#i hope no one reads my tags bc i look insane down here

[hexados-on-a-string]

ive never played defenders of the core but finding out that the core we're apparently defending is GOD HERSELF????? absolutely wild.

[zannolin]

hey!! hope you’re doing well! i’m the person who wrote the narnia fic “first love, never die” and i just wanted to recommend a few fics that inspired me and made me INSANE. after ur comment i just. kept thinking “wow zannolin would probably love those fics i read last year….” so eventually i caved and here i am

number one for peter ptsd: “golden child, lion boy” by theandrogynousdragon . WHEN I TELL YOU I CRIED. you would love it, he’s so fucked up and full of anger and angst and suffering. the concepts in this fic made me ILL. oh god… i just reread it and i wanna read it again already i feel sick i feel crazy

next, a longer fic that’s still not too long with a similar past and present format to mine, with more caspeter and !!!!!!! really good sibling interactions and grief. “keep the faith” by adrianicsea . i’m gonna be ill. it’s super super good and beautiful and the sequel is excellent too and edmund-centric. also edmund is trans and that is explored and !! so good. it’s an angsty character-study disguised as a caspeter fic. the author has a few other posted narnia fics but i don’t think ive read all of them yet…. but i bet they are amazing. definitely recommend checking them out.

and finally we got “our battle cry shall be: ‘at least our leader means well’” by paperclipbitch . mainly caspian-centric, got some caspeter, and goes thru caspian’s life and angst and issues. also deals with the bitterness between caspian and peter and explores their characters. very good

there were some other recs but i checked ur bookmarks before sending this and you had already bookmarked all of them!!

also i saw you posted a narnia fic while i was in the car on a long trip and when i tell you i YELLED. i was like “i need to read this” and my mom was like “girl you have a project due TOMORROW !!” and i was like. i knowwwww :( so anyway !!!! i looked at the summary and i can already tell it’s gonna fuck me up….. i’m so excited. wait for an incomprehensible comment. idk when bc im busy asf rn but like. watch out. sleep with one eye open etc etc

hope you like this fics if you read them!!!!! hope ur having a great day :D

omg hi hello how does it feel to be the person singlehandedly responsible for dragging me down into caspeter hell?

i have actually read that last fic there i believe but these other two ooo i'm making such eyes at them i can't wait til i've got a min to do some reading *rubs my hands together evilly* and ahem yeah i went through like the entire caspeter tag. it was a thing.

i hope you have fun whenever you do get to read the susan fic (so sorry about everything in advance) but you'll be pleased to know i am currently 7k strong into a proper caspeter fic as well right now so that'll be coming someday soon! so YOU sleep with one eye open etc etc ;)

thank u for the recs and for writing the fic ever <3 i sure am having a great day rn and i hope you are as well!

[b-ritney]

Star-Shaped Night Light

Dumb-ass single dad mechanic Eddie x fem! reader ANGST

Warnings: Trials of single parenthood, talks of Eddie's past with his parents nothing violent, Eddie being dumb, cussing...

Pre-reading: This idea came to me after reading a few other single dad stories, I will try to find them and add them to a tag list here but I was definitely inspired by other writers... that being said all my ideas are original and I made sure I didn't come to close to anyone else's work bc that's stealing duh but yes this story was inspired through other very talented writers.

Story Summary: Eddie's childhood friend stuck by his side through thick and thin. How does he choose to repay her? He pushes her away.

2.4k words

I tried to proofread there are prob still typos

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The thud of his heavy boots clunked at a sleepy cadence as he trudged up the steps for the evening. Just as he does every day, he spent his entire car ride home contemplating what he did to deserve the girl sitting at home with his child that isn't hers.

The gentle, caring girl who put her life on hold to help his sorry ass raise a child...that's not hers...yet she loves that baby as if she grew it in her own belly.

He opened the door quietly and shut the door even quieter predicting correctly his daughter was asleep. As he stood there with his back to the door, turning his wrist until the deadbolt latched he caught a whiff of her perfume from her jacket hanging on the wall next to him... she's worn the same one since high school, it took him back to the day he met her...it made his chest ache with fondness. It also made him sick... because his love for her was criminally selfish... his biggest regret is that the baby you were rocking in the nursery wasn't yours... which sounds insane...but if he could go back and do it differently he would have listened to you and been careful. He would have waited until he could have seen you through your dreams and achievements and then put a ring on your finger. He would have done it different... he would have done it right... he knows what you would say if you could hear his thoughts...

You'd say something incredible like, "Eddie, there is no right way to do this. Sure there are more sustainable... or historically accepted ways of doing life but you are doing just fine and I'll always be here." Fuck. It made him want to cry. He untied his boots and slipped out of them, and shrugged off his old jacket... he stepped lightly into the kitchen and pushed the straps of his overalls off his shoulders to reveal his mostly clean white t-shirt. He twisted the knob on the sink and let the water run over his fingers until it was warm... a post-it note on the window caught his eye and broke his heart,

*Ed, there's a plate for you in the microwave, I'm in the back rocking Mel. Hope you had a good day. :)*

The water scalded his hand snapping him out of his teary-eyed stare at the little luminescent pink piece of paper stuck to the window, and the fucking ridiculously undeserved thoughtful actions attached to the message that made his stomach twist into knots.

He diligently washed his hands and padded them off with the dish towel. Then quietly made his way to check on you... he passed the open door of the hall bathroom that was illuminated by the little star night light you brought from your house the second time you spent the night at his trailer... that's when he found out that out of all things you were afraid of the dark...and even though you sprinted like a track racer through his home you still let him sleep through the night and comforted his baby when she cried into the early hours of the morning...

He was already just holding on by a thread when he reached the nursery door, but when he heard you singing to the baby that wasn't yours he trembled. He leaned back on the opposite wall and looked down at the space between the floor and the bedroom door, where the most beautiful sound floated into the dimly lit hall, he crossed his arms over his chest as if to block his heart from hearing the sound... to keep himself from loving you more than he already did... and held the knuckles of his left hand to his chapped lips as if to think for the first time in his life before he did something as fucking stupid as he was about to do. He mouthed the words with you... it's the same song you gifted him the day he found out Melody's mother was pregnant... you apparently had been looking for him all afternoon after he went MIA... he was working a graveyard shift and you showed up in your pj's and brought him food just to sit in the garage and keep him company while he took advantage of your kindness and talked your ear off about his problems until 3 o'clock in the morning. You stayed with him until you convinced his stubborn ass to go home and sleep on it; so he could make good decisions about his next steps. Before you walked away you handed him a small rectangular package wrapped in shimmery paper left over from Christmas two months prior. "...Ed..." you sighed trying to think of what to say, "I won't lie to you and say I understand what this is like... but... I'll do what I can to help." you scratched your head and smiled sympathetically, "call me tomorrow so I know you're alright." With that, you handed him the gift and got in your car leaving him rigid in the chill of that early February morning... he slid into the driver seat of the van and tore open the package... a mix tape.. scribbled with blue pen across the label:

Take It Easy :) love, y/n

He swiped a tear from under his tired eyes as you hummed the higher-pitched notes so as to continue soothing his child...

"Well, I'm running down the road trying to loosen my load Got a world of trouble on my mind Lookin' for a lover who won't blow my cover She's so hard to find"

He let out a shuddered breath as he pushed off the wall slowly turning the nob. You were curled up in the corner in Wayne's old rocking chair, cradling Melody in a perfectly wrapped swaddle you had practiced for a week just to help him figure it out. You smiled up at him when he walked in, effectively making him pre-regret everything before it even happened. You whispered for him to help you out of the rocking chair so you could lay the baby in her cradle. He scampered over and tilted the chair forward supporting your back with his free arm as you swayed your hips to keep his kid in a constant state of comfort. "Night Mel, Love you baby girl," you whispered kissing his baby on the head lightly. Eddie followed suit before following you out into the kitchen. You were already warming up his dinner when he caught up to you...

"How was she?" he asked trying like hell to keep down the bile in the back of his throat.

"Perfect as always," you said leaning against the kitchen counter, "How was work?"

He could feel sweat dripping down his neck, "Good, good..." he took a steadying breath and bit the bullet like the reckless idiot he always was... "Listen can we talk?"

"Uh oh," you laughed quietly, he was about to blindside you, and it made him feel shittier than anything he's ever done. He motioned for you to follow him out front with his shoulder he grabbed your jacket and keys from the tray. He slid the jacket up your arms.. the same arms that have been protecting his baby since the moment she was dumped into his care six months ago. Once the door was shut he tried to hide his watery eyes and trembling hands behind a cigarette.

"Eddie? What's going on?" your big emerald eyes bore into his soul.

"I don't want you to take this... the wrong way... because I appreciate everything you've done for me.. more than I'll ever be able to express..." He took a long pause leaving you in more agony than he could fathom.

"Eddie...?" so many questions lingered in the one word... what did I do wrong?, how can I fix it? The answer is a gut-punching nothing absolutely fucking nothing... he's just a coward.

"There's no... non-dick-headed way for me to say this but... I don't think you and Melody need to be around each other anymore." "Eddie...?" What the fuck are you talking about? Please don't take her from me. What did I do? What changed? After everything I've done for you...

"You aren't her mother y/n."

A fat tear rolled down her cheek. Jesus Christ... It dawns on him in this terrible moment that this is the first time he's ever seen her cry... and it's his fault.

"I've loved that child more than her real mom ever did. What is this about?" She clutched at the frayed ends of her old jacket for some sense of comfort. The once pleasant May breeze suddenly felt frigid against her damp cheeks.

"She's gonna think- she's gonna think she's yours... and that we are together... I'm just trying to get ahead of the inevitable, I just don't want to put her through that... this isn't what I want her to remember when she gets older."

He knew he royally fucked up when he manned up enough to look up from the floor. Your face was turning purple from holding back whatever emotions were running through your tired mind.

"You don't want her to remember that despite the way everything looks she has people around her that love her more than anything...?" Your sneakers dug into the gravel at your feet as if to beg the earth for some stability.

"I just- don't want her getting attached."

"Children have nannies Ed.... and fuck you. I've given up over a year of my life to get you through this..." From inside the belly of the trailer, Melody whimpered and whined until she began to wail. You stood frozen in the driveway, Eddie looked right back... he watched the way your muscles fired to go toward the sound, the way your blunt nails dug into your palms with nerves... what really fucked him up is the way you clutched your chest... the same way you were rocking Mel only fifteen minutes before the rug was snatched from beneath your feet.

