#i am cutting out the part where i loop back to why this is the fault of capitalism

[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

[4dbarbie-archive]

4dbarbie remix: Give up and Be Free

Hello! It's been a while since my last remix. I felt spontaneously inspired to make this based on my most favourite 4dbarbie asks. This one's a bit different as this time I got help from AI so they did a lot of the legwork and I made edits as I saw fit, it definitely cut down on the amount of time it takes to make a remix! I asked them to write it in a conversational tone like a friendly guru talking to me so some of the wording has been changed (which can sometimes be helpful in understanding the message in a new way) so it's not entirely 4dbarbie's words verbatim but the message remains the same (feel free to check out the source texts if you wish!). Hope you enjoy!

Edit: This is based on 4dbarbie's guide to a new identity but you can do it with I AM in mind instead (replacing paragraph 6) for self-realization

My highlight colour key: key concepts are in pink, action points in purple, really important points in red

Source texts: 1, 2, 3, 4 Recommended reading: 1, 2, 3, 4

Welcome, my friend. Let me guide you through something deeply transformative, yet so simple it might surprise you. First and foremost, you need to get to a place within where the person you’re identified with no longer bothers you. As long as you fight it and try so hard & incessantly to change it, you're only giving it further reality. It’s not about force or willpower—it’s more of a surrender, or as I prefer to call it, a giving up. Yes, giving up. Because even if you're not happy about what you see, there is no way around it besides accepting it. Even if this feels like misery at first, accept it. Just sit with it. Only when you no longer fear things staying the same, when you cease caring, does true change begin.

You see, I didn’t fake being unaffected. I simply allowed things to happen to “me”. Painful, pleasant, it didn’t matter. I didn’t try to change anything. I let go of the exhausting loop of desire and fear, like finally putting down a heavy load. The emotions still came, but I didn’t involve myself with them. They didn’t interest me anymore, I became indifferent and neutral to whatever was happening. If I got what I wanted, fine. If I didn’t, fine again. Events passed by like clouds—leaving no imprint, no reverberation. In time, it was like they never existed at all.

And here’s the beautiful part—you’ll begin to toy with this idea: “What if none of this ever really existed in the way I thought?” It’s playful and not serious because you've stopped caring. You’ve stopped chasing “realization”, stopped chasing anything. There's no more trying, no more effort. You no longer want or need anything. And in place of needing nothing, you find something you never expected: power. Not power over things, but power in yourself, in your complete detachment from the world. When you reach this point, everything else becomes secondary.

So how do you walk this path? Start by giving up. Give up the idea that you can control anything. You can do nothing about life but cease caring and let it happen. Do not try to understand anymore; simply be. Let everything be as it is. Let life happen. After all, we all die one day, and it’ll all be over anyway. Why exhaust yourself worrying, fearing, striving or desiring? It’s like fighting an ocean tide—you’re just tiring yourself out. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Instead, step back and let the waves wash over you, let life happen as it happens. Life will flow as it will, and you no longer push or pull at it.

Expect nothing. Not from your body, not from your mind, not from the world. Let them be as they will. If life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. It’s like facing a bully—when you stop reacting, when you stop caring, they lose interest. Sure, maybe they’ll hit harder for a while, but you’ve already surrendered. What more can they do? The same goes for life—stop caring what happens and you’ll find it starts losing its power over you.

Now that you’ve freed yourself from expectations, give yourself everything. Live completely in the moment, forget about a past, don't think about a future. Be here, fully, now. All the good things you used to think about others, think about yourself. In each moment, ask yourself “What if there’s nothing outside of me? What would I think and feel right now?”. Let go of caring what life does with it, just do it. You’re not doing it for some future result; you’re doing it because it feels true to you; to be free and be exactly what you want to be in the moment. Whether tomorrow repeats itself or brings something new, so what? You no longer depend on anything external to feel fulfilled. You keep to yourself and continue thinking what you want, continue being who you want to be. If life follows along, let it. If it doesn’t, let it not. Hold steady to what feels right within you, and allow your thoughts to shape what's real to you.

Finally, remember to forget. The past? Gone. What you see before you? Just a shadow of what was. Now, here’s the key: Want nothing. Do nothing. Don’t chase, don’t seek—just let yourself be. This doesn’t mean you stop living or acting; it simply means you stop the endless striving, the relentless push to try make life bend to your will. Instead, just watch what happens. And most importantly, don’t attach any meaning to it. Be a witness, a quiet observer of the flow of life. Whatever happens, good or bad, is just passing through—you have nothing to do with it. It’s not permanent, nothing is. So why believe in it as though it were immovable? Cease caring and be free!

Let the world dance as it may, but you—remain still within. Watch as the transient nature of everything becomes clearer. You’ll see that the world outside is nothing more than a reflection of the thoughts you no longer hold, and that what you once took to be reality soon ceases to be when you take away your identification.

[inmyheaddd]

✦ in the back of my mind - jameson hawthorne x reader

warnings -> em*ly is mentioned for like .2 seconds, little bit angst + arguing, happy ending i promise!! a/n -> jameson my baby ☹️ wc -> 1.2k masterlist

you slammed the door hard with a thud behind you, not really knowing where you were headed now, but just knowing you needed to be anywhere else but that godforsaken house. the almost screaming-match you had with jameson earlier had your ears almost ringing, and with a pounding headache that worsened every step.

without your permission, your mind repeated every moment on a loop. 

“jameson, just stop!” you care more about winning and your games than you do about me.”

“don’t say that,” he pleaded, taking a step towards you as you stepped back. “you know that’s not true.”

“well it feels like it’s true!” 

“this is who i am!” he gestured to himself with his hands. “you knew that from the very start, don’t be mad because you couldn’t “fix me.””

you scoffed, tears flooding your eyes momentarily but you forced them back. you had to. 

“seriously? that’s what you think this is about? this isn’t about me “fixing you,” it’s about the fact that i’m always going to be second to whatever game you’re playing!”

“it’s not a game, it’s—”

“what? ‘it’s your life’?” you predicted. he said the same thing every single time. “it’s a part of you? it’s something i wouldn’t understand?” you cut him off, scoffing and shaking your head as you crossed your arms. 

“you’re right, jameson, i don’t understand. i thought that— that maybe, maybe you’d —“ you cut yourself off with a frustrated sigh, pinching the in between of your eyebrows. you couldn’t even get the words out.

you shook your head, “god, i can’t do this anymore.” you muttered, more to yourself than to jameson. 

you remember the way worry flashed through jamesons eyes as you said those last words, before you turned on your heels.

and now you were here. 

the wind whipped through your hair as you sat on the cliff side, hugging your knees to your chest. 

you could barely hear anything over the roaring waves below, but maybe that’s what you needed; the noise, the chaos outside to drown out the one in your head.

there was only one voice who could’ve broken through. jamesons. 

“running away already?” you closed your eyes at the way voice cut through the wind, his usual biting sarcasm making you clench your fists tighter.

“go away, jameson,” you muttered, staring out at the dark horizon. you couldn’t even look at him.

“not happening.” his tone somewhat softened as he stepped closer. “you shouldn’t be out here.” he stood a foot or so away from you now, and you felt his gaze on you like a physical thing. 

your head whipped around to look at him, your frustration bubbling up and flashing through your eyes. “don’t tell me what i should or shouldn’t do. why do you suddenly care anyway?” 

he frowned, opening his mouth to probably throw out some retort, but then he suddenly stopped. 

his green eyes, that looked more black now, flicked to the cliffs behind you, and something shifted in his expression. he took a single staggering step back, his confidence that he always had gone in an instant.

he called out your name, but it sounded strained. “get away from the edge,” his was voice tight, like he fought to get the words out.

you blinked, suddenly taken aback. “what? jameson—”

“get away from the edge, goddamnit!” he never raised his voice like this, and his voice almost cracked. that was when you saw it—the fear. not the teasing, not the games, but real, raw fear in his eyes.

you quickly got up and stepped towards him, the waves crashing even harder against the shore now making it almost impossible to hear yourself. “jameson, what’s going on?”

he didn’t answer. his breathing quickened, his fists clenched, and his eyes fixed on the drop below, and you realized—he wasn’t seeing you anymore. 

he was somewhere else. emily. it was all over his face, in the way he stood. 

you should’ve known. you shouldn’t have come here.

you swallowed thickly, not knowing how to go about this. that girl had damaged him on a whole different level, he had just started to heal, and you single-handedly pushed it all back. 

“jameson,” you said cautiously, taking a tentative step towards him. “i’m—“ you shook your head, “i’m not her. everything’s okay, we’re okay.” 

he flinched, his hands shaking as he raked them through his hair. “i— i can’t—” his voice broken, and his eyes were glossy.

“you need to get away from the edge,“ he repeated, pointing to the dive below. 

“jameson,” you held his quivering hands in yours, shaking him slightly to get him to look at you. “i’m not on the edge, i’m here, with you.” 

his eyes locked on yours, shaking his head, he said, “step back, it’s not funny anymore.” 

the fear was palpable in his voice, and it made your eyes sting. he sounded so small, your heart broke into a million pieces. is this what it was like with her?

“jameson, stop!” you begged, your voice being the one cracking now, “you’re scaring me.” you shook your head, pleading for him to just see you. “i’m not emily.” 

your eyes were welling up at the sight of jameson like this, so scared, so un-jameson, and it came crashing down on you just how bad emily effected him. 

the sound of her name seemed to snap him out of it, because now when he looked at you it felt like he actually saw you. 

your name fell off his lips in a single breath, before his eyes flickered all over you, like he was making sure it really was you.

he then pulled you into the tightest hug, like he was holding onto you for dear life. a hand came to the base of your neck, as his head nestled in your neck. the wind howled around you, but you didn’t let go. you don’t think anything could’ve made you let go in this situation.

his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, and your arms were around his neck. you felt like crying with the weight of the situation, and you know he did too. 

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled into your neck, voice shaky. “for everything i said, for everything i didn’t do, for now, i just—” you pulled back from the hug, and your hands immediately found his once again. 

“i’m sorry i don’t show you how much i care more. the last time i did, i…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath in. 

he didn’t have to finish the sentence for you to understand. the last time he cared, she died, and he nearly did too. 

“jameson,” your hands tightened around his as you shook your head, wind blowing in your hair. “you don’t have to say anything, i get it.” 

“no, that’s the thing, i do.” you saw him swallow, adam’s apple bobbing before he spoke once again. “you don’t know how much i care for you, how much you matter to me. you’re number one in every thing. nothing else matters when i’m with you, you know that?” 

you were way past the point of holding back tears now, and by the looks of it, jameson was on the verge of them as well. 

“you’re my first thought in the morning, last thought before i sleep, and you infiltrate my dreams. i don’t deserve you — i know that, but i want you anyway. i’m selfish.” he took another deep shuddering breath in, eyes flicking between yours, “i’m so selfishly in love with you that it scares me.” 

that was the first time he had ever said those words to you. in love with you.

love.

but they weren’t just words, they were everything. 

it was what you two had been dancing around for the past months in your relationship, it was him taking off his armor. 

your eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he was lying even though you knew you wouldn’t find any. your body was on auto pilot, the only thing you could do was kiss him. 

the kiss felt like you were really connected with him, intertwined. it was the furthest thing from lust it could’ve been. it felt like you were finally on the same page.

“i love you, jameson. i love all of you. i always will.” you whispered against his lips when you pulled back for a breath of air, before he pressed his lips needily to yours once again. 

when you pulled back this time, he rested his forehead against yours for a moment. 

you fell into a comfortable silence, but you could tell something was on his mind as his eyes wouldn’t meet yours. they were trained on the ground beneath you like he was deep in thought. 

you didn’t say anything, you wanted for him to feel comfortable enough to say it himself.

and then he did. 

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted into the space between you, before his emerald eyes finally flicked up to yours. “i don’t know how to love right.” his voice was unbelievably low as he murmured.

he loved you so right, he was everything you could’ve ever wanted. you loved him for him. 

you didn’t say that though. instead, you brought a hand to his cheek, before weaving it through his hair as you looked intently into his heavy eyes. “then let me show you how.” 

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @notshortbutsweet

@littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican

[xmalereader]

Miguel O’Hara X Black Cat! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors Note: Took some inspiration from Felicia Hardy and Selene Kyle, let’s be honest Selene is my mother and will let her whip me whenever she wants 😌, so why not make this shot full of sass and perhaps some slight sexual tension? Also all Spanish words are correct, I am fluent in Spanish and Latino myself!

Summary: Every universe had a black cat, weather it ends in a good or bad outcome every Spider-Man had at least experienced being around a black cat. Miguel had his own variant back at his universe, but his story with black cat is interesting.

Warnings: ATSV Slight Spoilers! Some angst, mentions of time travel, breaking and entering, kissing, language, Miguel is tired, mentions of past divorce, mentions of Gabrielle, timeline, loop holes, miles wants to be adopted, reader is trying to bring hell, reader is protective of Miles, breaking the rules, toxic Miguel, Toxic reader, a negative plus a negative is a positive.

Word count: 4.1K

— || Part Two || Part Three ||

—

Noir didn’t know why he enjoyed watching the kid mess up, but it brought some joy into his daily task. Here he is standing on the edge of a roof top, staring down at the city’s number one hero trying to get himself untangled from his own webs. Both he and the little spider in red and black were chasing each other throughout the entire city, nearing midnight he was caught by the cities hero stealing a very valuable gem that was worth thousands, good enough for Noir to steal. How could he not? Now, after hours of chasing here he stands, head tilted in disappointment as he watches the little spider trying to escape his own webs after a malfunction in his own creation.

“Now this goes—wait, no…”

Noir tilts his head back, signing deeply to himself as he tucks the gems into his pocket before jumping down from the building and landing in front of the kid. He was a thief, not some cruel person who’s going to leave this poor kid stuck. “Kid—“

“I got it! I got it! Just have to—AH!”

The kid only get himself tangled into the web even more, causing the thief to roll his eyes, using his own claws to cut thought the webbing like it was nothing. The little spider looks around in surprise and smiles under his mask. “Hey, that worked!”

“Indeed it did.” Noir mocks him back, rolling his eyes from underneath his goggles.

“Now, I’m turning you in—!”

Noir holds his hand up to cut the kid off, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. “Kid, we’ve done this too many times. We all know that you’ll never be able to get me so just let it go and go after someone who is actually causing harm.” He give the kid a pointed look before using his grappling hook to get back to the roof top and continue his way back home. Only for the kid to follow after him, he expects himself to get into a fight with the kid again, knowing that he would win the fight and end things quickly.

“Wait! Look, I get that what you’re doing isn’t entirely dangerous nor are you harming anyone but, why do it? Why steal when you can just get a job?”

Noir’s eyes widen and bursts out laughing, shaking his head as the kid stares back confused. “Get a job? Kid, I did have a job but, no matter where I worked it was never enough to survive. Not everyone has an easy life and if you have to take some risks then take it. You can try and stop me all you want, kid. But, it won’t make things better.”

The kid stays silent, taking in his words as Noir brushed past him and makes his way towards the other side of the roof.

“Wait!”

Noir sighs, hand on his hip and looks over his shoulder to see the kid standing his distance. “I’ll stop coming after you.”

That causes him to raise a brow, confused and surprised by the kids sudden words, before he could ask why the kid speaks up. “If you teach me how to fight.”

Of course.

That’s how the two have been getting along after a year of teaching the kid how to defend himself, he was new to the whole hero thing and Noir was the only one who was able to teach him a thing or two. It was rare for him to connect with people who weren’t trying to kill him or let alone take him to prison for stealing something valuable of theirs.

Currently both of the two are sitting on top of a clock tower, the kid eating some pizza while Noir sips his morning coffee, watching the sunrise after spending all night training the kid on how to land his punches. “Isn’t it too early for you to be eating that stuff?” He mumbled out, getting the kids attention who turns to him with a stuffed mouth full of pizza.

“…no?”

Noir chuckles at the kid. “Don’t come to me if you start getting heartburn.” He mumbled around his coffee cup before taking another sip, focusing on the view ahead. The two spend most mornings like this, eating ‘breakfast’ together and enjoying each others company. The kid had stopped trying to get him arrested and each time Noir was caught stealing he always made it out without an issue.

He’s known the kid for a year now and he’s grown onto him. The last time he was around someone he cared about he ended up losing everything and always pushed people away from getting too close, but the kid always found his way back into his life. Noir breaths softly, glancing at the kid who had just finished his box of pizza and closed the lid while whipping the grease from his fingers onto his suit, causing the older man to grimace at his manners.

“All done, so what’s the training today?” The kids voice is full of enthusiasm which causes Noir to chuckle. “No more training.” He sets his coffee cup to the side and stands from sitting on the edge of the clock tower, towering over the kid who tilts his head back, staring at his second mentor. “You’re ready to do things on your own and I am done here.”

“Wait what?” The kid tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean your done here? Are you leaving?”

Noir placed a gentle hand on the kids shoulder. “You’ll do fine on your own, I taught you nearly everything I know. I’m clearly not needed anymore and I have business to attend somewhere else.” Noir was reaching a deadline with his stay here with the kid and had to move onto his next task, wanting to avoid bringing the kid anymore trouble that he’s already dealing with alone in this city.

The little spider before him doesn’t know how to react to this situation, clearly not happy with the outcome but knowing that he can’t do anything about it. “Will you be back?” He asks.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Noir shrugs his shoulders, sighing deeply to himself. “I don’t know…” He really didn’t, one moment he’s here and the next he’s gone. That was his plan and always has been.

Noir can see how bummed out the kid is and can’t help but, pull the kid into a gentle hug. “I’m ever around I’ll make sure to meet you. Perhaps during one of our usual chases.” He gets the kid to chuckle at his humor before the two pull apart. He’s staring at the kid with a sad smile, with a clawed index finger he bops the kid on the nose or where he thinks his nose is at due to him wearing the mask.

“Take care of yourself kid.”

“I’m not a kid…”

Noir chuckled. “You’ll always be a kid.” He picks up his empty coffee cup, making his way over to the ledge of the clock tower, facing his back towards the kid before looking over his shoulder to give the kid one last advice. “Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do, remember that.”

With that he jumps off the tower, leaving the kid on his own to continue on his own path.

Noir already planned to leave this place and couldn’t delay it any longer before he finds him. Upon arriving to his apartment, he slips through the window undetected from the neighbors and slips off his tinted goggles along with his gloves, letting out a deep exhale as he looks around the semi empty apartment that he was only planning to use for a short period of time.

He toss the gloves to the side and keeps the rest of his uniform on as he works around the apartment, collecting certain things to take with him while the other stuff he stuffed inside a trash bag, clearly not needing that stuff any longer and tossing it out the window, where it landed down below and into the dumpster.

