank you." 

You blink at that. "What?" 

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."

He gives you a high-five, and then you're back in 2017 in your own body. 

Temporarily. So far you figured out that you get sent back an hour before the night parade happens. 8:06. Considering you have a couple more minutes to kill before you’re killed, you reach into your pocket for that cigarette you’ve been craving. You pick the first out of the box, cherry burns just out of corner of your eye.

You notice things now. The children giggled to their parents. Old couples gingerly held hands with sweet smiles. You'd save them, but first, you need to save Suguru. 

And do really do that, you'd have to save Riko. 

Easier said than done. You could go back in time, but you can't really control when to go back in time. It's been random, but your trips are typically two days away from each other. You can work with that. 

But in order to get to Riko's death, you'd have to die...a lot. Absorbing curses made Suguru lose his mind, but how well would you fare with dying over and over again? 

"Hungry?" 

Someone looms over you. A woman. She's pretty, with short hair and bangs. In her hand, she holds a bag of chips. 

"The vending machine gave me an extra." She gives a laugh. She kind of sounds like you. "Would you like one?" 

"Oh." You take it. "Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." She trots off into the crowd. You watch her.

A stranger's act of kindness. She didn't even know what would happen to her soon. You grip the bag, it crinkles in your grasp. 

It didn't matter how well you'd fare with dying over and over again. You'd get over it. So many innocent people depended on you. You can't just abandon them like this. 

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right? It's aggravating how accurate he is, honestly. 

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

It takes a few cycles to finally reach the day Amanai Riko is assassinated. Whenever you deem yourself too early, you often accompany Gojo on a mission and exorcise a special-grade curse. Your overall plan is working, bit by bit. Each time you return, Suguru's memories swarm you. Each curse he remembers as less painful. 

It's why you get worried when you get there a little too late. 

"Something wrong?" Riko asks. 

You've stopped in the middle of the hallway, and of course, they're looking at you strangely. You know this place. Tengen's barrier is just an elevator ride away. Suguru, Riko, and Miss Kuroi were all almost there.

Fushiguro Toji has already arrived. 

In the first timeline, Geto leads the girls all the way down to Tengen's barrier. He puts his trust in Gojo. Of course, he would. They're the strongest. And in the end, Gojo does kill Toji. 

But the kill comes too late. Riko still dies, and the fracturing happens. 

You thought you'd have more time. If you had arrived a bit earlier, you could have fought with Gojo, and the chances of defeating Toji would have significantly increased. 

What do you do?

"What's the matter?" Miss Kuroi asks. She's supposed to die today, too. 

"Sorry, ladies." You smile. "But I need to go back for him." 

You don't answer their calls, running back up the hallway. The sun's bright, shimmering beautifully in the sky.

It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor. 

Gojo's lifeless body is draped across the rubble. It's a horrifying sight. Eyes that were once like the sky are just this empty blue. A dead sea. He isn't breathing. You know, if you touched his wrist, you wouldn't feel a heartbeat. 

"Hate to break it to ya', but the Gojo kid's dead." Toji's right behind you. You can feel him grinning. 

You know Gojo isn't dead. At least, he won't be dead for a while, but seeing the boy who used to tease you, annoy the shit out of you, laugh at you, be so....it made you freeze. Falter. 

You were wasting time. 

"Sorceror killer." You say after a minute. You almost can't bring yourself to turn, to look at him. The man who kills Gojo. The man who could've killed Suguru, but chose not to. "You certainly live up to your name." 

Toji's grin widens. The only man in the world with zero cursed energy. It'd be awe-inspiring if it weren't so terrifying. 

It's funny. You weren't afraid of dying, not anymore. You were afraid of failing. Failing when you were so close, when victory was just a blink away. 

"The flyheads." You mention to the swarms of curses all around you. "That's really smart." It gives you an idea or two. 

You have Suguru's memories, but they aren't always concrete. You just have snippets. A general idea of what happened within a certain event. It makes sense. Humans can't remember everything. 

But regarding the memories of Suguru and Fushiguro, everything is crystal clear. It's almost like you were there when it happened. 

It also means that you know Suguru, at this current level, won't be able to defeat Fushiguro. 

But Suguru doesn't need to beat the sorcerer killer; he just needs to hold him off. 

Currently, Suguru's body contains 368 curses: 3 special grades, 24 grade ones, 33 grade twos, 103 grade threes, and 205 fourth grades. 

You release all 368 of them. 

In another timeline, these curses would look to you as something to devour. Today, these curses have a new target. 

It won't stop Fushiguro. You're not dumb enough to think that. But it should give you time. Hopefully, it'll be enough time. 

Your knees hurt when you collapse next to the corpse. Gojo's so beautiful, even when he's dead. 

"Gojo." You shake him. Nothing happens. "You need to wake up. Gojo." 

Nothing happens. You don't know what caused Gojo to become the strongest, Suguru wasn't there. For once, you are blind to the past. 

"Riko needs you. Wake up. You-you need to go and save her and Miss Kuroi." 

His body's so cold, and you know he's dead because when you touch his skin, you don't wake up in the present. You push against his body, and he falls limply right back to place. You're sure this sight will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

"Satoru." You beg. "It's Greeny. Please, please, please wake up."

 Nothing happens. 

Everything happens. 

The brightest blue you've ever seen. It's heavenly. A glow that warms and chills your skin. It takes a while for you to see again. When you do, Satoru is standing. 

Somehow, his eyes are even brighter. You don't think you're looking at a teenage boy anymore. 

You're sitting in front of God. 

"Greeny." he states, voice flat. "You're late." 

You manage to smile.

"Sorry." 

You’ve seen Satoru fight before. He’s always calm, body relaxed as he practically floats in the air. Those fights differed from Suguru’s memories—post Satoru’s awakening. There’s always this twinge of desperation. An aftertaste of bloodlust.

But seeing it for yourself is something else entirely. Even with Suguru’s heightened senses, you still can’t follow him. He’s barely a mirage. One milisecond you can see a blue flash, the next you see nothing.

It's barely a fight. Not this time around. Fushiguro is completely unmatched. There's a flash of purple. And then, it's over. 

Fushiguro is in shambles. You didn't realize he was human until he started to bleed and shatter. Parentage over labor. It's sobering, in a way. 

Satoru's mouth moves. You're too far away to hear anything. They stand there for a few more seconds until Fushiguro slumps. Then, he falls.

You wonder when you got so desensitized to death. 

Gojo stands there. You should let him compress, but the clock is ticking. You need to do one more thing before you can let Suguru go. 

"You need to go." You say when you're close to him. He doesn't acknowledge you. "Riko's about to enter Tengen's barrier." 

He looks at you right then. His eyes. They're so bright, but they're strangely lifeless. Like he can't process you, your words. 

"I can see you now," he says, "it was so foggy before, but now, you're crystal clear." 

Six eyes look at you. You don't think you're hiding behind Suguru's face anymore. 

You clear your throat. 

"Gojo." You remind him. "Riko. You need to stop her." 

He blinks back into focus, rising from his high. 

"Oh," he says after a moment, "right." 

You stop him before he can walk any further. You hold out your hand. 

"You and Suguru." 

For the first time in a while, Gojo hesitates to send you back. You wait a couple seconds longer. 

"Yeah," he finally says.

His skin still feels cold. 

ⴵ

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die. 

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

Time skips a lot faster now. 

You stand in 2006, four months after the death of Fushiguro Toji. It takes a second for Geto's memories to kick in. What you see makes you nearly cry in relief. 

Gojo and Geto made it in time. You can still remember the tears spilling down Riko's cheeks, the smile on her face when Geto asked her if she wanted to go back. They were safe. They were home, with each other. 

You did it. You actually managed to pull it off. 

But you can't celebrate, not yet. From what you can gather from Suguru's memories, Geto defects after four years. You've just held off the eventual. 

It's nearly the middle of December. The air feels a bit chillier. You stay on that bench where Suguru once occupied. He was finishing his lunch. Usually, he'd eat with Satoru, but Satoru wasn't on campus these days. 

Right, you weren't finished with your work, yet. There was still one other issue. Suguru went on missions alone these days. Swallowing curses, letting them fester and rot in his body. It's isolating and grueling work. You might have been able to help him with the absorption, but your aide won't be enough to prevent his eventual downfall. 

You'll have to deal with his natural isolation. To do that, Suguru will have to make friends with people who aren't Satoru. 

Suguru does have friends, but he's the closest to Satoru. Considering Satoru is getting busier each passing day, Suguru needs to broaden his horizons a bit. 

It's a good thing this school is filled with such colorful characters. 

Haibara and Nanami were sitting in the back of the school. From Geto's memories, their dynamic was interesting. Haibara was definitely more outgoing than the two, but Nanami seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. They looked out for each other, in that way. 

Ah, Shoko was there, too. You haven't seen her since your first day. Her hair's grown longer. It lightly brushes her shoulders now. The cigarette in her hand burns a cherry red. 

Your reaction is rooted in Suguru's instinct than anything on your part. You reach out, taking the cigarette and stomping on the embers. 

"You shouldn't smoke in front of kids." You tell her, hoping she didn't read too much into your action.

Shoko scoffs, but to your satisfaction, she doesn't take out another one. 

"We're just one year below you." Nanami retaliates, but he looks more at ease now that the cigarette's out. 

"Did you finish lunch already, Geto?" Haibara asks kindly, then he takes a closer look. "Greeny?" 

You suck air through your teeth, giving Haibara a scathing look. Instead of looking exasperated, Nanami looks confused. 

"What's Greeny?" Nanami asks, and Haibara weakly laughs. 

"It's-uh-my new nickname for the tree that's growing over there!" He wildly points to something just behind you. "'Cuz it's so...green!"

"Of course." You note the hint of affection laced within his tone. 

"When'd you get back?" Haibara recovers with eagerness. 

"Recently." You grin. "Nice to see you again." 

"You saw him this morning," Nanami interjects, and you shrug. When he frowns, you know you pulled off a perfect Suguru impression. 

Suguru melds into the conversation perfectly. Haibara says something funny, Shoko and Suguru agree, Nanami disagrees. It's a lovely little cycle that ends when Nanami grumbles and picks himself up to go. Shoko starts to follow suit when you stop her. 

"Your hair's nice." You tell her. 

She hums, grabbing a strand to study it. You can see hints of dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She looked livelier when you first met her. Curses have been popping up left and right since Fushiguro's death. Everyone is overworked, but Shoko looks like she's getting the brunt of it. She's one of the only people who can use RCT on others, and there aren't many healers on her level. All of the strongests share one thing in common it seems. 

"Pretty soon, it'll be longer than yours," Shoko replies. You smile in response. 

"Where are you going?" You ask. 

"Dorm," she replies, "I'm behind on paperwork." 

You had a feeling she always was. You gave a look of sympathy, but misery loves company. 

"I have some work too," You 'remember' the piles of papers lodged on Suguru's desk, "Maybe we can do it together later. The cafe right next to campus? It'll be my treat." 

She looks at Suguru. Her eyes are a pretty color. 

"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then." 

You feel your heart thump twice in your chest and decide that your work here is done. 

Haibara stares at Shoko's disappearing back. The forehead flick comes from both you and Suguru. 

"That hurt." Haibara whines. 

Good, you inwardly think. 

"Sorry." You tell him. He rubs his head, and you wonder if this is how kicking a puppy feels like. 

Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly. 

"You've been gone for a while." Haibara tilts his head. "What happened?" 

You can't exactly control your technique, it's more like it has a mind of its own, placing you exactly where you need to be placed. Instead of answering, you sigh, leaning against the wall. 

"Timeline gimmicks." You tell him tiredly. "It's hard to explain." He frowns, but he takes it as an answer.

"Do you know when Gojo's coming back?" You ask. "I think it's time for me to go back again." 

In previous time travels, you and Haibara tried to see if any physical contact would be enough to send you back. No matter how many times you two high-fived, shook hands, or even held hands. Nothing worked. Only Gojo Satoru could activate your technique. It must have something to do with the amount of cursed energy another person has. 

“He should be getting back later this evening.” Haibara muses. “But I’ll be happy to keep you company!”

It's nice to hear him chatter. If you'd let him, he'd go one and one. But you like hearing him talk about his sister. Apparently, she’s also a sorcerer, and his affection for her makes you smile.

"You remind me a lot of her, actually." He tells you. "Even though, y'know, you're a man." It's enough to get a laugh out of you. 

“Do you have anyone in your family who can see curses?” Haibaracasks.

“No,” you answer honestly, “at least, not that I can tell. My dad never spoke of curses or strange powers when I was growing up.”

You think he would have said something; after all, you two were too close to have secrets from each other. Your father was a single man, who took to raising you himself after your mother passed away. He often said you had her laugh.

“Maybe you’re one of a kind,” Haibara suggests.

You agree with him.

Gojo finds you before you can find him. He comes up to you with a grin and a wave.

“Hey, long time.”

His sunglasses are tilted down. You can see his eyes. They’ve lost the mania he had in his fight with Fushiguro. You’re relieved at that. You still can’t shake off that strange thing he said to you.

Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.

“You wanna leave so soon? You just got here.”

“I’ve been here for hours,” you tell him, “also, you aren’t very concerned that someone is using your best friend’s body as a puppet.”

“He’s been through worse,” Satoru tells you off with a wave. Some friend.

“Let’s go to the arcade,” he suggests.

“Do that with Suguru.” You tell him. “I’m not hanging out with a high schooler.”

“Right right, my bad. I keep forgetting you’re an old man, Greeny.”

“22 is not old,” you say with exasperation, “didn’t your birthday just pass? You’re just five years away. I’ll see your attitude change, then.”

He grows quiet. You feel like you messed up somewhere.

“How did you know about my birthday?”

Fuck, you keep forgetting about keeping Suguru’s memories a secret. It takes everything within you to just relax.

“Haibara told me,” you say, “blabbermouth. You know him.”

“Oh.” Gojo replies. “Huh.”

You shuffle your feet. Distantly, you wonder what shoe size Suguru wears.

“How did your mission go?”

“Horrible,” he’s instantly back to his usual self, whiny and complaint, “and the curse was so ugly too. It was oozing goo everywhere.”

You frown. “Sounds gross. But you won, right?”

He doesn’t even answer. You secretly admire his sheer confidence. You certainly weren’t that when you were at his age.

“How’s Amanai and Miss Kuroi?” You ask.

“Safe.” He tells you. “The higher-ups weren’t really happy with us after that; pretty sure all these sudden missions are punishments.” He frowns. “But they’re fine. Miss Kuroi officially adopted her, so she’s a Kuroi now, too.”

You smiled. You already knew all that, but it’s nice to hear it.

“You saved them,” he says.

You laugh, “I didn’t do a thing.” You tell him. “You and Suguru did all the heavy lifting. I just caused some property damage.”

“You did.” He replies. “I don’t know how, but things always manage to work out whenever you’re around.”

You don’t like how he phrases that, but you don’t react.

“You think so? Maybe I’m lucky.” It’s supposed to be a joke of some kind. Neither of you laugh.

“You really don’t know us in the future?” He asks.

Maybe you should’ve asked Shoko if you could have a cigarette.

“I really didn't,” you say, “Honest, I—I have no idea what’s happening. I’m just as lost as you. Hopefully, I can figure out how to control my technique, and you won’t have to see me again.”

You never stopped feeling guilty for doing this to Suguru. Controlling him. Forcing him to laugh with his friends, make decisions based on your feelings rather than his. But you’re so close. You promise yourself that once you fix everything, you’ll never cause someone this much pain again. No matter how many times they kill you.

Satoru’s fists tighten. He looks even more upset at your response.

“That’s not what I—” He cuts himself off. You wait. Satoru says nothing more.

“You’re annoying.” He tells you in the end. It’s clean and cut, but it sounds like him. More confident, less wavery. “And stupid too.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Thank you. Am I done entertaining you now? Can I go?” He grumbles, holding up his hand.

“Yeah, sure, Greeny.”

ⴵ

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it. Something’s wrong.

You look through Geto’s memories. There’s nothing. Everything’s going as it should be. Everything looks perfect. Then, why do you feel so wrong?

Currently, Suguru was finishing excorcising a curse. You absorb it, swallowing down the remnant like it’s a pile of rusted nails but even the disgusting taste isn’t enough to wash away the feeling of dread.

The walls of the hospital was empty. The auxillary managers had already cleared everyone out by the time Suguru had walked in. Maybe it was the silence that added to your stress?

You walk out. Nothing changes. One of the managers comes up to you with a clipboard.

“The curse was exorcised.” Suguru tells them. “It wasn’t first grade, it was special grade. It was still disposed of.”

He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

“The wrong information again.” He hisses to himself. “If we keep doing this, someone will die. We need more people, we’re way too stretched out.”

Those words are familiar. Hold on.

“Wait, what day is it?” You ask the frazzled-looking manager.

Offhandedly, he responds. He says the date so casually, and yet his mere words feel like a bear trap, tightening on your leg.

No. You should have had more time. Why weren’t you given more time?

Nanami and Haibara have probably already been dispatched. You go through Suguru’s phone, finding Haibara’s contact. It doesn’t go through. Nanami doesn’t pick up either.