You patted the empty spot on your chest where his baby has slept many nights, what was once a warm comforting spot now felt hollow. "Fucking look at me you prick... it hurts this bad because you know it's wrong... and I don't think it's Melody you're actually worried about "getting attached"." You sucked in a hurried breath... "I love that little girl Eddie." Your voice tapered off into a whispered high-pitched whine as you tried to hold back your own river of tears. "I've stood by you through everything...and you are telling me you don't want your child to remember someone who loves YOU and HER unconditionally...? Eddie, I've backed you up through a lot of fucked up shit but this has got to be the worst."

"You can't tell me you don't understand where I'm coming from..."

"Oh I do... trust me I do... your mom ran off because of your dad, your dad was a deadbeat...but your uncle took you in because damn him if anything happened to that little curly-headed mess of a boy.... he isn't your dad Eddie and I've never seen a person love as deeply as Wayne... Funny how you forget so quickly that I've known you for so long..."

He was silent... what could he say.. he knew before he opened his mouth this was wrong. Nothing he could piece together in his mind sounded right so he just accepted it, "Let me give you some cash for your trouble."

She huffed dumbfounded, "I don't want your fucking money. I want to be a part of her life I want to be a part of your life... but you're pushing me away because you are scared of me... you're scared of this," she pointed her finger upward and made an irritated circular motion, "you always run when the going gets tough Eddie... but despite how you feel... you're responsible for more than yourself now." She tilted her head toward the sound of his screeching child.

"Pocket the fucking cash and go get Melody."

You got in your car without another word the headlights casting him in an accusatory light for all of the stars above to see... he felt like the heavens were glaring down at him for shutting out the answer to his prayers. He couldn't see you over the shine of the low beams but he could hear a choked sob rip through the steel doors and windows. The last thing you said to him rattled between his ears as he turned and went inside. He dusted off his pants with his calloused hands in a futile attempt to rid himself of the dirty feeling that settled over him like dust. He leaned over the sink and watched as a tear slid down the tip of his nose and rippled in the dishwater of a baby bottle you had used to feed Mel earlier in the evening. As he turned on the water and waited for it to get warm he made the mistake of looking up.

Staring back at him the little pink Post-it sagged in the window, the steam from below causing it to detach and drift dismally down into the water where your sweet message morphed into a convoluted mess of black ink until it faded into nothingness and the paper split apart in the sink... Melody cried the microwave beeped to remind him that a homemade meal was getting cold...

*..it hurts this bad because you know it's wrong*

He carried himself down the hall past the night light in the bathroom and gathered Melody in his arms tucking her into his chest just like you did. He tried to re-tuck her swaddle but it wasn't as uniform as yours... he rocked her and bounced her he tried everything he knew but she still cried... he walked with her out into the hall, where he was once again crushed by a memory that took him out like a rouge wave. As the soft glow from your night light seeped onto the scratchy carpet of the hall he was reminded of the night he came home to you and Mel sleeping up against the door frame... You had tried everything to soothe her just as he had now... yet she still cried... you were exhausted but you sat with her on the floor under the light until she slept... you told him you were waiting for him to get home to move because you didn't want to walk into the dark alone... Another tear stung his raw skin, as he slid down the door frame under the nightlight...cradling his daughter in his undeserving hands. As the reality dawned on him that not only did he make you cry tonight... but he pushed you into the dark alone.

[slytherinshua]

hi so idk what happened but i rambled on for way too long with an ask and then it got deleted 🙃

i think the universe was telling me to stfu

anyway basically what i said bwfore (in the erased ask ihy tumblr) was that yay! you stan tws!

and i saw your jebewon and tws reqs open so I asked for..

tws -> fluff with any of the 06's (an idea is: (dont have to write this specifically) maybe coming home after a long day? could be them or reader)

zb1 -> basically hanbin comfort?? any comfort at all but like maybe idol s/o who faints on stage

i will never have enough shb fics im not even joking. Hes so greenflag, i love that guy with all of my heart (hes 7 years older than me) and i seriously hope everyone gets a person like him as their s/o (for all the insane kpop stans out there (the extremists) i said someone LIKE him which means i do not want sung hanbin and i actually would be happy if he has a gf (he probs does bc look at that guy) because a) hes way too old for me and b) lets be real here.

Okay!! Enough rambling!! anyway my question was whos your tws bias (my guess is shinyu) ik your zb1 and bnd biases are gw and myungjae (seriously gw is bias wrecking so hard)

btw im also a shinyu bias and idk if youve guessed alr but also a hanbin bias (heh) and a sungho one (i absolutely love that kid)

uhh and i forgot to say..i forgot which anon i was :/

Im pretty sure i was 🌱 but i dont remember!!! i was the svt ask anon whixh caused a somewhat miscommunication or idk(?)

anyway just call me 🌱

zanna thank you for writing fics. seriously, i read them all the time. i recently got into zb1 (theyve taken over my life) and all i had to do was open your mlist. But again pls prioritise yourself always, stay healthy and happy pls dont burn out ily (not in a weird way, in the way i love an author's works or an artist's paintings) pls ignore the req if you dont feel like it!!!

OMG!!!! UR BACK KSJDFKSD omg i've missed you 🥹🥹🥹 i'm sorry i forgot to put ur anon tag on the nav cause i kept switching themes and having the taken anons there or not and it was hard keeping track of them all but IM SO GLAD UR BACK!!! the universe may be telling u to stfu but i say PLS DONT PLS COME INTO MY INBOX MORE <33333 ugh tumblr is literally SUCH A CYBER BULLY LIKE GET OUTTT 👹👹👹👹

omg these ideas are so CUTEEE im writing them down in my drafts immediately and hopefully ill finish them very soon <333

no so real hanbin is the DEFINITION of perfection. like hes the 5th gen cha eunwoo i saw ppl saying he looks like cha eunwoo and he got so shy and was like nononono BUT LIKE THEYRE SO REAL HES PERFECT SAY IT LOUDERRR and hes humble too which is so cute :(

lmao i giggled at ur guess im thinking maybe a lot of ppl think im shinyu biased cause ive written the most for him but ive actually been kyungmin biased since day 1!!!!!! i was there pre debut like from the minute the ohmymy video dropped and i fell in love w kyungmin immediately and learned all their faces in 5 mins 🥹🥹 i love my tws so much <333

awwww stop :(((( thank you so much for enjoying them and requesting more </3 so real zb1 are a problem i said i wouldn't stan and i tried hard not to but i failed miserably and now they're on my mind 24/7 👹 AND ILYTTT I HOPE UR DOING OKAY AND LIFE HAS BEEN KIND TO U <3333 and i'm so glad to see u in my inbox again 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

[rubsjuice]

hi! who and what is the guy that made you forget greek mythology exists!

Hi, thank you for asking

(first image by @gh0stbreath second I drew over a meme)

his name is

Icarus

Also I tend to write characters more on the natural/realistic side so I hope you're not disappointed he's not a wretched fantastical beast or a dude with super cool powers he's just a guy. He could be your neighbor for all we're concerned. Read more bc I can't shut up about him

He just. Looks very normal. He's a tiny gay loser car salesman from Boston with a husband and children, negative credit score, 30k in debt and in the sights of loan sharks because he's too stubborn to get through his head that his dream of being self made and successful is never gonna be realized. He also has a penchant for religion, although he stops going to church to get more time to try to make his business work. His dream is to have a successful job, a beautiful family, and being a pillar of community – he's the guy the American Dream is marketing itself to, and the kind of guy who's most let down by it

He gets tied up in some mafia business when they put him as a front for their own business in exchange of letting his debts go and leaving his family out of it, and he promptly uses it to abandon the aforementioned family, get filthy stinking rich, invest heavily in advertising and become one of the most well-known faces in New England & the East Coast in general because his face would be in almost every ad running on TV at the time. He also had a huge liking of fashion and apparel in general so he had a bunch of clothing lines, perfumes and accessories named after him. He also developed like 5 different mental illnesses from it because by the time he was famous he was also in his 40s and he experienced the most hardcore midlife crisis ever trying to keep up with the socialites and rich kids he'd surround himself with.

Then when the mafia drops him and it turns out most of his fortune was inflated by an overcomplicated money laundering scheme he sort of starts to experience the Horrors as he starts getting increasingly desperate to keep his life afloat due to all the mental illness he's accumulated, and after a particularly bad trip on LSD where he sees every version of himself from the past and future and beats the shit out of himself he decides he needs to shape up and let this life go for his own sake. So he calls his (now ex)husband and asks to go back into his life and he goes through this whole 20 year long healing arc with a lot of therapy and finds a new and exciting gender for himself (guy who is a mom)

Some other random facts about him is that he's catty, physically fragile, lowkey slutty and loves to overindulge himself. He can be very blunt and says the most insane things. As an old man (around 60) he has a tumblr blog where he ends up being like a B-celebrity. He enjoys serious and artsy media and his favorite book/movie of all time is American Psycho. He relates to Patrick Bateman because he believes him to be the sort of guy he could turn into if he let himself stay in the rich life for longer without seeking proper help, and being able to look at that guy and go "lol glad that's not me anymore" makes him feel Normal

As you can tell if you squint, his life story more or less mirrors the tale of Icarus, with the exception of the healing arc bit (he was saved from falling in the ocean!!), plus with his whole religious theme he also gets a "fallen angel" sort of motif that fits very well. There's more stuff to his life that makes his name and theming more interesting but I don't wanna keep you here all day

Here's his playlist organized chronologically also it's full of bangers

So yeah with all these themes you can tell every time someone talks about the myth of Icarus I just go "ooooo just like my blorbo" and forget that I made him close to the myth on purpose

You can also find posts I tag as him [here]

[kyaruun]

RAAAWR HUG! HUG! qiapyon loves being hugged :3 and squished (is a slime so squish!) hehe you are so nice and soft :>> not at all intimidating

YOU FELT LIKE A BIG BLOG just so very top tier writing. great graphic. whole package deal. there's only two possibilities that happen to follower count when you go ia:

it goes up, because people are finding you

it goes down, because people are not finding you and your followers think you are dead

THE RETURN OF NYA im so excited rawrrrrr tag me in everything

afadsfhsd me big blog... i guess i'm a big blog. i dont know why 1.1k people are still here for my shitposts

ajdslfsdf its only a few,,, a lot of my blogs are ia..... unfortunately.... and i mostly have focused on nazukisser though i literally cant stop writing for enstars its in my soul... i always strive for weekly for every fandom but darn thats really hard with the amount of shit i have going on

WAAAAAAAA i hope YOUR works get the true recognition it deserves (one day you'll write a leo fic that will become known as that leo fic (in a pos sense))

professional.... ate lis told me that i looked professional on my blogs,,, i just try. lots of trial and error and i always try to look fresh. have gone through so many phases its insane. one time i tried replicating an actual site design on tumblr while combining it w my style and it was so hard. stares at my (long gone) tori fs2 theme