Once the apartment is fully empty he reaches inside the bag he was planning on taking with him, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a silver bracelet. He stares at the blank screen, knowing that once he turns it on he will be traced, only giving him a few minutes to plan his escape. He zips up his bag and slips on his goggles again along with his gloves, slipping the bracelet over his wrist and with his index finger he taps on the blank screen, watching it turn on, activating.

“Five minutes.” He whispers to himself as he quickly types in Earth-42502, watching as a portal opens before him.

Adjusting his goggles, he takes a step forward only to freeze in place when another portal opens behind him. “The hell?” He looks over his shoulder, eyes widening under the goggles as a flash of red and blue zips towards him. He doesn’t have time to think as a hand wraps around his throat, knocking him back into the other earth.

The two are free falling through the air, grunting as his hand finds the others wrist and glares. He’s quick to use his strength, kicking him off as they continue to fall. “That was faster than usual.” He calls out, getting the other spiders attention who glared under his mask.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive to Earth-42502, portal opening onto the roof top of Oscorp Tower. Noir lands gracefully, but is quick to jump out of the way when the other spider lands where he once stood.

“Here I thought I’d never find you.”

Noir remembers that voice too well, remembering the days that the two would wake up next to each other.

“Seems like your desperate to find me.” Noir speaks up, taking cautious steps back as his eyes follow Miguels large figure. The man showed off his talons, taking dangerous steps forward as if stalking his prey.

“Let me guess, you were waiting until I activated this little guy, huh?” He raised his left arm to show off the bracelet he wore. The same bracelet that once belonged to Miguel and that he was able to snatch from during the time he was running away from Miguel. “Lyla’s not good at tracking.” He adds with a grin on his face.

“At least she found you before you can even open a portal to this earth. An earth that you don’t belong too.” Miguels voice is full of irritation, tired of having to chance Noir from different universes each time he disappeared off the radar.

“I know where I belong.”

Noirs voice drops down to a serious one, glaring under his own goggles as he takes steps back, slowly stepping on top of the ledge. “I’m not going back to that place, not after what you did.” He spits out.

“I was only trying to fix things.” Miguel sneers.

“By destroying a universe for our daughter? A daughter that wasn’t ours.”

“She was!”

“She belonged to another version of us and not us.” He points between himself and Miguel. The two have been chasing each other since day one, Miguels cannon affected him badly, causing him to lose his own child. Miguel had tried to find ways to fix it by going to other universe in hopes of getting their lives back together again only to mess things up badly and to cause a whole universe to be destroy. Their constant arguing grew worse as the days went on the two couldn’t be in a room together without trying to tear each other apart, leading to a divorce between the two. Well, a divorce wasn't really an option due to their universe being gone and instead was considered a break up between the two without having to sign he paper work.

In the public’s eye they were seen as married still. For them, they were separated.

Noir didn’t start stealing until after he stole Miguel’s bracelet, finding a way to stop Lyla from tracking him down and using it to escape from the man he loved. Giving himself a new life, stealing from every universe and only causing trouble for Miguel due to the constant anamolies being placed in the wrong universe, only giving the man extra work on getting it fixed.

You could say that it was Noirs way of showing revenge for all of the times Miguel blamed him for trying. Earning himself a reputation and treating it like a game.

“Y/n—“

“I don’t have time for you, right now.” Y/n hissed out, turning around and jumping off the building, getting Miguel to panic all of sudden and run after him, jumping off and diving down to wrap his arm around Y/n’s waist and using his talons to grip onto the side of the building also using his webs to hold on.

“What—?”

“I’m not letting you go that easy.” Said Miguel, grinning under his mask as Y/n’s eyes widen at the realization.”Don’t you dare!” Y/n uses his own claws in a threatening way only for Miguel to ignore his threatens, getting Lyla to open a portal back to their earth and quickly dropping his (ex) husband down the portal. Only for Y/n to land inside Miguels little anomaly prison as one of his traps is set around him, caging him inside a tight space as he tried to use his claws to claws his way through.

It wasn’t until Miguel drops down in front of him. The two could easily be face to face if it wasn’t for the barrier stopping them. “You’ll stay here until everything is fixed and then you can scream and yell all you want.” Said Miguel a hand on his own hip as his mask dissolves away, showing his real face to Y/n who frowned. “You can keep me here all you want, but I will always find a way out.” He was testing him.

This wouldn’t be the first time that he was trapped under Miguels watch, he’s escaped plenty of times before and he will do it again.

Miguel chuckled deeply. “Oh, mi amor. This time it’s different, because I’m going to make sure that I have a close eye on you twenty-four seven.” He looks over his shoulder to nod at one of the spiders from his society who turns around to type away on their computer. All of sudden Y/n is transformed to Miguels lab, appearing in the room in a flash as he yelps in surprise.

“Jesus…” He breaths out in surprise a hand over his beating heart as he falls back onto his bottom. “A heads up would have been nice.”

“Stop being annoying and be quiet.” Said Miguel, circling him like prey and focusing back on his work. Y/n grins, reaching up to push his goggles up and over his head. “Listen, cabeza de mierda. You brought me here in order to keep an eye on me, but never did you say that I couldn’t annoy you.”

“I—“

“So, I won’t stop talking your ass off until you let me go.”

Miguel stares down at his husband, knowing the man well enough to know that he was keeping that promise. The taller spider sighs in annoyance, already regretting his choice as Y/n grins at him and leans back against his elbows and crossing his leg over the other, lying down as he groans out loudly.

“Who would have thought, the two of us together again. After a year? Damn, it’s already been a year, I remember you slamming into a wall when chasing me through Earth-6574. God, the anger in your eyes was so satisfying!”

Miguel tried to focus on his work, ignoring the mans words as he continues on, rambling on about anything that will annoy Miguel until the man gives in.

The conversation went for hours, with Y/n changing positions every few minutes, one minute he’s lying down and the next he’s sitting. Another time he’s doing a handstand in the small space he’s trapped in or using his claws to try and penetrate the force field around him only to fail. He didn’t stop until he suddenly grew bored, lips sealed as Miguel finally takes in the peaceful silence, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“There it is.”

Miguel snaps his head towards Y/n, already knowing his plan.

“Enjoyed your five seconds of peace and quiet? Because, I was just getting started.”

Miguel wants to shout, opening his mouth to throw back an insult only for him to be disturbed by the sound of people entering his lab, getting his attention. Y/n also looks over to the group of teens approaching them, one specific teen getting the thief’s attention as he narrows his eyes, focusing on the curly hair and dark skin until his eyes widen in realization.

“Miles?”

Even though he’s only known the kid for a year and had trained him on the side, he knew who the kid was under the mask, but never said anything. Not wanting to freak the kid out. Whenever the kid wasn’t hiding behind the mask, Y/n would keep a close eye on the kid, making sure that he was focusing on school and attending his family diners and parties, somehow feeling responsible for the kids disappearance each time he skipped classes or lunch only to meet up with enthusiasm, excited to learn something new from the thief that the teen befriend somehow.

It didn’t take long for the platform to lower, reaching the ground and getting the teens attention. Before Miles could introduce himself or hand Miguel the empanada that he had in hand. The kids eyes fall onto Y/n, narrowing his eyes a bit. “Noir?”

This gets everyone’s attention, including Miguel who snaps his head in Y/n’s direction with a knowing glare that he knew too well.

“Hey kiddo!” Noir waves at Miles with a wide grin on his face, side eyeing Miguel as he feels his burning glare. Miles doesn’t think twice to quickly rush over and jump onto the platform, worry in his eyes as he ignores Miguel’s surprised look along with Gwen’s panicked looked and Hobie’s grin. The teenager was too focused on Noir to care about what the others were thinking about his actions, his palms against the force field that separated the two as he tries to find a way to get him out. “Why are you here? How are you here?” Miles began to ask as Y/n looked at Miles with a fond look and faint smile.

“Easy kid, I’m alright.” He tries to reassure the kid.

“Get him out.” Miles blurts out, turning to Miguel with a frown on his face. The sudden demand shocks the others, but not Y/n who can only smirk over Miles shoulder and towards Miguel who frowned deeply. “I’d listen to the kid.” He whispers, loud enough for his ex to hear.

Miguel grunts in disapproval and had no choice but to do as told as gets red of the red field around him, finally setting him free as Y/n stands from his spot, stretching his arms in the air like a cat and getting caught by surprise when Miles hugs the other man. “Whoa! Easy kid, I’m alright.” He reassured him, giving his back a soft pat.

His actions don’t go unnoticed as Miguel watched the two interact with each other, clearly reading the signs that Y/n had claimed this kid as his own, treating him with care and respect, knowing that if he comes between the two, Y/n wouldn’t hesitate to fight back like a feral cat. It’s happened before and it won’t stop him from doing it again.

“You said you had to leave.” Miles speaks up, getting Y/n attention who sighs deeply. “About that…” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and giving Miles an awkward smile.

“Noir isn’t from your universe, he belongs in mine. He was caught breaking the rules and had no choice but to bring him here. He’s a slippery one and likes to get away, so letting him out of his cage wasn’t a good idea.” Said Miguel, getting an eye roll from Y/n and placing his hand on his hip. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’ve gotten away from it many times and you didn’t seem to mind.” Y/n said back, making his way around the platform and taking in Miguels work.

He takes notice of the videos and pictures of them both together along with this their daughter, causing a small sad sigh to escape his lips knowing that Miguel hasn’t gotten over the death of their daughter. Y/n was the only one who was able to move on from everything but Miguel, he couldn’t blame him. Everyone coped different with death and took their own pace in recovery. With a clawed finger he turns the pictures off, glancing over to Miguel who was watching him this whole time with a sorrowful look on his face.

Y/n quickly turns away, refusing to look at the man he once loved.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Gwen points between Y/n and Miguel, approaching the duo that stood before her, getting Y/n to smirk widely. “Actually were married.” He quotes out, getting a surprise look from both Gwen and Miles. “Divorced.” Miguel added, hands on his hips as Y/n pouts at his words.

“Divorced? Really, you two would look cool together.” Said Miles. “Adopt me?”

Y/n breaks out in laughter, throwing his head back as he laughs at Miles words. He jumps offer the platform and takes miles into his arms, pulling the kid close to him and squeezing him tight. “How did my ward become so adorable? If I could adopt you then I would!”

“Wait, your ward?” Miguel asks, clearly not likening this.

“Yep!”

“He’s taught me a thing or two.” Said Miles and with a proud smile on this face he extends his hand, opening his palm to show Noir the hard-drive that he stole from Miguel, getting a very proud Y/n to hug him again. “My child is learning!” He cheers in excitement while Miguel growls. “No, no, I refuse to let you take in a spider. You are enough trouble, let alone having a kid do it too?”

“If it wasn’t for me the kid wouldn’t have gotten better on his skills. I taught him how to defend himself and perhaps get away with a thing or two…” Even though Miles was suppose to be his universe hero and protector, he couldn’t help but, teach the kid a thing or two when it comes towards breaking and entering. Teaching Miles how to sneak back inside his room or dorm without being noticed and to pick on locks in case of emergencies.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling to himself in disappointment. “No puedo mas, no puedo mas.”

Y/n rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.” He mumbled as he listens to Miguel ramble on while Miles is being saluted by Hobie, admiring the kids new skills form a very well known thief in many universes.

“Did you know that he stole this guitar for me?” Said Hobie, pointing over his shoulder where his guitar was strapped over his shoulder. “Mad genius.”

Miles laughs. “I don’t like stealing, but Noir once helped me with getting my mom a present for Mother’s Day. He stole a necklace for me, nothing too expensive but also nice.” Said the teen. Clearly he was nervous and ashamed for it when he first got handed the jewel from the known thief only for the anxiety and worry to fade away when he say how happy his mother was about the gift.

His father questioned him and all Miles told his dad was that he worked hard for it.

Noir smiles at the two before looking over to Miguel who stared with disappointment, but Y/n didn’t seem to care one bit wanting the teen to enjoy his life and he wouldn't mind breaking a few rules in order to give the kid what he wanted. Even if it meant bumping into his husband ever once an awhile.

[ervotica]

First, congrats on 2k! It is well deserved.

Second, for the kink wheel: sharing, with JJ Maybank and topper Thornton? If you’re not cool with those two, I’m also okay with Rafe and Topper 😉

i'm gunna do rafetopper for this particular one just because i have a very specific scenario in mind i feel suits them better, but feel free to send me another jj and topper one baby!!

warnings; poly!rafetopper x reader, dark!rafe + soft!dark!topper, drug use (r is explicitly stated to have done coke, rafe is sorta implied), heavy petting, making out, no actual smut but it is implied, 18+ only

a/n; oh this is sooo... i love them. pls pls i am BEGGING for requests of these two now they're sexy asf

Thick fingers curl around the circumference of your ribcage, peeling slick lips away from his own; you preen angrily at Rafe beneath you, jerking your chin indignantly when he reaches towards your face to anchor your gaze to his own.

"How aren't you tired, hm? Been at this for far too long, kid."

You bounce on your bum, rocking back on your heels where you're perched upon Rafe's lap on the couch; you're smacking away the hands that work to push you to the edge of his knees, effectively drawing you away from his kiss-bitten lips.

"You're done. You're cut off," he grouses, vexed stare meeting Topper's when he hooks two hands beneath your armpits and lifts you off of Rafe's lap. "Fuckin' take her. She's fuckin' relentless. Brat."

"Hey!" you whine, already squirming at the digits curling at the dip of your waist, drawing you into a different - but just as familiar - chest.

"Easy," Topper laughs, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips when you push yourself up onto tiptoes in voyage for a kiss. He grants your wish, taken aback at the way your lips slant hungrily over his own, but pulls away far too soon to quirk a brow at Rafe accusingly.

"Why is the kid vibrating out of her skin?" he asks, a crooked finger pointing at the older boy. "What'd you give her?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, disinterest oozing from his every pore when his thighs spread, lounging back on the couch. "Jus' gave her some blow. It's not a big deal, Top."

By this point you're clambering up Topper's front, elbows hooked tightly around his neck as you attempt to climb and secure your legs around him. Perspiration clings to your neck, clammy when Topper's palm comes to rest there and his other arm loops under your bum until you're lifted up and into his grasp.

"It is a big deal!" he grumbles. "She's gonna be wired all fuckin' night, now."

"Why'd you always do this?" you trill wetly, head dipping to mouth at the curve of Topper's jaw. "I didn't do anything!"

"'s not your fault, baby," Topper assents, planting himself on the other end of the couch; you shuffle forward in his lap, lips spilling into a pout as you chase his mouth once again.

He's soon lost in it, dazed from the feeling of your mouth suckling at him, manicured nails scratching at the sensitive skin at his nape. The only sound Rafe can focus on is the smacking of spit-slick lips, Topper's groan and your gentle mewl when his tongue ventures further, licking into your mouth.

"That's enough," Rafe gripes, one roughened hand slipping beneath your miniskirt to swat at the dimpled flesh of your bum. "Give her back now."

Topper pulls back, heaving, to glare daggers at the other boy. "No way. I just got her!"

"Seriously, just let me have her."

"No-"

Their voices begin to mesh and blend into one cacophony of noise, and you're frowning when Rafe's hands settle against the jut of your hipbones to snatch you away. He doesn't give you time to begin a string of petulant complaints, lips ensnaring your own in a fervent act of pure lust. You go pliant and soft, allowing your lips to part and make room for the wet muscle of his tongue that prods at the opening of your mouth, vying for entrance.

"Attagirl," he murmurs, a sweaty palm cupping the side of your face to draw you closer, other hand pinching at one pert nipple through the flimsy material of your shirt.

He pulls away to admire your half lidded eyes, clouded over with need as you absentmindedly rut yourself into Rafe's lap, tent in his pants growing by the second.

"Let's take her home. How does that sound?" Rafe asks.

For the first time that evening, the two boys are in agreement.

[ya-zz]

This was supposed to be a drabble... Take it, considering I haven't uploaded a fic in awhile, plus I really enjoyed writing this. Kudos to @yore-donatsu for the prompt! || Small headcanon on Rama: When in Nemesis, he can only use one pair of arms at a time. Imagine him in a situation where his Nemessis arms are stuck (and he can't free himself because otherwise he's in trouble) and he's swinging a stupid “I'm stuck” ||

Ramattra x Reader

Word Count: 1705

The sound of Ramattra turning to his nemesis form no longer startles you, being around him for several months now, it became a somewhat normal sound to hear alongside the usual day to day chaos. Of course, the only time you would hear him turn was when he was furious, using his larger form to threaten those around him. 

Then of course, there were the times he would use it to protect you from unwanted intruders or threats; his arms would encase you in a slightly uncomfortable but protective grasp. 

Though, this time, there was no fuzzy static that usually fades into the air when he finally comes back to his normal form. Instead, his voice rings out from across the room, pulling you out of the meditation you were under. 

“I require assistance, urgently.”

With a semi-irritated sigh, you stand and turn only to face Ramattra who was stuck near his workbench. He stares at you, circuits burning in an embarrassed flush as he watches you approach cautiously. I am not hearing the end of this, he thought.

“I may have miscalculated the space around me.” He says, nemesis arms tangled in a mass of wires. 

“How on earth did you manage that?” 

“Do not question me. Help me.” You could hear the authority in his tone. 

With a scoff, you respond, “You have other arms.” You point to the ones crossed at his chest. 

“I-“ His vocaliser cuts off, a click to reset before he speaks again. “I cannot use them in this form.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “You’re joking.” 

“I am not.” 

“Ramattra-“ 

“Please. I cannot free myself.” Desperation follows. 

Another thought crosses your mind, causing you to smirk which the omnic picks up on immediately. 

“Do not get any ideas.” His tone lowers, threatening you. The embarrassment was already too much to handle and he sure as hello asn’t in the mood to play.

“Oh, but why not? You look so… vulnerable all tangled up.” 

Ramattra watches your face, searching for any mischievous glint as your hands glide up his arms, resting them on his shoulders before your fingers trail up his neck. You feel the hum of his body at your fingertips as you lean up and plant a playful kiss where white meets purple. 

“Remove these wires immediately.” The omnic before you lowers his head slightly as he makes his demands. His larger arms tense, fists clenching among the wires as his irritation grows.

“What if I don’t?” You tease. 

“Quit playing.” Ramattra’s tone darkens, his nemesis fingers twitching. “Untangle me this instant.” 

You could hear the rising frustration in his voice. Rolling your eyes, you back down. “Okay, okay. Just stay still.”

The embarrassment that Ramattra was feeling didn’t subside, no matter how careful and soft your hands were. His fans whir loudly, puffs of steam leaving the vents in his back as you work on freeing him. He focuses on the way you touch him, though he cannot feel much, a project for a later date, it calms him somewhat. You were always so gentle with his body, not wanting to damage him as spare parts were scarce. 