You won’t make it in time. Even using Suguru’s curses, you won’t be able to reach them until it’s too late. Suguru’s memory of that day is muddled and dark, but Haibara’s dead corpse laying on the examination table. The pieces of him that Nanami could bring back.

You wouldn’t be fast enough.

He picks up on the second ring.

“...What’s up?”

“It’s Haibara.” You spit the words out as fast as you can. “Satoru, you need to go and get him right now, he isn’t going to make it—”

“—Greeny?” The exhaustion in Gojo’s voice is gone. You can hear something rustle behind him.

“Satoru, listen to me.” You beg. “Haibara and Nanami were just dispatched on a mission, but Yu isn’t going to survive it. It wasn’t a second-grade curse; it was a first grade. Please, you have to go and save him before it kills him.”

It’s silent. It feels like hours have passed when you know it’s just three seconds.

“We’ll talk later, Greeny.” The line clicks.

You’ve lost the trust of the strongest.

ⴵ

The future has changed when you get to campus. Haibara’s status is still alive. Barely. But he’s still there. Shoko’s currently taking care of him.

Nanami remains quiet the entire time since he returned with Haibara’s battered body. The only thing you can think of to offer comfort is to pat his shoulder. He barely even registers it. It’s more for you than for him. You’re self-soothing, taking care of something else, so you don’t have to recognize your own panic.

If Haibara dies, right here, on this day, everything can change. Everything can go back to the way it was in your original timeline. Haibara, with his sunshine, smiles, and bright eyes. His death is so important, and you can’t even think of him right now.

Gojo Satoru knows you’ve been deceiving him.

This is bad. So very bad. If he starts to suspect that you know more than you let on, he might deem you enough of a threat to kill, regardless of whether or not you’re in Suguru’s body. It’s not like that hasn’t stopped him before.

Gojo Satoru is selfless. He’s selfless enough to kill his best friend, if he thinks it will save everyone.

But if Gojo kills Geto here and now, would that really be bad?

You’d lose your path to the past, but the threat to your life would be over. Even if you did die in Suguru’s body, at least the people of Tokyo will be spared the Death Parade. You’ll still get what you want. And it will be much easier than your current plan.

Nanami shuffles behind you and you instantly snap out of it. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you. That same lack of apathy when Fushiguro died in front of you.

It seems like dying over and over again caused you to lose bits of your humanity.

Shoko comes out. Nanami stands up, a tall ball of nervous energy. Shoko removes her mask. Her dark circles have grown even more prominent. She’s only 17.

“He’s still alive.” Nanami sags. “But he isn’t responsive. I’ve done all that I can.”

She looks at Nanami, and then she can’t anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Nanami rasps, the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, “don’t apologize. It was my fault. I should’ve taken better care of him.”

You swallow. It wasn’t his fault, you wish you could tell him that it was yours.

You wonder what Haibara’s younger sister looked like. A spitting image of him, perhaps. Shorter. Darker hair, bigger eyes. Their smiles would look identical. What would she look like when she’s told her brother died doing the profession he forbade her from doing?

You can’t do that to her. You can’t be the reason she loses her brother the second time.

You’re not sure if a God is even out there. How could there be? What kind of entity would do something like this to you? Still, you sit on that bench, right outside the room where Haibara’s body lay, and you pray for a God.

Gojo’s footsteps stop right in front of you.

It’s hard to get the words out. For a minute, he just stands there.

“Did you exorcise it?” You finally ask.

“Yeah.”

You lift your head up to look at him. Even in his school uniform, he’s regal to look at. Like a warrior of the sun, blessed by the moon, sent to vanquish beasts and monsters.

Now, his blood-soaked sword is pointed at you.

Make it quick. You can only think. Just make it quick.

“Not here.” You say.

Nanami was still shaking. Shoko was right beside him. So you stand, you drag yourself away from Haibara’s fading presence, and Gojo follows behind.

It shouldn’t be this pretty outside. The sun is bright, and the sky is clear. There should be rain. Enough rain to drown the Earth.

“I figured out your technique a while ago, y’know.” You don’t look at him. You can’t. “Dying. Death activates your technique. Each time you die, you’re sent back 12 years in the past.”

You grip the fabric of your uniform until your knuckles turn white. Satoru’s cruel enough to continue.

“But I never got why your soul kept possessing Suguru’s body. It always felt kinda’ random. Unless he was the one who was killing you. Over and over again.”

“Gojo. Stop.” You beg.

“That’s how your CT works. Every time you’re murdered, you go back in time so you can kill them when they’re at their most emotionally vulnerable moment. It’s a pretty powerful technique, all things considered. I might not even stand a chance against it. Assisted suicide, never expected that from you of all people.

But you never do. Each time Suguru kills you, you just come back and try to save him and everyone else your hands can reach. I can’t get why you did that.”

He steps in front of you so you can see him. The God that he is.

“Let’s cut the shit, Greeny. Tell me what future is so bad you’re willing to die over and over again to prevent it.”

The worst outcome you could have ever thought of was standing right in front of you.

Satoru was demanding to know his future.

And...you couldn’t.

You’re taking in a shaky breath. It’s not enough oxygen. The sky was close to crumbling, and you still couldn’t breathe.

“There’s nothing to know.” You try. “There’s nothing, I’m fixing it—”

“—by Suguru killing you, or is this considering killing yourself, now?”

“You don’t understand.” Your voice is cracking, so high-pitched that even Suguru’s vocal cords can’t keep up. “You don’t get it. You can’t.”

“Then help me understand.” His voice is as ragged as yours, he steps closer, you step back. “Tell me why my friend would do something like this to someone.”

It clicks right then. Satoru’s anger isn’t directed at you.

No, it’s directed at Suguru.

It’s even worse than you thought.

“He—he was better than me. He was supposed to be the best out of all of us. I wanna deny it all that I can but—but I can see the proof right here in front of me. And—And I don’t—” His voice breaks too much to continue. 

You’re breaking, too. How many times have you been doing this, over and over again? All alone, with no one to support you. To comfort you.

The words are right there, threatening to bubble out. It’d be so easy to tell Satoru everything.

And maybe you would’ve, but then you looked at him.

Despite how disingenuous Satoru acted, you knew he was kind. The kindest person you’ve ever met. He’d sit there and listen, and he’d break every bone in his body to help. That’s just how he was.

Satoru was selfless, he was selfless enough to kill his best friend here and now if it meant he’d save the millions in Tokyo.

You can’t put another burden on the strongest.

You can’t do that to a kid.

“It—it isn’t him.” You manage to spit out. “He isn’t doing it on purpose. It’s not his fault.

It’s the curses. They were too much for him; they overtook his body. Suguru couldn’t control them anymore.”

He says nothing. It’s like you’ve put a spell on Gojo somehow, freezing him in place. Satoru can’t do anything but stare at the talking puppet that’s his best friend.

“He lost so many people.” You continue. “Riko, Miss Kuroi, Haibara. He couldn’t take it. It was too much. His body succumbed to the curses, and they took over Shinjuku. That’s how I keep...”

It’s okay to lie like this, you justify to yourself. Because the Suguru, you know—the one with fake smiles, beady eyes, and a broken expression—isn’t the one that Satoru knows. They’re two completely different people. Years—timelines—apart from each other. They aren’t the same.

Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.

You’d get on your knees if you know that would make a difference. You’d plead and beg and cry if it would get Satoru to drop it. In the end, you can only stare at him.

“All I’m asking is that you trust me.” You whisper. “Believe that I’m making this right. Please, Satoru?”

His eyes. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s gone quiet and dull. The same look he had when he fully awakened his technique. The day he became God.

But he’s not a God. God’s don’t cry.

He leans ever so closely until his head rests on your shoulder. His body shakes.

“You’ll save him, right?” He asks. Gone, is his aura of confidence and resilience. He’s nothing more than a shell. If you feel something stain Suguru’s uniform, you say nothing about it.

You smile anyway.

“I will.” You tell the truth. “I will save him.”

You think of something morbidly funny.

“I’ll die trying.”

His shoulders shake with quiet, genuine laughter, the kind that’s wet and sticks to the top of your mouth.

“That’s fucked up, Greeny.” He whispers.

You hum, reaching up to pat him on the back. It takes another minute before he gathers himself up. His eyes are shiny. Satoru blinks it away.

“Haibara will be okay.” He says with such conviction. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll take care of Suguru, too.”

He doesn’t get it, not yet. He doesn’t understand that Shoko and Satoru and Haibara and Nanami need him. He’ll get it soon, though. You managed to put Suguru on the right path.

For now, it’s all you can do. 

“I know you will.” 

He scoffs, right then. 

“You’re really annoying, you know that? Next time, don’t piss me off like that. Just tell it to me straight.” 

Rely on me. Lean on me.

“I’m sorry,” you say and you truly are, “I won’t leave you in the dark from now on. I guess I just forgot that I had a friend in 2006.” 

His eyes get a little brighter. “It’s actually 2007—” 

“Shut up.” He laughs and it sounds like him again. 

You reach out your hand and his grin fades, the tiniest bit. He mirrors you, regardless. 

This time, you hesitate.

“You should learn how to be selfish every once in a while.” You tell him. “I won’t fault you if you’re selfish. I don’t think anyone will.

He doesn’t answer that, but his touch is finally warm.

ⴵ

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

It’s today. 

You can feel it. You don’t even have to look at the date to know.

The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.

Suguru’s already dressed. You’re currently standing in front of a shotty mirror, watching your reflection.

He looks tired. His smile’s a bit muted. You notice a scar you hadn’t seen before. An unregistered special grade curse, Suguru’s memory gives.

He’s different from when you saw him a year ago, but there’s still a spark in his eye. You cling to that hope, as hard as you can.

You step out of the room. It isn’t Suguru’s. He’d rented accommodations with an older woman and her son for the mission. Their place smelled like home. It made your stomach turn.

She smiles when she sees you coming down stairs. She looks kind; she has the eyes of a mother. You’ll never understand how a person who raised children could do something like this to another.

“Mr. Geto.” She chirps. “I’m so glad you’re awake! Would you like anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine.” Better get this done sooner than later. “I should be heading back now, anyways.”

Suguru had already absorbed the curse tormenting the village last night. You can feel the sticky aftertaste in your mouth. He should have left the village yesterday, but the people were insistent he stayed one last day as thanks, feeding him all they could.

Now, it’s obvious that it was a way to butter him up for today.

Her smile grows a bit nervous. She shuffles her feet a bit.

“If it isn't too much.” She starts. “The head of our village asked if you could look at something.” Her eyes darken into disgust.

You fight to keep your smile.

“Of course. Please, lead the way.”

It’s worse than you ever could have imagined.

You’ve seen this play out so many times in Suguru’s memories. He reminisces about this moment a lot. Because of that, you knew this scene too, like the back of your hand.

And yet, seeing two children huddled together on the floor. Nothing could prepare you for that.

The village head is saying something. The woman who Suguru roomed with is yelling at the scared kids, but you can’t hear any of that.

Their clothes were dirty and ripped. Their cheeks were hollow, and they looked like they hadn’t eaten for days. Himiko’s eye looks swollen.

The twins.

The first time you saw them, they stepped aside and let Geto kill you. There’s something oddly poetic about you being on the other side.

They tremble as they continue to look at you, flinch whenever that woman raises her voice. They must think Suguru’s here to kill them.

They’re too young to think like that. They’re too young to see the horrors of this world so soon.

It’s a mistake to look towards the end of their cell. Dirty water and dog food.

How could a human do this to them? How could a mother do this to them?

You feel red. It coarses through your blood, your veins, your soul. It feels like there’s lava right underneath your skin. Shuddering, tittering anger.

There’s more than enough fire to burn down an entire village.

‘Suguru,’ you think to your companion, your tormentor, ‘I think I’m starting to get it now.’

You reach for the bars of the cell. The twins shrink away.

“Ah! Mr. Geto, you musn’t get too close to them—”

“I’ll take them.”

“What?” The head of the village asks.

“The children.” You straighten yourself up. “I’ll take them off your hands.”

It’s pointless to do anything to these people. They’re delusional enough to think that they’re in the right. By torturing these children, they’re protecting their own. It’s fear. That’s all it ever was. Even without a curse, it’ll fester on and on until this village is nothing but abandoned homes. There’s no point to punish these people any further.

If you look at the adults a bit too long, you’re afraid of what you’d do, even without Suguru’s interference. Instead, you focus on Himiko and Nanako, looking into their wary gazes. Their hands are so tiny. You could protect them with your own.

When you got out of this backward village, you’d find them something to eat.

ⴵ

You go to Shoko first.

She looks surprised to see the twins. You can’t imagine why. Still, her voice is calm when she speaks to them, setting both of them up in the clinic room. Since you got them into the car, Nanako and Himiko seemed to calm down. Himiko even told you the name of her doll.

A little while later, Yaga comes for a visit. He’s the principal now. Usually, his voice is filled with gruff, but he’s oddly gentle when he speaks to them. Nanako cracks a shy smile.

You can’t escape the ‘we’ll talk later’ look he gives you. Inwardly, you sympathize with Suguru. But a harsh lecture is better than being branded a murderer.

He hasn’t come by, yet. With the twins aided for, you decide to go find him yourself.

Walking through campus feels a little nostalgic. The grounds of the infamous jujutsu technical college are a bright green. It’s summer again. You’ve met so many colorful characters since your time here. You’ve only seen snippets, mere seconds of their lives, and yet it feels like an entire lifetime.

He’s sitting on a bench when you finally see him, nursing a drink. He doesn’t acknowledge you. You have to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, plopping down beside him.

“Hey.” You say first.

“Heard you adopted two kids,” Satoru says, “Never thought Suguru would be a teen mom, but here we are.”

You laugh, light and breathless. The sky is so pretty today.

“I don’t think he’d have it any other way, personally.” You respond.

He reminisces on your words.

“This happened before too?” He asked.

It did. It was a lot less of a happy ending, however.

“Yeah,” you say regardless, “he took good care of them last time. He’ll do the same in this timeline too. I’m sure of it.”

And this time, he’d have help. Shoko, Satoru, his teachers. They’d all be there for him. Suguru’s memories haven’t changed yet, but you know the future you step into will be a different one.

“In any case, I’m glad I got to see jujutsu tech one last time. It’s a beautiful campus.”

“You act like you’re leaving,” Satoru says, uncaring. “You’ll just come back again next month. Or next year.”

You play with your fingers.

“I...won’t be doing that from now on.”

He pauses. Then, he looks at you.

“What?”

You can’t gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t look happy. You find this a bit hard to swallow.

“I fixed the future.” You smile at him. “I finally did it. Suguru won’t break. Himiko and Nanako won’t lose their father. You won’t lose a friend, anymore. There’s no reason for me to keep coming back. You’re all free.”

You phrased the last part as a joke, but Satoru isn’t laughing.

“Wait, you’re leaving? You’re...leaving leaving.”

You nod. “I can’t believe it either.” You still can’t believe you accomplished everything you set out to do. A task that seemed so impossible, now you’re standing on the other side of it.

It wasn’t truly over. Not really, but you were able to get Suguru through the worst of it. Now, you were sure Satoru and Shoko would take up your mantel, pushing Suguru through the finish line. Just like he’ll do to them.

Satoru’s quiet.

“You seem happy.” He notes.

“Well, I did just save everyone, I think I deserve to feel a little good about myself.”

For a moment, you want to ask if it’ll be okay to visit everyone in the future. To see how Shoko and Suguru and Satoru are doing as adults. You stop yourself. Of course, they wouldn’t want to see you. You needed to stop being so greedy.

This, was more than enough.

“Will you at least tell me your name?” Satoru asks.

“You know I can’t do that.” You tell him with a smile.

“Right right.” He laughs, it sounds hollow. “Time travel, bullshit. Makes sense.”

“I’ll miss you.” You tell him.

He straightens himself up.

“I’ll miss you too, old man.” He responds. “You were a lotta’ fun to mess with.”

For once, you aren’t offended by the old man’, comment. If anything, it feels somber.

“Can I ask for some advice?” He suddenly asks. “Y’know what they say, ask the old and wise or whatever.” Okay, now he was starting to push it.

“What is it?”

It’s his turn to shuffle with his fingers.

“What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it?”

You glance at him. He looks earnest. Did something like that even exist for Satoru?

“Something I can’t catch up to?” You ponder out loud. “I guess I’d have to make a big enough ruckus to where it has no choice but to look back.”

He frowns. “That makes no sense. You’re growing senile.”

You laugh. You’ll miss this brat.

You wish you could stay more. You wish you could ask about Haibara, and Shoko, and Nanami, but the clock is ticking.

Suguru’s getting impatient.

“Bye, Satoru.” You reach out your hand.

He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.

“Yeah, Greeny.”

Within a blink, you’re back again in the middle of Shinjuku. December 24th, 7:06 pm.

It’s the same as always. People bustle around you. Children’s laughter. Everything always repeats itself, but you don’t think you can ever get sick of it. You’ll savor this peace for as long as you can.