RIGHT like the readers were nice, all of the people were so nice... now its too big like who is everyone... but also its kinda dead too like damn... 2023 is not anybody's year... i wish we could return to all being silly....

help me omg big blog. i mean being a writing blog the writing might as well get a pass but the graphics suck and i'm the first one to acknowledge that. i simply don't know what to do with them >< the one and only graphic i'm still head over heels for and is the reason i still haven't remade my theme is the cute cat soren did for me a looong time ago and is my current banner. it's. so. round. so cute. silly but sosososo adorable

i mean my followers have probably accepted i'm a sporadic writer and i don't really have a schedule. it hurts when you try to put out your stuff but it doesn't get attention but aaa this is the internet. there's no point in overthinking that. my one and only concern is that anons that rq something i answer a few months later manage to read their rq :(

JESUS CHRIST QIAN YOU HAVE 1.1K FOLLOWERS?!?!? big big biggest writer indeed. i just checked mine and it's 744 followers which is an insane number for someone who posts so little!! what you said about the leo fic... i can only hope. i personally think i suck at writing leo a lot. and rei. and natsume. my izumi is pretty much a mess too. see? if i love them i can't write them right. but uuuu i'd love to write a series. i've never tried that. i also considered something like a social media au bc that's usually really cute too. i don't think any of my works will ever reach that level of importance buuuuut. i'd love that

i've been working a bit on some sort of new theme for my super due revamp but i hate editing sooo much. whatever you say your themes always look super nice and cohesive <3 they're really nice to look at ;;

the fandom being big and dead (from a writing pov) is just as you said ;; i occasionally go into the tags to look for cute fanart but i don't see any writing and it's very sad. sorry to whoever might be offended by this but x readers actually carried the fandom before engstars. but we all either grew frustrated with the lack of interaction or found new interests

i simply miss that sense of community TT the nuri era... nuri feeding the entire fandom one post a day. bee coming up with the absolute prettiest things (like hello THEIR PROMPTS. i still haven't recovered from those). swanee dropping these insanely talented bombs and leaving us knocking on their askbox like "pls comeback when". soren's blog (which i actually visit from time to time bc there's a handful of fics that carry half of my mental sanity rn). runa ;;;;

see? i miss a lot of people ꒰⁎′̥̥̥ ⌑ ‵̥̥̥ ꒱ on those are only the ones that came first into mind because there are even more moots i miss... that comfy feeling of being able to jump into everyone's askbox and be silly... nostalgia hitting hard ;;; makes me think i should try to join a server(s) to try and interact with people again, even if it's just some talking from time to time

[megantrancyfanfics]

Want | Gyomei Himejima x f! Reader smut

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

18+

Warning: AFAB reader, pet names: “love”, “angel”, “honey”, “darling”, “good girl” are used, dirty talk, size kink, bondage, choking, creaming, teasing, soft mention of mind breaking, cream pie and probably some more things I’ve forgot to mention. GYOMEI IS MORE OF A HARD DOM IN THIS SO IF YOU WANT A SOFT DOM GO TO MY OTHER GYOMEI FANFIC‼️

Let’s just say Gyomei isn’t a fan of teasing😉

Tagging: @animupiglett Bc you said to tag you in any Gyomei story I write so here ya are💜

Sorry for any mistakes, it’s not proofread

Enjoy💚

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your husband was away on a small mission, that should only last a few more hours. You had already done all of the duties a housewife does, so while you’re waiting for another hour to pass so you can prepare making dinner, you couldn’t help but to let your mind wander.

Eventually, you found yourself daydreaming. If anyone could read your mind, they would realize you weren’t as innocent as you looked, and deceived people into believing.

“My love?” You hear your husband ask as the door slides shut behind him, you nearly jump off of the couch as your heart pounds.

“Oh! Back so soon honey? I haven’t began to cook dinner yet I thought you’d take longer.”

“Master ended up teaming me up with muichiro so things went a lot faster. Also there is no need for you to make a big portion for dinner tonight. Muichiro said he was hungry so we went out to eat. I hope that’s ok with you, love.”

You got off the couch, and made your way to your husband, before placing your hands on his toned chest, making your hands travel up as you stood on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck.

Gyomei smiled softly as he leaned down a bit, wrapping his arms around your waist. You gently placed your lips onto his before pulling away, and speaking softly.

“I missed you, my dear.” You said as Gyomei planted a soft kiss onto your forehead.

“I missed you too my love, so much.”

“Gyomei, I’d like to try something new tonight.” You said as your face heated up.