Fingers would tease their way under the wires that had wrapped tightly around the metal before being tugged away, looping under and over another wire. Some of them were easy to remove, only needing a small pull to free it before letting it drop to the floor. The ones that were not budging needed that little extra strength to loosen them. There was a near silence that filled the room, neither one talking. The only noises were the clattering of wires as they fell to the floor and the omnics chassis humming. Soon enough, the pile of wires on the floor grew and one of his arms was slowly freed.  

“Why can’t you move your other arms?” You question to break the silence. 

“It will overload my systems. It is already a difficult task keeping this form up. You have seen that I can only stay like this for so long before I revert back to my usual state.” Ramattra states, matter-of-factly. 

“Ah, so you can’t multitask.” 

“That-“ He lets out an irritated sigh. “You are insufferable, you know that?” 

“I will leave you here.” You yank a wire that pulls him down with a grunt. 

He shoots you a glare in return, optical aperture shifting. “Do not.”

“Then be nice, otherwise, you can stay here longer.” Another wire joins the pile on the floor. “You need better cable management.” 

Ramattra scoffs, head tilting away from you. “My cables are fine.” 

You flick him on the neck, where he can feel it. “You know what I mean.”

He grumbles, muttering something in omnicode as one of his nemesis arms falls limp. Ramattra watches as you move to his other arm, starting to detangle the wires that had wrapped around it. It was the same process, the tighter wires needed more thought and the loose ones only a simple pull. You were careful, not wanting to scratch the metal that made up his arms. This arm was held a little higher due to the weight of his other one pulling him down at an angle. Standing on your toes, you wobble, though Ramattra wouldn’t be able to catch you if you did fall. 

You mumble to yourself, shaking from the stress of freeing him. “Next time, I am exploiting this scenario.” 

“There will not be a next time.” Ramattra’s tone darkens slightly as he responds, your mumble not going unheard. He huffs, vocaliser clicking to reset. “I am not embarrassing myself by letting this happen again.” 

“Oh? You’re embarrassed? Because you’ve had to ask for help from a human?” You smirk, knowing exactly the reaction you’ll get out of him. 

The omnic grunts, nemesis fist clenching tightly that you hear the metal scratching against each other. There goes that plan of not damaging his exterior… 

“Watch it, pet. You will not like the outcome.” 

The moment his arm is free from its restraints, the larger of his hands grab at your waist, pushing you against the wall. 

The sudden motion catches you off guard, a startled gasp escaping your throat as your back hits the concrete. You watch as the fingers of his normal form twitch against his arms. He’s losing restraint. 

Ramattra stares down at you, optics scanning your features. His head cocks to the side as he speaks; “perhaps another time I will give you want you want.” There was a playful tint to his tone, He knows how to rile you up in all the right ways.

His shadow looms over you, but you weren’t scared. Despite his intimidating stature, you knew who he was. He was your partner, his threats never meant any harm to you, half the time you never took him seriously anyway. You knew that behind his ‘threatening’ demeanour, he was nothing but a sweetheart. He had a soft sport for you and only you. You were special to him and he always made sure that you knew that.

“Perhaps next time you’ll have control over both sets of arms- ow!” Ramattra squeezes you slightly, not enough to cause serious harm, but as a warning. 

Before he has a chance to speak, the air around the both of you grows fuzzy, a slight static tickling your arms before he transforms back to his normal state. 

The larger hands had left your sides, small indentations litter your back and stomach from the sharp edges of his fingers, the cloth of your shirt not being enough protection from his grasp. 

“You are lucky I cannot hold that form for long.” He states, leaning down towards you. A chuckle escapes his vocaliser as he places his hands on your sides. They were softer, smaller, than his other hands. 

Ramattra pulls you flush against him, pressing his body into yours. “Thank you.” He is gentle in his normal form.

Bringing your own hands up, you hold him back, fingers trailing the metal braces that travel from his chest to his back before finally resting them just above the top most brace. 

You smile, leaning your head against his. “Anything for you.”

Ramattra hums softly, his hands travelling up your back. His sensors pick up the change in heart rate and the way your body relaxes against his. You’re warm against him and he finds himself feeling at home in your arms. 

“I will clean up.” He states, pulling away from you. 

“Let me help-” “You have done enough. Let me.” He chuckles, moving away to pick up the cables on the floor. He’s quick to coil them up, tying them together before putting them into a box. “I owe you for freeing me.” 

“You owe me nothing. It was a simple mistake.” You reassure him, not wanting anything in return. Watching him, you note he’s cautious of how they are placed. “You are being careful, why?”

He hesitates, holding the box in hand before sliding it under the workbench. “An old habit from the monastery.” 

You nod in understanding, approaching him quietly. You slide your hands around his waist, pressing your head against his back. His inner workings hum louder, your motion catching him off guard. 

“Do you miss it? The monastery, I mean?”

“Yes.” He replies solemnly. “But I cannot change what happened.” 

“If it any consolation, I’m glad that you’re here, Ramattra.” 

He places his hands on top of yours, thumb rubbing across your knuckles. “As am I.”

The room falls silent as you hold him. It was a touchy subject, one you never pressed. He would tell you in his own time. 

“Come on. It is getting late.” He finally speaks out. The omnic turns to face you, grabbing your hands and holding them. 

You smile up at him, enjoying the intimate moment you’re sharing. “I do not want to leave just yet.” Your voice was quiet as you stare at his hands.

He hums, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.  “Then we can stay here until you are ready to go.” 

“I would like that.” You almost whisper in response.

Ramattra tilts his head, cupping your cheek in his hand. 

“Then together we shall stay.” 

[justsomerandomfanfic]

We Meet Again In Italy - Eggsy Unwin X Female Reader

Title: We Meet Again In Italy

Eggsy Unwin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's boss, Random character (Alexandra Winslet), Kingsman (Mentioned), and Harry Hart (Mentioned)

| Part 1 |

WC: 4,186

Warnings: Reader is mentioned wearing a dress/heels/makeup, enemies to lovers, banter, flirting, teasing, very brief mention on abuse, some italics, brief mention of crying, slight angst, and fluff

One word to describe Italy is 'breathtaking,' and that couldn't be more true than it was when you walked through the streets of Rome upon your first day there. Everything about Italy seemed so picturesque and beautiful. But you didn't have time to walk around and enjoy the scenery - no matter how much you would have loved to do so - you were on your mission. After the incident in the bookstore in New York, you were determined to get that file back from Eggsy.

"He's been spotted entering his hotel. Hotel Da Vinci." Your boss spoke to you over your earpiece as you sat in the middle of your large hotel bed. That was actually really nice; you might have to invest in a better mattress when you got home. "A message will come to you shortly with the information, along with the address to the gala he is going to be attending tonight."

Pausing, your hand hovering over your paperwork. "Gala?" You knew Eggsy loved to dance, but still. "Why is he going to a gala?" You asked, picking up the couple of pictures you had of Eggsy in various locations back from when you were tailing him in New York.

"He's meeting someone by the name of Alexandra Winslet. We doubt that is her real name, but that's all the information that we got on her."

"A name and a face is all I need." You spoke up, eyes flickering to your phone as a notification popped up. Picking up your phone from beside you on the bed, you unlock it before tapping your messages, slowly scanning the few pictures and documents that you were sent. Stopping at the picture of the supposed Alexandra Winslet, you hummed, tilting your head to the side. "Purple," You muttered, your eyes immediately going to her hair, which was short, cut to just below her chin; in a shade of violet purple. One thing was for sure, you'd have an easy time spotting her in a crowd. Scrolling further, you stopped at the picture of a mansion, surrounded by a fancy iron gate. "I am assuming that this mansion is where the gala is going to be held?"

You watched as the message bubbles popped up before you were sent the address, "Yes," Your boss then spoke, "It's a black-and-white event. Make sure to keep within the dress code. And get that file back. I don’t want any other issues to arise."

Shutting your phone off, you leaned back against the plush, satin headboard, "Sure thing, boss," You sighed, rubbing your forehead with a hand, you kept your hand there as you shut your eyes, "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"We’ll keep you updated." The line went dead.

Huffing, you opened your eyes, blinking as you checked your watch on your wrist. "Well," You muttered to yourself, clicking off your earpiece as you shuffled off the bed, trying not to crumple any of your paperwork and pictures as you did so. "Time to go shopping, I guess."

And so, you found yourself in Milan, which was the same city where the gala was going to be held. Milan was such a lovely place, full of rich, dazzling architecture, just like the rest of the country; it was also quite famous for fashion, especially among wealthy business people and high society alike. And before you knew it, your small shopping spree was finished. With two large bags looped on your arms, you made your way to your rental, and back to your hotel.

Entering your hotel room, you quickly shut the door, locking it before you sped to the bed and placed your bags down. They weren't hurting your arms with their weight, no, but it was what was inside that was important: your dress. Sliding out the white, paper box, you spied the brand name on the top lid, written in black, curvy font. Carefully, you pulled off the lid, feeling a small rush of adrenaline fill your system as you sat the lid to the side, your eyes zoned in on the black folded dress before you. 

Biting your lip, you tried to hide the large grin that was about to spread on your face as you gently took the fabric into your hands. Without a second thought, and seeing that you were right on time, you began to get ready for the gala.

It was around four once you finished getting ready, dressed to the nines and a hint of excitement ran through you. Staring at yourself in the full-length mirror near the bathroom, you turned every which way, your lips curled upward, feeling completely gorgeous. The dress was all-black, the sleeves were off-the-shoulder, the maxi skirt just brushed the floor, and it was made out of the softest velvet that you have ever felt in your entire life. Once you saw the dress on one of the mannequin models, you knew that you had to have it. Brushing your hands down the skirt, you gave yourself one last look; honestly loving the way your red, painted lips stood out amongst the black.

Turning to the bed, you pulled your message bag over, opened the flap, and pulled out a small, wooden rectangular box. You paused, eyes softening as you opened the box's lid, revealing a simple, gold necklace with a single pendant hanging from it. You smiled softly as you gazed at it, remembering the night that he had given it to you. Turning to the mirror once more, you carefully unclasped the necklace, sliding it around your neck before fastening the clasp behind your neck. As you stared at yourself, you started to wonder what he would think. Would he like it? You bit your lip as your fingers grazed over the gold surface, only to shake your head; you shouldn't be thinking like that. It shouldn't even matter what Eggsy thinks. This was a mission. This was your job, your life. You didn't have time for romance or flirtatious games. Not this time around.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to turn away from the reflection and looked around your hotel room for your shoes. Finding the box of brand-new gold heels near the door of the bed, you picked up one of them and slipped it onto your foot before slipping on the other heel. Standing straight, you looked into your mirror again, fiddling with your hair before you felt your mind slipping back to him. Growing frustrated with yourself, you glared at your reflection.