You reach into your pocket, flicking out a lighter and the first cigarette of the box. You don’t know why you always chose this one. Despite outmaneuvering time itself, perhaps it’s within human nature to follow what’s written stone.

You’ve relived this hour so many times that you can list everything that happens. Down to the exact minute. 7:08- a little girl wearing a red dress walks by. 7:09- a lady with short hair catches your eyes and smiles. 7:14-an old man and woman bicker with each other as they pass you by. 7:21- A little dog sniffs the bench you sit on. 7:34- Two schoolchildren run past you, babbling. 7:45- five construction workers grumble out their grievances. 7:58- a businessman talks loudly on the phone.

You wait. You sit on a bench and wait until 8:06.

Five seconds after 8:06. Twenty seconds after 8:06.

The clock clicks to 8:07.

You were expecting to feel something else. Celebration. Elation. You half-expected to cause a scene and jump for joy right there in the streets of Shinjuku.

None of that comes. There’s just a feeling of relief. A weight presses you down, and you slump in your seat.

It was over.

It was finally over.

How long do you stay like that? Hours? Days? When you feel like you can finally breathe again, it’s only 8:12. Time travel warped your sense of time.

You stand up, stretch, feel your bones crack and pop. In the second timeline, you wanted to get a drink to drown your misery of nearly getting killed by a curse and being alone on December 24th. It felt like a lifetime ago when being single was the worst of your problems.

Honestly, you’d stay celibate for the rest of your life if it meant you wouldn’t have to go through that ever again.

Tomorrow, you’ll decompress and devolve into hysteria over what happened.

Next week, you’ll check yourself into therapy.

Today, you decide to go home and sleep for a couple hundred years.

You must look like a zombie with the way you wobble down the street. Physically, your body is perfectly fine. You’ve suffered no bruises or cuts. Even the numerous times you’ve been killed leaves nothing on your skin.

Mentally, you’re in shambles. The indomitable human spirit within you is snuffed out.

The stairs to your flat is your last enemy that you must vanquish before you can reunite with your adoring bed. You cling onto the railing with dazed eyes. You don’t see the curse until you’re right before it.

Distantly, you wonder how often you’ve passed a curse and didn’t even realize it. It’s almost instinct to reach out with your hand, intent on absorbing it.

Nothing happens. You remember you aren’t Suguru anymore.

It’s a grotesque-looking thing. No eyes, too many hands, a gaping mouth. It turns and looks at you.

Strange. Its’ smile mirrors the one in the abandoned house.

Adrenaline. You feel it coarse through your veins, meld into your bones, explode in your skin. You’re stumbling back, nearly tripping down the steps in your haste to get away.

It screeches. Loud and clear and angry and you can almost feel its teeth chomp on your leg, ripping your muscles and skin to mere tatters.

You’ve died before. You’ve been skinned alive before. You’ve been eaten before. Yet, it all amounts to nothing compared to the fear you feel at the thought of the curse catching you.

It can’t have been nothing more than a third grade. If you were taller, larger, special-grade, you could have killed it immediately. But you weren’t, not anymore, you were at the same level as a plant. Useless. Helpless.

A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.

The streets were quiet. You supposed that meant there’d be fewer casualties. But it didn’t make you feel any better. And even if there were people around, no one would have been able to help you.

Your brain isn’t working as clearly. Fear is the only thing that guides you. You’re reduced to a rat scampering through a maze. Sooner or later, that rodent reaches a dead end.

The alleyway was blocked off. You felt the rough brick wall scrape your hands and even the feeling of your raw skin couldn’t assuage your heart pumping in your throat. When you whirled your head back, it was right there, and you knew you were dead.

Again.

It might kill you, if it’s feeling generous. It might cut your legs off and watch you bleed, if its feeling kind. It might eat you, if it’s a decent curse.

It shouldn’t be happening. You fixed it. You were supposed to have fixed everything. But clearly you didn't. There must have been some piece of the puzzle that you forgot. You need to go back. You need to fix things, but why do you need to why can't he just leave you alone—

You don’t see what happens. One moment, the curse is there. The next it isn’t.

“Those things are so annoying.” The newcomer complains.

No, not new. You know him.

You blink. He grins. It’s kind. A toothy smile that warms.

“You alright?” He asks in sympathy. “Curses are pretty scary, aren’t they? Are you hurt?”

It’s him. You weren’t in 2006. You were in the present, here and now, and he was here with you.

He actually made it.

“Ma’am?” He asks.

It wasn’t intentional. You just blurted it out, the promise you made to him. It was a decade for him. Mere hours for you.

“Um, broccoli head...?” And then you instantly regret it.

Haibara Yu takes a minute, eyes squinting like you just grew a new head.

Then, he gasps.

“Greeny?”

ⴵ

A few minutes later, you’re seated at a restaurant. Haibara has not shut up.

“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again ‘cuz Gojo said you weren’t gonna be around anymore, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

“—Haibara.” You interrupt. “Please, slow down.”

He stops himself, right when the server comes with drinks. He shoots the waiter a smile, and then he’s back on you.

“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I—I got a little excited. And nervous. It’s just...well, I didn’t expect you to be a girl.”

That might have been your fault. Both Haibara and Gojo kept referring to you as a man, so you decided to roll with it. Earlier, you would have justified it by insisting the less they know about you, the better. Now, you just think you were being petty.

“So, how you’ve been? A whole decade...” You murmur to yourself.

“Fine! But what about you?” Haibara asks, concern etched into his eyes. “Where’d you go?”

Wow, he was actually worried for you. Despite being in Suguru’s body, you didn’t really feel like part of the group Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara were part of. You felt like an outsider, being somewhere you didn’t belong. It's because you were an outsider. Nevertheless, it’s nice to know one person missed you.

“This might be a little hard to believe, but I just came back to 2017 two hours ago.”

Haibara gapes.

“Wait, so to you, that whole thing happened, today?” You nod. He leans back in his chair.

“Holy fuck.” You laugh at his awe.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way.” You change the topic. “From the curse.”

He waves it off. “I was just paying my debt. From what you did for me all those years ago.”

Ah, Gojo must have told him. Oddly enough, Haibara doesn't seem all that perturbed that he shouldn’t exist currently. At the same time, it feels just like Haibara.

He’s different from when he was younger. Taller. The baby fat is gone. His face is more built, just like the rest of his body. His eyes are less round, but they haven’t lost the spark. A few scars here and there, but he’s all in one piece.

You weren’t able to see what he looked like as an adult from Suguru’s memories, he’d never grown up. But now, you can see it for yourself. You can see the active change you made in his life, to his life.

“Haibara—”

“Yu—” He says seriously. “My friends call me Yu.”

A smile twitches on your lips.

“Tell me about everyone.” You scoot your chair closer. “You, Suguru. How is everyone doing?”

He perks up at that, clearly delighted to be talking.

“Great! Everyone’s doing great! You should totally come visit the school, sometime. They’d love to see you. Uh, even if they don’t technically know you, but I’m sure they’ll love to meet you!” He rambles, and it’s nice to know he hasn’t changed from his younger self.

“Let’s see, Kento’s teaching the first years. I teach the second years—”

“—You’re a teacher?”

He nods. “We all are! Except for Shoko, but she has her own thing going on. Anyway, Mimiko and Nanako have become second-grade semi-sorcerors. Isn’t that incredible? I’m just a first grade semi-sorceror, and at their young ages too! But Suguru wasn’t surprised, he kept saying his girls were prodigies. Oh! You probably want to know about Suguru too, right?”

You nod. Even if you hadn’t done anything, you don’t think that would have stopped his enthusiasm.

“He’s a teacher too! At least, for right now. Yaga’s been wanting to retire, and there have been talks of Suguru becoming the next principal. Principal Geto has a ring to it, right? Oh, and Shoko is currently planning the wedding. You’ll definitely be invited, of course! She said I could bring a plus-one. Oh, and—”

It goes on like that for hours, you think. Not that you mind. You listen to Yu babble on and on about his friends, his students. He talks about Nanami’s recent baking addiction, Shoko’s new office cat, Suguru’s favorite tea pot. It’s a never-ending surge of information.

Eventually, you catch on to the fact that he’s deliberately leaving someone out.

"Yu?" You interrupt him while he's talking about the prank the fourth year pulled on Nanami. "What about Satoru? What's he up to?" 

Maybe you were overthinking things. Haibara likes to talk; perhaps he forgot to exclude someone else's story in his rants. But then, he grimaces. For the first time in this entire conversation, Haibara is reluctant to talk. 

"Satoru is..." He winces, and your hands turn into fists. 

No. No. You were supposed to save everyone. Why hadn't you saved everyone? 

A warm hand grips your own. You'd been shaking. 

Yu gives a soft smile, and you remember he's no longer younger than you. 

"He's not dead." He assures you, but his smile fades. He straightens himself up, and his hand pulls away. 

"Satoru defected from Jujutsu tech. We don't know where he is." 

What? You must have misheard him wrong. Satoru wouldn't do that. That's not like him. This is some sick joke.

But there's no teasing grin on Haibara. His face is grave. You hate it more than anything. 

"It happened when he was a fourth year. No one really knows what happened. Suguru refuses to say anything about it, but I think he's just as confused as the rest of us. It came outta nowhere." 

Yeah, it definitely came out of nowhere. It's so random. Why would Satoru do that? The last time you saw him, he was so happy. He was smiling; he teased you. What happened? It made no sense. 

"So, you haven't seen him for nine years?" You ask. "Not even a glimpse?" 

Yu shakes his head. "Nothing but his residuals. That's how we know he's still alive." 

Nothing computes in your brain. None of it made any sense. You saved Suguru. That was supposed to make everyone happy, including Satoru. Why would he turn around and do this? Defecting made no sense.

"We've actually been tasked to execute him. Since he’s been branded a curse user, all four of us. " Yu laughs with no humor. "Isn't that insane? I don't think any one of us could even fathom doing that, even if it were possible." 

It wasn't possible. Gojo was the strongest. Nothing could go toe to toe with him. Once he put his mind to something, no one could stop him.

But maybe you could. 

You're shutting that idea down immediately. You were done. You were done with dying and time-travel and strange powers. You wanted it all to be over. It'd be so easy to thank Haibara for the nice meal, to go home and sleep this entire day off. Satoru dug his own grave, he can go lay in it. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions. You wouldn’t. You can’t do that another time.

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?

You hate that brat so much. 

You close your eyes. Take in a breath. Then, you open them. 

"Haibara?" You ask. "Did Gojo tell you how my technique worked?" 

He shakes his head. You grimace because convincing him might take a while.

"Okay, well, I'll need you to do a tiny favor for me."

ⴵ

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.”

You’d caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yu’s body was less athletic than Suguru’s. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.

It doesn’t weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass you’ve ever met.

“Shut up.” You snap. “Just answer the question.”

“We haven’t seen each other for a year and that’s how you react?” Satoru ignores you. “That’s mean, Greeny. How ‘bout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.”

“Satoru.” You beg, “Why are you doing this? What’s the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?”

That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.

“You didn’t have to come back, y’know.” He murmurs quietly. “You could’ve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyone’s happy with their life. 4 outta’ five. That’s a passing grade.”

For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.

“I could never leave you behind like that.” You say the truth just as quietly. “I’ll die a thousand more deaths than do that.”

He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.

“Yeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gotta’ play hero.” He gives a bitter laugh. “That’s why I defected.”

You stare at him. He’s a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You aren’t equal to him anymore in this body, now you’re starting to think you never were.

“Satoru.” You start because what he’s saying can’t be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. “Did—did you leave—did you leave everyone for a decade just so I’d come back? Why would you do that to yourself?”

He doesn’t say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.

“It’s your fault,” Satoru says like it’s instinct to blame you for his actions, “this was your idea.”

What’s he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.

What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it? So that’s what he meant. You were an idiot.

“That’s not fair, Satoru,” you say regardless, “I—I never—I couldn’t expect you’d do this.”

“What choice did I fucking have, Greeny?” There’s rapid steps and he’s in front of you, desperate and wild. “You—you just left me here. You left me alone and I couldn’t even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! How’s that fair?”

It’s true. It’s all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguru’s happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?

You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.

Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoru’s selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.

But he’s selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.

Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldn’t fault him. What a liar you are.

You forgive Satoru.

“I’m sorry.” Haibara’s voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. “I’m sorry Satoru. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

It’s hard to wrap him in a hug. The brat’s too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, he’s keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you don’t comment on it.

It’s why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.

“I can’t give you my name.” You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesn’t look at you.

“Yeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshit—”

“For now.” You add. “I can’t do that for now.”

Three pairs of eyes look at you. You’re not hiding behind Haibara anymore. You’re not trying to.

“December 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.” You look at him. “Can you wait until then?”

For you, it’d only be an hour. For Satoru, it’d be a decade.

You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; you’d let him.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll turn evil.” You laugh. His grin widens and he’s back again. “I’m serious. I’ll take over the world. I’ll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.”

“You’re such a brat.” There’s no hostility in your tone. “I will. I promise.”

‘I’ll save you,’ You promise in your head because he’s too prideful to hear it.

“Is it still possible for you to go back?” You ask, the wariness present again. “The higher ups haven’t taken any action against you, right?”

He shakes his head.

“I think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.” He shrugs. “They’ll decide it’s teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.”

You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.

When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how they’ll feel on your own.

“See ya’ later, Greeny.”

A blink. Satoru’s gone. Your hand is empty, and you’re standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.

ⴵ

December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.

It’s already 7:12 when you’re desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you it’ll cost extra because Sumida City isn’t part of his route, you’re more than happy to fork over the money.

It’s already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. It’s crowded. Fuck, it’s December 24th, of course people would be out and about.

At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.

It’s closed.

Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.

Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? You’re only human. Surely he’d understand if you couldn’t make it because the entire building was shut down.

Or wait. Was this Satoru’s doing?

You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.

Let it be known that you’ve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.

With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasn’t joking a decade ago.

The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint he’s paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like you’re a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, he’s still managed to rig it.

You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.

It’s empty. You’ve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?

Out the corner of your eye, there’s a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, there’s another one.

You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you don’t know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. You’re pushing it down.

You follow the post-its until there’s one placed right on top of a door.

Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?

But it’s already 8:03; you’re far too deep to complain.

A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, it’ll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

It’s different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isn’t all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. It’s slower, too.

That’s bad, because now you’re starting to think.

That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. You’re anxious. It’s strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.

If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesn’t get angry?

What if—what if he’s disappointed by you?

Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.

But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.

Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.

Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, it’s protected by your own. You’d steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.

It’s windy up here. That’s the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they don’t dry out so quickly. It’s colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.

But the view. Oh, what a view.

The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. She’s gorgeous like she’s picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.

It’s 8:09. Satoru was late.

Or maybe he just wasn’t planning to show up.

You lean away from the railing. It’s just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.

And then, you can feel hands.

Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. They’re familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.

His laugh tickles your ear, and you aren’t so cold anymore.

“Caught ya, Greeny.”

(“Did something happen to you, back there in the house?”

"Hm?" Suguru asked.

They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.

"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."

Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."

'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'

They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.

"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."

"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."

So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-

"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."

"Nice?" Satoru echoes.

"Yeah."

And then it's quiet again.)

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

[notlongtolove]

like a lover

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at you again. he just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. by the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad. very brief mention of abduction. lowkey spencer is in the right bc #safety but he made reader cry n for that he is found #guilty!!!

word count: 3.1k

note: based off this ask! random fact the last line of this fic was the inspiration for empty my soul but idk why i just couldnt fit it in there, anyways i hope you guys like it! (pls tell me if u do i was struggling with a resolution for this)

a line: Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again.

I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. - carol ann duffy

You probably should’ve stopped five drinks ago—maybe four if you were feeling merciful. That last Vodka cran? A spectacularly bad idea. But whatever. You earned this. You’re young, you’re fun, you look good, and for the first time in weeks, you have no deadlines clawing at you. The final had been a nightmare. You knew your fate was sealed the second you flipped to question three. What the hell is textual and symbolic environmentalisation? But it’s over now. That’s all that matters.

The wind bites at your bare legs as you stand by the curb, aimlessly kicking a pebble. You hug your arms close, fighting off the chill. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Spencer had suggested it, but you’d waved him off. He’s usually right.

You frown, glancing up at the street sign. He said he’d be here. Right? Your phone’s dying battery blinks at you in its final moments, mocking you before shutting off completely. Definitely should’ve taken his offer of a portable charger, too. You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

A man stumbles by, reeking of booze. You don’t need to look to know.

"Hey," he calls out, voice slurred and gravelly.

You keep your eyes down, pretending not to hear.

“Hey,” he says again, louder this time.

Where the hell is Spencer?

"D’you know when the bus starts running again?"

You hesitate, half-relieved that he’s asking something semi-coherent. "I—I’m sorry, I’m not sure."

He nods to himself, swaying on his feet. 

"I told you to wait by the bodega on 3rd," a familiar voice mutters. Spencer’s hand closes around your arm, already steering you away.