“Oh? What would you like to try darling?”

~~~~

Poor Gyomei would have never thought that he’d be the one tied up.

“M-my this certainly is new.” The man spoke before he felt 2 hands on each side of his face before he felt you sit on his lap, the warmth from your cunt driving him insane. You gently kissed him as you rolled your hips, making Gyomei groan.

You pull back from your kiss, and watch as your husband bites his bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of your still clothed cunt rubbing over his still clothed dick. “My, I didn’t expect you to get so hard so fast Gyomei, especially since I haven’t done hardly anything yet love.”

His cheeks reddened. “You know I cannot resist the body of my angel. The slightest of touch from you can send me over the edge sometimes.” You hum in response before pulling off your pants and underwear, then removing his as well.

You went back to doing exactly what you were doing before. Gyomei could feel himself want to shake. Oh how your cunt was so small compared to his dick. Your body so small compared to his massive frame. He could turn you into a human flesh light if he so pleased.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt your tight little cunt desperately try to take in just the tip of his cock. He let a groan escape his mouth, only to get slightly aggravated when you got back off. He couldn’t help but to continue to get more aggravated the more you did it.

“P-please stop teasing angel.” He groaned out before continuing his sentence. “You might regret it if you don’t stop.” He breathed out, making your insides tighten around his tip for a second.

“What are you gonna do honey? You’re tied up.” You said almost mockingly as you once again got off his tip. In a swift movement, you heard the ropes snap, before your husband was on top of you.

“Darling you do know those ropes were like tissue to me. No restrains can hold me down, I thought you’d know that by now.” He said confidently as he kissed your neck. “I am the strongest hashira after all.” He chuckled softly before moving away from your neck, then bringing his hand down, choking you gently.

“You’re so small.” He mocks, a shit eating smirk on his face as he continues to speak. “Do you honestly think it was a good idea to tease me?”

You bit your lip as you felt your arousal starting to run down. You’ve never seen this side of Gyomei, in all honesty it frightened you in the best way possible. You never knew Gyomei was capable of doing anything but vanilla sex.

“Darling, I asked you a question. If you can’t use your words now, how do you expect to tell me how good my dick feels when I’m completely rearranging your guts?”

“I-I thought it was a good idea at the time-”

“Now why did you think that? Because those puny ropes had me oh so helplessly tied? You thought I’d just sit back and allow you to tease me?” He released his hold on your neck before going down to your wet cunt. He rubbed his thumb on your clit before inserting a finger, making you squirm and whimper under him.

“So you don’t think it’s a good idea now to have teased me? Why is that? Is it because I’m free and can do whatever I please with you?”

You nodded, as he picks up the pace with his fingers, before stoping completely. “I can’t hear you darling. Use your words.”

“Y-yes!”

“That’s too bad. You really should have thought about your future before you decided to tease me. Better pray to the heavens that you even get to cum tonight.” With that, he once again begins to finger you, adding a second one in to try and find your g-spot. Once he finds it, he decides to suck on your clit at the same time. Making you cry and scream out his name. Your legs shaking as cream starts to drip off of his giant fingers.

Gyomei pulled away from your now red and puffy clit. “Is your body already submitting to me? I haven’t hardly done anything yet.” He mocked with a chuckle, making your face turn red.

“Y-You’re so me-a-ah gyo I’m close.” You whimpered out feeling that bubble suddenly begging to burst when Gyomei pulled out his fingers.

“G-Gyomei please don’t stop.” You whined making your husband smirk.

“Sorry love. I’m going to do what I want to do. Now be a good girl and place those little arms above your head, ok?” You did as you were told, you were in no position to even try to talk your way out of it. With one of his big hands he held your wrists above your head, the other on his dick as he slid it against your wet folds.

You bit your lip to hide the whimpers that are begging to be unleashed, which failed when he shoved his tip into you. Your mouth flung open as you let out a cry. He shoved about an inch in, only to pull it back out.

“Gyomei please don’t tease me…”

“And what are you going to do about it, darling? You’re being held down. Your so helpless. Your body is already under my control.” He lets out a chuckle as he continues. “Your already creaming around me and I haven’t even given you my whole dick.”

He pulls out, rubbing his dick on your folds once more before shoving it all in quickly. You moan, arching your back as your walls stretched, desperately trying to take in every inch of his long,thick cock. Your whole body shook with pleasure, as tears ran down your face. It’s almost pathetic how fast your body caves for this man.

Gyomei bends down, licking a tear away before kissing you.

“I’m sorry darling, but you’re the one who wanted this. I’m just playing by the rules you set out.” He stated as he started to thrust into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Gyomei please go faster..”

“Now why would I do that when you teased me earlier. My dear haven’t you heard the saying “treat others how you want to be treated”? If you wouldn’t want to be teased, then why must you tease me?”

“Gyo, I’m sorry please I learned my lesson I won’t tease you again please just use me as your toy please use me until you finish Gyomei please” you beg, the desperation in your voice was music to the stone hashira’s ears.

“Are you sure angel? I wouldn’t want to break you” he cooed darkly as you quickly nodded.

“Please, please break me. I want you to fuck me dumb. Gyo ple-” a gasp made you stop your sentence as Gyomei rubbed your puffy clit as he slammed into you, your mind instantly going blank.

Your toes curled, and your mouth hung open. Strands of moans, and sentences of “you feel so good”, “don’t stop please”, and other sentences that just didn’t make sense along with the sounds of skin slapping filled the room.

All of the teasing made both of you sensitive very fast, so the climax the both of you were desperately didn’t take long until both of you were ready to explode.

You moaned loudly, begging your husband to continue until you creamed all over his cock. You creamed so much it started dripping onto the bed beneath the two of you.

“You can handle a little more, can’t you my angel?” He asked kissing your forehead as he slowly thrusted into you, helping you ride out your high.

You nodded.

“Thank you love, you’re doing so good for me just a little longer ok?” He said sweetly before pounding into you again. After a few minutes, his grunts became more frequently, as his cock began to twitch inside of you, signaling he was close. You wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Love, I-if you do that I can’t pull out.”

“I know. Please fill me up, Gyomei.”

How could you say such a filthy thing so sweetly?! It drove him over the edge, he buried his cock deep inside you as he filled you up.

Your legs shook violently as you felt his warm cum fill you up.

Once the two of you caught your breaths, he pulled out, a mixture of both yours and his cum poured out.

“Are you ok, my dear?” He asked kissing all over face.

“Yeah, I’m just sore.” You said with a soft laugh, even though Gyomei didn’t find it funny.

He got off the bed, and quickly scooped you up in his arms and went to the bathroom. He placed you on the toilet as he started up a bath. Once it was filled, he placed you inside of it, your body instantly relaxing as you slid all the way into it until your head was the only thing out of the water.

“Enjoy your bath ok love? I’m going to go change the sheets.”

Once your loving husband did that, he went back into the bathroom.

“Are you feeling better, love?”

“I am. Thank you sweetie. Let’s go cuddle now.”

“Anything you want.” He said as he helped you out of the bath before drying you off.

He helped you get into something comfy before climbing into bed with you. He held you close as he played with your hair, every once in a while resting his hand on your cheek as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

“Did I hurt you..? I tried to be..rougher than I normally am. I fear that I went too hard and hurt you.”

“No, baby.” You said cupping his face into your hands. “You didn’t hurt me at all. I loved this, I loved this change. Of course I’m going to be sore after that, but that doesn’t mean you hurt me. You did amazing my love and please stop worrying about hurting me you’ll never hurt me.”

“I love you, my angel.” He said crying. You giggled softly as you wiped his tears before gently kissing the tip of his nose.

“I love you too, my sweet husband.”

Once the two of you stopped talking, it didn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep.

Though, I do feel bad for your neighbors.

End

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can come out, you know.”

”How interesting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

beyond the unending night (reader + satoru gojo)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You realize you’ve been dying.

You think your head is going to explode.

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

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

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

For the eighth time.

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

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

Your corpse— lifeless on the ground.

Your corpse— burning to ash.

Your corpse— bleeding out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too late.

You die an eighth time.

You think your chest is going to explode.

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

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

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

You think it's the ninth time now.

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

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

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

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

“...hey,” you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Help! Help!”

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

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

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

You can’t save her.

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

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

It's too late.

You die a ninth time.

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

This is the tenth time.

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

For now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For?”

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

She laughs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

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

You don’t.

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

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

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

You die for the tenth time.

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

This is the fourteenth time.

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

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

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

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

Maybe you really are becoming numb to all this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You die a fourteenth time.

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

This is the seventeenth time now.

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

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

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

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

This is borderline horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you do.

Satoru Gojo.

You make sure to remember that.

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

And this is the eighteenth time.

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

It does not work.

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

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

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

But not you.

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

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

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

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

All you feel is dread.

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

You.

Hope is gone.

What do you have left?

You die for the eighteenth time.

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

This is probably the twenty-sixth time now.

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

Whether you want it or not.

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

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

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

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

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

You need to get up those stairs.

Now.

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

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

But you trip.

And you die for the twenty-sixth time.

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

This marks the thirtieth time.

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

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

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

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

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

A thought hits you like an eight car train.

You were supposed to meet up with your friends.

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

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

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

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

Would you even have a choice?

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

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

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

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

You will make it out of this nightmare.

No matter what.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have a bad feeling about this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You die for the thirtieth time.

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

You've done this nearly sixty times now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you can do this.

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

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

Satoru Gojo is doing something.

You just can't tell what.

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

And you are utterly confused.

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

You do not remember dying.

In fact, you don't think you did.

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

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

Something else must have happened.

Something having to do with Satoru Gojo.

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

Miraculously, you do.

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

You don't know.

You do know.

Your brain feels like it's going to explode.

Again.

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

Again.

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, you know better.

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

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

There has to be a breaking point.

For both your mind and this time loop.

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

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

Groggy.

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

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

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

You need to find out what’s going on.

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

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

Were you like that too before you woke up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looks like this loop is a bust after all.

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

That makes you even more nervous.

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

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

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

He hums. “How interesting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time doesn't flow in the box.

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

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

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

Time doesn't flow in the box.