"Get the file and leave." You spoke, voice stern, "Don't fall for his tricks again... You don't have time for it. You're on a mission, remember?" You muttered to yourself. You shook your head. You could hear his laughter in your ears, see that grin on his face, that glimmer in his eyes... You gritted your teeth. Closing your eyes tight, you inhaled sharply before opening them, pushing those thoughts away. Raising your hand, you turned on your earpiece with two soft taps, "Sir, I'm ready."

~~~

Pulling up to the mansion, you leaned over slightly to look at it through the front view window. You had done a bit of research on the large home before arriving. Villa Mondadori, an Art Nouveau building. Designed by architect Steno Sioli Legnani for the textile entrepreneur Pasquale Crespi in 1897, it consisted of fifteen bedrooms, fifteen bathrooms, various large lounges, and a spa area with a complete gym, cinema room, bar, and terraces. At the small tap on your passenger window, you snapped out of your daze, your eyes landing on what you assumed to be the valet parking attendant.

Stepping out of your car, you handed the valet the keys, giving the young man a polite smile and nod before looking up at the building as you walked up the three steps. The building was three stories, the first level's exterior was almost an ivory color, while the second and third levels were a sort of cream color. What you loved the most were the large windows, large enough to let in all the natural light. You tried to pay no mind to the two guards at the door, walking towards them, holding yourself high and confidently.

"Ciao," You gave them both a charming smile, hoping that either of them would just let you in, as you had planned.

The one guard to your left was tall, well past six feet, and with trimmed blonde hair that was combed to the side. The guard to your right was a bit shorter than his guard partner, though still taller than you, and was far less intimidating, but you took note of his piercing blue eyes and the way his black hair was buzzed close to the scalp. Both men stared at you, observing and analyzing you as their eyes narrowed and their mouths pursed. Before you could ask them if they were going to allow you entrance into the house, the guard on the left cleared his throat, "Buona sera," He said, his eyes slowly looking at you up and down.

You expertly hid your distaste as you replied politely, "Sì, buona sera." You glanced at each of them, expectantly, and finally, they moved aside, allowing you entry into the house. The hallway that led straight ahead was lined with doors, all decorated with lavish designs and intricate woodwork carved into the frames. There were paintings of beautiful landscapes hung along the walls, some of which were covered by black and white, silky drapes. Fit for the gala's theme, you admired it.

Following the live classical music that was echoing throughout the halls, you found yourself in the main room, watching as couples danced together in what you presumed was the living room they converted into a ball-like room. You took a moment to admire the room around you, eyeing the grand, crystal chandelier that hung down, and the large windows that surrounded the room. Taking another glance at your surroundings, your eyes landed on a bar lounge on the far right wall, admiring the beautifully detailed painted ceiling, depicting the Renaissance era. The room was lit up brightly, making the room feel warm and inviting, and you couldn't help but let a small sigh escape your lips; it really was quite beautiful, even though you weren't there to enjoy the party, you were here for that file. That you hoped to god Eggsy brought with him somehow.

Moving with a certain grace, you made your way to the bar, finding a nice place to stand and watch the couples dancing the night away to the live violin, cello, and piano concertos playing from a stage further away from where you were standing. It was a quick dance, the couples stepping closer together as they spun circles around the room; dresses fluttered around their legs. Their movements captivated you.

"What are you doing here?" A voice spoke up, and the corner of your lips lifted when you heard it. Leaning on the counter behind you, you rested your elbows against it as you turned your head to meet Eggsy's confused and astounded gaze.

"Can't a girl go out and have fun?" You asked, smiling coyly as you turned around the face the bar, Eggsy turned with you, his body facing you, his eyes staring at the side of your face; his expression turned from bewildered to something unknown.

As you signaled the bartender, Eggsy finally spoke up once more. "I wasn't aware that you were invited..." His tone lightened some.

"Neither was I." You responded simply as the bartender walked over to you. "Martini. Asciutto." You requested before looking back over at Eggsy coyly. "I sort of just... Invited myself." Smirking slightly, you waited patiently as the bartender prepared your drink. When the bartender was about to give you the drink, you took the drink. Turning to face Eggsy, you kept your eyes on his as you took a sip. You watched as his eyes followed the movement of your mouth, as he swallowed his own drink. Shrugging casually, you looked back up at Eggsy.

"Well now," Eggsy sat down his glass, "Let's not get straight to business. Isn't the view wonderful?" Your eyes roamed around the room, taking in the scenery before you turned your gaze back to the man beside you.

"Quite wonderful," You answered, "You clean up well, Eggsy." You teased, leaning forward slightly.

Eggsy's eyes flashed, a smirk forming across his lips, "You look stunning, as usual, love." His eyes scanned over your form, slowly, drinking you in, "Do you care to dance?" He asked, chuckling softly as he took another sip of his drink.

"Dance?" You replied, taking a sip of your martini as well. Dancing with him couldn't hurt. It would give you an excuse to get closer to him, for the file... Yeah, for the file. He might have it in his inside jacket pocket. Coming quickly with your conclusion, you nodded, setting down your drink and offering your hand. "Just one, Eggsy. And then we talk."

"Whatever you want, love," He spoke, taking your hand in his and leading you to the dance floor, and what timing... The band had begun to play a slow song.

Pulling you close, and with one hand in yours, Eggsy put his other hand on your waist, as you put your extra hand on his shoulder. To the music the both of you swayed, moving from side to side, Eggsy keeping his eyes on you the entire time, as you gazed into his. It was nice, the atmosphere, but the unsaid tension was still there.

"Agent, does he have the file?" You heard over your earpiece, making you huff as you took your hand off of his shoulder to turn off your earpiece.

Eggsy tilted his head slightly, his eyes shining with slight amusement at your annoyed expression before they softened once more, his eyes landing on the necklace that lay around your neck. Without a word, he reached out and lightly brushed his thumb across the surface of the smooth, gold pendant. Your skin tingled as his thumb caressed the top of the necklace gently, his eyes remained glued to the necklace. "I remember that night." He muttered, finally allowing his eyes to stray from the necklace to your eyes. "We were after the same person, back in-"

"Back in Japan. I know." You pursed your lips, looking at him intently, trying your best to keep a calm composure as the memories resurfaced in your mind once more.

Dance, grab, and go. Dance, grab, and go. 

Eggsy mimicked you, pursing his own lips as he stared right back at you. He was studying you. From all the times you and he found each other during overlapping missions - which was quite a few over the years - he knew that you were hiding something. Something deep within. But what? He liked to think that he could read you pretty easily, but even though he had known you for more than four years, you were still a mystery to him. You could be a very good actor if need be. You could hide anything. Hell, there were so many secrets behind those gorgeous eyes of yours. And that's what made you so good at your job, Eggsy thought. You concealed yourself, you didn't let anyone see you; but, there were always traces, tiny cracks, or hints that would show themselves to whomever was looking close enough. Eggsy thought he was lucky enough to see some of those cracks.

Eggsy suddenly realized how close the two of you were standing, with his hand on your waist, pulling you close to him, for a soft sway of a dance. He couldn't help but let himself enjoy this moment, enjoying the way your body felt pressed against his, the warmth that radiated from your skin onto his; seeping, warming his bones, and filling his veins with electricity. The way his pulse pounded in his ears as he stared at your lips, imagining pressing his own against them. He wanted to kiss you. Not just because he wanted to; no. It was more than that. It was a craving, a burning desire he had been fighting since day one of meeting you. Every time he saw you, his heart skipped a beat and butterflies filled his stomach whenever your eyes met - even though he hated how cliche that all sounded in his head - he swore that he was getting addicted to you - he was addicted to you - his whole world became completely focused on you. It was insane. The longing.

If only, in a perfect world, the both of you could go off the grid, away from the espionage and the lies, and just be together. Away from the stress, the fear, the uncertainty. Just be together. But, Eggsy loved working as a spy. It was what his father did before him, and it gave Eggsy a new meaning of life… If Harry hadn’t found him, he probably would’ve still been outsmarting his mother’s abusive boyfriend by now. But you… If you had asked him to quit… He’d quit for you. 

Licking his lips, Eggsy spoke up, "I didn't think you'd keep it." You frowned, slightly, "Your necklace, I mean." He added quickly, his fingers twitching as he tightened his hold on your waist.

"Why wouldn't I keep it?" You raised a brow, "It's cute."

Eggsy chuckled, a grin reappearing back on his face, feeling the slightly awkward tension lifting, "I told you I have great taste.” He then continued, “Now, you never answered my question, love."

"As to why I'm here?" You continued with your response, raising a brow as your hand slid down from his shoulder to rest on his chest. You almost let out a small laugh, biting your bottom lip to stop the smile that was threatening to come out. A wave of fulfillment washed over you, and you felt like a weight had disappeared off of your shoulders. The file, the one that you were looking for, was in his breast pocket. You could tell from just the slightest of pressure that he carefully folded it all to fit into the pocket. "I'm here for that file that you stole from me."

Eggsy chuckled, shaking his head lightly, though you could see what you thought was disappointment in his eyes. "And here I thought you just wanted to see me."

"Who says I didn't also come here to see you?" You smiled, your hand sliding back up to place itself on his shoulder.

"Really, love?" Eggsy asked, raising an eyebrow as he stared at you, trying to discern if you were lying or if this was just some ploy to let his guard down, or possibly trick him into giving you the file... Which he would not do. He'd do anything for you, but giving you the file was not one of them.

You glanced away at the band, "Who's Alexandra Winselt?" You suddenly asked, bringing your voice down into a soft murmur, your eyes once more locking on his. 

"Jealous much, Y/N?" He joked, causing you to roll your eyes before answering him,

"Annoying much, Eggsy?"

Even though it didn't match up well with how slow the song was, Eggsy spun you out before spinning you back in - the hem of your dress swirling around you - before dipping you; your leg instinctively went up against the side of his torso, making him hold your thigh tightly with one hand, while the other was secured around your waist. Looking down at you, it wasn't obvious what he was thinking about, which made it all the more intriguing. And although the music was still playing, you felt the silence in the air.

He pulled you back up slowly, and for a moment, a slight moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. There was this... This look in his eyes was warm - You felt your heart swell - you couldn't figure out if this look he was giving you was new, or if he had ever looked at you like that before. You didn't think he looked at you like that before... Maybe it was in Rio, or Japan the year before, or maybe even in Canada the year before that... Maybe it was in London, where you first met. You were sure, but that look, it was something else.

Dance.

"Eggsy..." You spoke up, cutting the thick tension like a knife through butter, your voice no higher than a whisper - angelic in his ears; you almost felt as if you didn't even say anything, but you were certain Eggsy heard you. 

You felt an overwhelming urge to lean up and kiss him, but instead, you held yourself back from doing so. The moment lasted only for a second but it seemed like hours as Eggsy kept staring into your eyes, trying to determine whether or not to let his desires take control. If only he knew how strong the pull was between the two of you; it was like the gravity between the two of you grew and multiplied, as if you two were drawn to each other by magnets. You both stood, in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by other dancers as the music faded and a more upbeat classical song began. 

“Y/N…” Eggsy raised his hand, tucking a few stray hairs behind your hair, his movements almost trance-like.

And then he was leaning in, and so were you. Eyes heavy-lidded, you felt his hot breath against your face, his nose nudging yours, your lips just brushing his. But you paused, just a hair away from your lips on his, you... You couldn’t do it. Sighing deeply, you shut your eyes fully, your mind and heart fighting against one another as Eggsy opened his eyes, blinking rapidly; confused. 

Grab.

"I'm sorry, Eggsy... I can't do this." You slowly pulled back, unable to look him in the eye, but knowing that his lips were turned into an incredibly perplexed, yet somewhat sad frown. With a hesitant touch, you flatted his lapels before continuing, "I already got what I needed." You then quickly pulled away from him, his arms dropping from your waist as you hurried out of the room, and out of the extravagant mansion.

… And go.

You harshly bit your bottom lip, the back of your eyes burning with unshed tears as you lightly sniffled and sped to your car, blindly and expertly grabbing the keys from the valet attendant. You didn't waste your time speeding out of the lot, and down the road before tapping on the radio. You turned up the volume, your eyes blurring slightly as you drove back to your hotel. You needed to get out of the country, and fast. God, feelings, you hated them. They just complicated everything, and they always hurt. You tried so hard to not fall for him, but every single time he walked into the room, every single time he made your cheeks flush, every single time his eyes met yours and he got that little smile on his face, everything inside of you melted like ice cream on a hot summer day. How was he able to make you feel like this? You had to get out of the country.

Eggsy stood, in the middle of the dancefloor, without you, and though he looked sort of odd standing there all by himself, staring at the floor in a sort of faraway expression on his face, he didn't care. He never really cared about what people thought about him. He felt heartbroken... It was the best word he could think of. Both heartbroken and confused. Why did you leave like that? He was pretty sure that if he left right now, he could have followed you. He wanted to, but... He knew that it wouldn't have worked. You were too independent, and too stubborn - it was two of the many things he loved about you. You had to come to your own conclusions. And he was sure that you had done that. He just wasn't the answer. 

Sighing, Eggsy took a deep breath in and out, his shoulders drooping as he gathered his composure. But he froze once more, feeling his shoulders stiffen again and his eyes widened slightly as he took in a sharp breath. 'I already got what I needed...' Eggsy replayed your words over and over again in his head and he recognized those words. They were the same words he said to you after he grabbed the file from you in New York at that bookstore. His hand snapped up to his right breast pocket. Opening his jacket, he huffed, defeated, dropping his hands to his side. The file was gone. Though, through the heartache, he let a small, fond - and definitely impressed - smile spread onto his face. Yet again, you managed to surprise him. He sighed heavily, running a hand down his face before heading to the bar. He needed a drink.

---

Main Masterlist | Kingsman Masterlist

---

@bethsvrse

[celandeline]

You’ve Got A Pretty Kind Of Dirty Face

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 3 [previous part | next part]

Someone’s tapping at your window. 

Even after two years of being behind the walls of Alexandria, you can’t break the habit of waking up at every small disturbance, so it only takes a few taps before you’re slipping out of bed, pulling the knife you keep tucked under your mattress out and skirting around the bed to your window. 

You peer around the edge, knife in hand, only to see Carl crouched on the roof of your porch, gently tapping at your window. He smiles when he sees you, and gestures for you to open the window. You set your knife down, and start on the locks. You shouldn’t - it’s after dark, he most definitely snuck out, you already let him get too far by kissing you in the car today - but you do. It’s Carl, you can’t not. 

You push the window open, and hold it so that he can climb through before sliding it back into place. He still has that stupid smirk on his face when you turn to look at him. “Should I even ask why you’re here?”

“Probably better if you don’t.” He says, playful. “Plausible deniability and all.”

“That makes it sound like you’re planning something nefarious.” You say. 

“What if I am?” He steps closer, narrowing the distance between you. 

Before he can completely close the gap, you place a hand on his chest, keeping him a short distance away. “I don’t know what you were thinking in the car today but if your dad had seen, I swear-”

“He didn’t.” Carl cuts you off, voice low. You can feel his heartbeat against your hand. “I just wanted to thank you for saving my ass.” One of his hands comes up to wrap around your wrist, moving your palm from his chest so that he can press closer, his other hand finding your hip, holding softly. “Still feel like I should thank you again.” He says, just above a whisper. 

He’s so close, you can feel his breath against the skin of your cheek when he talks. “Carl.” You say. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t; if Rick ever found out-

You don’t get to say more than his name because then his lips are on yours again, hungry just like they were before. He kisses you fiercely, and you can’t help but kiss him back. It feels good, it scratches that itch that only gets worse every time you stop yourself from enjoying him for fear of his father. You wind a hand into his hair, and kiss him back with the same intensity, working his mouth open so that you can dip your tongue inside.

He groans, low in the back of his throat as your tongue sweeps over his, and the hand he has on your hip tightens its grip. You can’t help but smile into the kiss, the hand that isn’t tangled in his hair finding one of the belt loops on his jeans and fiddling with it teasingly. 

When he pulls back, he’s breathing heavy. He doesn’t go far, still holding onto you as he rests his forehead on yours, looking down at where your fingers are still looped in his jeans. “Wish you wouldn’t keep doing that.” He says.

“Doing what?” You ask. 

“Saying my name like you want to say stop.” His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“It’s not-” You stop to figure out what you want to say. “I like you, Carl. A lot. I think you’re cute and funny and smart and I admire your strength. And I would like to be with you. But I don’t want to be with you at the cost of your relationship with your dad. I see how close you guys are, and I don’t want you and I getting together to drive a rift in that. And-” You pause. “I don’t want you to take this to mean that I don’t like you.”

He shakes his head. “How could I, when you just went on about how cute and smart and funny I am.”

“Shut up.” You say, the way he repeats it all back to you making it sound embarrassing. “I just… there's more than just that I don’t want to come between you and Rick. It’s also that you’ve never done this before, and I have, and I know that the first relationship you have is the one that sets the standards for the rest. It’s a lot of pressure not to fuck up. I don’t want to accidentally fuck up your conception of love.” You sigh, and then, to lighten the mood, “Also I think Rick would actually kill me if I took your virginity.”

Carl laughs, and lifts his forehead off yours to look you in the eye. “He probably would.” He agrees, smiling. And then, “But, um…” He pauses, brow furrowed slightly. “Hm.”

“What?” You ask. 

He smiles sheepishly. “I’m just trying to figure out how to say that I don’t care about what my dad thinks or that you or that you might fuck up or whatever without saying that I don’t… care.”

You laugh a little under your breath. “I guess I should’ve expected that.” He’s made it pretty obvious, with his insistent flirting and the way he so recklessly kissed you in the car today, that he’s too wrapped up in this thing to think about the impact it’ll have on his dad, or himself, or you. 

His hand skips under your shirt, fingers brushing along the skin of your back. “I get what you’re saying. And I think it’s really… admirable that you’re so concerned about me and my dad, but,” He pauses. “I could die tomorrow. You could die tomorrow. I don’t want to let this go without trying to make it work, ‘cause we might never get the chance again.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes that sends a pang through your heart. You know what he means - you’ve seen it for yourself. It’s very easy to die these days, and no one ever ties up all their loose ends before they go. The world is littered with ‘almosts’ and ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’. It’s only natural to not want this, us, to end up in that ever growing pile.

“You’re very persuasive.” You say. 

Carl smiles, and his fingers play with the hem of your sweatpants. “So..?”

“So what?”

“So you’re not gonna tell me to go back home?”

“I guess not.” You say. “I have a feeling you didn’t come over here just to talk.”

“Not really.” He says. “Not that I don’t like talking to you but I also really like kissing you…”

You laugh as he tugs you closer again, and your lips connect. He doesn’t wait to slip his tongue between your lips, and his grip around your hips tightens. He kisses like he’s hungry for it, and you suppose he is, after you’ve been keeping him waiting. You wind your hands into his hair again, playing with the strands and grinning when you feel a shiver run up his spine from the touch. 

He whines against your lips, and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve been denying yourself this for months. 

You pull away only to step backwards towards your bed, your hands dropping to Carl’s belt loops again to tug him with you. He comes easily, grinning as you pull him into bed. You make yourself comfortable amongst your pillows, and he settles next to you, the both of you laying on your sides so close that your noses bump together. 

For a moment, you just look at each other, only able to make out each other's features in the semi-darkness because you are so close together. This time you’re the one to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his and sliding a hand under his shirt, trailing your fingers along the plane of his stomach. He shivers again, and you smile against his lips. He’s so responsive, even to the littlest of touches. 

You pull away to trail kisses down his jaw until you reach the junction of his neck just below his ear. Your fear of Rick stops you from leaving a hickey there, but you still lick at the spot, just to make him shiver again. His fingers wind into the fabric of your shirt, holding onto you like he’ll die if he lets go. You move to nip at the lobe of his ear and he pulls you on top of him, crushing you to his chest. 

You can feel him hard underneath you when you sit back, straddling him. His hands fall back to your hips, and you place a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart under your palm. His pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, dark hair fanning across your pillow, you know what he’s going to ask before he even parts his lips. 

“Have sex with me.” 

You purse your lips. “Rick’s gonna murder me.”

Carl shakes his head, smiling. “No he won’t.”

“He so totally will.” You laugh. “He already accused me of corrupting you for trying to smuggle you alcohol, he’ll put my head on a pike for this.”

“I won’t let him.” He says, squeezing the sides of your hips. 