"Oh, hey," you say softly, relief washing over you. "Is this not—" You glance at the street sign overhead—4 Maple Drive. Shit. "I—sorry, I thought—"

"It’s fine," he says, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you it’s not.

The car ride is suffocatingly silent. When he pulls open the passenger door for you, there’s no trace of his usual warmth. No soft smile, no gentle tease about your perpetually dead phone. Just a click of the door and the quiet thud of it shutting behind you.

You hate this. Hate the tension humming between you, the way his jaw is set tight as he drives. He was so different this afternoon, greeting you after your final with those cupcakes he knows you love from the bakery on the other side of town, his lips brushing yours in endless, giddy kisses. This Spencer is nothing like that. 

"They played ‘Dancing Queen’ tonight," you venture, voice tentative. He knows it’s your favourite. Knows it always pulls you to the dance floor, no matter how tired or tipsy you are. "It was so funny—some guy bought us a round of shots—"

"And you drank it?"

The question lands heavy. His first words to you since he’d started driving. 

"Well... yeah?"

"What else did you drink?"

"Not a lot," you say quickly, tripping over your words. "Just vodka, tequila, a bit of wine—"

"You mixed?" 

The way he says it makes you bristle. There’s a hint of disbelief, maybe even disappointment. 

"Spence," you say softly. "I’m not that drunk, I promise."

Nothing.

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. The silence in the air is almost tangible, a crackling, oppressive thing. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn’t move to open your door. He always does that. But not tonight. 

You’re pretty sure he’s mad at you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not like you go out that often, and you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself get this drunk. Tonight was an exception, a celebration. He understands, doesn’t he?

You follow him inside, trailing behind like a shadow. He doesn’t head to the kitchen like he does after you get back from a night out—no tea, no toast, no quiet ritual of making sure you’re okay. Instead, he walks straight into the study, his back to you. Yeah, he’s definitely mad. 

"You’re mad at me," you say, standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t answer. His hands grip the back of his chair, his head bowed like he’s trying to gather himself. You’re not one to push, usually giving him the space he needs when he gets all broody like this, but the alcohol that’s running through your system is making it hard to practice patience. 

"Why are you mad at me?"

Still nothing. 

When he finally moves, it’s only to brush past you, heading for the bedroom without so much as a glance. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow," he says, his tone flat, clipped. "I can’t talk to you when you’re like this."

This. The word hits like a slap, sharp and dismissive. It irks you. 

"If you didn’t want to come, then you shouldn’t have come," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I could’ve gotten a ride—"

"You were slurring on the phone." He stops in the hallway, turning just enough for you to see the tight set of his jaw. 

"Yeah, no shit, Spencer. People slur when they drink," you fire back a little too harshly, the alcohol fueling your irritation as you cross your arms defensively.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low, dangerous in a way that makes your chest tighten.

​​You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Don’t what? Don’t point out how ridiculous you’re being right now?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at you again. He just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. By the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. Fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

You head to the bathroom without a word, your movements jerky as you swipe at the remnants of your makeup. You grab your moisturizer, fingers fumbling with the cap. A sharp tug and it goes flying out of your hands, clattering to the floor. 

"Fuck," you mutter, bracing yourself for a bout of instability as you bend down to retrieve it.

Before you can grab it, Spencer moves. He scoops it up, straightening with an ease that feels almost mocking. When you meet his eyes, they’re unfamiliar. It’s not the Spencer you know. Not the Spencer who covers your eyes during scary movies or kisses your forehead when you’re half-asleep. No, this Spencer feels distant, cold. 

"And I’m supposed to believe you’re not that drunk," he says flatly. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat as heat flushes your face. He offers a hand as you steady yourself, trying to rise to your feet, but you brush him off, snatching the bottle from his grip with a bitterness you don’t try to mask. 

"What the hell is your problem?" you snap.

"My problem?" he repeats, incredulous. "I’m not the one blackout drunk on a Wednesday night."

"I’m not—"

"Would you—would you just stop!" he barks, the words sharp enough to make you flinch. "You’re slurring your words. You got the streets wrong. You couldn’t even get the damn moisturizer open," he snaps, gesturing toward you harshly with a mixture of frustration and exasperation.

Your knuckles whiten as you cling to the edge of the sink, unsure if you’re holding on for balance or just to keep from breaking. You spin back toward the mirror willing yourself not to cry. The frustration, the confusion, the ache in your chest—everything wells up at once.

"God, you’re being so—"

"So what?" he interrupts, his voice rising as he steps closer. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to say it. "So concerned? So worried? So—"

"So fucking mean!"

The silence that follows deafening. For a moment, he freezes, the hard edges of his expression softening into something else—shock, regret, guilt—but it’s fleeting.

"So what if I’m drunk?" Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, your frustration too overwhelming to contain. "And yeah, maybe—" You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you glare at him, "Maybe I’m slurring a little but forgive me for wanting a drink after the final I’ve been stressing over all fucking month."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "It’s not about you having a drink. It’s about you not knowing your limits—"

"Oh, for fucks sake," you interrupt, throwing your hands up. The movement makes you sway slightly, and you hate how it only seems to prove his point. "Newsflash, Spencer, I’m a university student. Sometimes we get drunk. You don’t get to make me feel like shit just because you don’t drink.”

You push past him, your shoulder grazing his as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and you grip the edge, willing the room to stop spinning.

"You were being reckless," he bites back, the word hanging heavy in the air. "You don’t see what I see. You’re out alone, you don’t—"

"I wasn’t alone," you say, your voice rising to meet his. "I had friends—"

"Yeah, friends who left you alone on a curb at 3am," he shoots back, cutting you off. The words land with precision, a calculated jab, but you refuse to flinch.

"Because you said you were on the way!" you fire back.

His voice is cold now, practically seething. "And what do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached you just as that guy was coming on to you?"

"He was asking for the bus!" you shoot back, the words ringing out louder than you intended. You hate everything about this fight. You hate how unfamiliar he feels, hate the part of you that wonders if you’re the one who brought this out of him. "Nothing would’ve—"

Spencer’s expression darkens, his gaze narrowing. "Nothing?" He scoffs. "Tell that to Nina Radha. To Caroline Wrenley. To Mindy Denver. They were all ‘just waiting for a ride home’ last week. And now? All abducted. All dead." 

The room goes silent. Your chest tightens, and the fight drains out of you as his meaning sinks in. 

"You’re being cruel," your words are barely audible, trembling on the edge of your lips. The tears come faster now, streaking your face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. "Why—" you whisper, weak and watery, "Why are you being like this?" 

When Spencer finally turns to look at you, the sight of your tears stops him cold. They streak your face in uneven paths, and he feels something inside him splinter. Spencer never likes seeing you cry—he hates it, actually. It’s not just discomfort or unease; it’s a literal, physical ache. But knowing he’s the reason for your tears tonight? That’s pain in its most visceral form. It’s failure in its purest state.

"I—" he starts, his voice faltering. It cracks mid-sentence, and he stops, swallowing hard. His breath shudders as he exhales, trying to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, broken, "I was scared." 

Your tears have momentarily slowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. The anger in his voice has faded, replaced by something softer, something raw—fear, tangled with guilt, with regret. He takes a tentative step closer, then hesitates, unsure of what to do. 

"I thought that… something could’ve happened to you, and I—I didn’t know how to handle it." 

After a moment, he lowers himself to your level, crouching in front of you. He lifts his hand, reaching out to wipe away the tears that stain your face. But the instant his fingers near you, you flinch, turning your head to avoid his touch. The movement is small, but Spencer’s heart shatters at the rejection all the same. He hates that he’s made you cry, hates that you won’t let him near you, hates that you won’t even look at him.

"I’m sorry," he says, the words low and weighted with sincerity. He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he has left to give. 

Your tears fall, dripping onto your hands that rest limply in your lap. You shake your head, your shoulders tense, refusing to meet his eyes. The rejection stings, sharper than he expected, but he doesn’t blame you. He knows he deserves this. The room is still except for the sound of your quiet sniffles. 

Spencer tries again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just—" His breath catches as he exhales, his hand running through his hair in agitation, the movement more to calm himself than anything else. "When I saw you standing there alone—alone and with that man, I got scared. And I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You didn’t— you didn’t deserve that."

The silence that follows is thick, but finally, you break it. Your voice is quiet, bitter. 

"I’m not them."

You’re still not meeting his eyes, still keeping that distance, but at least it’s something. 

"Those girls… I’m not them, Spencer."

"I know, I know. I was—", his voice is low, the regret weighing heavily on every syllable.

​​"That case was tough on you, I know it was," you interrupt, "And what happened to those girls, it was horrible. But I'm not them, Spence. I'm not…" Spencer watches helplessly as you furiously wipe away a tear from your cheek. 

"I'm not dead. I'm here."

“I was projecting, I—” His voice catches, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he admits quietly. You nod, grimly. Another single, heavy tear slips down your cheek and Spencer feels his heart break all over again. 

"I know you’re scared. How do you think I feel every time you go out into the field?" You take a deep breath, and say bitterly, "I get it." 

Each word is a struggle, but you say it with conviction. He can see how much you’re holding in, the effort it takes for you to keep your voice from cracking. 

You pause, swallowing hard as you steady yourself, "But you—You don’t get to talk to me like that." When your eyes meet his, they flash with both anger and sadness. "You don’t get to take that out on me." 

"I know, I—That was—I was being horrible, I was an ass," Spencer admits, his voice small. "You didn’t deserve that, honey. God, I’m just—I’m so, so, sorry." 

You look at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s being sincere. All you see is regret, raw and heavy. And something else, something softer. Love. He reaches out, and this time you don’t pull away. Just getting to touch you is a brief, bittersweet, blinding relief. Spencer lets his fingers graze your cheek as he wipes away your tears gently, his thumb brushing over the wet path they’ve left behind. 

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. "An ass is putting it lightly." 

Spencer’s chest tightens, a small breath of relief escaping him, though it’s quickly replaced with guilt. "M’so sorry sweetheart," he breathes out, comforted by the familiar bite in your tone. It lightens the air between you, just a little.

He shifts to sit next to you on the bed. "I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to," he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. Spencer gently takes your hands, cradling them in his. 

"I—I never want to hurt you, never want to make you cry. Ever." Spencer's voice cracks slightly as he talks, fingers tracing your palm. "You know that, right?"

You nod, your voice small but steady. "I know."

Shifting, you tuck your legs beneath you, turning to face him fully. Your hands lift to cup his face gently, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. The touch is tender, almost protective, as you guide his face to meet yours. His eyes can’t hold your gaze for long, shame clearly written across them.

"I was just—I was—" He stumbles over his words.

"Scared," you finish softly, filling the silence for him. 

"I—I’m sorry," Spencer’s voice falters, "I’m really sorry honey, I should’ve never—That was—"

Your hands guide his face back toward yours, coaxing him to meet your eyes. This time, he doesn’t resist, his breath shaky as he clings to the comfort you offer. "S’okay, baby. M’not mad anymore," you murmur.

"Sad?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like he’s afraid of what you’ll say.

"No," you smile faintly, shaking your head, "Not sad, baby," you whisper, leaning closer. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheek in silent reassurance. His shoulders relax just a little. "I just—" you sigh as you let out one last, quiet sniffle, "I really hate fighting." 

Carefully, he coaxes you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "Me too, honey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he shifts closer. You don’t resist, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"S’not nice," you murmur against him, your words muffled.

"I know, I know," Spencer whispers, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. You let out a shaky sigh, sinking further into his embrace. “Was awful, wasn’t it?” he says, quietly.

"Mhm," you mumble quietly, your voice soft but pointed as you lean into his touch. "Made me cry," you say, looking at him through wet lashes to prove your point. Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again. After a beat of quiet, he tilts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I love you, you know that?" 

You hum softly, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh, "Love you too."

"Love you so much, sweet girl," he says again, quieter this time, like it’s a truth meant only for you.

"Sap," you tease, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

Spencer grins, soft and boyish. "Always for you," he mumbles fondly, and before you can respond, he leans forward, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

You stick your tongue out at him in mock protest, but he’s already chasing the moment. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the other side. Each one dripping with easy affection. 

"Spence—" you laugh, the sound bubbling up. It spreads a warmth through Spencer’s chest. 

"My sweet girl," he says quietly, almost to himself. 

His smile only grows as he drinks in the sound of your giggles, tears long gone. He presses a fluttering series of kisses across your form until you’re laughing into his lips, each kiss softer than the last. 

One on your cheek, two on your shoulder, a thousand on your lips.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: false god by taylor swift moon river by frank ocean

[hanniebaeee]

Mystery Girl

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive MDNI

Genre: best friends to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and Hyunjin are best friends. You know absolutely everything about him. But not this one thing - his mystery girl. The one he can't stop talking about. The one who seems to have stolen his heart completely.

a/n: For Jinnie, 'coz I miss him...

You’ve been Hyunjin’s ride-or-die bestie since forever - like, forever. You were the girl who’s seen him through literally everything. Point is, you were his everything. And he was your everything. 

But lately? Hyunjin has been all sorts of weird. Like, “humming love songs in the shower” weird. And he won’t shut up about this girl. This mystery goddess who has apparently stolen his heart and soul.

You were sprawled on his couch, legs slung over the armrest, reading a book, while he sat on the other end of the same couch, grinning into his phone. You tried so hard not to stare because, truth be told, you’ve been in love with this idiot since you were 14 and he drew a heart on your arm with a Sharpie.

“She’s just… ugh, she’s perfect,” he groaned, flopping back dramatically that his head landed on your thigh. “Like, her laugh? It’s so sexy. And the way she bites her lip when she’s thinking? Oh my god...”

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly saw your brain.

“Okay, Romeo, calm your tits. Who even is this chick? You’ve been going on about her for weeks, and I still don’t have a name. What does she look like? Since when do you have secrets from me, hm?” 

He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows, and giving you a dreamy look.

“She’s just…I don't know how to say it…Like, she’s so funny, but also kinda clumsy in this hot, chaotic way. And her body? Chef’s kiss. I’d worship her like a goddess if she’d let me.” he sighed, and you did your best to ignore the way your stomach twisted. 

Picturing him worshipping someone else - some flawless angel who probably doesn’t trip over her own feet like you do had you jealous as fuck. It made you want to cry because you’ve been in love with Hyunjin so long it’s practically a chronic condition at this point.

But you were a good friend. The best friend. So you swallowed the ache in your chest and plastered on a grin.

“Sounds like a catch,” you said, tossing a throw pillow at his stupidly gorgeous face. “So what’s the problem? Ask her out already.”

He caught the pillow and hugged it, groaning again. 

“But what if she’s not into me? What if she thinks of me like a…I don't know…brother? I’d die. Literally keel over. You’d have to plan my funeral.” he said, pouting and burying his face into the pillow. 

“Oh, please,” you snorted, nudging his thigh lightly with your socked foot. “You’re Hwang Hyunjin. You're literally a heartthrob. She’d have to be blind or brain-dead to say no. Just go for it.”

He sat up, eyes glinting with mischief.

“You think I’m a heartthrob?” he asked, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. 

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” you grumbled, heat creeping up your neck. “I’m just saying, ask her out. Worst case, she says no, and I’ll buy you ice cream to cry into.”

He stared at you for a beat too long, and you could swear there was something weird in his expression. Like he was about to say something, but then his phone buzzed, and he dived for it breaking the spell.

“Hang on, I need to do something.” he said, grinning into his phone again, and your insides burned with jealousy because it obviously looked like he was texting her. 

---

Later That Night:

Hyunjin: Okay, emergency. I need your help crafting the perfect text to send her. Something sexy but not creepy. 

You: Jinnie, it's like 2 am. What's wrong with you?

Hyunjin: Pretty pleaseeeeeeee

Hyunjin: Who else would I ask

You: Idk, Lix? 

Hyunjin: Come on. 

You: How about “Hey, you free this weekend? Wanna hang out? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.

Hyunjin: Ooh, that’s good. Mysterious. Sexy. She’ll be all over it.

You: Yeah, yeah, I’m a genius.

Hyunjin: I’m sweating. What if she thinks I’m hitting on her too hard?

You: She’s gonna think you’re a dork either way, so just hit send, you noodle.  

---

One minute later:

Hyunjin: OH GOD I’M GONNA PUKE.  

You: LMAO relax, she’s not gonna call the cops over a flirty text. 

Hyunjin: What if she laughs at me?

You: If she’s laughing, it’s probably because you’re a pabo and she’s into it. Chill. Go to bed.

Hyunjin: Can’t sleep. Too busy imagining her

Hyunjin: I mean, her smile. Imagining her smile.  

You: Oh my God ewww, go to sleep Hyunjin! 

Hyunjin: Too late for that

You: ’m begging you to stop before I bleach my eyes. Goodnight.  

You tossed your phone aside, heart pounding. He was so whipped for this girl, and it was killing you. You wanted to scream and throw a fit, but instead, you just buried your face in a pillow and sobbed.

---

Two hours later:

Your phone buzzed again. You were half-asleep, sprawled across your bed, but you grabbed it anyway.

---

Hyunjin: Okay, I’m doing it. I’m gonna confess tomorrow.

You: Good for you. 