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

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

You're scared.

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

Time doesn't flow in the box.

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

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

Time doesn't flow in the box.

He didn't lie.

You die again.

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

And you're trapped.

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

You are so very tired.

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

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

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

You finally realize why.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

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

You need to find Satoru Gojo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to need more time.

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

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

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

Yes, getting over there would be extremely difficult.

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

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

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

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

You need to make him.

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

And his attention is on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...mind handing me your phone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is not good.

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

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

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

You'll just have to try again.

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

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

It’s just so frustrating.

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

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

You have to convince him.

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

Gojo tilts his head. “Well?”

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

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

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

It’s Satoru Gojo’s name and number.

He even drew a little star next to his name.

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

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

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

You can’t let him get away.

Again.

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

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

Satoru Gojo reaches the barricade.

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

He does not even acknowledge you.

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

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

This fucking sucks.

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

If only you could fucking break it.

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

You don’t.

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

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

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

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

Satoru Gojo is looking at you, and—

Up is very quickly becoming down, and—

Satoru Gojo is coming closer, but—

You’re slipping—

But he’s right there, and—

You’re falling, but—

He’s trying to catch you, but—

It’s too late. It’s too late.

The last thing you think you feel—

—is Satoru Gojo’s arms around you.

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

And you are causing a commotion.

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

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

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

And he caught you, you definitely remember that.

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

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

You don’t know.

All you know is that you have to try again.

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

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

Except—

Except Satoru Gojo is already here.

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

What the hell is going on?

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

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

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

Or someone.

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

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

You stop breathing.

He’s headed toward you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...unfortunately.”

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

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

“Really now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re still not quite sure.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

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

“...okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

He hums. “Interesting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost wish that it would.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fat chance of that,” he says derisively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Like in a video game?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what did you learn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More or less.”

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You certainly hope so.

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

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

“I'll protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How?”

“Just trust me.”

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

Despite all that, you want to believe.

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

“...okay,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

Now, all you can do is wait.

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

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

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

No.

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

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

You are afraid.

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

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

You just have to trust Gojo.

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

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

It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.

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

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

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

Is this Gojo’s doing?

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

Right in front of you is Satoru Gojo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s gone.

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

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

He is the one to kill all the monsters.

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

There’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

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

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

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

No.

Gojo said you wouldn’t die.

He said he’d protect you.

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

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

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

Which you're not, not really anyway.

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

Disgusting.

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

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

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

Your body moves before you can even think about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s going to kill you.

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

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

Something touches your back.

Your eyes shoot open.

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

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

This is Satoru Gojo’s doing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost relax. Almost.

But the body is still standing.

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

What the hell is going on?

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

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

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

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

Everything will have been for naught.

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

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

Or rather—

“Gojo!”

He glances back at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If anything, it’s worth a shot.

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

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

That time doesn’t flow in the box.

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

Gojo frowns, “Wait a sec—”

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

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

It feels like an eternity passes before Gojo says anything.

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

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

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

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

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

You tell him your name.

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

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

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

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

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

Will it be quiet inside?

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

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

And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...well, if you say so.”

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

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

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

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

“Prison realm, gate open.”

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

[sunnyjae]

hey! im actually obsessed with your writing (its so good omg, youve got me going CRAZY) so maybe #34 & #44 with dom!jake x sub!reader and maybe it being like enemies but lowkey fwb? and well you can do wtv with nicknames (pretty girl and those along those lines has me going insane tho)

sorry if its too detailed! you can do whatever with this req !!

lmao me crying 😩 anything with pretty in front of it is a yes

i hope this one was a vibe lol i think i enjoyed writing this one a little too much

also thank you for reading! I’m super surprised i get you guys riled up like that haha ;)

prompts: #34 "get on your knees," + #44 "you want my cum?"

pretty girl [part one] ♡ sjy [req]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I put my smut strictly under the smut tags on here to protect you guys so don't open anything with a warning like this one. Please.

pairing ♡ jake x fem!reader, strict-ish soft??dom!jake, sub!reader

genre ♡ non-idol!au, suggestive, smut, fluff

warnings ♡ dumbification, overuse of petnames, riding, lots of dialogue (bc i'm a whore for dirty talk but we all knew), low-key breeding kink, so much teasing oh my, finger sucking like twice??, dirty talk ofc, low-key ddlg, very unrealistic scenario lol

word count ♡ 2.9k

summary ♡ jake's a tease in your frenemies (sort of) relationship, little did you know he's a tease inside the bedroom too

You cursed yourself at the mental image of getting on your knees for Jake, his fingers gripping your chin as he fed you the tip of his hot, fat cock, desperate for some relief. The way you drooled, imagining him calling you filthy names, making you swallow his big load - one that he had been saving just for your pretty mouth.

Grumbling at the thought, you remembered the time he’d teased you in front of the guys, even going the extra mile and calling you in class several times just to say he found your spot cream in the fridge. The boy heckled you, embarrassed you and made fun of you whenever he could, and yet you were still so affected by his presence it made you want to swear aloud sometimes.

And when you were in the middle of washing the dishes, your brother's best friend lazily ambled in, taking notice of you in all your pajama-ed glory. Jake gritted out an internal ‘Shit.’, feeling his dick stiffen in his sweats (as if it wasn’t the first time you did that to him). He stalked around the kitchen island behind you, and his voice broke the silence.

"You look nice," he lilted, and with a clatter, you dropped the utensils you were holding.

Opting to leave them now that they were sinking into the water anyway, you mumbled a weak, "Go away,".

Jake only chuckled in response, letting his eyes graze you up and down shamelessly. He eyed the way your spaghetti top hugged your boobs, accentuating your waist and leading to the hem of your shorts, which clung deliciously to your ass as if they were made for you. You just looked so breakable yet so soft.

Jake couldn't help but groan internally. And by God did he want to absolutely fucking wreck you.

He found your diary around a week ago, in which you wrote your frustrations out (including your sexual ones), and Jake had noticed something incredibly interesting as he was casually flicking through - he noted it was for your own safety, not his mind-boggled curiosity.

You liked a lot of the same...niche...things he liked. Although Jake had never brought it up to his past girlfriends, the idea of you allowing him to take the role of the carer, you being his baby, in whatever silent feud-slash-lust thing you had going on, had his knees buckling under him.

"Calm down, I'm just giving you a compliment." he sidled up beside you, lips pushing outwards into a cute duck-like pout.

You had to gulp down your saliva, legs already trembling at his proximity. The way he leaned over you, deliberately making you feel tiny, had your head positively spinning.

"Please, give me some space." you yelped out, voice nearly breaking because of the tension in your lungs.

He raised his hands in defence and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you finally wash and dry your hands - one of the cute things he noticed about you too, was that they were significantly smaller than his.

He smirked when he noticed you trembling with the bowl in your hand.

"You need help?"

Your fingers were white from how hard you were gripping the ceramic, and you couldn't help but whine under your breath from the intensity of his gaze. It was like he was actively trying to make you submit to him, but the power in that - without him having to say a word - was what made you wet.

"Uh, no. I'm fine." you replied unnecessarily sharply, feeling your cheeks warm with heat. Jake pushed himself away from the toaster and took a few tempting strides closer to you, watching you take out a can opener and a tin you needed to get some fruit out for the frozen yogurt you were tasked with making for tonight. Sunghoon had invited Jake to stay over for the night, since it was a Wednesday and your lectures were cancelled altogether - Jake Sim was thrilled at the information (for many reasons).

Leaning over your shoulder, his lip twitched at your struggle with the tool. "Dummy." he muttered, gently taking the items from you.

Your throat dried at his comment, but your pussy definitely wasn't close to being that. You chose not to pick up on it, for the sake of your own ego. Jake opened the tin with ease and poured the peach slices out into the bowl beside you, setting the tin down with a light thud.

What you didn’t expect, however, was when two of his fingers accidentally dipped into the syrup, and he lifted them to your lips expectantly. "Open." Jake muttered, eyeing your pretty mouth. He just knew you’d taste sweet.

You didn't know why you were following through, but it was like his words affected you more than you initially thought.

Watching your lips part, Jake smirked that same pretentious smirk he always did and waited for you to "Suck."

He found himself muttering “God, I wish you’d get on your knees for me.” with no real aim of having you hear it, but knowing your enfatuation with him, of course you'd perk up at anything he did.

You closed your eyes, lips eventually circling his digits without much thought. When your eyes opened again, Jake nearly swore aloud while feeling your tongue swipe at the pads of his fingers. Your eyes were wide and gazing into his with a deep longing that had him stirring in his pajama sweats.

He pulled his fingers out of your desperate mouth reluctantly, "Pretty." before stepping over to the fridge like he hadn't just caused you to nearly collapse onto the tiles your legs were trembling on.