“And how exactly would you stop him?” You tease, leaning down to brush your lips over his again. 

He catches you in a proper kiss before he speaks. “I’ll ask real nicely.”

You sigh, and kiss him again. Rick’s going to kill you, but right now, when it’s just you and Carl in the comfort of your bed giving in to the feeling of his lips on yours and the way his bangs sweep across your face like butterfly kisses, you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re not going to pretend that you’re not incredibly turned on with this beautiful boy underneath you. And more importantly, you like him and he wants this.

“Okay.” You say, pulling your shirt over your head in a fluid motion, tossing the fabric to the floor. His words from earlier, that you might die tomorrow, echo in your head. You want this as much as he does, so why not? Why wait, when either of you could very easily wind up with walker teeth around your neck in a few hours?

Carl’s grins, eyes trailing down your front. “Really?”

“Did you want me to say no?” You ask, rising up on your knees so that you can ruck his shirt up his chest, purposefully trailing your fingers up the planes of his stomach to make goosebumps rise. 

He sits up, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. “I just expected you to make me work for it more.”

As soon as his shirt’s all the way off, you attach yourself to his collarbones, nipping at the thin skin. Carl lets out a breathy gasp as you take the opportunity to begin trailing hickeys across his chest, confident that they’ll be hidden under his shirt. What you can’t leave on his neck, you leave across his collar, until he’s almost writhing under you, his hands fisted into your sweatpants. 

The moment you lift your head up from his skin, he’s pushing your shoulder, gently knocking you over so that he’s hovering over you now, trailing his lips up the side of your neck until he’s just underneath your ear. “Can I?” He whispers, breath tickling your skin. 

“Go crazy.” You say. What do you care if you’re covered in hickeys? He’s the one with the overbearing dad, not you.

Still, maybe you should have phrased it differently, because Carl does, in fact, go crazy. You’ll be surprised if your entire neck isn’t purple tomorrow. You can’t pretend you don’t enjoy his enthusiasm though, it’s been a while since you felt so… desired. You wind your arms around his back and trail your fingers up his spine. The way he arches into the touch makes you grin. 

He’s so warm, pressed against you as he leaves a necklace of bruises across your neck, his moans muffled by your skin between his teeth as he grinds against your thigh. You can feel his hard-on through his jeans, and you slip a hand down his stomach to dip into his pants, palming his dick. 

The whin he emits at your touch is delicious. You bite your lip to stifle your grin. 

“You’re making fun of me.” Carl accuses. 

“‘M not.” You say, even though you are a little. It’s cute, how sensitive he is, how obvious it is that he’s never done this before. “You’re just cute, ‘s all.” You bring your hand out of his jeans for a moment to undo the button. 

Carl rolls off you to shuck his jeans off, and you slide out of your sweatpants as well. You don’t let him climb back on top, pushing him down into your pillows so that you can straddle him again. Despite the hand on his chest, he still tries to sit up, brow slightly furrowed. 

“Why-?”

“‘Cause you haven’t done this before.” You cut him off with a kiss. “Just let me. You can be on top another time.”

The promise of another time makes him grin, and he lets you lay him down. His hands find your hips and you watch as his expression shifts, the sensation of your bare skin on his enough to make him sigh. Looking down at him, suddenly, your stomach swirls with nerves. Not for your own sake - no, you’ve done this before, and you’re under no illusion that he’ll last long - but for his. You want to make it good for him. 

“You have to tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” You say. “Or slow down, or anything - just, talk to me. I want it to be good-”

“I know.” He interrupts you. “Promise I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to stop.”

“Okay.” You say. Still a little nervous, you shove it down and rise up on your knees again, gently guiding his dick between your legs. His gaze drops to your hand and he sucks in a breath as you begin to sink down on him, his grip on your hips tightening enough to leave a bruise behind. 

He only exhales when you’re fully seated and his grip relaxes. “Fuck.”

You’ve just opened your mouth to ask him if he’s alright when he bucks beneath you, unsettling your balance. You gasp, falling forward, and he wraps his arms around you before he rolls over, still seated inside you. Your back hits the mattress before you can really realize what he’s done, and he tucks his head into your shoulder, groaning as he starts to fuck you. 

“What the fuck?” You say, voice breathy. 

He shakes his head, hair tickling your skin. “Just let me fuck you please. I don’t want you to go slow, you’ve been making me wait for months-” He cuts himself off with a moan, his hips knocking against yours. His thrusts are sloppy, but eager, and he trails his lips underneath your ear, letting all the little whines and moans slip right from his lips to your ear. 

You let him have his way with you, just winding your arms around his neck and enjoying the ride. He’s not half bad even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s his openness, you think that’s doing it for you. The way he holds onto you like you’re precious, the way he’s not ashamed about all the little noises slipping out of his mouth, the absence of the posturing and dominance that you’ve had to put up with from other guys. 

It’s not long before his hips are stuttering, and he lets out a long groan before he slumps against you, utterly spent. You move a hand from his shoulders to wind into his hair, playing with the strands. He sighs against your chest, and you smile, hugging him to you. 

“Thanks.” He says, rolling off you to lay against your side. “And sorry.”

“Sorry?” You laugh. 

“For lasting all of three seconds.” He mumbles, making himself comfortable in the valley of your chest. He drapes an arm over your stomach, gently tracing your hip bone. 

“‘S okay.” You say, pressing your lips into his hair. “It was your first time.”

You can feel him falling asleep against you, and hear it in his voice. “Gotta practice I guess.” He smirks against your skin. 

You laugh again, and stroke his hair until you both fall asleep.

[justkending]

It's just a hobby. (Drabble)

Summary: You took up a new hobby, and Dean likes to poke and tease you for it, but you feel the need to seek a little revenge for the constant joking. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3300+

A/N: I started this during the summer when I started five different crocheting projects (ADHD carried my summer hobbies) and decided to finish it before school started back up. I am currently still writing Found Memories, but I have to put a pause on it as the first month of school tends to take a lot of my time away from hobbies like writing… I’m moving to teach 8th-grade English this year and could use all the energy you’re all willing to send my way! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short story, and I’m happy to have the inspiration to write for Dean again :)

(Also, this is the closest to smut I think I've ever written...)

_______

“Seriously?” Dean grumbled as he looked in the rearview mirror seeing me pulling yarn to untangle a knot I had created. 

Knowing where he was going with his normal banter, I just laughed and continued to focus on the craft in front of me. 

“I pulled this out like 20 minutes ago. How are you just now noticing?”

“I’m watching the road,” he argued, and I rolled my eyes. As always, he had been sneaking glances to the back of the cab at me every other minute. “The hunt wasn’t even 40 minutes away from the bunker. Why did you bring that?” 

“Why do you listen to the same three Led Zeppelin songs when you're upset about a hunt?” I countered, and he opened his mouth to disagree, but I answered for him to skip the sarcastic conversation brewing. “Comfort Dean. It’s all about comfort.”

“Why are you so weirded out by a normal hobby?” Sam jumped in, smirking, and sporting one of the many beanies I had made him with said hobby, which he had come to love. He looked down at a newspaper in his lap, no doubt already scoping out a new hunt. 

“It’s not-” Dean stumbled on his answer. “I’m not weirded out by it. It’s just not a hobby I imagine someone like Y/N taking up.” 

“You just described why you’re weirded out by it,” Sam looked at him with a blank stare. 

He ignored him and rolled his eyes. 

“What kind of people do you imagine the crocheting community to be full of?” I smiled, still looking down at my hands and knowing his answer already. 

“Grandmas,” he replied almost immediately. 

“Hmm,” I hummed as if surprised by his confession, even if it was wrong. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll stop wasting my talents on things for you.” 

I could see his eyes shoot up in the mirror and a look of regret ghost over his green orbs. 

Dean liked to make a big deal about this particular hobby I had started up a little over six months ago. I think a part of him just liked to tease me about it, but deep down, I knew he was proud of my growth. He was just bad at voicing it.

The first things I ever crocheted were just simple squares in different stitch work to learn a variety of them better. Those squares became washcloths and, surprisingly, were still used daily in the kitchen. 

I learned to make bags, socks, hats, sweaters, stuffed animals, and even a few blankets. 

“Just 30 minutes ago, you took down five security guards, wrestled three teenage vampires, and booby-trapped half of his nest. Now you’re crocheting a sweater for Charlie that says, ‘What’s up bitches?’ in the backseat. Mind you, with blood still smeared on your face,” he raised an eyebrow at me in the mirror. 

I looked up and leaned toward the front to get a better look at myself. 

“Oh, shit, I thought I got it all,” I groaned, seeing a smear on the side of my face I must have missed. 

“It doesn’t add up,” he shook his head, but I could see a joking smile on his lips. 

“Much to your surprise Dean, girls can have more than one personality trait. I know you boys are all, ‘Ugh, monsters! Kill, kill, kill! I need a scotch in my hand and The God Father playing on loop in the background to show how manly I-’

“Hey,” Sam cut me off and looked at me with his sad puppy dog eyes. “I’m on your side.”

“You’re right… You also like to read and share fun facts,” I winked, touseling his hair and getting a scoff of a laugh as he swatted my hand away. “See how hurtful it can be when you forget our brains have the capacity to do more than one thing?” I turned back to Dean with my arms crossed on the bench seat in front of me. 

“I don’t think you're incapable of having more than one interest in life; I just think it’s interesting that you chose a 90-year-old women's side gig as your hobby,” Dean countered, pulling into the garage. 

“Well, if you can’t appreciate it, then you can’t have the gifts my hard work creates,” I huffed, gathering my things and sliding back to the door as Dean parked the car.

Once the car was in park, I was the first out. I wasn’t actually mad at him, I was a hundred percent messing with him, but he deserved it for teasing me this long about it when I knew he loved everything I had made him this far. 

He had a favorite blanket that he preferred to sleep with now. He had a nice sweater he wore around the bunker when he was cold. He had a few pairs of socks he preferred over store-bought ones. He even had a miniature plush Batman figurine that sat on his desk that I had learned to crochet just for him.

“Y/N, you don’t mean that!” he called after me, standing in the door on the driver's side of the Impala and shouting over the roof of it where I was walking inside. 

“We'll find out soon,” I yelled back, never turning around. 

The next three days, I teased him like he had me about this whole ordeal, but in my own way. 

When we were cooking in the kitchen or doing dishes, if he grabbed one of the squares that now acted as our kitchen hand towels, I would steal it from his hands and say, “Sorry, merchandise can only be used by those who value it.” 

With which he would respond, “Wait! I need that!” with his hands drenched in water after washing his hands. 

Just for extra measure, I took all the towels and moved them to a new place only Sam and I knew. He was happy to join in on my little prank, and every time he had one, he made sure Dean saw him with it. 

“Where did you get that?” Dean would jump up from wherever he was and march over to him to try and steal it. 

“Only the VIP customers have access to these,” Sam would wave it above his head out of reach of Dean. 

Another time, after a hunt, it was freezing in our motel room, where the heater barely worked, and the hotel didn't have enough blankets. Luckily I had one packed in the trunk of Baby, and I used it for extra coverage.

Even though Dean and I shared a bed, I wrapped it around me as I slept and said, “Sucks that you hate this so much, or else I’d share with you…”

He stared at me with complete annoyance when I gave him an exaggerated “Oh well” face before stealing it all for myself. 

I did, however, wake up to sharing it, but only because he had stolen it, and I was too tired to fight him about it.

I think one of my favorite times I rebuked him of his privileges was when he was wearing a pair of socks I had made him for Christmas around the house. I may have gotten a little more intense than I needed to, but the look on his face made it worth it.

He had come into the movie room to binge a few episodes of a new series I got him hooked on, and after he called me in to watch with him, I noticed the specific socks he had on. 

I grinned once my brain had formulated a plan to make him regret ever giving me hell for a hobby he obviously loved himself.

“Claire said there was a show called Love Island we should watch. I have no clue what it’s about, but she said it was popular and what the kids are watching now,” Dean conversed as he grabbed the remote from the table and stood with a blanket (not one of mine, as I had relocated all of them so he couldn’t find them) around his shoulders. 

He was in the perfect position for my plan. 

I walked over and, instead of facing the TV, stood right in front of him and looked up at him. 

“You know what we could do?” I whispered in a low and sultry voice, bringing my hand up to his chest and inching my fingers up to the collar of his t-shirt before pulling at it gently. His eyes instantly darkened, and he was frozen in his place. 

“Wh-What, uh, what can we do?” he stammered out. Even after three years of dating, he still got nervous. I loved it. 

“I think you know what,” I said, tiptoeing upward to quietly say in his ear, bringing my hand from his chest to the back of his neck, softly pulling him closer to me. 

“I think I have an idea,” he replied more confidently, immediately bringing his free hand to my waist and squeezing it. 

I could have faltered there, but I held strong. I was going to make him pay for all his little ‘grandma’ jokes he had sent my way the last few months. 

I pulled back, sending him a smirk that I knew revved him up. He returned it with his own and started leaning down, forgetting his grip on the blanket and remote. Now both of his hands sat on my hips with a stronghold. 

Before he could lean down any further, I pushed him backward harshly on the couch, and at first, he was shocked, then he was excited. 

Slouched into the cushion, looking up at me, his tongue came out to lick his lips and ended with a bite to his lower lip as he eyed me up and down as I stood over him. 

“Dear God, Y/N,” he hummed under his breath. 

I guess it helped that I was wearing some of my shorter PJ shorts, ones he had told me were his favorites, and a shirt that was cropped and slightly falling off my shoulder.

He had a thing for me being in a disheveled manner like this. Reminded him of how I looked after we fucked around, and he held pride knowing he played a part in the kind of glow I gave off. 

I wasn’t sure how long I could do this without failing myself on the original mission. I came here to fuck with him, and now he was the fucker. Or at least he was going to be if I didn’t follow through with my plan in the next minute. 

“You know, you should be happy you were by the couch,” I smiled, stepping to him and strategically bringing my legs to straddle his hips teasingly. 

His breath hitched at that, and I knew I had regained the upper hand. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he hummed as he admired my hands pressing into his chest as I leaned in, bringing myself closer to him. 

“I was about to take you wherever I found you,” I whispered, looking him dead in the eyes with a soft smile. I looked him up and down and bit the inside of my cheek. That seemed to trigger his hands back to my hips instantly. This time a much more possessive lock on them. 

“I don’t know where this is coming from, but I can’t complain,” he said lowly, and I knew he was hooked. Now it was time for revenge. 

“Can I ask you a question?” I hummed, running my finger lightly over his hair down to his jaw, using the tip of it to push his chin up so I could see his eyes better. 

“Please,” he buzzed, drunk with lust. 

“Hmm,” I hummed, smiling more, dropping my gaze to his lips, then back at his eyes where he was drowning in dopamine by our current position. “Those socks you have on?” He didn’t catch on immediately and just furrowed his eyes as he processed what I asked. “They look familiar.” 

I leaned back from my seat, still straddling his hips, but not with nearly as much pressure as before. 

“What-” Dean started, but it dawned on him mid-thought. His eyes went from ready to tear my clothes off to annoyed realization. “Seriously.” 

“What?” I feigned ignorance and stood up, repositioning myself between his legs, both hands on his knees as I looked at him and leaned over. 

He couldn’t tell which way this was going for him, and that was the point. I was still winning this little game. 

I eased myself lower, squatting with my knees going into the couch and in between his thighs. My hands went flat on his knees and slowly started working up his thighs. 

“I can’t tell what you’re doing here, Y/N,” he said in a breathy voice. I watched as he tried to control himself, looking up away from me but not being able to help react to my hands on him. 

“I’m not doing anything,” I said in a voice that made him lower his nervous wandering eyes back to me. The amount of green in his eyes disappeared slowly. 

“You’re teasing me,” he said shortly as if he was worried his voice would tremble if he didn’t get it out quickly. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” I shrugged with a pursed lip before bringing my hands slowly back down his legs. 

“You’re mad at me,” he stuttered the last word when my hands worked their way back up, but further up than before.

“Now, why would you think that?” I tutted, shaking my head with an exaggerated look of hurt. 

All he could do was take a slow, deep breath in as I tilted my head and smiled devilishly at him.

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t play innocent.” 

I grinned.

“You and I both know I’m far from that…” My tone was darker than before but in a seductive and tempting manner. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He shot up from his slouched position and leaned forward, grabbing my forearms in his hands and pulling me up in his lap with his nose mere inches from my own. 

“If your goal was to make me suffer, you won,” he whispered so quietly; if I wasn't this close, I wouldn't have heard it. He tilted his head up just enough for our noses to brush before pulling back. 

“Keep it together, girl… Keep it fucking together,” I repeated in my head. 

“Did I? Or am I just getting started?” I snarked, and that caused the new grip on my thigh to tighten, and I almost groaned at the pressure. 

“Don’t start a war you can’t win,” he smirked, feeling as though he possessed the power. 

Two can play that game. 

I smiled, bringing my free hand up and tracing it behind his ear before wrapping it slowly around the back of his neck. I brought his face closer to mine but stopped right when I could feel the brush of his lips. 

Our chests were pressed into each other, and I could feel his heart rate pick up. Perfect. 

I nudged our noses again and smiled as his eyes closed, and he naturally and lazily chased my lips. 

I rocked my hips in a measured manner, placed perfectly in the middle of his lap, and he sucked in a breath at the friction.

“Women don’t start wars. They finish them,” I whispered before promptly standing up and, in a swift motion, yanking the socks he had on off and walking to the exit. 

“Y/N!” I could hear his shout from the couch from where I knew he was with a full hard-on, unable to move just yet. 

“This granny is going to bed!” I shouted, speed-walking to my room in case he decided to run after me. 

“You little-!” the shout still seemed far behind me, and I quickly shut my bedroom door and locked it. 

Thankfully, I think I left him incapacitated for a second, and he didn’t follow me immediately. 

I actually didn’t hear from him for the rest of the night. I hoped I didn’t upset him, but also, the whole reason I had done what I had was because he had become a little ass about my favorite hobby. I don’t mind the jokes, but after a while, you want a pat on the back for learning something new. Especially from someone you care about. 

I went ahead and did my normal nighttime routine and got into bed before I started to read a book. I must have dozed off while reading because I woke up to the lights out, my book on the end table, and Dean crawling into the other side of the bed. 

Before I could say anything, his arms came around my waist, and he pulled me to his core. He was in his boxers and one of his soft t-shirts I made him wear to bed. 

For the record, I was perfectly fine with him in no shirt (or pants, for that matter), but when he did wear a shirt, I made him put on a certain kind cause his band and certain graphic tee ones were itchy on me when we cuddled. 

He took a deep sigh and nuzzled his face into the crevice between my neck and shoulder, one of his favorite places. 

“Why’d you lock your door?” he asked, already knowing I had woken up. 

He had definitely picked the lock.

“I thought you were going to hunt me down, and I forgot to unlock it,” I replied sleepily. 

There was silence for a minute, and eventually, he spoke up, whispering in my ear his apology. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” I sighed with a winning grin he couldn't see, knowing why but playing coy anyway. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you how much I appreciate your brain,” he answered. 

That was not what I expected, but I was intrigued. 

“Hmmm,” I smiled, moving my hands to his that were wrapped around my ribs and nuzzling my backside closer to him. “Don’t stop now; you’re on a roll.” 

He laughed and invited my attempt to fit into him like a puzzle piece.

“You’re ambitious with everything you want to learn to do, and I don’t tell you enough how much of a turn-on that is,” he hummed, rubbing his head into mine and peppering a kiss on my neck here and there. “And I know you know how much I love the skills you gain, but sometimes I’m bad about just saying how impressive you are to me.” 

“You like my crocheting skills, Winchester,” I chuckled, turning my body to face him now and throwing one of my legs over his hips, pulling back in some. “Just say it.” 

“I love your crocheting skills,” he replied with a wide grin and brought a hand up to move the stray hairs that fell on my face. “I love your baking and cooking. I love your impressive TV show-binging skills. I love the random facts you have stored in that beautiful brain of yours. I love your surprisingly nerdy side of Marvel and superheroes. I love your attempt at being a gardener.”

“Hey, I have three plants that are thriving right now!” I argued, poking a finger in his chest, which he grabbed and kissed the tip of. 

“I love everything you’re passionate about,” he finished off. “I don’t tell you enough, and sometimes I like to see that face you give me when I tease you.” I gave him a look. “Maybe more than sometimes… But! I do love all those things and more about you, Y/N.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” I replied, scooting in closer. “But it is nice to hear it from those captivating lips of yours.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

We started smiling at each other, and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about earlier. 

“I’m sorry I teased you,” I sighed, moving to where I was embedded in his chest, and he wrapped himself back around me. 

“Don’t be. I deserved it,” he replied, chin on my head before he bent down and kissed the top of it. “I will say, though, I’ve never been mad about seeing that side of you.” 

“What side?” I looked up at him. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing,” he chuckled, pulling my head back to him. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed after a minute. “Hey.”