Hyunjin: Yeah. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want her. She’s everything, bro. Like, she’s funny and hot and she gets me. I’d be an idiot not to go for it. 

You: Go get her, Jinnie. I’m proud of you.

Hyunjin: Thanks. Couldn’t do this without you. You’re the best.

You: Anything for you, loser. Night.

---

You took in a shaky breath. He was confessing tomorrow. And you’ll be there, cheering him on like the world’s saddest wingwoman, while your heart shattered into a million pieces.

The next morning, Hyunjin texted you at the crack of dawn - okay, fine, 10 a.m., but that was basically dawn for you. You were still groggy from the two hours of sleep you got when your phone pinged. 

---

Hyunjin: Get your ass out of bed. We’re going on a picnic.

You: A what now? I’m not leaving my blanket cocoon for anything less than free food.* 

Hyunjin: It’s a picnic, dumbass. Free food is the whole point. I’m picking you up in 30 min. Wear something nice. 

You: Excuse me, I always dress nice.

You: What's this about? 

Hyunjin: Just shut up and get ready. You’ll see. 

You: When I show up, if you’re smooching your Mystery Girl, I’m rioting.

Hyunjin: LMAO no smooching without your permission. Promise. Now move it.  

---

You groaned, rolling out of bed like a grumpy burrito. A picnic with you? What was this, some kind of rehearsal for his big moment with her? Your heart ached as you got ready, thinking about this. 

But then you reminded yourself. You were a supportive bestie. You could handle this. Probably.

Half an hour later, Hyunjin pulled up in front of your building in a flowy white shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest (because of course) and black jeans that hugged his dancer thighs in ways you didn't want to talk about in this state of heartbreak. He was holding a bouquet of daisies, and you narrowed your eyes, as he grinned up at you. 

“Flowers?” you squawked, pointing at them like they were a live grenade. “Dude, did you get stood up or something? I am the replacement?”

He smirked, tossing his hair back like the dramatic bitch he was.

“Nah, these are for later. Get in, loser. We’ve got a date with nature.” he said, winking at you. 

You narrowed your eyes but climbed into the passenger seat, your sundress swishing around your knees.

“If you do something silly, I’m disowning you.” you threatened. 

“Relax,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve got this under control.”

---

He drove you to this little clearing by a lake, all golden sunlight and wildflowers, like something out of a storybook. You watched in silence as he spread a blanket - red and white checkered, because Hyunjin was nothing if not extra - and started unloading your picnic onto the blanket. Starting with a bottle of wine, and a spread of sandwiches, strawberries, those little chocolate pastries you loved.

Your heart did a weird flip, but you chalked it up to hunger. So this was oddly specific for a replacement date. 

“Okay, this is adorable,” you admitted, plopping down cross-legged on the blanket, after he gave you permission to do so. “Mystery Girl’s gonna lose her mind when you bring her here..”

Hyunjin sat across from you, stretching out his (ridiculously) long legs so they brushed against yours. He’s got that look again, soft and intense, like he’s about to do something.

“Yeah, well, I wanted it to be perfect. For her.” he said, giving you a smile that made your heart leap. 

Ok, damage control - you grabbed a strawberry and popped it in your mouth, trying to ignore it.

“So, what’s the plan? Gonna woo her with your  sandwich skills?” You joked, and he chuckled, leaning back on his hands, shirt gaping open to reveal more of his toned chest.

“Maybe. But I was thinking… something simpler. Just tell her how I feel. Straight up.” he said.

Your throat tightened, but you forced a grin.

“Good call.  Honesty is good. She'll totally love it.” you managed to say, fidgeting with your fingers. 

He tilted his head, watching you with an unreadable expression. “You think so?”

“Of course,” you said, snagging a sandwich and taking a bite to avoid his gaze. “You’re Hwang Hyunjin. You could say something silly and she’d still swoon.”

He laughed softly, so soft that it sounded almost nervous.

“Okay, then. Here goes.”

You were mid-chew when he sat up straighter, and turned to face you fully. Your brain was still on supportive-bestie-mode, so you didn’t clock what was happening until he opened his mouth.

“Ok,” he says, voice all husky and serious. “I’m crazy about you. Like, stupid crazy. You’re gorgeous and hilarious and you make me lose my damn mind every time you smile. I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, maybe years to be honest, so… yeah. I’m in love with you. And I want you to give me a chance to prove to you that I can be more than a pabo…and more of a…you know…”

Your brain flatlined. Literally. 

The sandwich slipped from your fingers, tumbling onto the blanket as your mouth opened, closed, opened again, but all that came out was a strangled, “H-Huh?”

“You heard me. It’s you, idiot. Always has been.” Hyunjin was grinning now, cheeks pink, holding the daisies out to you.

The world was spinning. Your chest tightened, your vision blurred, and - oh shit, you were actually going to faint. You’ve been in love with this man since you were a literal child, and now he’s hitting you with this? At a picnic? With daisies and sandwiches? Your arms and legs shake even though you’re sitting, and before you can stop it, you tip forward, falling right into his chest.

“Whoa - shit!” Hyunjin yelped, dropping the flowers to catch you. His arms wrapped around you, strong and warm, pulling you tight against him as you slumped there, face smushed into his chest. (He smelled so good, and it was so hot and overwhelming, you thought you'd actually die.) 

“Are you okay? Oh my God, did I kill you?” he was babbling, one hand cradling your head, the other patting your back gently. “Babe, don’t pass out on me! I just confessed! This is supposed to be romantic!”

You were dizzy, clinging to his shirt, muffled against his chest as you said, “You… you’re in love with me?” 

“Yes, you silly girl!” he said, laughing hysterically now, still holding you like he’s terrified you’ll pass out again. “Who else would it be? I’ve been drooling over you for years! How did you not see it?”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, and his face was just inches away, his nose brushing against yours. Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could feel it through his shirt.

“I thought… I thought you meant someone else,” you wheezed, swaying again. “I’ve been dying over here, you asshole!”

He tightened his grip, pulling you closer so you were practically in his lap, his breath hot against your forehead. “Dying? I’ve been dying! You’re the one who’s oblivious! I’ve been flirting with you nonstop, calling you hot, texting you at 1 a.m., staring at your ass when you’re not looking-”

“You WHAT?” you squeaked, smacking his chest weakly, but you’re too light headed to fight back properly.

“It’s a great ass!” he defended, grinning. “Sue me! I’m in love with you, okay? Every clumsy, sexy inch of you!”

Your head spins again, and you slump back into him, whining. “Stop, I’m gonna pass out for real. You can’t just say all that and expect me to be ok!”

“Hey, no fainting!” he said, shifting to hold you tighter, one hand sliding up to cup your face. “I’ve got you, okay? Breathe. Please don’t die before I get to kiss you.”

That snapped you out of it. Just barely. You blinked up at him, and in a daze, asked, “Kiss me?”

“Yeah,” he said, smirking now. “Been dying to do it forever. You're gonna let me, or are you gonna faint again?”

You were a mess at this point - face burning, heart racing.

“Oh my God,” you whispered weakly. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and you pull this now?”

His eyes widened, then softened into something so tender it made your chest ache.

“Wait, seriously? You’ve been into me this whole time?” he asked, with a little chuckle. 

“YES, YOU IDIOT,”

“Well, fuck.”

And then he kissed you, soft at first, then deeper, and you melted into him, tangling your fingers in his hair. It’s so messy and perfect and so stupidly hot you couldn’t think straight. You were pretty sure you would never recover from this. 

When you finally pulled back, he smiled and said, “So… that’s a yes to going out with me?”

You huffed and buried your face in his neck.

“You're such a moron.”

“Fair,” he laughed, kissing your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you. Starting with more of this.” 

He pulled you back in, and yeah, you’re done. 

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250

[keferon]

Part 4 of Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rods adventure in the mecha au!

Here comes the Sun do do do do- here comes the Sun at Mach five.

———————————————————————

Deadlock needed to kill something. Badly.

He’d kept it together through Ratchets confession. And he kept a relaxed mischievous banter going from the Hangar all the way to Ratchets makeshift clinic. When they finally arrived in Dead En-

The refugee camp. It was called a refugee camp and nothing else.

Deadlock almost transformed in the fragging middle of a refugee camp.

The memory snuck up on him okay?

Ever since he cracked open that one, tiny, memory from before he was Deadlock, pieces of Drift kept floating to the surface.

He gave Ratchet a quick goodbye, saying he needed something to eat. And sped off before the medic could question him.

He needed violence and isolation. Needed to reset his whole damn processor and banging his helm against a hard-organic-stick-thing? Whatever the fuck. Frag? Ugh. It wasn’t working.

He was shaky, couldn’t focus. His chassis felt like it was put inside a vise and someone who hated him had control of the handle.

Ratchet had been a breath of fresh air when Deadlock hadn’t even known he was buried alive. And since then the medic had been stubbornly digging him the rest of the way out.

It. Just felt good.

Being cared for. Being able to relax around someone. And knowing with absolute certainty it wasn’t just an act.

He got used to it. Comfortable with a certain level of vulnerability. Then Ratchet brought in Hot Rod.

If Ratchet was a breeze that slipped inside Deadlocks mental fortress, then Hot Rod was a Fragging bunker busting missile. None of it felt like he deserved it.

Ratchet laid out his spark for judgement. Because Ratchet, amazing and wonderful and impossible Ratchet, didn’t want Deadlock to be stuck with someone like him.

Something shitty inside him whispered, “What if Ratchet doesn’t want to be stuck with someone like him?”

He ignored it. Pushed it down. He didn’t leak coolant over slag like that. He didn’t need people like Ratchet or Hot Rod in his life. He just really, really wanted them in his life. For completely selfish Decepticon-y reasons.

You’d die for them you know.

Shut up.

Deadlock’s processor wouldn’t stop spinning.

He felt exposed.

He felt like slag.

He felt like Drift.

So Deadlock set out to do the most Deadlock thing he could think of.

———————————————————————

Deadlock fucked up.

Deadlock fucked up very badly.

Snow was getting caught in his optics, melting on contact into a slush that made it that much harder to see.

The fragging swarm of quintesson scouts surrounding him were not having that same problem.

They moved in a pack. Smaller and smarter than the standard issue quints that normally devastated the planet, these things unfortunately had a tiny sense of self preservation which made mowing them down that much more difficult.

Deadlock was forced to constantly turn on his peds to avoid the majority of the quints that kept going after his back. There wasn’t a moment he wasn’t beating them off with the stock of his rifle. He couldn’t switch to any close range weapons because if he stopped fighting them off for even a second, the quints would rush him all at once, forcing him to continue.

Couldn’t stop moving for the same reason.

They kept trying to get behind him. Snapping barbed tendrils at the backs of his knees, the gaps of his armor. Trying to force him down.

If I fall I’m dead.

Deadlocks vents were screaming. A brave little fragger went for his face, Deadlock swung his rifle like a bat.

Distraction.

Shooting pain went through the back of his left knee joint. Something with barbs was forcing it apart. Something tore.

Deadlock immediately brought down the barrel through an eye socket and pulled the trigger. Didn’t have time to register if the quint was dead before another one came at him from the opposite side. His peds dragged furrows through the earth and snow. Spinning. He had to keep spinning.

He was slowing.

If I fall I’m dead.

The quints redoubled their efforts to get behind him. More lashes at his back. Another quint darting the other direction. Didn’t even attack. But Deadlock wasn’t ready for the feint and swung at empty air.

The pack leapt at his back as one.

I’m going to die.

Deadlock wedged his rifle between him and the ground. The quintessons tore into his back but the weight was too much to throw off without help.

I’m not gonna see them again.

The rifle dug into his pauldron.

I don’t want to die.

A tendril wrapped around his neck. He clawed at it.

I don’t want to die like this.

One of them was dragging a ped backwards. Forcing his weight onto his injured knee.

I don’t want to die alone.

Drift screamed.

For a moment, from the corner of his blurry optics, he saw a light growing brighter and brighter.

“Huh”, Drift thought deliriously. “I always figured the last light you see before death would appear in front of you.”

IMPACT against the mob at his back sent Drift and the quintesson scouts scattering across the ground.

He fell.

He wasn’t dead.

Deadlock scrambled into an upright kneel, ignoring the lightning like pain shooting up his knee.

Leaning on his rifle, Deadlock saw another mech. Orange and gold with propane blue lights, he had multiple quints trapped in a bear hug. What hit him the hardest was an EM field overflowing with wild, unrestrained joy.

“HOT ROD?!?”

The mecha pilot only got about half the squirmy, bite-y little scrappers in the hold. The other half were quickly shaking off probable Roddy-induced concussions and began leaping at the nearest, newest prone target.

Hot Rod waved.

“Hey dude! Holy shit, that gun looks awesome!” Deadlock looked on in disbelief as more quintessons piled onto Hot Rod.

“What are you doing?! Rod get up!” Deadlock lurched to his feet, his last few thoughts repeated like a skipping track.

I was going to die. I was going to die. Hot Rod is going to die.

The cybertronian rushed towards the mecha. Hot Rod released the remaining quints who quickly turned to join the crushing mass subsuming him.

Hot Rod raised a hand, “Stop! Stop! Don’t get closer!”

Deadlock stopped just short of where the quints would turn on him. “Are you insane?! I’m trying to help you!”

“Just trust me!” Half of Hot Rod’s helm was covered in blackish tendrils. “And then help me in about five seconds!” Orange and gold disappeared under the writhing mass, the light snuffed out before Deadlocks optics.

He finally subspaced his rifle, switching to duel short range handguns that were both messy and loud. He counted five, fucking human seconds.

Something happened to the mass. The squirming suddenly stopped, and in the gaps of the knots surrounding Hot Rod, Deadlock saw something start to glow.

In the next instance, the quintessons exploded off of the mecha. Partially from the act of fleeing, entirely because Hot Rod was completely engulfed in flames.

“WOO! Now the party can get started!” Hot Rod wasted no time in engaging duel flamethrowers and began chasing after the remaining quints with manic glee.

Deadlock stopped questioning shit and started shooting with a vengeance.

Soon enough, the field around them was littered with the quintesson scouts burned and shredded remains.

Deadlocks vents were finally kicking down from maximum and he finally managed to wipe the stupid slagging slush out of his optics.

For the moment his eyes were offline, Deadlock felt a spike of happy that almost bowled him over. A half second before Hot Rod physically bowled him over.

Deadlock’s overtaxed fight or flight systems just gave the fuck up and let the tackle happen.

Hot Rod had him in a tight enough embrace he wasn’t sure he could have gotten away anyways.

“Holy shit I thought you were going to die.” Hot Rod crushed him to his chassis. The twin waves of Worry and Relief were doing things to his processor again. Deadlock (Drift?) was still feeling the aftershocks of it all. Memories skipped again. I’m going to die.

Dea-Dri- he wrapped his shaking arms around Hot Rod. Later, he could just say his knee gave out. Everything was spinning. Wait. No. Hot Rod picked him up and was spinning with him.

“You’re so lil now!” Hot Rod was ecstatic.

Deadlock was back. “Put me down. Gently.”

Hot Rod acquiesced, but seeing Deadlock nearly fall on his own, took the liberty of slinging one of his arms over his shoulders.

“M’kay. You look like shit. Need help walking back to Ratchets? Or can you drive?”

Deadlocks knee and entire back ached, but it wasn’t so debilitating once he’s had a chance to process it for a click.

“Uh, I think I’ll be okay to drive once I get to a road.” Hot Rod pulled him a little more securely into the supporting hold and started walking in the direction of the nearest road.

“Man, that’s still so cool you can do that. I wish I could turn into a car.”

Deadlock snorted, “Oh I’m sure if you keep practicing you’ll figure it out. Try stretching.”

Hot Rod laughed. It was so weird to think there was just a little guy in there. Sitting in like, a fancy cup holder. He sounded like the real thing. Moved like it too. If Deadlock hadn’t met Hot Rod the human first, the uncanny valley would have tipped him off something was wrong, but teeny tiny guy in a big person-puppet would not be his first guess.

Hot Rod stopped short, snapping his helm toward Deadlock.

“Wait. Do you ever drop off Ratchet at the shatterdome?”

Deadlock rolled his optics at the third near spark attack Hot Rod had given him that day.

“Yeeeah?”

Excitement started bubbling over.

“YOU’RE THE MOB BOYFRIEND?!” Hot Rod was stomping his peds while scream-laughing, probably because he couldn’t go for a run without dropping Deadlock.

“Dude! Dude dude dude. Pharma haaates you!”

Well that put Deadlock in a better mood. Albeit, only due to a “misunderstanding”.

“S’not like that. I just give him a lift sometimes. Make sure he doesn’t forget his lunch. Or to take care of himself. We’re not, you know.” Deadlock was pointedly looking the other direction.

Hot Rods cackled at the confirmation of the rumor, and his field steadily shifted towards mischief.

“Oooh Ratchet!” Hot Rod had begun speaking in a falsetto voice. “I love you sooo much! I’m from space but my favorite stars are the ones twinkling in your eyes! I wanna drive you to every beautiful place on this planet and when we finally come home we can watch Golden Girls while you pet my big bald metal head!”