The sweetness lingered on your lips, and you licked at them subtly, wishing it were Jake's tongue on them instead of your own. The way he would softly praise you, call you his, make you lie down all pretty for him like a gorgeous pillow princess.

"Making dessert?" he asked, casually taking out a banana milk bottle from one of the shelves inside. That question snapped you out of your reverie almost immediately.

You stared intensely at the bowl in front of you, not wanting to embarrass yourself any further by making any more unnecessary eye contact. Like this, you felt like dumb in front of Jake sometimes, and you knew he enjoyed seeing you in this way.

"Yeah." you breathed airily, swallowing hard to curb the whine that edged to escape from your throat - the reason being his eyes ; those dialated pupils roving over your tense body, coming up to meet your own every so often.

"Don't you uh- have anything better to get to?"

His lack of immediate response had you balking.

"You know," he took a sip of his milk, leaning back to set it aside - the action itself nonchalant, worryingly tempting. "If I asked you nicely to be kinder to me then you'd probably do it,"

"You're just dumb like that."

A soft gasp filled the air, and you realised it was you once his eyebrows raised in response. "Am I wrong?"

You watched as he pushed himself away from the freezer, edging a few steps forward to meet you next to the island. He was a whole foot taller than you, and somehow having your vision obscured by a certain Jake Sim gave you the dragon equivalent of butterflies in your tummy.

"Gonna be nice to me from now on?" he mocked, lip upturned. "Play on that goody-two-shoes personality for me? Be a good girl?"

"I-" you whined, words on the precipice of your tongue, teetering on the edge of a terrific, catastrophic plunge.

"Aw," he tutted, tilting his head back to take in your embarrassed, heated gaze. Your decreasing ability to speak, making him struggle to keep the (albeit tiny) space left between you. Jake felt the need to lean down to whisper in your ear, "When you decide to play nice, you come and find me."

And that was the end of your last anticipated conversation with Jake that evening, the air of tension in the kitchen merging with whatever Sunghoon's suspicious gaze brought with it as he strolled in. His sister and his best friend were polar opposites, so awkwardness didn't come as a surprise with two contrasting personality types, however Sunghoon sure had had enough of this bermuda triangle of fumbling words and strange energy.

Finishing rinsing with mouthwash after brushing your teeth was the highlight of your night time routine for sure. It was the very last thing you usually did before bed, other than applying some lip care and lotion to your skin. The bathroom door left slightly ajar opened a little more, closing behind the last person you'd expected to see. He leaned over the sink next to where you stood, his thumb barely brushing the material of your shorts over your hips as he gave his face a once-over in the mirror.

"I'm still using the bathroom."

"I know."

You mumbled, words coming out uncharacteristically pathetic to anyone who would have known you for you. "You um- could wait?"

His eyes caught yours, almost glinting in the mirror's LED light, glazing over at the mere sight of you. You curled into yourself, the drawer handle under the sink basin digging into your mid-thigh when he stepped behind you, arms caging you in further. The death grip you had on your vaseline tin had the metal warming in your palm, a discomfort settling in from the ridges indenting your skin.

Breath cool, heart pounding, knuckles white, your lips formed around his name in a whisper.

"Hm?"

Jake reached up to twist your head to face him, thumb just under your shiny bottom lip.

You just knew this was going to be a gruelling and difficult sleep.

Coming into Sunghoon's room (tonight, Jake's) was something you never thought you'd do. Duvet and pillow in hand, you stood at the door.

You sniffled, feeling overwhelmed from just twenty minutes ago when you were sucking on his fingers. With the softness in his touches, yet a hardness in his eyes that could be mistaken for malice, you recalled the names he'd called you.

"What're you doing here pretty?" Jake asked, noticing your figure in the threshold to his room as he scrolled through his phone. You brought your shoulders to your ears and looked down shyly.

"Come here." he invited, glancing down at his lap for you to get the message, his bulge was still painfully straining from earlier.

You mewled, crawling over to his bed, watching him peel the duvet and settle you onto his hips, moving his hands to your face, he stroked over your cheeks and lips with his thumbs, sighing.

He was so warm you couldn't help but put your stuff aside and melt into his body, pressing your cheek against his chest and your hands on his pecs. "Jus' wan'ed to sit." you muttered, not even coherent at this point.

"Dumb little baby wanted to sit on my lap?" he asked, smoothing his palms down the skin of your plush thighs.

"Yeah," you nodded, now moving your head so you were face to face.

"I thought you didn't like me sweetheart," he sighed, not being able to stop the smirk from appearing again.

"Hm," you huffed, face hot.

"Are you gonna be good and answer me?" he thumbed at your lips, eyes gazing at them shining under the dim light of Sunghoon’s desk lamp.

“You’re annoying, Jake. I don’t like you.” you lied, feeling his cock press into your crotch, hot under his pajama pants.

Jake sighed teasingly. “Well, pretty girl,” hands moving down to your hips, he pressed you down onto his hardness more. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

Chest tight, your nipples hardened under your flimsy crop top. “W-why?”.

He hummed, pressing his face into your neck softly. “I’m in a very giving mood right now.” he sighed, lips dragging across your skin until they reached your ear. “But considering your dislike for me, I don’t think you’ll want what I have to offer.”

“W-what do you have to offer, Jakey?” you whispered, shuddering. He smirked into the side of your face.

A pause. “Are you going to tell me the truth?” he lilted, “I don’t like lying little girls - they don’t get rewards.”

You swallowed, a strained sound escaping your throat. “I-I wasn’t lying.”

“Oh, but I know you were.” he nodded, nosing at you as you melted into him. “C’mon baby, tell me what’s going on in that dumb little head of yours.”

“I’m sorry Jakey.” you whined, “I-”

He stroked at your head with one hand, lips pouting at your jaw to press a featherlight kiss to it.

“I-I think about you sometimes.” you mumbled, breath hitching when he let out an affirmative sigh. “I’m listening,” he replied with a coy smile.

“Dirty things,” you added.

Jake was thrilled, cock hard and swollen under the confines of his clothes. “What kind of dirty things, sweetheart?” The words could have been so so innocent if it weren't for the hot bulge pressing into you as you melted into his lap.

You had to gulp, and it was audible. “Like s-sitting on Jakey’s lap.”

“Like now?”

You reached his ear with your lips, the sweetness of your scent making Jake want to manhandle you flat on the pillows and make you scream and cry in pleasure. “Yeah- but- I sometimes think about Jakey’s cock in me. A-and Jakey’s cum.”

“Hm. Such a good girl for telling me the truth.” with his mouth at the shell of your ear again, his voice reverberated delectably closer to you.

“What did you want to offer?” you mumbled, soft fingers playing with the fabric of his t-shirt.

The next words Jake uttered make your cunt throb shamelessly.

“Dumb baby’s princess parts must be feeling achy, huh?”

You felt yourself nod fervently, “Jakey was going to offer you his cock to sit on - to make that special spot feel better again. How does that sound?” he added with a whisper.

“Please let me on your cock,” you begged, bouncing on his lap a little in anticipation, and Jake halted your movements with steady hands on your waist.

He pretended to think, thumbs reaching the band of your silk shorts to just snap the elastic back teasingly.

“I don’t think my dumb baby’s princess parts belong to Jakey, though.” his lips twitched, fingers letting go of the fabric and pressing his fingertips into your hot slit.

“They do! T-they belong to you.” you hiccuped, completely drunk on Jake's words and teasing actions alone. You were worried before that if he were to make you suck on his fingers once more, you'd really probably cum with one touch.

He smiled, amused at your pleading. “Jakey’s princess parts.” you affirmed innocently, whimpering at the feeling of relief where his fingers just pressed.

“You gonna let Jakey slide his big cock into his princess parts?” He bit his lip, "All creamy, huh?"

“Yeah.” and with that approval, he pushed the crotch of the material covering your pussy to the side and pulled himself out of his bottoms.

“You like my cock, sweetheart?” he asked, his length hard on his stomach. Your eyes were wide at the new image, not really managing to process the situation.

You smiled shyly, pressing your face into his cheek. “Yeah.”

lmao this is giving ‘warm’ vibes

Finally pressing his tip into you, your pussy lips parted at the stretch, the fullness something you’d been waiting for so patiently since he first started to have such an effect on you. “Oh fuck-”

“Stupid girl, Jakey doesn’t like swearing. Apologise.” when he was fully sheathed in you, balls deep, his voice slipped deliciously into a lower octave.

“‘M sorry,” you drooled, face nuzzled into his shoulder. “Deep.”

“Fucked dumb.” he sighed, “All pretty for me.”

“Cum.” you pawed at his shoulder, the hands he had on your hips lifting you up and pressing you down onto his cock again. “Want cum.”

“You want to cum?”

“No- I want Jakey’s cum. In Jakey’s princess parts.” your voice was shaky and wrecked, and your thighs trembled at the feeling of being so satiated and finally filled to the brim.

“You want my cum?” Jake used his fingers to tilt your head up to be level with his so he could gaze into your eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll give you a big load, sweetheart, don’t you worry about that.” he groaned at your tightness. “You wanna leak my cum?”

“All the time,” you pouted, teary eyes reflecting need and desperation.

"Bounce on it then sweetie, just like this." he lifted you by the hips so he slipped out, the tip just stretching out your opening before he pressed you back down again. The sharp fullness made you almost sob.

Complying with his instruction, you sat up and began to move. Jake's cock slipped in and out of you with lewd quelches and a repeated pap pap pap that should have been something out of a porno, along with your cute sounds and Jake's heavy breathing.

You moved. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. And the way he gazed into your eyes as you moved had butterflies erupting in your tummy. 

"Such a pretty girl," he smiled at you, the genuinity taking you back a little, even in your wrecked and sensitive state. As you started getting tired, Jake pressed a few shushing kisses to your jaw. "Shhh, baby. Just sit, okay? I'll take care of you."

And he pressed you down into his lap, using his thumb to rub pretty circles onto your little clit. "Jakey's Princess feeling good?" he asked, cursing under his breath as he nearly felt himself cum when you clenched tight around him.

"Princess parts feel so good." you nodded, eyes half-lidded as you shuddered on top of him as your climax hit. "Hmmm."

"Coming around my cock so well," he shushed you with his lips, the mewling from your lips growing in volume at the stinging sensitivity. "You gonna let Jakey fuck his cum into you?"

"Please," breathless, you approved, and that's all it took for Jake to give you his load finally.

Wrapping his arms around you, he tiredly reached for the duvet and shuffled with you on top of him and him still inside you.

You were satisfied, and whatever you and Jake had to talk out would be saved for the morning when you were more coherent.

i'm so so sorry i've been away for this last week! i got a lot requests so it's been a matter of keeping up with that and schoolwork. because of something personal I am going through it will take me longer to complete all your requests. I'm really sorry once again lovelies ♡ i hope you guys enjoyed this piece 😊

[soulwillower]

semi-charming •  bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested:  Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :)    +      AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH     +     don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh  !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au, 

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional. 

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that. 

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake. 

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise. 

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door. 

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes. 

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either. 

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music." 

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off." 

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. 

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding. 

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give. 

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in." 

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it. 

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him. 

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?" 

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms. 

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?" 

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person. 

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst. 

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg. 

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall. 

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!" 

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him. 

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either. 

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts. 

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet. 

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack." 

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf. 

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot. 

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you. 

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip. 

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane.  "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly. 

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth. 

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away. 

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid. 

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh. 

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from. 

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done." 

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated." 

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly. 

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are,  i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk. 

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out. 

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you. 

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you. 

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own.  "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving? 

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants. 

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes. 

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down. 

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate. 

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once. 

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure. 

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?" 

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock. 

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back. 

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly. 

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan. 

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums. 

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out. 

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce. 

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building. 

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours. 

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

 "you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to. 

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already. 

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple. 

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours. 

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close. 

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters. 

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall. 

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous. 

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease. 

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew

[seiwas]

i think i exceeded the tags writing my thoughts on this willow omg but i so loved the way this was written!! 🥺 i don't normally gravitate towards android au's but your writing always has a way of pulling me in anything you come up with!!