“Hm?” 

“You’re my favorite person. You know that, right?” 

“Feelings are very much mutual,” he answered, caressing a hand up and down my back. 

“Good. I’d have to kill you with one of my knitting needles if you said otherwise. Who said needleworking wasn’t dangerous, right?”

My Lovelies Forever:

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[suguru-getos]

patience | gojo satoru x f!reader | part 1 |

a/n: here i go with another chapterwise fic :3 but this is mostly self-indulgent because i just need to vent it out ya'll. summary: you've just resigned from your job, life seems hectic and you're on the verge of drowning from all the mental stress. a certain stranger you meet after office at an ice-cream shop, has distracted you from wallowing in your own mess however.

a parted sigh escaped your lips, after thinking long and hard. you decide this was worth it. yes, this must be. this has to be… you have no other choice. would you rather let the stress claw you up inside out? eat you and make you hollow? speaking of hollow, frankly, you don't remember when was the last time you had felt fulfilled. or had felt an ounce of happiness coursing through your veins. there is nothing remotely similar to that in your cut-throat world. someone would say, y/n that's just being a tad too dramatic, you earn a lot of money. you have such a lavish lifestyle, you can afford what you want… then why does your chest tighten every time you wake up? why do you have to remind yourself to breathe… why is that your showers have been extravagantly longer? why is that you end up in your head for days.

you swallow a lump in your throat while you think about all this, the red bottomed heels that you wear are aching, they feel like you'd pass out from the restriction of being so prim and proper all the time. you want to wear soft, fluffy slides, you want to perish, you want to live.

you had been disassociating in your desk for what feels like ages, before sending your manager that pre-prepared email.

hi manager_name,

"as of today (date) I am formally resigning. let me know how I can help with the smooth handover process"

regards,

yes, this helps, this really does help. your stomach lunges down when you hit send though. a pit of bubbling what if's searing through your abdomen.

your watch vibrates just in time, stupid fucking apple watch - "log in about how you feel today", you laugh in disbelief. shit… you feel like absolute shit. what else is one supposed to feel? or maybe, when you think back, you don't know what it is that makes you feel numb. why can't you just be fucking happy. the world surely isn't ending. definitely isn't.

the rest of the day passes by in a haze, you are pulled in back to back meetings where you have to constantly remind yourself to put a smile on your face, to have the tone with which you speak polite, to tell about your reason being you need a break from it all. over and over and over. some of them believe you, some of them don't really. not your problem, not your circus, not your monkeys.

"I'd just like to remind that you can't take any leaves during the notice period. especially for the smooth transition of your roles and responsibilities." your manager hums, eyes carrying foul judgement. "of course, have read the policy." you retort, the thing is, you don't want to sound so judgemental and so snappy… but somehow your brain doesn't function well with all the cumulative stress you've been carrying.

once the hellish meetings get over, you get up from the cabin, plastering the 'I don't give a fuck' face on and walking back to your place. your throat feels dry with all the talking you have done, hands reflexively reaching for your tumbler. you find out it's empty. of course. when the little-est things are capable of pissing you off, then, and only then does this happen.

you get up, walking towards the common water purifier cooler to fill it up, one of your colleagues walking over to you and smiling. "hi y/n" you hate her, she is a condescending bitch if nothing else, amongst one of those people who are highly insecure themselves, and would paint the same insecurity all over others to normalize their feelings. there have been several instances, she's looped you into things she does, which you hate and don't want to be associated with. for example: last week, she says, "oh y/n, we both are so similar and don't tolerate bullshit, I think you can still be fake around the others but jeez, I can't pretend." then don't pretend? and how can she decide what you feel? and what you think? sometimes it's nasty comments about where did you get your clothes from, where is the glittery eye-shadow that you’re wearing from, and then she goes ahead and tells you where it's from… man, you're realizing you're starting to dislike everything and everyone. does overstimulation make someone so snappy you wonder? if that's the case, how can you really get over it? do you need a trip to the mountains? a trip to the beach? what the fuck is it that you fucking need! "oye- y/n" the snap of her finger brings you back to reality. you plaster another smile, "hello, sorry, I was just thinking about something." "have you lost some weight? I don't understand how you get time to do all that with us working full time." there she goes again, you look at your body, if anything, you've gained a few pounds within the last few weeks. "no, I don't think so." "come on, you don't have to lie about your workout routine, be a girl's girl." you want to be a violence's girl and hit her in the fucking head with a chair. "I think maybe the outfit is giving you the illusion that I've lost a few pounds." you hummed, happy to walk away or you'll lose your grip.

after you resigned, the behaviours change. suddenly everyone thinks you're a traitor, someone who can't stay with the group and has to walk away. it's evident with the way they look at you. your eyes glance at the clock, and a wave of relief washes over you. just 30 more minutes, and you'll be off from work. another minute of relief. maybe you should go outside and take a smoke… you sigh and lean back against your chair, gnawing at your lip.

what does it mean to be truly happy? you wonder really… were you truly happy when all your friends/colleagues who have resigned now, were there with you? nope. you'd hate to admit to yourself, and the idea stings your eyes with tears… but you don't remember how it feels to be truly happy. it's pathetic to be in a state of equilibrium or sadness always. 2-3 years ago, you had reached a state of despair and had taken anti-depressants and therapy. they just make you robotic, what even could help… nothing does… nothing NOTHING NOTHING!

after spiralling, while looking completely put together, you get up and leave the work premises. stress-eating, you've been doing that a lot these days. maybe a sugar rush would help, yes, it should help. your feet walk towards the ice-cream shop close to your work, and you mumble, "madagascar chocolate ice cream please." the vendor knows you already, you visit frequently. which is why you know the exact price of the cone and transfer the money to him. "I'll have what she's having" you hear an unfamiliar voice from beside you, you've been stuck in your head so much, you totally ignored that there is a looming, tall man standing next to you. your head tilts up, and up, and up. jesus christ he's tall. his hair are white, and he's wearing glasses. it's evening… why is he wearing those glasses. you'd admit your thoughts evaporated the second you laid your eyes on him. ethereal, handsome, angelic, godly. he looked like an angel. wearing a loose fitted black tee shirt that accentuated his prodding collar bone. he looked rich, you knew he was. the cologne was unmistakable. you are not sure whether you'd like to talk any further, because it didn't feel like he's very much interested, his eyes are still dead set on the menu.

the vendor gives your ice-cream to you first, and then gives him the same scoop. you turn to walk away, when the man mumbles, "I trusted you, and this is bitter." you blink, you…? is he talking to you? you turned around and looked at him. "well, are you talking to me?" satoru's smile turns bigger, you looked so small compared to him, just holding your silly little ice-cream. the work bag and the outfit is a stark contrast to your face though. the little eye bags in your eyes as well. you seem, tired, overwhelmed and exhausted. still, you look beautiful. frankly, satoru is approached by so many ladies, he was intrigued what got you living in your head so much that you don't even notice him standing next to you. women slither around him to get his number, he's had a few… distractions to keep himself sane with his line of work. peculiar. you seemed quite peculiar.

"yes, I am talking to you." he walks closer to you, watching how your face tilts up again to make eye contact. "what’s your name?" he hums, taking another lick of the ice-cream. "well, since you talked to me first, I suppose you should be the one to introduce yourself first?" oh she bites… satoru's grin only turns wider. "satoru gojo. jesus." he laughs, "you know one of my colleagues remind me of you, always snappy and yelling and just… a little weak. it's cute. not her, I mean- she is just a plain nuisance." was this dude being condescending to you? your eye twitches, jaw flexing. "well, I didn't know you were so eager to make opinions about others just from a single sentence." his smile fades a little, "not really, maybe you're just too competitive, miss still hasn't told me her name." you hummed, "my name is y/n" your eyes circle back to him what a handsome fucking twink! "and not my problem you decided to trust a complete stranger and ordered the same ice-cream as mine, only to not like it. I'm not paying for it." satoru chuckles, "of course, I'm not asking you to pay for it, I have more than enough to buy this entire ice-cream chain and seize control of it all over the world, and then, ban your silly little flavour for good." joking… he's joking, but his smile drops when he sees the joke only offended you further. you don't look happy, you only look pissed at him. and perhaps disappointed. "not like I'd do that, over you not telling me your name directly." he waves his hand, dismissing that proposal. "I hope you enjoy having more than enough to buy entire ice-cream companies." you retort, "I have to go home, good bye." of course you have to go home, you are dancing between your two feet in those cramping heels. "those heels are expensive too." satoru comments, looking down at your feet. you look at him, what was even this dude's deal? "okay? yes? I don't know what you mean?" "I mean, the flavour of the ice-cream was expensive, the one you ate, and I hated it. the heels you're wearing, expensive, and you hate it… except you're not saying that you hate it?" those heels were new, and true, they scathed your heel. "hmm, whatever, I like them, which is why I bought them. I didn't trust some random stranger to buy red-bottoms. and I'm happy with them, they're just new. new things take time to adapt. they have to adapt to my feet, I have to adapt to them. if you had been careful enough to adapt to the ice-cream and not giving up on it, you'd have liked madagascar chocolate flavour too." you cross your arms and look at him with a pout. serene, you look serene for once. it’s a different emotion than what satoru saw when he came inside the ice-cream parlour. maybe, you're right. he shrugs, "if I don't like anything first time, first glance, it's not my thing." he responded, and you nodded. "makes sense, I liked these heels, and I will bear the consequences." you squinted. what were you even conversing about with a bloody stranger?

"ah, you don't have to you know?" WHAT IS IT WITH HIM… "I WANT TO!" you're already overstimulated, jesus fucking christ! heels heels heels, ice cream ice cream ice cream YOU WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE! a second or two later, you realize you had lost it on a complete stranger, tears brimming in your eyes, you have been keeping it in for so long even the slightest of nudge would have caused you to collapse. that was the sole reason you came here to have ice-cream in the first place. and now, you've lost it.

satoru's eyes widen a little when he sees your eyes glossy, a stray tear falling from them. "sorry, little girl. uh- I like your ice-cream flavour, it's strong- and it's- chocolatey- and it's- creamy- I like the heels- they really-" oh he's unsure what to say. he did have an inkling that you were someone who didn't seem at her best, he is perceptive enough for that, but he just didn't know that you were so easy to break right now. part of him feels a little guilty, another part of him feels numb, he's seen people killed, he's killed people. what would a stranger's tears be worth?

"that's fine. sorry I've just been having a shitty day." you mumbled, evading eye contact and looking at your feet. "I understand" satoru is quick to comment, smiling again. "y/n, you're too pretty to cry." the next sentence betrays all logic whatsoever in satoru's mind. you blink, attention diverted from the way you had made things awkward to the bubbling compliment. "thanks?" you snort, wiping your tears. satoru smiles, he doesn't know why he said that, but hey, that's the truth. "I usually don't tear up over petty things, it's just these past few weeks have been a mess and I've just resigned from my job so… don't worry I'm fine." your explanation makes satoru grin wider, so protective of yourself. "good, now you don't have to wear those shitty heels anymore, you can wear those comfy and nice side ons? you know? the ones with fur? and wear jammies maybe." you look at him and your eyes soften. YES, YES THAT'S EXACTLY IT!

you nodded, "yeah, and then eventually, I'll be a happy girl." you say this with such doubt it's pathetic.

satoru's heart does something to him when you say it like that, like what do you mean? "you don't sound sure y/n" he pouts, both your ice-creams melting by now. "well, I am half sure, I am fine otherwise anyways.." you look up at him again, god he's pretty, and why were you talking to a stranger! "well, maybe if I can have your number and check for myself?" bold, satoru can be bold when he wants something. "what would you do about it even if I am not happy?" "something different than you…" "why?" "see this is why you're not happy, just relax y/n chan!" he chuckles, because he doesn’t know either. he just, said it in a whim… and he means it, he likes you… the realization of all these feelings is happening so fast for him, he doesn't want you to take him like a fluke. "fine." you mumble, exchanging contacts with him. "I have to go home, I am tired." you mumble, finally walking away. he just nods, waving bye and observing you walk away from him, standing still, just watching like you're the main character in a movie. silly girl, now he's replaying this conversation in his head over and over and over with a silly lovesick grin.

[sunfloweraro]

LUtober day 21: Hero

Little Time and Sky are determined to help when the others struggle to defeat the final boss. The Master Sword senses something is amiss with her heroes and sets things right.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay,” little Time assured his younger friend. “They said they’ll be fine.”

Little Sky made a worried sound. “They’re liars—look!” Little Time turned to see the group struggling against the massive beast. The monster pressed down on them, and even grouped together, they were being pushed back against its almighty strength. He gasped in shock. They had promised they would be okay, but…

“We have to help,” little Time announced.

Little Sky whimpered, clutching his arm tighter. “But I’m scared.”

“I am too,” little Time said. “But they need us.”

Little Sky’s face hardened—as best as a toddler’s could—with determination. “Yeah! Look!” He pointed to the swords the group had left with them. One was much too big for them to lift, but the other one…

“We can do it together!” little Time declared, and they rushed to the sword, tiny hands clutching the hilt. A tingle ran up little Time’s arms, and he found he suddenly felt stronger. Safe. “Do you feel that?”

Little Sky nodded. “I feel safe,” he murmured. With a nod to each other, they hoisted the sword up, stumbling under its weight. “Woah!”

“Come on, before it turns around!” Together, they heaved the sword over to the battle. The monster wasn’t facing them, hadn’t even acknowledged them, and the group of heroes were too busy being crushed into the ground to take any notice as the two children heaved the sword from where it dragged on the ground.

“Three, two, one…”

“Now!”

As one, they swung the sword up, and it slid through the monster’s middle like it was made of softened butter. The monster exploded into black sand with a shriek of outrage, and the two children shielded their eyes.

“Whoa…” Little Sky stuck his hand out to catch the drifting sand, giggling as it slid between his fingers.

“You two!” Twilight snapped, eyes wide with panicked rage. “I told you—” Twilight’s words were cut off when the sword, still clutched in the children’s hands, pulsed with light. A brilliant flash that had them all covering their eyes, and when it faded, Time and Sky now stood before them, returned to their rightful ages and looking dazed.

“What the… Why does my head hurt?” Sky pressed a hand to his temple, wincing. “Am I concussed?”

“What happened?” Time asked, staggering under a wave of dizziness.

Twilight looped an arm around both of their waists, easily keeping them both upright. “We should get you two back to camp. You need to rest.”

Sky hummed, his eyes already fluttering at the thought of sleeping. Time was more determined to stay awake, squinting at Twilight through his fatigue.

“What happened?” he asked again.

Twilight grinned, his eyes soft with relief. “Boy, do we have the story for you two—with pictures!”

“What—pictures?”

“You didn’t tell us you were such an adorable toddler, Sky.” Warriors teased, earning a confused, dazed look.

“I—What?”

“Rest. We’ll talk once you’ve recovered.”

(And come morning, Wild earned two not-so-gentle smacks to the head for their negligence, though Wild themself couldn’t regret it when they had too many adorable photos of little Sky and little Time tucked away in their slate. Twilight and Warriors made them promise to be more careful—and to find a way to print the pictures so they could keep photos of the two children once they returned home, both finding they already missed their little sprout and chicken.)

[blessedshortcake]

I feel like this has the potential to either be really stupid or very spot on and i need to write it down or I explode.

A theory on the AAHW and their purpose that is a little more than just "Hank kill people so we have to kill them". Long post so more under the cut. Spoilers obviosly.

For disclaimer I am referencing only the games, the series and the wikis so if there was anything else said on streams or something that is canon and I missed it then my bad. Also this is mostly speculation. Also it is 1am I am tired and non native English speaker so if I mispell stuff no I did not. Nuh us.

Also if this is already common knowledge then. Oops. I am a little slow. Lol. Tell me I'd like to know that I am late to the party.

There will be segments I will title since this is long so people can skip parts if they wanna.

Okay starting up we already know that the Employers have a connection to the makers of Nevada as they are not only 5 dimensional beings that like guide people and do other stuff, are compared to angels by Krinkels but also help The Machine apparently.

NEXUS ARENA MODE

For people unfamiliar with Madcom Project Nexus arena game lore, The Machine and The Maker are the two creators of Nevada. They are referred to as "brothers" but like is that relevant rn? No. The Maker and Doc team up and get the arena player in a loop to keep defeating the Stweard of The Machine and be the "direct connection to all reality" Doc needs which is important for many reasons.

The player is a gen 01 Nevadaian (how tf do i spell that) they are "quicker to ascend to godhood". There are other confirmed examples of gen1 like Phobos and i cant remember the rest but yeah gen1 is needed for this.

I genuinely belive that the player is needed for whatever revival Doc can do to keep making Hank come back. And I have proof! When we see in 9.5 the text overlay, we see the description "Machine Witness" when talking about Hank which sure could be Hank as he is the person monitored at that moment but how could they Really be it? It is probably Auditor as the thing then commands Hank to be retained immediately and Auditor is most definitely a machine witness as they directly work with it.

But then we see it is 2b helping them get out of the other place. He is sending tips and messages so it wouldn't be far fetched to say he uses the same exact system. Auditor doesn't need a witness to revive people and track them in the other place since they can already do a bunch of stuff and also they Are the witness. Also, why else would Doc need a connection to "all reality" if not to revive people? Possibly to reality restoration but eh. I am banking on the former.

(Speculation about the player, side ramble)

In my opinion, the way the players situation worked was Maker contacting Doc and giving him a hint about what all he needs to do. Maker cannot directly change stuff, they are hiding from the Machine. Since the player is confirmed to be the first grunt from Mashmallow Madness, i think they are ALSO the grunt encased in the marshmallow, a relic that is in a mission where you MUST protect it or you lose. I think its also in the museum in story mode but i could be wrong. They are listed as two different entities on the wiki but like they are also stuck in a time loop and can pick a preset of skills each run so I dont think its that ridicolous to assume this.

So Doc got the hint about a gen1 grunt existing somewhere and got their DNA and did some science bs to link it to a body, hence the no past thing and their ability to gain whatever skills and personality and abilities they want (aka the imprints)

BACK TO THE AAHW

Since we know AAHWs main goal is to, well, kill Hank, do we really get more of an explanation on why? Yeah ok they kill people. So does everyone else let us move past that for a moment.

The AAHW is ran by Auditor and he seems Very adamant about getting that one guy killed for seemingly no particular reason. I mean, Employers are higher beings so one guy just going around killing people should not be so concerning unless they are committing like mass murder to the point the population is running out which does not seem to be the case.

I think Hank is potentially the key to restoring normality to Nevada whatever the hell that actually consists of. Killing the Macine? Killing the Employers? Pushing a button? Shrug man.

The Higher Powers favor them canonically and the Higher Powers are not the Machine or Maker but something equal if not slightly lower than them (perhaps some meta of the audience i dont remember if we got a confirmation or not), Doc keeps bringing him back and Doc has a connection to Maker, who is trying to fix all of this mess without being absorbed by the Machine so to speak. Auditor being threatened by him makes a lot more sense when you think about it.

It also makes sense because it is their Literal Job as an Employer to keep things going as they are. "As they are" being helping the Machine destroy everything with madness so normality restoration would mean they failed.

I feel like Auditor is the one Employer who really doesnt want that happen since no other ones show up (save for Stygian in arena mode but that is a special case and even then its for like 5 frames lol) and it is said that they think Auditor's involvment with all this is kinda dumb... Like if Auditors one job is genuinely to keep madness in Nevada and let everyone die then RIP you got the most caught in this family drama between the creators sorry.

(SIDE NOTE, THE AGENTS)

Oh my dearest 1337 agents you keep me up at night.

Someone tell me how on EARTH are dissenters a thing if AAHW agents specifically are supposed to not only lack indaviduality (their s3lf) but also be unable to adapt and learn from their enviroment?

The only known AAHW members who we know the bg of are Jebus and Tricky so it makes sense why those two are like that but if Doc is supposedly past AAHW does that mean he is also a clone or does that mean he was hired by Auditor and ended up quitting like Jeb did? Because if it is the latter, calling him a dissenter is a Little petty Auditor but like fair enough.

I know a widely known hc is that Deimos is also a clone since he is heavily implied to be a dissenter by his wanted poster (or canon tbh) so does that make HIM a clone?

(My thoughts on AAHW units, Doc and Deimos, a side ramble)

I think whatever Doc has going on he is not a clone but has some other history. Possibly old Nexus connections like Jeb and Tricky but most likely not an old agent... But Deimos is. Maybe also Sanford idk his lore is a lot more loose in my eyes. We need more Sanford content.