“I’m going to punt you into a fragging Sun.”

Hot Rod laughed harder. He started making some weird wheezing noise that Deadlock hoped meant the imaginary strangling he was doing was working.

“THE UNICRON DAMNED SUN.”

Deadlock’s threatening was severely undercut by the fact that he was laughing now as well. They’d just about made it to the edge of the forest when Hot Rod asked a question that made Deadlock freeze.

“How’d you piss off so many scouts at once anyways? They’re normally way too spread out to all be grouped together like that.”

There were only two times when a pack of quintesson scouts were all gathered in the same place. When they first get dropped off, and when they gather to get picked back up.

Deadlock unhooked his arm from Hot Rod, turning behind them.

The change in air pressure made his finales tingle. Between the snow and the darkness, it was almost impossible to spot with the untrained optic. The snow had stopped falling. It was being blocked.

“Oooh shit.” Hot Rod checked the fuel levels on his flame throwers, glancing between those and the telltale green bio lights of the fuck off massive quintesson descending like the lethargic offspring of a meteor and a shark.

Deadlock brought out two of his heaviest duty guns. And then a third he handed handle first to Hot Rod. Ratchet had only warned him against encouraging Hot Rod’s stupid ideas.

Hot Rod was now looking rapidly between three points of interest.

“Wha-?”

Deadlock gave Hot Rod a gun.

“Do not tell Ratchet.”

Hot Rod held up the side arm. Focus zeroed in. Pretty nasty piece that looked more intimidating than it was. Slagged range but it packed enough of a punch to be worth keeping. Covered in spikes and blades and heavy enough to act as a crude but very nasty club, it was also one of the most over the top looking things Deadlock owned.

Hot Rod’s free hand started flapping faster and faster. His peds similarly bounced rapidly in place, until Deadlock was certain he was about to combust. Hot Rod was making A noise. One that was steadily rising in both pitch and volume. His field going supernova.

The quintesson broke through the clouds, maw open, carving up the earth before them with the bottom of its jaw. A cliffside of teeth was closing in at speed.

Hot Rod screamed.

And Deadlock followed suit.

Sprinting towards death, guns blazing and voices raised in preemptive victory, Deadlock and maybe also Drift, had a suspicion the he and Hot Rod were friends in every universe.

Much to the terror of everyone else.

———————————————————————

And that’s the soft finale to this tale!

Over the course of writing this, the story kept getting longer, but the two scenes it started with were “Hot Rod Meets Deadlock” and “Hot Rod Saves Deadlock” and then more ideas kept popping in between those two scenes.

There is more I plan on writing for these dipshits as well as Jazz and Prowl now but we’ll see what comes first.

I just wanted to say as well that @keferon you are a very talented writer and you’re the reason I was brave enough to share my own stuff. You fit so many little details into your work that just hits like a hammer down the line.

-SSTP

THE SWEET SWEET COMFORT YESSS THE SHENANIGANS!! ABSOLUTELY. Y E S. PL E A S E fklgjgidowjehrkrndhdof

Oh this is amazing. The dynamic you give them. The enERGY. It's like a candy for my soul I love it so so much ogkfhdgd I'm so happy you decided to share your writing! It's filled with joy and and I-dont-fucking-know purified enthusiasm?? I can't remember the right words rn but hopefully you get what I mean haha

[hoshifighting]

heyy there!!

I was wondering if you could write a fiction where the svt members give a silent treatment to the reader but she is too sensitive and starts crying (because she thinks she doesn't deserve them)

Please feel free to reject it if ur uncomfortable 😚😚

seventeen reaction when you start to cry when they give you a silent treatment

a/n: guyyyys im the worst with angst, but i tried!! 🙏

seungcheol the second you start shaking, he’s up on his feet, crossing the room and pulling you into a tight, crushing hug. he’s warm, solid, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “my fault, my fault, my fault,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “i should’ve been better. i should’ve stopped this. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i didn’t mean it.”

jeonghan’s regretting it the whole time. too good at keeping his distance, until he sees the tears running down your cheeks. then, he freezes “hey, hey…” he pulls you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “shit, i’m sorry. you know i was just being stupid, right?” he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his fingers through your hair. “don’t cry, baby. it kills me to see you like this.”

joshua he’s always so gentle, i dont even see him giving silent treatment to someone. he’s instantly at your side, cupping your face in his hands. “please don’t cry. i hate this. i hate that i made you feel like this.” his voice wavers as he presses his lips to your forehead, his touch feather-light. “i love you, okay? i’m so sorry. i should’ve never let it get this far.”

junhui’s been avoiding your gaze, trying to keep the silence going even though it’s killing him. that first broken sob makes him almost freak out, he’s at your side, his hands trembling as he touches your arm. “oh— i— no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice in purew panic. he gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

hoshi snapd. of course he snaps. he practically flies out of his seat, rushing over to you, arms wide. “oh, shit—no, no, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he blurts out, voice frantic as he wraps you up in the tightest hug, almost lifting you off the ground with how desperate he is. his fingers stroke your back awkwardly, trying to soothe you, and his voice is trembling.

wonwoo when he sees the tears fall, something inside him bursts. he’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he can’t just sit there while you’re crying. he pulls you gently onto his lap, his hand awkwardly stroking your hair. “i’m sorry, i don’t always know how to show it… but i care. a lot. i never wanted to make you cry.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his heart racing. “don’t cry, please. or I will cry too.” wonwoo says—already crying.

woozi stands up, awkwardly hovering for a second before pulling you into a tight hug. “fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair. “i didn’t mean to push you this far.” his grip on you tightens, and he rests his chin on your head, letting out a shaky breath. “i can’t stand seeing you like this.” fingers twitching like he’s about to break any second.

minghao crouches down now too, right in front of you. he doesn’t say much at first, just gently tugs your hands away from your face, his touch delicate, like he’s scared to break you even more. “this was stupid, i shouldn’t have done this. it was childish.” he holds your gaze, his eyes serious “you didn’t deserve that.” kisses the back of your hands, laying his head on your knees begging you for forgiveness.

mingyu is already full of shame before you even start crying. but when the sobs hit, he stops dead in his tracks. he rushes to you, kneeling down in front of you. his large hands cup your face, and his thumbs brush away your tears. “fuck, i never wanted to make you cry.” his voice cracks, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his head buried in your shoulder. looks like he’s about to break down himself.

seokmin gets on his knees beside you, eyes wide and watery, his usual smile completely gone. “my love i—” he says in this tiny voice, like he’s terrified he made everything worse. his hands flutter near your arm before he finally grips your sleeve like he needs you to believe him. “please don’t cry because of me.”

seungkwan’s been fidgeting the whole time, hating every second of the silence. thinking it couldn't get worse until you break in front of him “oh my god,” he blurts out, rushing over to you, his voice frantic. he pulls you into his arms, holding you as tight as he can. he lets out a shaky breath. “you’re everything to me. i’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

vernon is not sure how to fix it, thinking that in all ways, this sucked. the second you start crying, his chest tightens, and he’s at your side, pulling you into his lap. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, trying to look into your eyes, pressing his lips into a line when you look away. “i’m here, okay? i’m here.” he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

chan would be standing by the door, but the second you sob again, he’s crossing the room in three big steps, hands flinching to touch you and flinching back at him again as if he would burn you if he did. he would rather sit beside you still in silence, to find the best words since he hasn't talked during this whole time.

[wonderjanga]

Losing Freedom

Billy messed up. He knows he did. He should’ve been paying attention. If he had, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

Late at Night…

Billy: *walking down the sidewalk, lost in thought*

Cop: *sees him* “Young man!”

Billy: *stops walking and looks around confused*

Cop: “Young man.” *walks over* “What’re you doing out this late?”

Billy: “Uh… walking home.”

Cop: “At…” *looks to the sky and sees its pink* “nearly dawn?”

Billy: “Yes?”

Cop: “I see…” *suspicious* “Well, why don’t I and my partner escort you home?”

Now you must remember, Billy lives in a shitty apartment complex. He doesn’t want this cop seeing that. Not only that, but he also doesn’t want this cop knowing where he lives in the first place! So he does the only logical decision in his mind: he books it.

Billy: *runs off*

Cop: “Hey!”

Billy made it about a block away before he was tackled by the officer’s partner and taken him to the station. From there, they asked for his parents number and he told them that he didn’t have any. That was unfortunately the wrong move because they called a social worker in response. So now, Billy has this chick breathing down his neck and let him tell you, somehow, every single time he runs away from her… she finds him. He eventually just decides to stay in his Marvel form for a bit, hopefully until she forgets about him.

At the Watchtower, in a Rec Room…

Marvel: *laying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling, looking depressed*

JL: *peering in from the doorway, looking concerned*

GL: *completely unaware of Billy’s mood and the JL’s stalking* “Oh, hey Cap. You look… upset. Is something wrong?”

Marvel: “A social worker wants to take my free- er… son, I guess, away from me.”

GL: *concerned cause he looks dead inside* “Wha- Why?”

Marvel: “Cause they caught him out late at night.”

GL: “What was he doing out that late?”

Marvel: “I honestly don’t remember, but more importantly, with him in the system, I’ll lose all of my freedom.”

GL: “And your son?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh, yeah. Him too.”

GL: “You… don’t sound that concerned about him.”

Marvel: “Wha? Of course I am! Do you know how debilitating it is to go from family to family, praying for a good one, only for them to just disappoint you?”

GL: “…Were you a foster kid?”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

GL: “Dang… Well, I’m sorry, man. I don’t wanna see Junior separated from you too.”

Marvel: “Junior…?” *has to pause for a hot second* “Yeah… Right. I wouldn’t either.”

GL: “Look, I’m sure things’ll get better. Trust me.”

About a day Later…

Junior: *hanging out with the Teen Titans*

Robin!Tim: *walks in the room* “Junior? Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Junior: “Uh… sure?” *floats over, away from the other Titans*

Robin!Tim: “Right… How do I put this? Suppose I should just rip off the bandaid, yeah? Batman wants to adopt you.”

Junior: *extremely confused* “What??”

Robin!Tim: “Yeah, I know. It’s just…” *leans in the whisper* “Batman told me about the social worker, and he also told me to ask you if you wanted him to pull some strings and you temporarily placed in his care while we worked out getting you back to Cap.”

*silence*

Junior: “Dude, what are you talking about?”

Turns out that Billy never told Freddy about the social worker that was bothering him.

[rose24207]

Just a Salesman

Summary: Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

Genre: angst

TW: swearing, mention of death

A/N: Posting sm today wow. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Pt.2

Masterlist

You always believed in the goodness of people. Growing up in a small, close-knit town had shaped you that way.

You’d been the type to bake cookies for the elderly neighbor down the street, rescue stray animals, and donate whatever you could to people in need. When you met your husband, it felt like a gift from the universe.

He was everything you thought you’d never deserve: charismatic, attentive, and so gentle with you it made your heart ache. He would listen intently to your rambles about work, surprise you with your favorite pastries from the café downtown, and hold you close on cold nights when the world seemed too overwhelming.

You hadn’t known much about his work—“sales” was all he ever said—but it didn’t matter. He always came home to you, and that was enough. You admired how he seemed to understand people so easily, reading emotions and desires with an almost uncanny precision. He was your safe harbor, and you were his soft place to land.

But what made your marriage unique wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way you balanced him. Where he was logical and composed, you were emotional and empathetic. If he brushed off a stranger’s plight with practicality, you’d step in with a warm smile and offer help. He often teased you about your boundless kindness, calling you “his little bleeding heart,” but his tone was always fond.

“You’re too good for this world,” he’d whisper sometimes, brushing your hair behind your ear. You’d laugh, kissing his cheek.

“And you’re my world,” you’d reply, never missing the way his gaze softened.

You were blissfully unaware that the man you loved and trusted so completely was hiding a shadowy part of himself, one that was entirely at odds with the person you knew.

It was a chilly winter evening when your life began to unravel. You’d just finished preparing dinner, humming to yourself as you set the table for two, the flicker of candlelight adding warmth to the cozy living room.

Your husband had called earlier, saying he’d be late, but you didn’t mind waiting.

The knock at the door came suddenly, jolting you out of your thoughts. Expecting it to be a neighbor or a delivery, you opened it with your usual bright smile, only to find a man standing there, his face lined with rage and exhaustion.

“Can I help you?” you asked kindly, though his expression unnerved you.

“You already have,” he muttered darkly, stepping inside uninvited. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry—who are you talking about?” you stammered, retreating a step.

“Your husband,” he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Where is that bastard hiding?”

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” you said gently, though your hands were shaking. “My husband hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s just a salesman.”

“A salesman,” the man repeated with a bitter laugh. He fished a small card from his pocket and slammed it onto the table. You glanced at it, confused by the cryptic design.

“He gave me this,” the man continued. “And because of him, I had to watch people die. Because of him, my friends are dead! You’re married to a killer!”

The words pierced through you like shards of ice. “That’s impossible,” you whispered. “My husband would never—”

“Open your eyes, lady!” he shouted, making you flinch. “Do you even know who you’re married to?”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again. Your husband stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the stranger.

“Gi-hun,” he said calmly, closing the door behind him. “It’s been a while.”

Your heart sank as you turned to your husband, his usual warmth replaced with a cold, calculating smile you’d never seen before.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said softly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your blood run cold.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Not until you tell me what this is about. Why is he saying these things?”

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken truths. Gi-hun’s fury burned hotter as he stepped closer.

“She doesn’t even know, does she?” he sneered. “You’ve been lying to her this whole time.”

Your husband’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t her concern.”

“She’s your wife! She deserves to know the kind of monster she’s married to!”

“Enough,” your husband snapped, his voice firm but not raised. He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly. “Go upstairs, sweetheart. Please.”

You stood frozen, torn between obeying the man you loved and demanding answers. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision as the image of your perfect life began to crumble around you.

Thank you for reading!

[monstersholygrail]

Late to the Event

Bull Hybrid x fem!reader— fingering, rough sex, spanking, aftercare

Now it’s been proven myth that the color red makes a bull get riled up. But that doesn’t mean that seeing you all dolled up looking drop dead gorgeous in that deep red dress he bought for you doesn’t make your CEO Bull Hybrid bf feel nothing.

In fact, he can barely contain himself at the sight of you. And when you look up at him with those fuck me eyes, softly asking if you look alright he feels his restraint hanging on by a thread.

“You look like a million bucks, sugar,” he purrs. His nostrils flare as his tail flicks sharply behind him. Trying to keep his mind sharp and focused on the event tonight. But you are just so tempting.

Especially as you twirl around. Seemingly trying to get an even bigger rise out of him as you stop with your back to him, showing off your delicious curves.

“I don’t know, is the back too short?” You ask innocently. But he can hear the coy tone in your voice and his hands clench, a loud snort of breath leaving him.

Your bf is practically vibrating on the spot. His ears twitch and he leans forward, shaking his horns your way, completely unknown to you. The way you look in that dress has his cock straining against the seam of his slacks. He’s so fucking turned on by you that he can’t take it. He paws at the ground, subtly stomping down his hoof and pushing it back as if to charge.

A moment later with another rough snort he’s doing exactly that. Charging straight for you until he wraps his arms around your waist and pin your body against his, allowing no chance for escape. His massive bulge grinds into your back and you gasp, arching into it.

“What do you think you’re doing? Teasing me like this when you know we have to go to this event tonight,” he growls in your ear, his breath so hot and husky that it has chills rising up your arms.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t you lie to me, sweetheart. I think you need to be taught a lesson on what happens when you do,” he threatens you with a smirk on his lips. Not minding any consequences when it comes to you. Taking care of you, in any way, always comes first.

He shows you exactly what he means as he slips a hand under your dress, delving into your panties and checking to see how wet you are. Seeing just how much you were lying to him. His fingers slide through your folds and collect your slick, swirling his now soaked digits around your clit until you’re crying out.

“B-but we’ll be late to the event,” you try and rationalize. Not quite sure exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into. Your stomach a ball of nerves and undeniable arousal.

“They wouldn’t dare start until we’ve arrived now will you be a good girl and bend over for me or does your punishment need to include the rules on following orders?”

Without another word you bend over, resting your arms on your dresser. You whimper as his hands immediately drop from your clit. The clinking of a belt has you jumping out of your skin and you gasp as a moment later you feel your bf’s large tip nudging at your entrance.

“There’s a good girl,” your bf breathes as he slides his dick all the way inside your pussy with one solid stroke.

You moan loudly but before you can fully adjust to his size a hand cracks down on your ass and you yelp. It takes you a moment to realize your bf just spanked you but when you do your cunt immediately clenches down on his length and he growls. Knowing you’ll need a much firmer lesson.

With another slap to your ass right where he got you last that causes an even harsher sting, he starts up his pace, completely unrestrained as beast takes over man. His cock relentlessly pistoning in and out of you and his hand delivering in equal blows.

A symphony of pleasure rings throughout the room between the wet smack of your hips and his hand, the shaking of the dresser from the pure force of his thrusts, and the strangled moans ripped from your throat. His cock and his hand working in perfect harmony.