you were able to fit in so much in just 2k words sjhdbvadhj ur writing always integrates such rich context without it feeling too much!! it always reads so easily!! and flowy!! and like i am being fed the details and not /reading/ it yk?

this concept is so shouto too!!! u are the au expert and i love how u paired todorokis bluntness and somewhat cluelessness with his nature as an android/robot!! i think it matches so well aaah he is so innocent so cute i wanna mONCH on his CHEEKS (even tho ill be tasting metal)

anD!! your worldbuilding is insane!!!! the descriptions you put and the names you made to describe ads and the corporation and even down to the construction of shouto as an android like omg... shjdbajds u r so so so cool for that 🥺 i could rlly feel cyberpunk vibes from gsdahf (idk if u meant for that to show but thats the kind of streets i got from the way u were describing it!! all the neon lights!! like arcane!!)

i so love the way you carry the android theme throughout your writing too !!! the words you chose are so thematically consistent and!!! i find that so so biG BRAINED!!! and satisfying... like i would have never noticed that before but now that i write a little i think word choice is one of the things i am constantly noticing !!! and i can feel so much how carefully thought out your words are here !!!

i also ADORE anything that humanises a character and setting up shouto as an android leaves so many possibilities to explore that 🥺 which im so glad you did !!! ugh !! just grappling with the whole do they have free will? is the life they live theirs? are they more than their intended purpose? (i saw that u were inspired by ex machina writing this and i could rlly feel it !!!!!)

am now gonna share some of my favourite parts!!

i think it's so cool how you integrated the happenings of his scar (from the explosion) and how endeavour is his 'creator' by working fr the company that made him (Todoroki Corp.) i've always adored how incredibly creative you are!!

if the hands that made him and the hands that ruined him are the same, if he meant to leave or if he was cast out. <- i love that line so much!!

i like the constant conflict of how he is so android by fact, but is so human by feel! and it's so cute how he's able to get a better sense of what reader's feeling by reading all their stats (heartbeat, vocal cues, etc.)

As his fingers shift until their smooth pads are brushing the delicate veins in your wrists, as he tightens his arm around yours when another stranger on the streets knocks your shoulder, as he leans into the warmth of your humanness <- i also really loved that line!! and how it makes him feel so human!!

Technicolor rains down on your both, swathing him in a wild array as advertisements dance on the buildings that tower above you <- and THISS!!! technicolour rain sounds so so pretty, and i think it paints the image of the scene so so vividly!!

this is also such a small line but i liked how you used 'ruination' here (idk!! just smth abt it!!): but Shouto looks down at you in all his ruination and—

This is one those moments in which he overrides all your defenses, uploads something warm and hopeful and frightening into your chest cavity <- it's this!! the choice of words!! overrides and uploads uGH WILLOW!! i am kissing ur brain and ur fingertips!!!! it's so so satisfying how in theme it is!!

Maybe it’s not the rain that amuses him—and maybe it is. Maybe it really is that simple, that innocent. Maybe it’s the microtremors in your voice and your increased heart rate, all the little details that could never go unnoticed. <- this paragraph i also really loved!! i think bc it's humanising him so much!! and how he's able to be amused by all these mundane, human things bc of the fact that he isn't one sbhsjfs

AND IT'S SO CUTE!!! how he doesn't stop asking in the end, as if he has his own lil personality and flavour sddsgbsj this was a lovely read willow ! :')

one thousand lonely stars, hiding in the cold—

android!shouto x reader

wc: 2k+

tags: angst, cyberpunk dystopian setting, financial vulnerability, explicit language, minor mention of sex work + sex workers, reader has strong/conflicting feelings about their situation, and — as always — the question of true humanity.

notes: what a great opportunity this was for me to continue exploring this idea !! tysm to @shoto-brainrot for not only giving me the chance, but also for being such a support and helping me to figure out all this commission jazz !! i so appreciate you, and i hope you enjoy it ! 🩷

original post

You’ve yet to find out what caused the damage to Shouto’s faceplate.

By the time you discovered him outside the credit exchange, he had been busted open and left for—whatever the equivalent of dead is for an android. A gaping hole in the left side of his disturbingly human face exposed his inner circuitry to the rain and you think that should have finished him off, truly, but—he's still kicking. 

Technology in the lower district is distinct. The most careful hands could have crafted him down in the best underground salvage yard and he still wouldn't have lasted half an hour with his face submerged in a shallow mud puddle like that. Wiring would have been shot, fuses blown.

Even if the Todoroki Corporation symbol on his wrist wasn't glowing, a blinking light in time with his would-be heart, you'd know what he is. You'd know he didn't belong down here, beneath the smog, in the industrial bones of your dying city.

And yet—

The left side of Shouto's face took the brunt of whatever blow he'd been dealt, and the scarring—if it's even called that?—has extended down over his cheekbone and backward, so violently that his ear had only barely been hanging on. Without the bandage you've wrapped him up in, he's quite a sight: half a tangled mess of wires and pins, a dull cyan light glowing in his orbital socket. With the wrapping, however, he’s almost exactly as he was meant to be: seamless.

The fate of his detached ear had been unknown. Until this morning.

It still works, much to your surprise, learning so only after wondering aloud the whereabouts of your data docket and hearing Shouto answer from across the apartment. Whoever put him together, you realize, took great care to make him durable, adamantine; the carbon nanotubes and polymer arrays that make up his cochlea were hardly affected by the assault.

Someone—or something—meant to harm him, and you know that for certain, now. Such wreckage couldn’t have happened naturally, not to a Skin-Puppet like him.

(When you look at him, you can’t help but consider his creator. How far he is from them and why. If the hands that made him and the hands that ruined him are the same, if he meant to leave or if he was cast out. You haven’t asked, but it’s odd that a machine could keep such information to himself—itself.)

(Given the brutality behind his mutilation, perhaps it’s best you don’t know the answers.)

Working tech from the richer district—KōkyōLuxuria, above the smog, built high into the clouds—could not only earn you enough to eat this week, but also to pay off all your debts to the League. Maybe even finance a decent apartment a few stories up.

And that’s why you’re here: racing through the slums in the rain, doing your damndest to make this sale before time runs out and you’re forced to find another buyer. Coming across a Hack with 1,640,254 credits in their docket is rare; who knows when you’ll find someone from the Trade in Musutafu sector again? You’re likely to sooner perish—either from your empty stomach or that broker that demanded payment two days ago.

Shouto, however, doesn’t see the urgency.

“Hello, handsome! Awful cold out tonight…care to warm me up?”

“Oh, hello.”

At the even, all-too-friendly lilt in his voice, you halt your sprint again, and spin around with a hiss. “Shouto!” You snap—but it comes too late; the Entertainers have struck like lightning, already scrambling his code. 

Out of habit, you’d pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head before leaving the apartment, and now the material separates his image from view—though you can easily imagine the pleasant expression showing on his face, illuminated in pink under the NanotechNymph advertisement.

At his easily captured interest, two women strut from the open doors of the low-lit den, all allure and swaying hips, mirage flickering beneath the heavy rain. They only meet him halfway—too far from the emanator deep within the club—and you dash forward to stop him from wordlessly accepting their offer. You can’t afford to owe anyone any more than you already do.

“Shouto,” you say again, mouth twisting when he looks at you simply. Despite the hood, his bandage grows dark from the rain and—despite his framework, worry fluxes in your stomach at the thought of him getting too wet. “We have to go.”

“Aww,” an Entertainer says to you, girlish pout pulling down her full lips. “You don’t want to come inside and play with us?”

“No,” you try not to look at them any longer, just in case that racks up a charge, too. Rock solid as he is, Shouto allows himself to be steered away, much to your relief. “Buzz off, holo-ham.”

“I’d like to play.” Shouto pipes up, peeking behind his shoulder when the girls squeal in excitement. “Can we come back once we’ve finished?”

“Not for that kind of play.” You put a hand on the back of his head and swivel it, all while shoving him down the sidewalk. You almost remark on how man-like he’s acting, before chasing the thought away.

“What other types of play are there?”

“Just—hush.” 

And he does, finally, when you loop your arm through his: a presumably innocent gesture that draws his attention fully back to you, as physical touch seems to do, with him. Beneath the material of the jacket, he feels natural, all muscle and bone, even leaning into you as if the weather has made him cold. You can feel him tracing your face with his one-eyed gaze—scanning you—and you pretend not to notice.

“Your heart rate has gone up. Have I made you angry?”

“Yes,” you tell him, though he hasn’t, really. “You and your curiosity are gonna make me late, and then we’ll be in some serious shit.”

He looks away then, down to the soaked pavement, a mimicry of disappointment. From the corner of your eye, you can see his manufactured Adam’s apple bob, and the muscle beneath your hand shifts.

“They seemed nice, the holograms.” He says, and you can’t help the soft snort such a comment merits. 

“Yeah, they’re nice, alright, until you can’t pay them.”

Shouto looks at you once again, stride threatening to falter until you tug him along. “Do you know them?”

You already know where he’s going with his question, and the corner of his lips quirk up when you cast him a filthy look. “Well, no, but—”

“Then how do you know—”

“I just do, alright?” You frown at him and he accepts it in full, studying once more. Whatever he finds in your expression amuses enough that he’s placated for the moment, though you know it won’t be long before he’s piping up again.

He does it often—studies you: body language, physiological changes, speech patterns, vocal cues. Human behavior he catalogs and streams to someone back at the Corporation headquarters, finding the miniscule details he can use against you, some day. Whatever the reason behind his damage, he is still a product of his evil overlords, made for reasons you can only imagine. 

This is what you tell yourself. 

As his fingers shift until their smooth pads are brushing the delicate veins in your wrists, as he tightens his arm around yours when another stranger on the streets knocks your shoulder, as he leans into the warmth of your humanness: this is what you tell yourself.

You’re overcome with a sense of loss and you don’t know why, and you clear the strange lump hardening in your throat. “Life lesson number six, Todoroki,” you murmur it closely to him, nearly into the fabric at his shoulder, though he doesn’t react to the name. “Everybody wants something from someone, holo-hams included.”

Shouto seems to process your words, for a moment, and his face is expressionless when you steal a peek up at him. Technicolor rains down on your both, swathing him in a wild array as advertisements dance on the buildings that tower above you, and again you think of his creator. The careful hands that crafted his smooth cheeks, the sharp line of his nose, the leanness of his body. You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious.

Nearly all of the residents relegated to the lower districts owe the Todoroki Corporation in some way. Be it through credit loans or applied interest rates on subsidized housing or hidden costs and high premiums on mandatory, shit insurance—Enji Todoroki sits in the lap of KōkyōLuxuria, has probably never even stepped down from his pedestal. 

There’s no good reason a product of his could have found its way to you: this is what you tell yourself.

“And you want my ear.” Shouto says, looking back down at you as your shoulders tense. There isn’t a byte of hostility in his voice, but he must understand the sharpness to what he’s saying.

“Yes,” you admit with a nod, and some underlying, rogue streak of guilt has you pressing into him, as if your proximity could make up for your selfishness. “The sensors in your ear are gonna pay for our dinner tonight, handsome.”

His stride falters once more, and despite the time clock ticking in the back of your mind—you let him stop you. Maybe you want him to. Nothing ever goes unnoticed by him and you know that and maybe it’s cruel of you to say such a thing, to offer a comfort you can’t admit to, but Shouto looks down at you in all his ruination and—

Before he can say anything, a fat drop of water hits the tip of his perfectly manufactured nose. It makes him flinch, delayed, and the surprise he wears and the scrunch of his brow seem so—human, there before you. Shouto tilts his face to the dark, smoggy sky, and again that worry bites you, about too much water trickling into his core.

“We’re going to be late,” you repeat, though it’s much weaker than it was earlier. This is one those moments in which he overrides all your defenses, uploads something warm and hopeful and frightening into your chest cavity; you can’t tell if you want to run because you have to, for the sale—or if it’s a result of watching him now, haloed in neon.

He’s not one to ignore you, but he doesn’t respond, instead retracting his arm from your grip in order to push the hood back off his head. Raindrops soak into his bandage and the excess pools, dripping down over the line of his jaw and the column of his throat. So close to him, you can see the goosebumps that break out across his skin.

(You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious. You wonder if he meant to leave, or if he was cast out. You wonder if he was created for continued corruption—or if someone out there wanted him to experience life, no matter how rusty.)

(You wonder if he feels as human as he looks. If he can blush, or if the soft skin below his ear can bruise.)

A small sound bubbles out of him, like a light laugh of disbelief. 

You found him face down in the rain; you’re not sure why it could cause such a reaction now, but he turns to eye the commercial playing behind him, before watching the path of a man walking by the two of you. Rain collects in his perfect cupid’s bow until he licks it away, and his hair slicks to the side when he pushes it out of his face. 

Shouto turns his attention back to you rather plainly, though the edges of his smile pull up a little higher than they usually do, enough that the apples of his cheeks round. He asks you, “What’s going to be for our dinner?” and the question is oddly worded, but each one is intentional. 

Maybe it’s not the rain that amuses him—and maybe it is. Maybe it really is that simple, that innocent. Maybe it’s the microtremors in your voice and your increased heart rate, all the little details that could never go unnoticed. 

There isn’t a way that this could end well: this is what you tell yourself.

You nod once and turn to face back the way you came, resigned, before looping your arm through his again. You trace the delicate veins on the inside of his wrist, careful not to cover the slow-blinking symbol embedded there, and you decide it doesn’t matter what his creator did or didn’t want. Because he has wants of his own, just like anyone.

“Okay,” you sigh, and when you slosh through the puddles collecting on the sidewalk, Shouto seems happy to follow along, this time. “I can probably sweet talk Toyomitsu into buying us some takoyaki, but you’re gonna have to play it cool.”

“Is this the kind of play you were talking about?”

That lilt has returned to his voice, even and friendly and amused.

“No,” you swat at him to hear his little huff of laughter, “now stop asking about that.”

Of course he doesn’t.

[forzalando]

goodbye kiss | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader word count: 1.2k warnings: mentions of anxiety (briefly), mentions of a head injury (briefly), cursing, mentions of food/eating a/n: this is a fluffy steve fic i've had finished for literally forever and i just never posted it bc i thought no one would read my marvel stuff hahahaha here it is. maybe there will be a part 2 to this....if anyone wants it :)