I think agents have no s3lf (which is yea canon) but they can sorta develop preferences and learn things to an extent on their own. They can have food preferences, they know birthdays, they get bored and play games. They are still people after all. I think Auditor just keeps such a tight handle on them all (read: kills them for playing cards) that they are forced to act more like mindless units at all times. The SQ is already out to get their ass, getting killed by your own boss would suck a lot more probably. This is also further reinforced by the posters literally everywhere, and I personally think the ones in the other place are like that Because of how aimless and fucking boring their job is there. Edit: also since Stygian has seemingly no intention in helping them at all and Auditor likely never comes around hence the "we are abandoned" text. They observe and learn. They ARE abandoned.

But that also leads us to the next segment - observation. Just because they arent smart enough to be tactical in combat, they can clearly learn and evolve. Agents become soldats or engineers after all depending on the skills taught to them. I think dissenters become a thing when an agent has too much time to actually observe. Which is part of the reason why Auditor runs such a tight ship. Too much personality makes them realise this is fucked up, too little lets them die too fast. I think the more they progress the less humanity they actually have tho. Soldats and engineers are above them, they take commands without question (see the time a soldat fired at their own teammates when told to by whom they assumed to be their boss).

Soldats and Engineers are also confirmation that agents CAN learn if actually given the time and direction to do so like i said. I feel like clones if left without direction kinda suck but if given one they have the potential to absolutely destroy in the field. These units can use their enviroment for survival, they dodge and soldats have better combat abilities. Engineers are apparently very smart in mechanical stuff hence also their name but i cant remember if we ever see that in practicality.

(Tho I do feel like engineers only have the better survival ability because engineers constantly dying like agents would be too hard to replace over and over since they are taught the stuff they know. It would be resources lost.)

Doc being such a pain in the ass (hacking their systems, reviving people, seemingly being the leader of the SQ or at least a high ranking member considering the "man in the chair" descriptor he has, The Whole Maker Connection) would make more sense like that too. Deimos being a clone who either advanced from an agent or stayed one would make sense imo. He is a good fighter and his red blood pretty much excludes the other option but alas.

Imo it would also make their dynamic with Doc more interesting as he would still need some guidance. He probably had some training to get to the point he is but needing directions will stay a constant, and what is Doc if not the commander of SQ? Sanford also fits into that whole descriptor too imo with how he acted in the other place but again I am way less confident in talking about him than anyone else.

Also side note:

Before anyone says it, on the wiki Doc and Deimos never have a confirmation to what gen they are. As far as I remember not even Hank has one so the possibilities are pretty up in the air as of now. (But again Hank as Gen 1 would make a lot of sense considering... gestures. But who knows. This post is not about that.)

TLDR

Auditor wants Hank dead so bad because not only do the Higher Powers favor them, but because they have a direct connection to Maker who is against the Machine's effect of madness and is likely the key to actually restoring normality to Nevada, and Auditors literal job is to keep Nevada in madness as it is.

Thanks for reading if you got this far. PLEASE let me know your thoughts I spent like an hour writing this and I don't know if I sound insane or if this makes any sense. Either way I am. Autistic as hell about this. So yeah

If i forgot something let me know. I will probably edit it if I remember something too lol

[skyeslittlecorner]

can you post some photos on chapter five? ive been struggling to get to it and im impatient if ykwim 😭😭

Don't worry anon, I got you covered! Let's break this chapter for three parts - one for story and for one for both H-scenes. There are a lot of things to look forward to~

Warning: HEAVY SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT. In fact, I'll try to shorten the whole thing and focus on plot-relevant facts, so for those who want to go through chapter 5 on their own, come back when you're done! (Or just skip to h-scene, they are marked.)

Ch5 - STORY

First, I would like to warn that my opinion about it may be unpopular. As someone who hadn't paid much attention to Hades before, I fell in love with it after this episode. I adore ch5. A lot of people hate these boys to the core for what they did, and I understand and respect their opinion, but I'm with Hades here. I would love to analyze their behavior in more detail, but we don't have time for that today.

Summarizing this chapter is going to be hard because a lot of things happened. Let's go!

We start by going down a slide sponsored by Leviathan and his Lovecraftian friends (TM). But worry not! It seems we have friends even in the realm of death. Say hello to grandpa!

We talk a little, being in a questionable mood. Well, who wouldn't be? But we have the opportunity to know Solomon better, and I'm getting to understand why all devils love him. By the way, it turns out that we are his last descendant.

Sorry Solomon, you're still a peepaw.

He also advises us not to be afraid of Leviathan and not to be submissive to him, and then in a brilliant way he sends us back to the world of the living. Of course, our beautiful king is delighted.

We take Grandpa's advice to heart and finally stand up to Levi. He's surprised, but he doesn't try to kill us again (for now). We witness him hanging one of his subjects, who dared to ask about an accident from 311 years ago.

Fun fact. Devils must have much stronger spines. Do you know how people used to die by hanging? The first methods involved cutting off oxygen, but later they involved into breaking the cervical spine and this was considered a standard hanging execution. Leviathan must be gentle (how bad it sounds in this context), he could kill instantly with a loop like that.

Back to the point. We find out that we also have a noose around our neck, and Leviathan makes use of it. We're hanging, but we finally begin to meet Leviathan's nobles one by one.

Glasyal plots (and ends up hanging for it), Foras argues with him, along the way we learn that Leviathan needs us in his plan, and, you know, maybe killing us isn't the smartest thing he can do. Only Barbatos realizes that maybe it's a good idea to stop hanging us like wet laundry. He's the only one so openly nice to us.

Remember that.

Another fun fact, our MC is of medium height (~160 cm I guess). Leviathan is 187cm, Foras should be similar. I only noticed this because I myself am 180 cm so they are not so strappingly tall for me.

Foras wants to take us away from Levi and explain everything calmly, but the king does not agree. We learn that the guys know where the seed from the Tree of Knowledge is. We're supposed to go with them, and we have about a 50/50 chance of survival. Also, we have the opportunity to see a very rare phenomenon, a joking Leviathan.

Sweetie.

Colossally shortening the rest, the cavalry arrives! You didn't have to. I haven't had time to fuck them yet.

And this cavalry is very much at odds with the nobles of Hades. Most of the time is them arguing. Fortunately, they didn't kill each other…

...because Barbie decided to kill us.

Barbatos is poisoning us to force Bimet and Valefor to join the plan. While we are unconscious, we have flashes of Leviathan's past, which is too sad to analyze considering that we are about to jump to hot scenes now. Besides, most of us already know what this is about. Experience it for yourself. Really. We also learn that not only angels experimented on children, and a little about Mammon's childhood.

In the end, we learn that in Ch6 we must visit the abandoned laboratory in Tartaros, where the seed from the tree of knowledge should be, because as Solomon's descendants, we may be the only ones who will not be killed by it.

Ch5 - VALEFOR H-SCENE

(I really wanted to post CG from Valefor's scene here, but I don't know if Tumblr will block it.)

TIME FOR DESSERT!

Bimet is the first to realize that we lack devil energy. He wants to take care of it, but Valefor brushes him off, sends him to scout, and overall Bimet is our wingman, what a bro lol

Since we are away from Satan and Gehenna, we cannot summon Minhyeok's room. MC thinks she's outgrown it anyway. So we can count on the next scenes to be more and more creative.

It all starts with us telling Valefor that he reminds us of Mammon. And what a beast it brings out of him.

And he loves it.

...aaand then, someone wants to interrupt. Bimet informs us about this and goes to chase them out. Valefor stands with us at the door to see if anyone else is coming. Yes. Naked. With us. In us.

Fortunately, no one catches us and after the entire session we fall asleep in our knight's arms.

I really would like to do more screenshots, but tumblr is blocked… and there's one more part to come.

Ch5 - LEVIATHAN H-SCENE

At least you look beautiful and the platform won't block you.

And here's what I love the most. It was sick. I'd love to experience it again.

I would love to make a whole post ONLY about this and just leave the screenshots.

We are in Leviathan's office, and he interrogates us when we feel like we are lacking devil energy. We want to go to Bimet, but do you think our jealous king will allow it? Oh no no no. And of course, his hands land on our chin and then our neck. He doesn't like our hickeys.

We start asking him valid questions like "why are you jealous of us if you hate us?" So he silences us with a kiss. A deep, suffocating kiss. This is also how Leviathan discovers that we gain their energy through "intercourse with the devil".

And how can I not fall in love with this idiot.

The conversation that follows gives us some light on his approach to sex and to relationships in general. Which is… sad. It fits him perfectly, but it's sad. And I would also like to analyze this someday, this character is beautiful and how he's written is even more beautiful, especially from writer's point of view. He does not want the admiration of his people or the hatred of angels. The only thing he can believe and consider to be sincere is that someone's dislike. This is something that might actually turn him on.

At first he rules, he asks questions and he hangs us. And he does everything he can to piss us off. He hands us a whip and lowers us down.

Just disliking him isn't enough, and he works diligently to make us hate him. He insults Minhyeok, us, wishes us dead, and the more he sees our anger, the more he gets excited and talks more. He knows that we are connected to Satan and we will know how to release our anger. On him.

He finally got what he wanted. We straddle him and, with the help of Satan's strength, begin to strangle him. Neither you nor he are gentle.

Also, his words (unfortunately, I already have a limit on screenshots). "Do not bite your lips. Bite mine instead." I beg, let me violate him even more.

Compliment from Leviathan, nice. In the end, we fall asleep cuddled up to him, and he has no intention of giving us up to anyone. As in the case of Sitri, he only opens up to us when we are so unconscious that we do not see his softer side.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

AND THATS ALL! What a ride it was, I hope I was a good guide. One day I will go into the Hades boys in more depth, but for now, let this be a shortcut for everyone who is still struggling with ch5.

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024: Day 4, Great Race | TC-LRAU

Everything was burning. Everything was burning hotter than the sun, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop!

As he felt his stream-lining shell start to break away with steam bursting through, making his boiler crack even more than before, but it was even quicker to do so as it had been broken up from all that he held in to keep himself from going back to Sodor. To continue on.

He can’t die right now- he can’t! Please, please not now, not now. All his thoughts at that moment were pleading to Lady Above that he wouldn’t fail right there and then, or worse, especially not in front of all of these people and engines. His brother especially.

After so many years of entertaining one crowd, Sodor, the thought of being able to show what he was capable of to an entirely new audience was enthralling to him. It was an opportunity he’d take after so long of waiting to stay in this loop.

He took it, right when Sir Topham Hatt mentioned it, he took the offer much to his controller, and his own, surprise. With all the safety precautions, he was sure incidents weren’t most likely to occur.

His mind started to fill with thoughts he had suppressed for too long, making this even worse as his anxiety rose, fearing for the worse. And surprise, surprise, it had indeed came true as he heard the whistle of a familiar face, snapping him back to reality.

As he glanced around the track, he would feel the wind swirl through the cracks of his shelling as Spencer sped by, feeling his boiler weaken even more as consciousness crept up from the back of his mind, in a painfully slow way.

He could just feel Spencer starting to panic even faster than he was, simply speeding up to avoid the ghastly sight that was the process of becoming a corpse. Hearing the muffled voice of the announcer halting the engines that were behind him to stop, he’d try to apply his brakes but it would multiply the agony by pushing the stuck pieces of debris more into the little crevices near the brakes.

And because of that, his wheels would screech against the rails beneath him, wearing them down. Then, he’d hear the muffled sound of a plate breaking as a part of his forehead started to numb, he could see a golden liquid flow at the corner at his eye.

As the numbness faded out, now replaced with a sensation similar to that of multiple cuts reopening themselves after being stitched up, his vision would start to feel like looking through a cracked pane of glass—-

—-

“Are you quite sure about this?”

“Of course I am! Besides, why not test if these new wings of mine can benefit me in this form?”

“Well if they don’t prove to be worthy, I’ll just have to donate my own wings to you.”

“You’d be out of your right mind if so!” he laughed as he stretched out his wings a bit.

It had only been a year since he had been blessed with a name, and of course, it’s even more magical than it had been described by others. That shiver that ran through him when he woke up with that name plate on him after a little checkover by the engineers. It was amazing.

But of course, that night where he had just returned from a run and Solario had suddenly bumped into him, had caused him to discover this new human-like mechanical form of his. Though he had no issue with it, Solario was quite on edge from nightmares from what he had heard and it was about time he had learnt about this new form.

Well technically he had known about it ever since he had stumbled onto Gordon in his own humanoid form.

Though his train of thought would be cut off as he glanced at Gordon, who would be stretching his own wings as both of them glanced at what was in front of them. It would be-

“Oh this cliff is as beautiful as I remembered it!”

It would be a cliff, the slope would practically be invisible as the view below it was a bit nerve wracking yet thrilling. Oh to see the world below from above such a height like this would be amazing, hence why they’re here. 

He’s already proved he could glide off the ground a bit, why not do it from a great height!

As he stretched out his wings as far as he could, taking a glance at Gordon who was looking beyond the horizon, he’d look to what was infront of him as well. The warmth of dawn as the sun had fallen down to the south to rest at last, leaving the moon to finally rise.

“Scotsman.”

“Yes?”

“I promise, to make up for all of my mistakes, I’ll be there when something goes wrong. I’ll be on standby.”

He’d look at Gordon sympathetically. “You don’t need to make up for anything, dear brother. But thank you. The same goes for me with you, I promise to keep you safe as well.”

“Thank you.”

Scotsman stood precariously at the edge of a towering cliff, the wind tousling his hair and filling his lungs with the crisp, invigorating scent of the open sky. 

Below him stretched a breathtaking landscape, an expanse of emerald valleys and serpentine rivers shimmering under the midday sun, a view so vast and beautiful it almost made him forget the gnawing sense of doubt that always lingered at the back of his mind. His wings, short and stubby, quivered with a mixture of excitement and trepidation; they were hardly the kind of appendages that would allow for any real flight, but today felt different. 

Today, there was an inexplicable urge pushing him forward, a whisper in his soul urging him to leap into the abyss and embrace whatever awaited him in the open air. He had often watched his brother Gordon soar effortlessly above the ground, his magnificent wings—large, powerful, and beautifully designed, complete with metallic tips that gleamed like swords in the sunlight—gliding through the sky with an elegance that Scotsman could only dream of. 

Yet here he was, standing on the precipice, contemplating a jump, unsure of what he might discover about himself.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and took a step forward, feeling his heart race as gravity threatened to pull him down. But instead of falling, Scotsman felt an unexpected buoyancy, a lightness that lifted him up and out into the vast expanse of the sky, his body suspended as if cradled by the air itself. 

The world below shrank rapidly, and for a moment, pure exhilaration flooded through him; he was flying, or at least floating, caught in an exhilarating dance with the wind that whipped around him. 

It was a sensation he had never experienced before, and the feeling of weightlessness enveloped him in a cocoon of joy. Up here, he felt free, liberated from the constraints of earthbound existence. 

Yet, amid the thrill, a troubling awareness began to gnaw at him: this incredible ability was not something he understood, nor did he know how long it would last. There was a strange energy pulsating within him, a warmth that surged and ebbed like a flickering flame, and with each passing second, he sensed that this magic was draining, like a well running dry.

As he soared higher, he glanced down, the ground appearing more distant and hazy, the trees like mere dots, and an irrational fear began to creep into his heart. How long could he sustain this? His wings flapped uselessly, offering no real support, only a rhythmic flutter that accompanied the growing panic within him. 

Soon, he felt the first heavy tug of gravity asserting itself, the joyous buoyancy beginning to slip away like grains of sand through his fingers. Scotsman gasped as he realized he was beginning to descend, the world rushing up to meet him far more quickly than he had anticipated. It was not long before the exhilarating thrill of floating transformed into the cold grip of fear, and in that moment of despair, he felt utterly alone, suspended between the ground and the sky, a mere moment away from disaster.

But just as he began to fall, a powerful rush of wind announced Gordon’s arrival. Scotsman looked up to see his brother soaring toward him, wings spread wide and majestic, cutting through the air with practiced grace. 

“SCOTSMAN! BROTHER!”

—-

‘BROTHER!’

Is what he would’ve yelled out had it not been for the lump that formed near his vocal cords, gripping tightly on them as he witnessed in horror his own brother start to become as literal as his name. 

He would try to speed up, trying to call out to him, but every attempt would be in vain as his mind clawed at him. His own mind betraying himself. Even though he knew his brother was in agony just by looking at him, debris flying towards the engines behind him, he couldn’t talk.

But at last, as he slid back his smoke deflectors as much as he could without resisting, he would glance at his brother through blurred eyes from the flames that brought a nerve wracking warmth near his face, opening his mouth to call out to him-

“Evacuate the area! All engines behind NWR N. 4 must remain behind him for safety, and for those ahead of him, get as far as you can then head to the emergency sidings marked with white flags!”

‘Get as far as you can’ was all that rang in his mind as he looked to the engines on the track beside his, their distraught faces being carved into his mind everytime he looked at them. He’d try to brush it off as he heard mumbles from Gordon, trying to focus on him instead.

But Scot, those glaring eyes that gaze towards you, couldn’t you consider what they have to say? What to say about your poor weak brother in this moment? How unreliable he currently looks as they pity him? Hm?

“Scot- Please–”

How could you associate yourself with such a weak sibling? It was a surprise enough such an antique were to appear in such a grand streamlined shell, hell, it was a surprise he even still survived!

Stop, stop. His ears rang as he finally looked at Gordon in the right mind, his eyes widening as he saw the… The cracks. No, those weren’t any cracks. The yellow tint in his eyes was shifting colours, to that colour.

Oh look at him, it seems his time is up. A shame, really. He would’ve been a fine static display next to Mallard, don’t you think?

Scotsman’s thoughts spiraled, a mix of disbelief and dread. How had it come to this? Gordon, once a paragon of strength and pride, now reduced to this fragile state. The cracks were spreading, like a disease consuming him from within. Scotsman could almost hear the mocking whispers of the other engines, the silent judgment of the museum visitors.

He deserves better than this, Scotsman thought, a pang of sorrow piercing his heart. But what could be done? Time was merciless, and even the mightiest engines couldn’t escape its grasp.

Gordon’s eyes met his, a flicker of recognition and despair. “Scotsman… I…”

No, don’t speak. Save your strength, old friend. Scotsman wished he could say the words aloud, but they remained trapped in his mind, a silent plea for mercy.

Accept it, Scotsman. This is the end for him. Embrace the future, and let the past fade away.

But how could he? How could he let go of the memories, the shared triumphs and struggles? Gordon was more than just an engine; he was a brother, a comrade. Scotsman’s resolve wavered, his anxiety mounting. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, suffocating.

I can’t watch this. I can’t bear it. The thought echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing second. His wheels trembled, and he felt an overwhelming urge to flee, to escape the unbearable sight of Gordon’s decline.

Without another thought, Scotsman turned away, his heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t watch his brother fade away. As he slid his smoke deflectors with a click, speeding up as fast as he can, the echoes of Gordon’s struggles haunted him, a reminder of the relentless march of time and the fragility of even the strongest among them.

—-

Gordon’s wings were a magnificent sight to behold, the feathers layered in a way that mimicked the natural world but were imbued with a glimmering strength, the metallic tips shining brightly in the sunlight, embodying both beauty and might. Scotsman felt a jolt of relief shoot through him as Gordon’s keen eyes locked onto his, the familiar warmth of his brother’s presence igniting a flicker of hope in his heart. 

With a fierce determination, Gordon swooped down, his powerful wings propelling him forward at breathtaking speed. Scotsman’s heart raced as he felt the air shift around him, and before he knew it, Gordon was there, his strong arms wrapping around Scotsman with an assurance that chased away the shadows of fear.

In an instant, the world shifted again, and instead of falling, Scotsman found himself cradled in the safety of Gordon’s embrace, his brother’s wings working in harmony with the currents of air to lift them both up, soaring effortlessly back toward the sky. 

Scotsman clung tightly, heart pounding with a mixture of gratitude and awe as they glided together, the thrill of being so high, so alive, rushing through him like a wildfire. The initial panic faded, replaced by the warmth of familial love and the realization that he was not alone in this moment, that even in his darkest fears, his brother would always be there to catch him, to support him when the weight of the world felt too heavy to bear.

As they descended slowly, Gordon’s laughter rang out like music, filling the air with joy, a sound that grounded Scotsman in reality, reminding him that even if he could not fly on his own, he was always anchored by the unbreakable bond they shared.