With every few brutal jerks of his dick comes a resounding blow to your aching bottom, and each time it sends you higher and higher. The pressure in your belly growing with every strike to your senses.

Your orgasm blows through you, taking you completely by surprise. A fierce shriek falls from your lips as your body seizes, desperately meeting his erratic thrusts and silently begging for his hand. Your bf roars, his hand swinging back and delivering a final thwack just as buries himself inside you to the hilt. He explodes inside you, filling your core with his hot semen till it overflows and begins dribbling down your thighs.

The two of you slowly rock, basking in the aftershocks as you work each other through your release. Your bf nuzzles into your neck, pressing affectionate kisses to your skin. But after a moment he gives your butt a playful pat and pulls out, his cum immediately gushing out of you. He’s right there to help you clean up without a word. When he’s done he kisses your cheek and gives your waist a gentle squeeze.

“Right then, now let’s get moving,” he rasps into your ear before turning and walking off to fix himself up as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just completely rock your world.

All while leaving you leaning heavily against the dresser and weak in the knees. Not knowing if you even can walk at the moment to get to the event. You stare after him like he’s officially gone insane.

“Baby!” You call out with a scolding tone.

Your bf chuckles boisterously and immediately swings around. A playful glint in his eye as he jogs back over to you.

“Yeah, I got you, love,” he rumbles in that sexy low voice of his as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder with ease given the huge monster he is. You shriek and scramble to hold onto him. He can’t help but laugh again before giving your bum a little bonus pat that has you squirming on his shoulder.

Luckily the limo ride to event is a long one…

[kxsagi]

not sure if youve done something like this before or if its too suggestive but maybe the reader is a little nervous to be intimate because she’s inexperienced or has never had a bf before? with isagi or anyone tbh

“𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲”

a/n: header image had everything to do with this post

definitely suggestive! 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, ness alexis, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu

isagi yoichi

he immediately notices you're nervous and his tone softens right away. 

he’s super patient, like, won’t even kiss you unless you give the tiniest nod of approval. 

“we don’t have to rush anything, okay? i just like being near you.” 

isagi would totally ask you what you're comfortable with, hands twitching a little at his sides because he also gets flustered when it’s serious. 

if you mention that you’ve never had a boyfriend before, he gets wide-eyed and a little red. 

“then… i’ll make sure your first is really good. not just like… that! i mean, like, relationship stuff!!” he panics and waves his hands around. 

he’s such a sweetie though, will always check in with you and hype you up like, “you’re perfect, you know that?” 

itoshi rin

stoic exterior but the moment you say you’re nervous or new to this, he blinks. 

“... that’s fine.” he says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s not a big deal at all. 

but inside? heart doing backflips because you trust him enough to say that. 

he’ll adjust instantly, pulls away a little, gives you space, his touches turn featherlight. 

he won’t tease. instead, he mumbles a quiet, “you can take your time with me.” 

might shyly lace your fingers together and just stay like that for a while. 

he respects your boundaries to a T, but lowkey gets a little possessive like, “you’ve never had a boyfriend before? then i’ll be the only one.” (he’s dead serious btw.)

nagi seishiro

when you admit you’ve never had a boyfriend, he tilts his head like, “huh… really?” 

not because he thinks it’s weird, but because he genuinely can’t believe someone as cute as you hasn’t had one before. 

he goes, “guess i’m your first then. sounds kinda nice,” with a lazy grin. 

he’s surprisingly gentle. like he’ll curl his arm around you when you’re nervous and go, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna, okay?” 

nagi’s love language becomes being near you – long hugs, head resting on your shoulder, casual hand holding. 

if you flinch or hesitate, he pauses and mumbles, “sorry… too fast?” 

then just flops next to you and opens a game. “wanna watch me play instead?” it’s his way of saying he’s happy just being with you. 

mikage reo

reo is so smooth but the moment you confess you're inexperienced, his face softens completely. 

“oh… hey, that’s totally okay. i’ll take care of you,” he says with the gentlest smile. 

he's a natural flirt, but he dials it back for you. goes from flirty to full-on boyfriend mode. 

“you don’t have to impress me, y’know. i already like you just the way you are.” 

if you’re nervous about kissing, he literally whispers “can i kiss you?” like it’s sacred. 

he spoils you with reassurance: “you’re doing great,” “you’re cute when you’re shy,” “i feel lucky to be your first.” 

will not shut up about how honored he is to be your first boyfriend. texts you “first bf privileges 😛” as a joke but is lowkey whipped. 

itoshi sae

he raises an eyebrow when you tell him, like, “never had a boyfriend? huh.” 

then gets this smug, slow smirk. “guess you’ve got good taste now.” 

but then he sees how genuinely anxious you look and his tone shifts immediately. 

“hey. it’s okay. i’m not going to rush you. ever.” 

he’s really good at reading your body language. if you tense even a little, he backs off with zero complaints. 

instead of being touchy, he becomes comforting, like letting you wear his hoodie, brushing hair behind your ear, soft glances. 

if you ever cry or feel embarrassed, he’ll literally hold you and mumble into your ear: “don’t be ashamed of that. i’ll go slow. you don’t have to be perfect with me. just be you.”

shidou ryusei

when you say you’ve never had a boyfriend, he blinks. 

“you’re tellin’ me no one’s ever hit that?” cue your face going red. 

he laughs when you get flustered, but his tone changes quick once he realizes you're actually nervous. 

“okay, okay, sorry. i’ll behave. promise.” 

he genuinely tries to dial it down, even if it kills him to not be all over you. 

surprisingly good at physical comfort. throws an arm around you lazily and lets you hide your face in his hoodie. 

whispers stuff like, “you’re cute when you’re shy,” and then immediately goes, “wait, sorry, was that too much?” 

lowkey proud to be your first. wanted to ruin everyone else’s chances from the start. 

kaiser michael

“you’ve never had a boyfriend?” he says with that signature smirk, but something soft flickers in his eyes. 

he gets cocky for a second: “figures. you’ve got high standards.” 

but then his expression shifts, and he actually looks… serious. 

“i won’t mess this up,” he says, more to himself than you. 

kaiser can sense hesitation in a heartbeat. he reads you like a book (well he does read psychology books). 

instead of teasing, he leans in and says, “tell me what makes you comfortable. i’m listening.” 

runs a hand down your arm slowly, like he’s testing the waters, and waits for your reaction. 

terrifyingly good at making you feel like the only girl in the world, but also shockingly gentle when it counts. 

ness alexis

he freezes the moment you confess you're nervous about intimacy. 

“oh… oh no, did i do something wrong? i didn’t mean to rush anything!” 

poor baby panics a bit, apologizing and waving his hands around. 

once you explain, he calms down and becomes the sweetest boy ever. 

“thank you for trusting me with that,” he says with a pink blush on his cheeks. 

he’s super respectful and extra careful after that, asks before everything, even hand-holding. 

will write you little notes like “you make my heart beat really fast” and leave them in your bag. 

he's just so honored to be your first that he treats the relationship like it’s the most precious thing ever (because to him, it is). 

karasu tabito

“wait… seriously?” he raises a brow, not mocking, just surprised. 

then he leans back with a teasing grin: “guess that means i get to corrupt you, huh?” 

you smack his arm, and he laughs, but quickly softens when he sees you're actually nervous. 

“hey… i’m kidding. mostly.” he nudges your shoulder. “you don’t gotta prove anything to me.” 

he’s smooth, but chill. sits with you on the floor, back-to-back, talking about random things until you’re comfortable. 

if you get shy, he shifts into “calm big brother best friend energy” mode and jokes around to make you laugh. 

but then he’ll randomly drop a line like, “y’know, it’s kinda cute being your first. i’ll make it worth it.” 

yukimiya kenyu

his first instinct is to reassure you. 

“thank you for telling me. i’ll make sure to be extra mindful of how you feel.” 

he’s the kind of guy to ask permission before leaning in or even brushing your hair behind your ear. 

yukimiya is elegant with his words: “i don’t want to rush something so important. you deserve tenderness, not pressure.” 

the type to take your hand gently and rest it over his heart so you can feel how fast it’s beating, too. 

absolutely adores the fact he gets to be your first, but never brags about it. 

just smiles to himself like he’s memorizing the moment, tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and murmurs, “you’re doing so well. i hope you know how beautiful you are.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[sailornymph]

is there any way you could please do the founders with a wife from the other clan? (Madara with a Senju wife, Hashirama and Tobirama with an uchiha wife) Is like it to be smutty but if not I completely get it

closer; founders

synopsis — hashirama and tobirama with a uchiha wife & madara with a senju wife

content warning — exhibitionism, edging, tobirama lowkey being prejudice

♡︎ hashirama senju

— you’re very involved with the uchiha children when you catch his attention, you spend your time helping them learn how to properly use their sharingan and jutsu

— many have questions for him about the new village and his position as hokage, but you caught his attention, amongst all the men, being worried about the well-being of the uchiha children

— despite the dirty looks the men give you, you ignore them, waiting for hashirama to answer

— he can’t deny his gravitation to you, your intelligence, your love and hope for a better future for the children, you were like him

— you end up working very closely with him to make sure the uchiha aren’t excluded, he promised repeatedly he wouldn’t allow it to happen, but you didn’t trust his words

— before izuna’s death, a relationship bloomed between the two of you. it becomes important to you to integrate the uchiha clan with the others, to become one village

— however, with izuna dead and tobirama to be the blame, madara advises that you stay away from the clan, if you are choosing to love a senju

— shortly after, konoha is established and you have an extravagant wedding, only a few uchiha showing up secretly

— although you become an outcast to your clan, when madara disappears, they embrace you again, due to your constant activism for the people

— hashirama is the most doting husband and is completely in love with everything about you, your beauty, brains, body, and personality, you were a complete catch

— so in love that you will have more than four children because he can’t get off of you and he has a lot of love to give

— he will not only leave a legacy of being the god of shinobi, but many will remember him for his beautiful marriage and how he and his wife were constantly advocating for a change

“hashi, are you not exhausted?” you moaned, as he traced his hand down your back arch.

“how could i be? you promised we would have all night, the boys will be back in the morning and we agreed to try for a girl,” he said, leaning down, kissing along your spine. he had an unnatural libido, he could keep going all night and still wake up, energized.

“are you really sure you want another kid, i mean four boys aren't enough?”

“i want an army of children, if i’m having them with you”

“after all those rounds, you don't think it worked,” you asked, as he moaned lowly in your ear.

“do you want to stop? we can stop, if you're tired,” his smile dropped.

“just one more, i can only take one more,” you said, as he nodded, kissing your neck.

“one more,” he repeated, pushing his cock deeper into your pussy.

moaning loudly, you pressed your face into your shared futon. lifting your hips, he slightly pushed down on your back, deepening your arch. moving your dark hair, he groaned, at the clear view of your body.

“look at me, fuck, you're so beautiful,” he moaned, as you looked back, slowly fucking him back.

“it feels so good, hashi, feeling me up with your seed,” you panted, gripping the fluffy blanket, as he held your hips, bringing you back onto his cock over and over.

“yeah, you want this last load, take it sunshine, it's yours,” he groaned, throwing his head back, a lazy smile on his face. you were taking his cock like a good girl, the determination mixed with lust in those dark eyes, biting your soft bottom lip, as you repeatedly brought your hips back onto him. he wanted to make this round last, but you were fucking him too good, he didn't know how much more he could take.

clenching around his cock, you bit the pillow, muffling your moans, as he kept thrusting, before he grunted, cumming inside.

“how was that?” you asked, tiredly smiling.

“perfect, absolutely perfect, come closer, let me hold you before our children steal you away in the morning,” he grinned, pulling you into his arms, and kissing your lips.

♡︎ madara uchiha

— along with hashirama, you are one of the only senju clan members who isn’t treating the uchiha people like monsters

— as your older cousin, hashirama shares his plans to make a village and allow everyone to integrate, you take it upon yourself to begin to teach others your jutsu, it didn’t matter where they were from

— which is how you met, defending one of your uchiha students from a man, madara happened to be passing by, and while he intended to intervene. he didn’t expect to see you kick the man to the point where he would fly

— he finds himself sitting afar, watching as you trained the group of inexperienced people. people walked past speaking to him, but his eyes were focused on you

— too many people are becoming distracted, some scared, some amazed, seeing madara uchiha sitting in the grass, you stump over, asking him what he is doing and he’ll say something annoyingly sweet like, watching you, you’re a beautifully strong woman

— this becomes a part of his routine, squeezing in activities like getting lunch together, or walking you home before he boldly asks you to be his girlfriend. he is a man who knows what he wants, so it won’t be long before an engagement.

— during the planning of your wedding, you manage to convince both clans to get along for the wedding, since you have are very kind to both clans and likable to nearly everyone, you end up having a large wedding

— however, after the death of izuna, you become isolated. hashirama wants you to continue being the face of integration, tobirama hates you for ruining your bloodline, and madara is hot and cold, worried that you will betray him for the senju clan and you can't take the stress

— you only have one child, and madara only becomes more power hungry with time, before he is suddenly gone, said to be dead, leaving you to raise your son alone

— you are reanimated alongside hashirama and tobirama and when madara is defeated, he apologizes for how he treated you in your final year together and reassures you that he has always loved you and constantly watched you and your shared son, from the shadows, up until then both of you passed away

“oh my god, madara,” you cried, as he pounded into your pussy.

“keep your leg up, angel,” he kissed your ankle, as it sat on his shoulder

“oh my-it’s so big,” you arched your back on the soft grass. you were supposed to only have a picnic, but you didn’t expect him to look so handsome today.

“do you like this cock, don’t you?”

“yes, you’re fucking me so good,” you whined

“you want me to cum in this pretty pussy, use your words?” he asked, increasing his speeding of thrusts.

“yesyes- wait, madara, i think i need to pe-

“no you don’t,” he interrupted, grabbing your hands, stopping you from pushing him away, while he continued his thrusting.

with your legs shaking, you moaned louder, your legs spreading as you squirted all over his cock. before you could apologize, he was hungrily slipping back into your eager hole.

“you’re such a slutty girl, i love you,” madara said, his hands tracing down your body, you were perfect.

“i’m cumming,” you whined, as he kept a steady pace, until he finally let out a grunt, filling you up with his cum.

“i didn’t expect you to be so wild this time, you must have really missed me,” you teased.

“come closer, you’re too far away, tell me why hashirama needed my wife for nearly three days,” he said, nearly sitting you in his lap.

“it was so stupid, madara, it started with him using wood release in his house, he’s such an idiot-

you began to explain to madara, he had a small grin on his face, his hands caressing your back. you could see in his eyes alone just how in love he was.

♡︎ tobirama senju

— you met when he was being rude to a uchiha, leading to you screaming at him

— he stared with wide eyes, confused by who dared to talk to him in such a disrespectful way and he was surprised to see a beautiful woman

— from this moment forward, he noticed you much more than ever, you were a decent shinobi, but an excellent voice for the clan, oftentimes speaking against the injustices they'd felt

— he eventually asks you for to be brought to his office, he thinks you're beautiful, but he will not allow another madara to arise from the clan

— you are more intelligent than he gave you credit for, degrading him with grace, he couldn't deny your words cut like a knife. although, once you start to share your ideas, he stops listening, observing you, you're rather pretty to be fully uchiha, the dark hair and nice eyes, and your figure

— he straightforwardly asks you to join him for dinner, under the pretense of you sharing more of your beliefs and ideas

— this becomes regular and soon enough you find yourself accepting his advances because you can't deny the second hokage is a bit charming and handsome

— drama will occur during the wedding when you want to incorporate your clan, but he doesn't. he ends up having to swallow his pride when you threaten to end your engagement if he doesn't welcome the uchiha with open arms

— he doesn't see you as a uchiha, you're a senju now after all, but he kind of blocks out where you come from and looks at you as an individual

— despite his dislike for the clan, he is a very attentive husband and amazing father, having two children with you

— while you don't give up on your clan, or the entirety of your marriage, tobirama doesn't lessen his dislike for the clan, he just doesn't see his family as a part of those people

“y/n, stop with the games,” he grumbled. sitting in his chair, his legs spread as you stroked his cock. every time he was close to finally releasing, you stopped.

“games? i’m being unfair, like you, how you're being strict on those uchiha boys, how are you such a hypocrite? you hate them, but you have no problem fucking one, so cruel,” you spat, spitting on your hand, before continuing to pump. feeling his cock twitch, you slowed down, stopping.

“oh? you need to cum? that's too bad, isn't it?”

“please, y/n, baby, let me c-

“if only you could release those boys to their families, can't you do it for me? i would reward you so much, you could fuck me as much as you wanted, i might even think about another child, like you've been asking,” you said, slowly massaging his shaft.

“okay, okay, anything, just please, suck it, anything,” he begged, this was nice for a change to see him being so vocal, sweat beads dripping down his neck as he groaned and whimpered.

“you're getting closer, i feel how stiff your poor cock is, but if you promise to keep your word, then i will make it go away”

“i promise,” he nodded, groaning as you stroked his base, your tongue going to twirl around his pink tip. his semen squirted all over your tongue, as you swallowed it all.

once the high came down, he helped you into his lap, his large hand caressing your ass, holding you close.