When they finally landed on solid ground, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over everything, and Scotsman felt a newfound appreciation for the experience, a profound understanding that it was not merely about the act of flying but about the connections that uplifted him, the moments shared with his brother that truly made him feel alive.

Even as he grappled with the mystery of his floating ability, he felt an assurance that he was not defined by his limitations but rather by the love and support that surrounded him. The sky, once a realm of dreams and doubts, now felt like a place of possibility, a canvas upon which he could paint new stories alongside his brother, one leap at a time. 

And in that moment of quiet realization, standing side by side with Gordon, he knew that the journey was far from over, that together they would discover the heights they could reach, not just through the power of wings but through the strength of their bond, forever ready to leap into the unknown together.

But at this very moment as Gordon looks back at this memory through the line between unconsciousness and the cruel reality that is happening right now, that’s quite the lie, isn’t it?

[stratossphere]

attention | j.k

for once, you’re drunk and johnny isn’t, and you’re a needy drunk.

warnings: reader is super drunk, knoxville is unimpressed, fluff <3

word count: 3k

a/n: i’m obsessed with whiny reader and i can’t help it i’m sorry!!!!

taglist: @asskickedbygirl @kristinee @lizey-thornberry @faceache111 (lmk if you want to be added!)

— —

Being drunk in a room full of people who weren't really drunk was fucking miserable. Sure, everyone was probably a little tipsy, but you’d been out with your other friends right before getting to Johnny's house for what was turning out to be the first actually casual work get-together in all of Jackass history, so no one was anywhere close to your level.

And, to make things worse, when you got drunk, you got touchy. Johnny was sitting next to you on one of the couches, but there was a good amount of distance between you, and he was currently completely entrapped in a conversation with Jeff about technical Jackass stuff, which meant that he was paying you zero attention.

He was also wearing the leather jacket with the red, white, and blue stripes, which wasn't helping much either.

"Yo. You want another beer?" You were jolted out of your little pity party by a hand hitting your shoulder, and you looked up with a deep frown to see Dave standing above you. The only benefit to Johnny not paying any attention to you was that there was no one to cut you off when you clearly needed it. A grin formed on your face.

"Why yes I would." You accepted, trying to keep your voice composed so that you didn't sound as drunk as you actually were. Dave nodded and headed off in the direction of the kitchen, just as you got up on your knees and leaned over the side of the couch so that you were close to where Bam, Steve-O, and Ryan were sitting on the floor playing cards and arguing adamantly. "Whatcha doing?"

"Jesus. Your breath smells like a liquor bomb." Bam groaned as he dipped his head away from you, making a face as he shielded his cards from your view like you were any part of whatever game they were playing.

"Well, you'll have to excuse me. I've already been to three bars today." You said dryly, narrowing your eyes as you finally caught a look at his hand. With context telling you that they were playing poker, you winced. "Damn. Shitty hand."

"Y/n." Bam shoved you slightly, and with all of the alcohol in your system you almost went tumbling forward right over the arm of the couch. You looked back momentarily so that you could hook one foot on Johnny's leg to keep yourself from falling before you smacked Bam in the back of the head, to which he just swung right back with a glower on his face. "Go blow Knoxville, you fuckin' asshole."

"Dude. Gross." Steve-O protested, kicking Bam from where he was sitting across from him. That earned him a kick right back, and then they were going back and forth hard enough for Bam’s back to slam back against the couch. Ryan ducked away from the fighting, taking the opportunity to get to your point of view so that he could look at Bam's cards before quickly sitting back.

"Should I even be giving you this?" Suddenly Dave was next to you again, and he was giving you a skeptical look as you turned slightly on your side so that you could look at him. You scoffed.

"Um, yes. I am fine." You reassured him in a voice that certainly didn’t sound fine, taking the beer before he could make his decision on whether or not he was going to give it to you. Before you even moved an inch towards popping the tab, suddenly you were being pulled back forcefully by the belt loop of your jeans, and you turned around in indignant shock to see Johnny's knowing stare trained directly on you.

"You're fine, huh?" With a quick look to the side, you realized that Jeff had moved on to talking to Spike and Pontius, leaving Johnny's attention completely open to realizing how drunk you were. It didn't help that you were literally keeping yourself from falling over by holding onto him with your foot. "Give me that."

"But—"

"I wasn't asking." And then he was pulling you completely away from your end of the couch, getting you close enough to where he could snatch the beer out of your hand and put it on the side table that was right next to him before he forced you to sit down.

"You're so lame. First, you completely ignore me, now you're stealing my beers." You complained as you deflated next to him, crossing your arms in a pout as your shoulder hit his. He let out a chuckle of disbelief.

"Oh, my poor girl. You think you're gonna survive?" He teased, his arm shifting so that he could put it around your shoulders. You keened to his touch despite your disdain for his reprimanding, as it was exactly what you’d been craving since you’d arrived.

"No. I wanna cuddle." You complained, resting your cheek against his shoulder and reaching your hand up to his cheek so that you could hold his head against yours. The liquor and beer in your system was clearly numbing your awareness to the rest of the room, as you normally wouldn't be caught dead being even close this touchy in front of all of your friends, but he just smelled so good and you knew that even if he wasn't explicitly letting on, he always ate that shit up.

"Holy shit." He slowly peeled your hand off of his face, leaning back slightly to look you in the eyes. You knew he was checking to see if you were visibly on drugs as well as being drunk (which you weren't, for the record), and you widened them dramatically to make it easier for him. "What were they giving you at that club?"

"Irish car bombs." You boasted, flexing your arm as you remembered how impressed your other friends had been with the quick rate at which you’d gone through five consecutively. It was always fun to show off in front of people that weren't on the Jackass level of bad decisions. "Not that many though, babe. I swear."

"What, like three?" Even that number seemed to irk him. You froze slightly, because he really wasn't going to like being informed that it had actually been five, and then a couple of whiskey shots on top of that, before just smiling as convincingly as possible and shrugging.

"Something like that." It's not like he could've tortured the information out of you. You snuggled in closer to his side then, fingers grabbing absentmindedly at the opening of his jacket as you let out a yawn against the warm skin of his neck. "Who cares? I didn't even throw up."

Yet.

"Wow. I don't think I have ever seen you being this sweet." He marveled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, putting a hand on your leg where your knees were drawn up towards your chest and then interlacing your fingers when you put yours over his. "I should be getting you on video."

"You're so mean." You complained, ignoring the fact that he was gently running circles on the inside of your palm with his thumb where he was holding your hand. Even with just his minuscule touches, you could feel yourself starting to fade out, and you knew that it was caused by his innate talent to calm you down completely every time he was in touching distance.

"I think you're a little touchy. No pun intended." He said, lifting his arm to show how you were practically stuck to him. "This jacket's probably a little dirty, dollface. Give me a sec to get it off so your shirt doesn't get gross."

You let out a small whine of protest, feeling your heart aching as he pulled his hand out of yours and then promptly realizing just how drunk you really were. You literally felt about five seconds away from crying as you were forced to let him get off the couch, only feeling half-consoled when you got to watch him strip down a layer to reveal the 'MID FUCK MUNCH' shirt he was wearing underneath his jacket. It made you laugh just a little bit.

"Bro. Did you get roofied?" You vaguely heard Wee-man's voice from somewhere in front of you, but you had reclined back to lie down on the couch with your eyes closed by that point, and you weren't about to open them again to locate where he was speaking from.

"No. Say no to drugs." You mumbled, snickering to yourself at your own joke as you rolled onto your stomach and basically face-planted against the couch. The liquor was really starting to hit now, and any tiny piece of self-awareness that you had possessed before was slowly fading away with every passing second.

"Alright. Bedtime for you." Johnny said decisively, nudging you with his knee as he kneeled down on the couch next to you. You opened your mouth and let out a scoff of indignation, your hand shooting out to his arm to stop him from pulling you up.

"No no no! I'm having fun!" You pouted, smiling widely in the face of his irritated stare when you looked up at him. "Come on. Come lay with me."

"Quit trying to steal Knoxville from us, you fucking alcoholic." Bam snapped at you from out of your eye-line. Even in your hammered state you knew how much of a hypocritical callout that was, and you narrowed your eyes before sitting up as fast as you could manage so that you could shoot him a downright venomous look.

"I hope you fucking die." You spat, taking one of the pillows off of the couch and chucking it at the back of his head and spilling his beer in the process. About half a second later, you were being grabbed by your arm and pulled right up off the couch onto very unstable legs as Bam grumbled profanities in your general direction. You knew you were in trouble before you even turned to see the glare on Johnny's face.

"Upstairs. Now." This time there was no room for persuasion in his voice, and you paled slightly. Yeah. You were fucked for the night. You got a symphony of jeers considering your violent act against Bam had drawn everyone's attention onto you, and you blindly threw two middle fingers to everyone in the room as Johnny started to pull you towards the hall. He glanced back momentarily in the direction of your friends. "I'll be back in 10."

"What? You're not even gonna stay with me?" You whined despite knowing that you had definitely just fucked up those chances by wishing death on Bam, hanging off of him slightly as you complained. He just shot you a look, continuing towards the staircase and then grabbing your hand tightly in his as you began the trek up the stairs.

"You spilled beer all over my goddamn floor and you told Bam you hope he dies. You lost your privilege." He muttered, having to do most of the lifting to get you up each step as you swayed dangerously with each movement. "And I can't just go to bed with everyone still downstairs. You know that."

"Oh. Okay." You tried not to make it evident that you were pouting, but he could probably hear it in your voice. After another minute or so, you finally made it all the way up the stairs, and you felt yourself yawning as you caught sight of Johnny's bed when you got to his room. A hundred times better than the couch.

Johnny hadn't spoken a word since his irritated lecture on the stairs, and when you sat down on the edge of the bed to let your head catch up with your eyes, you felt anxiety rush through you at the scowl that was still on his face.

"Baby. Don't be mad at me." You whined, tilting your head up to where he was standing above you and giving him a desperate look. He cracked a small hint of a smile, reaching out and tucking your hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek in his warm palm.

"I'm not mad at you. You're just a handful." He muttered with a small sigh, taking his hand away before you turned your head enough to bite him like he would've done to you had the roles been reversed. "C'mon. Get in bed and I'll be up in like, the next hour."

"But I miss you." You whimpered, letting him guide you towards getting into your coined side of the bed despite your complaints because, despite all of your talk, you really were tired. Slamming drinks and causing problems could really take a lot out of someone.

"You'll survive an hour." Johnny, of course, never fell for your begging. Not unless he had about double the amount of liquor in his system than what you currently had in yours.

"Can you sit with me until I fall asleep?" You tried instead. You knew you were really pushing your luck, but you couldn’t help yourself, barely making it to the pillow before you were lying down completely as he started to undo the button of your jeans. Great bonding experience with your boyfriend who was definitely not in the mood. He sighed.

"Just a little bit, okay? I can't be leaving those assholes unattended in my house for too long." Once he finally got your jeans undone (and your bra, with only a little bit of a suggestive look as he did so), he pulled the comforter over you, turning off the small lamp that was close to your face and then rubbing your back gently. "Well? Were you finally able to outdrink someone for once today?"

A dig at the fact that, although you may have been flirting in the territory of alcoholism, you were nowhere close to your boyfriend or friends on Jackass. That would take about another bottle of Jack a day at least to achieve.

"Fuck off. I outdrink all of the other people I hang out with." You grumbled, barely able to keep your eyes open by that point as he continued to rub your back. "By a lot."

"Oh I bet, sweetheart."

After that you didn't respond, and after a few minutes, you could no longer fight the alcohol coma that had been threatening to consume you for the past hour or so. You were able to get one last look at an amused looking Johnny before you passed out with your face directly in the pillows, the only focus in your brain being his hand on your back as you drifted into what was sure to be at least a 12-hour bout of unconsciousness.

—

When you woke up again, it was because you could feel shuffling in bed next to you. You groggily opened your eyes, trying to figure out which way was up and vice versa, only to roll right against the person doing all the shuffling. You immediately smelled familiar cologne, and a sleepy smile made its way onto your face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake ya." Johnny said softly, his hand brushing momentarily against yours. His face was pretty close to you, and you immediately smelled the brewery on his breath. You turned the other way and raised your head to check his alarm clock. 2:50.

That asshole. You had gone to bed at 9:45.

"You partied without me." You pouted as you rested your head back down, right on top of his. He let out a slight groan of indignation, but ultimately didn't move away. In fact, he moved closer back into you, reaching an arm back to throw across your waist.

"You already did enough partying." He barely spoke loud enough for you to hear, but you could hear the thickening twang of his southern accent bleeding through due to the fact that he was clearly drunk. You found it endearing when his voice went into a slight hum as you reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. "You doin' okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah. Just missed you." Taking your head off of his to give your fingers more room in his hair, you instead laid it on the pillow so that your lips were just barely brushing the back of his neck. He always smelled so nice no matter how much he drank. "I wanted to cuddle with you."

"I can turn around—"

"No. Just stay like this." You pulled one leg over his hip so that he was as close as he could physically get, pressing a kiss to his neck as you continued to fuck with his hair. If you could've squeezed him tighter without hurting him, you would've. "I'm smelling you."

"You're a weird fuckin' chick, babydoll." His voice was fading, and you could tell that he was close to falling asleep, which was exactly what you wanted. You slid one hand under his arm so that it was resting against his now-bare chest, scratching your nails against his skin gently.

"Mhm. Love you, baby." You mumbled, your fingers losing purchase in his hair as it started to become harder and harder to keep your eyes open. He was warm, you were cold, and his body warmth was beginning to lull you back towards that coma that he had awoken you from not long ago.

Johnny mumbled back a version of I love you in return that was jumbled by sleep, and then it wasn’t long before you could both hear and feel his snoring where your cheek had settled on his back as you hugged him tight.

You fell asleep extremely tangled up, both eventually turning to face the same way before you were at each other's chests with your arms and legs all mixed up. You knew that you were both going to be wickedly hungover in the morning, and that there was a high likelihood that someone was going to spring out of bed in an attempt to make it to the toilet before they threw up, but for now you were completely content in the comfort of his arms.

And it didn’t hurt that you knew that you’d be able to trap him in bed with you all of the next day if he was as hungover as you were predicting.

[star-girl69]

Faithless

Savior Complex Part Two

Lottie Matthews x Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

sypnosis: Sick with guilt, scared of every shadow, hungry and stubborn, this is no way to live life. You lay in the attic all day, let the world pass you by, watching as memories play over and over, but there is blood on your hands and in your teeth. You can never get it off.

a/n: another au where coach ben didn’t burn down the cabin bc again… i am not dealing w that ❤️ and also I WANTED HURT/COMFORT SO I WROTE HURT/COMFORT. DEAL W IT. i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of death, cannibalism, swearing, depression, suicidal ideation, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You will never forget the sound his body made as he landed in the bottom of the pit. You will never forget that first moment you saw him, when all you saw was his still body and the blood. You will never forget the moment you had realized what had happened, when you saw the spikes and the blood, and you realized what his stillness meant.

Maybe the way that your mind had forced you into this loop where you constantly though about it was why you had these dreams.

Another night, another nightmare, and you shoot up straight in the flimsy mattress you call a bed. Natalie and Lottie’s arms fall from around you, and you push them off, the blankets off, everything away, because you can’t stand to be warm when he never will be warm again.

You cry. You cry. You didn’t know it was possible to cry this much, for your starved and hungry body to hold this much tears.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” someone is whispering, brushing the hair out of your face, and someone else just wraps themselves around you so you won’t hurt yourself or them in your frenzy.

Lottie kisses your shoulder and mumbles something. A prayer, maybe. You feel numb again.

Natalie takes your face in her hands, stares into your eyes, but it feels like she’s a ghost. You want to stare into her soft eyes, you want to kiss her, you want it to be how it was- but you just look through her.

She touches your temples.

“What is happening in here?” she whispers, her voice full of such genuine confusion, and when you can finally stare into her eyes, you realize she’s crying.

“I don’t know,” you whisper back, your voice scratchy from not being used. “I don’t know.”

She wipes away your tears, taking a deep breath and wrapping herself around you tighter, so your face is pressed into her chest. She sets her chin on top of your head.

And she holds you like that for a long time until she must think you’re asleep, so she guides you to lay down in that same position, the room quiet except for soft breaths.

“I-I don’t know how to help her, Lot.”

Lottie scratches your scalp. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t know either.

—-

As soon as you woke up, you knew this day would be as worst as the last. So, like the day before, you didn’t wake up. After a while, Natalie detangles herself from you and Lottie, heading downstairs.

Since the hunt, Natalie had been the only one to leave the attic. Lottie had reopened all of her cuts and bruises in the aftermath, aggravating every sore spot in her body.

It was hard for her to get up and down the stairs.

But at least she had a reason.

You had turned into this black hole of a thing, sucking in breath and warmth and attention and letting out nothing in return.

Even now, as you lay on your side, Lottie pressed against your back, she’s trying to keep you warm, trying to make you feel better- running her hands through your scalp.

And if it was the before, if you still had some semblance of faith left in you- if you could believe that the world held something good in it, you would love it. You would love her attention and her comfort.

But every time you close your eyes you see his tiny bloody body. You feel the blood sinking under your skin. You hear the sound as he fell and landed.

You aren’t a person anymore. You’re a black hole, and all you can do is take.

—-

It’s not hard to realize that Natalie and Lottie are treating you like glass. And maybe you would be annoyed if you didn’t feel like glass.

You haven’t been able to eat since the hunt.

And you know they’re trying to be kind to you and your grief, but every time Nat looks at you in the light, she looks so concerned. You know you must be looking horrible, hungry and dirty.

Nat looks at you as she passes Lottie’s cup to her, full of meat that the scent of sends a sharp pang of hunger through your stomach. Lottie moves away from you so you don’t have to smell it or hear her chew it.

“You should really eat,” Natalie whispers. “I can find something for you.”

You look through her. And you know she notices it too by the way her shoulders drop.

“I’m tired,” you murmur softly, and you are. You’re tired of living the same memories every time you close your eyes. You’re tired of the hunger in your stomach.

You look down, fixing the blankets around you.

You can still feel her eyes on you. She doesn’t stop looking.

Lottie sets her metal cup onto the floor, untouched, and you look up in shock. Food is a commodity here. She should eat it before it gets cold. You would if you could.

“We know you’re scared,” she says, crawling gingerly towards you. You look at the floor and bring your knees to your chest. “But you can’t let your fear drive you to death.”

You scoff, automatically, because at you’re core you’re just a teenager girl who can’t fathom the notion of death.

“I’m serious,” Lottie whispers, her voice falling softly. She places her hand on your chest. “Breathe. In and out-”

“Lottie,” Nat says, her voice soft for you but her tone stern. Lottie rolls her eyes and turns back to you.

And it’s so casual, and so them, that you can help but smile.

They both seem a little shocked for a moment, but your smile doesn’t falter, too caught up in such a before moment, that they quickly slap their own smiles on their faces just so you’ll keep smiling.

Nat places her hand on your knee, still drawn up to your chest-

“We love you,” she says. And it’s just so true and so obvious that you believe her.

And even though you don’t know if you’ll ever not feel this horrible black hole in your chest, they love you.

When the first tears come, Natalie just wipes them away with her thumbs. But when they come like a rain storm, and your sharp breathes sound like thunder, she doesn’t bother trying to stop them.

Lottie comes behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, letting you fall against her, and the tight ball you had wound yourself up into falls. Natalie gets on her knees and presses your face to her chest.

“I love you,” Lottie whispers. “We love you.”

And they whisper it so many times the phrase starts to sound funny.

“It’s okay,” Nat whispers, because she has always been the type of person to throw a band-aid over a bullet hole. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“And it doesn’t feel like it,” Lottie continues, “But I know it will come. And you don’t have to do anything unless you want to, and… and we’ll always be here to make you do the stuff you have to do, no matter if you want to do it.”

It does not take away the fact that you feel like a black hole. It does not make Javi alive again. It doesn’t make you feel any less guilty.

But it makes you feel loved.

You are faithless, but maybe they have enough faith for the three of you.

—-

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