“will you please keep your promise?” you asked, making him roll his eyes.

“only for you, i don't get why you insist on helping them, you are no longer a uchiha-

“mom, we were only playing and tashi fell and now her eyes are red,” your son, suzuki knocked on the door worriedly.

“i’m coming,” you answered, getting dressed.

“i may be a senju by marriage, but your children are half uchiha, it is time you act like it,” you continued, rushing out of the room.

[carlsangel]

MY PARENTS’ RINGS

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl have been “married” since childhood.)

tags: flufffff, slight angst, mentions of death.

masterlist here!

You’ve known Carl since you were born. Your moms were bestfriends from high school who’d miraculously gotten pregnant around the same time which, naturally, made you best friends as well. You can’t remember your guys’ first play date, you’d been having sleepovers with him every weekend as well.

Around kindergarten, there was an activity in class where you guys could make jewelry. Carl at the time was completely in love with you, although then you weren’t particularly interested in boys and were more interested in exploring and adventures, you needed someone to go on adventures with.

So, when he’d walked up to you on the playground with the ring he made very poorly, your five year old brain knew exactly where it was going. He proposed to you right there in the pokey wood chips under the slide which by the way was covered in cobwebs. How romantic. You thought that if he’d gone on many adventures with you previously, if he was your husband he’d be forced to be your adventure partner. So you said yes. On the condition he’d be by your side for all your escapades. “Anything for you angel.” He responded.

He held you to it, too. He’d continue to call you his wife and angel, a nickname that’d stick for the rest of your childhood. Everyone knew how much he’d loved you and how much he protected you from anything that could possibly harm you in any way. There was a spider in your room? He’d kill it. Someone was bothering you? He’d help you work it out. You got in an argument with your parents? He was close enough with them to argue with them for you. You ended up helping him through the death of his own father who was also someone you’d looked up to for a long time.

Then, the apocalypse started. You were at Carl’s house with Lori when Shane had arrived to round everyone up. They’d return back to your house to rally up your parents but when Shane went inside to get them, you heard his gun go off a couple times.

He walked out that house alone with a big frown on his face.

So you sobbed the whole time and Carl cuddled your side, holding your hand and occasionally shed some tears. He helped you process it, granted you both were ten but he knew what it was like to lose a parent. When Rick came back, he apologized oddly enough. “Angel…I’m sorry my dad came back.” He told you as you hid in the blanket on your cot that was set up in the Grimes’ tent. You flipped over on your side to look at him. “Why did yours get to come back and not mine?”

Your guys’ “marriage” hit a rough patch to say the least. At some point, Carl walked up to Rick with the dilemma. “My wife is mad at me…how do you make mom feel better?” He asked. Rick informed Lori on the situation and she helped you understand. So from there you dropped your little grudge and realized that you loved Carl back. It only took you maybe five years and yeah you were quite young to know you loved him the way you did, but he was the only person in your life who’d stay consistent; even with the world dying.

A good amount of time had passed, when Shane died the first thing you wanted to do was take anything he possibly had on him. So, you took his 22 necklace and his jacket. Handling his dead body that young wasn’t ideal but you needed to remember him. You shoved his necklace in your pockets and threw his jacket on before escaping from the walkers flooding into the farm.

Upon finding safety, you pull out Shane’s necklace to discover he’d kept your parents rings on his necklace. You didn’t say anything about it, you hid them for the right time. He’d notice them later but he kept quiet about it.

You’d gone through the prison, then Terminus. It felt like Carl had never stopped touching you throughout everything. He was holding your hand or maybe even had his hand gripping your thigh. He’d reassure you by holding you or kissing your cheek repeatedly. He made sure you were well fed while you and the group were on the road after losing Beth. “Here, Angel, take this.” He handed you half of his granola bar.

“Angel, need some water to wash that down?” Abraham nudged a water bottle your way, Carl looked at him funny which caught a couple people’s attentions. Abraham looked around. “What?” He questioned. No one really responded but Tara spoke up, clearing her throat awkwardly before speaking. “I’ve uh…I’ve learnt that ‘Angel’ is just a Carl thing.” She explains. Abraham processes and Rick sort of laughs. “Yeah I’ve known her since she’s was born…he won’t even let me call her that either.” He looks to Carl with a teasing smile, prompting the others to sort of smirk and giggle themselves. “Well my apologies.”

Carl gives Abraham a forgiving nod.

Getting to Alexandria was like a breath of fresh air. You and Carl were able to be somewhat of a normal teenage couple who could go on dates and make out in places they shouldn’t. He helped ease your nerves with the new environment, despite his own considering he didn’t know how real Alexandria really was.

He’d fallen more and more in love with you. At some point he’d brought up your kindergarten marriage.

“Do you remember when you said yes when I proposed to you in kindergarten?” He smiled at you as you leaned your head on his shoulder. The two of you were stargazing on a bench by Alexandria’s pond. “Yeah you’ve never let me forget it.” You respond with a small giggle. He pulled back to look at you. “Well I was thinking…with the way the world is and everything.” He chuckles nervously, looking down at your hands which were tightly gripping each other’s, “Maybe we can really be married.”

He stared at you, anticipating your answer. “Well, I dunno what you mean, we’ve been married this whole time.” You say sort of jokingly, causing him to smile, “I think you just mean official rings. I mean we’ve held the label this whole time. Not to mention you’ve stuck to your vows.” You remind him of how he’d promised to stick with you throughout everything. He nods for a moment, his eyes lingering on your face as he admires how beautiful you are in the light of the pretty moon. “Official rings would be nice.”

Without another word, you pulled your hand away, causing Carl’s expression to drop a tad as you dig into your pocket. Your hand comes back out of your jeans in a fist and you stick your hand out, gesturing for him to put his own out. He places his hand out flat and you drop two rings, the metals knocking into each other with a small clink as he looks into your eyes. “Wait really? Aren’t these…” His voice trails off and he looks at you intently.

“My parents’ rings.”

There’s a moment of silence before you take your dad’s ring from his palm and take his left hand, slipping it gently onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly, almost like it was fitted to him. He looks at it for what felt like ages before taking your mother’s ring in his hand. He gently held your left hand, sliding it on to your ring finger. The two of you put your hands between your bodies and just stare.

He tilts his head back up to look at you and before you could fully look at him he kissed you, gently holding the side of your face while he did so.

It was one of the thousands of kisses he’d given you, but this one was different.

Maybe you could go on honeymoon.

a/n: so anon actually wanted this full of fluff but i couldn’t help myself with some parts of angst LMAOOO sorry anon i hope u still like it. i actually think this is the cutest fucking thing i’ve written in a long ass time I LOVEEE IT SM!!! also for those who’ve been waiting for let me make it up to you part two THAT SHITS BEEN OUT idk not as many ppl saw it and there’s sm smut in that shit >_< anyway thank u sm for this cute ass request it was so fun to write and it got me out of my writing funk :)))

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh

[svtiddiess]

Hey! Can I request prompt

139. character introduces you to someone. “this is my girlfriend/wife!” (specify). you turn to them in confusion, becoming flustered. “yeah... your girlfriend/wife.”

With cheol? Maybe they're sworn enemies (one-sided)? Thank youuu

"This Is My Wife!"

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: non-idol! au, spy! au, drabble

Rating: sfw

Word count: 0.4k

Note: This was super fun to write. I might make this into a full fic one day.

Your heart pounds in your chest as security guards close in around you. This wasn't part of the plan. You weren't supposed to get caught—slipping into the black auction undetected should have been easy. But the invitation your spy agency secured for you turned out to be a bust.

Your eyes dart across the men surrounding you, mind racing for a way out.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The voice cuts through the tension, deep and unmistakably familiar. A voice you've come to know all too well since becoming a spy.

Choi Seungcheol—leader of the biggest mafia in all of Asia.

The guards stiffen, turning toward him in alarm. To your complete surprise, Seungcheol strides over and wraps an arm around your waist.

"This is my wife," he announces, his tone sharp with warning. "And I don't appreciate you making her uncomfortable."

You stare up at him, utterly bewildered, heat rushing to your face. But if this is your only way out, then fine. You’ll play along.

"Yeah…I'm his wife," you say hesitantly.

The men exchange wary glances before backing off, clearly unwilling to test Seungcheol’s patience. Scoffing, he guides you into the building.

"You're welcome for that, kitten," he purrs in your ear once you’re inside.

You scoff right back, shifting in his grip, but his hold is firm.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he murmurs. "Unless you want to end up dead. This place is crawling with security, and I’m the only thing keeping you safe. So be a good wife and stick close to your dear husband." A smirk tugs at his lips as he pulls you in even closer.

You glance around, dread pooling in your stomach. He's right. Guards lurk at every corner, ready to swarm at the first sign of trouble. Like it or not, Seungcheol is your best bet.

"Fine," you sigh, reluctant. "But don't try anything funny, Choi. Or I’ll make sure you're locked up for good."

He chuckles. "You've been trying to lock me up for months now, kitten. Doesn’t seem to be working out too well for you."

You roll your eyes, but before you can retort, he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Don't worry, darling wife," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "I'll make sure you're very well protected under my watch."

With a firm squeeze of your waist, he leads you deeper inside. You can only hope this won't end in disaster.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @brownsugarbaybee

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

BETWEEN BRUSHES AND GLOSS:

Chishiya x Reader

Requested: Chishiya finally lets Reader put a little makeup on him.

WARNING: Flirty energy...

-----

"Again with Kuina?" Chishiya asked when the woman stepped onto the rooftop where he had been hanging out for the last thirty minutes.

"Yeah, sorry about that. We started talking, and one thing led to another, and I lost track of time… Have you been waiting long?" Y/N replied as she sat down next to him, looking up at the sky. The sun had started to set, casting the sky in shades of red and orange.

"What’s this?" Chishiya asked, brushing his thumb lightly over her lower lip, wiping off some of the lipstick.

"Oh, it’s lipstick. Kuina found it the last time she went out… I don’t love the color, but I guess there’s not much to choose from in Borderlands," she laughed, pulling his hand away. "Honestly, this color would look better on you than on me. You know, with your hair and skin tone…"

"Y/N…" he warned. It wasn’t the first time she’d suggested putting makeup on him, and even though he’d said no plenty of times, she always seemed to bring it up.

"Okay, okay," she laughed, dropping the subject and leaning her head on his shoulder. "Sorry I’m late," she whispered.

"It’s fine," he replied.

They stayed on the rooftop, watching the last of the sunlight fade away and the stars start to appear, like little beams of hope piercing the darkness, momentarily chasing away all the pain and suffering in the world. When the pool lights flickered on and the noise of people began to echo from below, the couple left.

Kuina liked pretty things—makeup, clothes, and, apparently, stressing out her white-haired friend, who had recently become a little touchy about the subject of his girlfriend.

"Y/N told me she’d love to walk down a runway someday, did you know that? With how clumsy she is, she’d probably trip."

Chishiya didn’t know that, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Kuina seemed to know more about Y/N in the past few days than he’d learned over the years of being together.

"She also told me she’d like to see how you look with some eyeliner… Would it kill you to let her have that little pleasure?"

He did know that.

"You two are obsessed with makeup."

"No, I’m obsessed with makeup, and Y/N’s obsessed with you with makeup," Kuina laughed.

Chishiya rolled his eyes inwardly, keeping his stoic exterior.

"I’m back!" Y/N suddenly burst in, swinging a small cylindrical bottle. "Found the gloss we lost. Turns out it was under the bed and… oh, what are you doing here?" She stopped dead when she saw Chishiya sitting behind Kuina’s desk.

"I had nothing to do," he said, repeating the phrase he’d forced himself to say until it sounded believable.

"Oh, okay! Sit down, Kuina, I wanna start with those eyeshadows you brought the other day." Chishiya tried to ignore the knot forming in his stomach as the girl walked past him, completely ignoring his presence, her bright, sparkling gaze directed only at Kuina. Was that jealousy he was feeling?

"Wow, you’re really good at this!" Kuina said after a while, admiring her reflection in a small hand mirror.

"Well, it helps that my model is so gorgeous," Y/N joked, winking at the other woman and pushing her chin up.

Chishiya’s eyes darkened, and he cleared his throat. Was that what they did when he wasn’t around? Had he been letting his girlfriend flirt openly with Kuina, who clearly loved playing along?

"Is something wrong?" Y/N asked, catching his gaze.

"Nothing. I didn’t know you were such a pro at makeup now," he said, a slight edge of mockery in his voice, trying to hide his frustration.

"She really is an artist, isn’t she? Perfect," Kuina chimed in, standing up to pick Y/N up in her arms. The girl immediately wrapped her legs around her waist and spun in the air, giggling.

Chishiya stood up from his chair, feeling a fire burning inside him, and with exaggerated indifference, he decided to stop the scene.

"So is this an exclusive club, or can anyone join?" he asked, hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the tension in his body.

"Are you serious?" Kuina asked, lowering Y/N to the ground carefully, her eyes glinting mischievously.

He ignored her and focused solely on his girlfriend.

"Are you gonna do my makeup too, or do I have to sit here and watch?"

"Do you really want me to do your makeup?" Y/N asked, her surprise clear.

"If it means you won’t hog all your time with her…" he muttered under his breath.

Y/N laughed when she realized his real intentions.

"Alright, sit down, lover boy, let’s see what I can do," she said, taking her wrist out of her pocket and leading him to the bed.

Chishiya let himself flop down with a sigh, which broke off when Y/N climbed onto his lap, her legs folded beside his hips. As usual, he wrapped his arms around her waist in a way that felt way too intimate, especially with Kuina still in the room.

"Let’s see… Kuina, pass me the eyeliner," Y/N said, as though she noticed the tension in Chishiya’s body.

Kuina was stunned by Y/N’s boldness and couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on Chishiya’s face. It wasn’t easy to catch the guy off guard.

"Here you go, makeup master," Kuina said, handing her the eyeliner with an exaggerated bow.

"Thanks… Relax, Chishiya," Y/N said, giving him a light squeeze on the shoulder. "Or do you not trust me?" she joked.

Chishiya didn’t answer. Well, not with words anyway. He shot her a look that could kill, but he didn’t move when she leaned in to start her work.

The process was meticulous, carefully applying fine lines, enduring Chishiya’s constant gaze burning into her. When she met his eyes again, she could’ve sworn she saw a small blush spread across his cheeks. When it came time for the gloss, though, she lost her rhythm, captivated by those slightly parted lips, now glistening with a subtle shine that caught the light, making her catch her breath. She didn’t miss the mischievous smile he flashed, fully aware of how she was reacting. She tugged at his chin, pushing his head up in a ridiculous attempt to pretend she was admiring her work.

"Anything else?" Chishiya asked, his voice low and full of layers, pulling himself out of her grip. He looked at her intensely and tightened his hold on her hips.

"No, I’m done," she said, trying to calm the nervousness growing inside her.

One way or another, Chishiya always managed to take control of every situation. Even this one—with her sitting on his lap, brush and gloss in hand—he took charge with nothing but a smile and a look full of promise.

"You’re not gonna see yourself reflected in her eyes no matter how hard you try, Chishiya," Kuina said, breaking the tension between the couple, who were still staring at each other. "Here," she handed him a mirror.

Chishiya took it, flashing a smile without taking his eyes off Y/N. When he finally looked at his reflection, he had to admit he liked what he saw: the eyeliner accentuated his already sharp features, and the gloss added a subtle volume to his lips.

"It’s fine," he said finally.

"Just fine? Admit it, Chishiya, you love it," Y/N teased, adding a little more gloss to his cheek.

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t pull away.

"Bold fashion would look good on you too," she said, drawing patterns on his face with the new product, starting to laugh when he began pinching her sides, tickling her.

"And here’s where I… say goodbye," Kuina said, though her voice was drowned out by their laughter filling the room.

When the door clicked shut, Chishiya stayed still for a moment, watching her. The sound of Y/N’s laughter lingered in the room, like a melody that soothed him. In that moment, he realized he’d let her do his makeup as many times as she wanted, be her test subject, or anything else she needed—just so that her attention, her laughter, and that spark in her eyes were all for him, and him alone.

© 2024 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

---

I'm back! 😊

I hope you enjoyed it! It was so much fun writing something a little different from what we usually see with the character, but I tried to keep him true to himself.

Let me know what you think! ✨

[not-neverland06]

big bad wolf

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up. 

SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)

Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)

You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?

You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you. 

When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No. 

You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing. 

“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down. 

You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it. 

It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end. 

You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie. 

So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path. 

You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck. 

You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!

It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady. 

You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline. 

You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you. 

You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second. 

Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go. 

“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it. 

“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath. 

You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this. 

His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier. 

He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear. 

You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward. 

“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on. 

“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that. 

He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”

His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.

His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you. 

You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you. 

He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. 

He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh. 

Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another. 

Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this. 

He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. 

The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you.  It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust. 

Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure. 

Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up. 

He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”

After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance. 

He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse. 

“Don’t push it,” he snaps. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