summary: Steve and Y/N are so clearly infatuated with one another, but oblivious as can be. One morning, Steve's shocking behavior may shift their relationship.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Steve and Bucky called out in sync as they barreled through the doorway of your shared home.

Every morning was practically the same; wake up at 5:00am because Bucky couldn’t be quiet if his life depended on it, start breakfast at 7:00am right as Steve and Bucky get back from their run (and pretend like you just woke up), shower at 7:40am, and start heading to the compound at 8:30am.

The consistency helped with Bucky’s anxiety, as well as your memory issues from a head injury you had sustained a while back on a mission.

Steve was just Steve, and he ran a ship tighter than his ass and his workout shirts that you knew for a fact ripped after their third or fourth wear.

The three of you worked and lived together, mostly in tandem, but occasionally something would happen that derailed the balanced home life you all strived for. It was usually minor; ‘accidentally’ eating someone’s leftovers, leaving dirty dishes in the sink, playing music too loud at night, etc.

But sometimes…sometimes it was the way Steve looked at you across the dinner table that made you nervous around him for days. Sometimes it was the way your fingers found their way into his sandy blonde hair after a stressful week. Once, about a month ago, it was because he walked into the bathroom not knowing you were taking a bath. And most recently, it was the casual comment made by Bucky about how he was sick and tired of you and Steve dancing around your feelings for one another like “the fuckers in the Russian Ballet”.

Eventually, the awkward period would fade away and things would return to their normal, harmonious ways, with Bucky grumbling all the while about your cowardice.

“What do you have for us today, doll?” Bucky called out as he exited his bedroom.

“I think I have a cold so you and Steve are getting scrambled eggs and toast because it requires minimal effort. Also, we’re now out of eggs. And bread.”

“I just bought three cartons and a loaf two days ago,” Bucky groaned as he slumped against the counter.

“You and your buddy Steven consume a carton each so either eat less or shop more. Take your pick, Barnes.”

He walked behind you and snatched the spatula from your hand, scooping some eggs into his mouth with a cheeky grin.

“I choose to shop more.”

You quickly grabbed the spatula back and shooed him away before he turned your pristine kitchen into a crumb filled nightmare.

“Steve,” you shouted indignantly, “breakfast is ready and I do not have time for your slow ass today.”

Bucky grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and immediately after, a loud crash echoed from across the house. Bucky shrugged his shoulders in response, pretending to be unaware of whatever could have caused Steve to wreak accidental havoc so early in the morning. It certainly was not his whispered comment, loud enough for only a super soldier’s ears, about how you surely had time for anything to do with Steve’s ass.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve huffed as he shuffled out of his room.

“What the hell happened in there?”

“I, uh, mis-stepped and tripped over my bed frame, no big deal.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and graciously stepped away from the stove, accepting Steve’s good morning hug and forehead kiss with a dopey smile.

A strangled gag interrupted your precious moment, and you shot daggers at Bucky while he shoveled his breakfast into his mouth like he was starved.

“Sorry, egg must have went down the wrong pipe. Continue your love fest.”

“It’s not a love fest, Buck,” Steve mumbled as a heated blush crept up his neck.

“Then how come I don’t get tender hugs and forehead kisses every morning?”

“Because you don’t cook me breakfast and Y/N is much more kissable.”

Steve froze while Bucky, the cheeky bastard, chuckled into his perfectly buttered toast. You quickly composed yourself and patted Steve reassuringly on the back, laughing along with Bucky.

“I wouldn’t want to kiss Bucky’s ugly mug either, Rogers.”

The rest of breakfast was silent; the sounds of clinking forks and satisfied sighs seemed like exploding C4 and gusts of wind in the cozy kitchen. After finishing your breakfast of hot tea with lemon and honey, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. Before, you felt that it was just a little cold, but the longer you were upright and moving around, the more sick you felt.

“We don’t have anything important planned today, do we?” You asked while hobbling towards the couch.

“Not that I know of, are you alright, doll?” Steve inquired, concern evident in his eyes.

“It’s probably just a head cold but will you tell Stark I’m calling in sick today? I don’t even have the energy to send him a text right now. Plus, I don’t want to deal with him telling me this wouldn’t happen if I took his prototype horse pill, super food vitamins.”

“I’ll let him know,” Steve mumbled affectionately as he draped a blanket over your shivering frame.

In a matter of minutes, he and Bucky were headed out the door; Steve with his briefcase and Bucky with his reusable grocery bag he deemed secure enough for sensitive documents.

When the door shut, you closed your eyes, relishing in the quiet, empty space you would have to yourself for the next 9 hours, until a sharp ringtone pierced your eardrums and ignited a monstrous headache.

Steve’s phone buzzed upon the kitchen table and you groaned; his forgetfulness never ceased to amaze you. You dashed across the room, hoping and praying that he and Bucky hadn’t already driven away. After flinging open the door to your house, you crashed directly into what you knew to be Steve Rogers’s insanely muscular chest.

“I forgot my….” He trailed off, noticing that you had it in your hand while simultaneously taking note of the annoyed expression on your face.

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders, Steven. I feel incredibly overworked and under appreciated looking after you.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound momentarily easing the pounding headache behind your eyes.

“You’re definitely not under appreciated doll,” Steve murmured as he took his phone from your outstretched hand. “Don’t forget to take some cold medicine, it’s in the hall bathroom cabinet behind Bucky’s aftershave. I’ll bring home some soup and a movie.”

Before you could thank him, he dipped his head and captured your lips in a delicate kiss. However, all too soon, he backed away with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“Did you just…” you gasped.

“I’ll see you tonight, bye!” He shouted before taking off in a sprint and bounding down the front porch steps.

You watched him from the window as he awkwardly ran back to his car. Just before he opened the door, he turned around and locked eyes with you. You blew him a kiss, as dramatically as you could, and smiled as he laughed and ducked into the driver’s seat.

The sensation of vibrating pulled your attention away from Steve and you reached into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the new text message.

From: Bucky Barnes

I. Saw. Everything.

taglist: @gredmforge @vogueweasley @gcdricreads @nuttytani @kaye-lantern @barnesjamcs @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @fallingforyou123 @phoenixes-and-wizards @gloryekaterina @hannahmeyer1999 @beautyschoo1dropout @loonylovegood13 @saara-sanders @le-weasley-simp @peachypotter @omghufflepuff @weelittleweasley (if your url has a strikethrough, I was unable to tag you! please let me know if you would like to be added to my marvel taglist and thank you for reading!!)

[25-worms-in-a-trenchcoat]

eye emoji at ur oc tags i am looking so hard what da hell is going on over there

hehehe excuse to infodump abt them hell yeah! okay so i partially answered this here and also before i forget i actually have a sideblog dedicated to the campaign theyre for over at @the-curse-investigation-team ! and for anyone who needs context for this ask i posted this earlier (putting the rest under a read more bc this is gonna be long)

ANYWAYS so i mostly talked abt the curse earlier, but basically theres a curse on the monsters (they're good!!) of this town that make them get sick and rampage and not have control of their monster forms if theyre shifters. it affects one person every new moon and the person ends up dying from the curse just from how sick they get (or previously they were killed/euthanized but that stopped since there was recently gained hope that the ppl could be cured of the curse. my character, worms, originally got turned into a monster/worm-shifter bc he got attacked by a worm shifter that was effected by the curse and worms bit him in an attempt to get it off of him (he was panicking okay he wasnt exactly in the best position to be making decisions). when he woke up he was in a hospital bed and found out that bc he called for help the worm ended up being killed and now he has ✨survivors guilt✨. so even tho he's told theres nothing he can do to help he keeps researching the curse and trying to save those effected to no end (his working theory is that if the cursed monster stays alive til midnight of the new moon then the curse will stop effecting them but no one will listen). finally things change when two non-monsters (scott, a manager from the local gary gators [think rainforest cafe x chuck-e-cheese and yes this is based on fnaf shhhh] who?? has a phone for a head??, and sonya, a college student who has powers given to her by a something or other but rly doesnt want to) get roped in. they figure out that worms' original theory doesnt work but they figure out sonya can dispell the curse, but at that point its too late. next month rolls around tho and the curse gets dispelled from that person and we now have the first person to live through having the curse!! but its still gonna show up every month so now we gotta figure out its source and keep dispelling it and tracking down who has it each month.

as for the best friend, his name is/was emmett and they met in elementary schooland knew each other up into their early 20s and they bonded over both being trans (with emmett being a trans guy and worms being nonbinary) along with many other things. emmett got bullied a lot in school and worms v much gave him scary dog privilege and got the bullies to back off whenever they were around, or at the very least caused problems for them lol. they were super close, to the point where emmett developed a romantic crush on worms (but didnt ask him out or say anything bc worms is aroace and he assumed they wouldnt want to be in a relationship w him [he didnt know that qpps were a thing]) and worms developed a queerplatonic crush on emmett (but didnt say anything bc emmett isnt aro and "deserves to have a nice romantic relationship with someone who can reciprocate" [emmett would love to be their qpp if he knew it was a thing]". v much and they were both idiots energy. anyways they lived together for a while after worms got kicked out and before emmett left for college in emmetts parents house. right after emmett had moved back to their hometown after college he disappeared; long enough that he was assumed dead. it was insanely hard on worms. it turns out emmett is now scott, the phone head guy i mentioned earlier. freddy fazbears gary gators decided they needed a new manager (all of which are ppl kidnapped and turned into partial animatronics with their memories mostly wiped and v v traumatized. scott doesnt remember worms bc, like i said, memories wiped, plus worms changed his name which doesnt help (he used to change names all the time and then landed on worms after the wormening). worms does seem very familiar to scott though and finds them very comforting to be around and has a crush on him again. worms doesnt know scott is emmett bc different voice (voicebox) and can't see his face (phonehead). scott does remind him a lot of emmett though and finds himself falling into old habits with him and developing queerplatonic feelings for him, both of which he feels a bit guilty about.

also side note but worms's grandpa-figure (pops) turns into a bear and is dating mothman :)

but yeah sorry this is long agshshs lmk if you have any questions!! tho stuff abt emmett/scott i may or may not be able to answer since hes my friends player character not mine (same goes for sonya).

[brittledame]

Characters: Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tendou Satori, Yamagata Hayato, Reon Oohira, Semi Eita, Shirabu Kenjirou, Kawanishi Taichi, Goshiki Tsutomu

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags: SFW, gender neutral reader, first date nerves, fluff, ages not specified

Notes: I did this instead of working on the other projects bc I wanted some fluff and here it is!

Ushijima:

On a visit with his grandmother is when he’s told about a local pottery masterclass happening the following weekend, piquing his interest

After some research, he comes to learnt that pottery is the perfect relaxing hobby with the added benefit of fine tuning his dexterity

It didn’t take much else to convince him to go

It was only after talking to a friend that he realises he should probably invite someone to tag along

After his grandmother politely declines, he follows her coy suggestion of inviting someone he likes

He invites you seemingly out of the blue

You’ve known him for a great deal of time and done some activities with him that could be construed as “romantic” and only started dating when Ushijima stated your relationship status to his team nearly a month ago

The look on your face when you found out at the exact moment as his team was priceless

After that, Ushijima left your relationship status on no uncertain terms and practically broadcasted it in his own unique way

This pottery class serves as another way to spend more time with you

After a few minutes of the pottery teacher painstakingly going through the motions to make a basic pot, a whirring noise followed by wet splattering steals your attention away from the clump of clay that is slowly taking form.

You glance over to find Ushijima looking at you, nonplussed at the mess of what was his pot now decorating his mock and forearms, his face is not left unmarked with the few splotches painting his cheek

You gape at him as he blinks as if coming out of a daze and looks down at the poor clump of clay and murmurs a small, “Oh.”

You didn’t mean to laugh, not really, but the utter surprise in his tone topped you over

After a mild scolding from the teacher and a new clump of clay, the two of you were good to go once again

The both of you took longer than most of the class, you with fussing about the tiny bumps you just couldn’t seem to smooth out and Ushijima with his second try

The class seemed to have unlocked his innate mastery of the ancient craft, as the pot looked near store-quality, you note with an ounce of envy

The group takes a break over some snacks and drinks as the pots are loaded into the kiln

Ushijima meticulously picks through the various glazes they had to offer, seeking your assistance after you picked your own out

You suggest the purple as homage to Shiratorizawa, where you two met, and the dark-rich brown, claiming it reminded you of his eyes

He considers you for a moment, a long enough pause for you to think over your words and begin to regret them before he nods decidedly and proudly presents the glazes he picked to the lady

With the class wrapping up, the lady running the class pops up as you two inspect your creations.

“Do you mind if I take a picture to post on our social media?”

Ushijima shakes his head as you answer, “We don’t mind.”

She flashes a wide smile and aims her phone in your direction. “Great! Say ‘pottery’.”

On cue you plaster on smile and brandish the clay creation as the camera clicks.

The lady, who is somehow even more dirtied than Ushijima, inspects the picture.

“You two are so cute together!” She fawns over the two of you. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your date together.”

She disappears before either of you can correct her.

You blurt out, "Is this a date?"

A pause. Then a hum, "I suppose it is."

A shared smile, you leave the studio with linked hands.

When you get home, you prowl through the studio’s page and find the picture and break out into gut-clutching laughter at the almost-pained looking smile Ushijima makes, tiny pot perched in his large hands adding a comedic effect.

After you recover, you end up saving it and making it your screen saver.

Tendou:

For all his casual confidence, you’re the one to ask him out and he’s the one to officially declare it the “big” first date

The plan was to go manga/book shopping and eat at the in-store cafe

It sounded like a pretty cut-and-dry standard date but with Tendou anything can turn into an adventure

Ecstatic is an understatement on how excited Tendou was for the weekend

He was nearly berated a dozen times for not paying enough attention to what he was doing and almost caused a small fire at one stage

You didn’t fare much better, either

The pair of you got a great deal of laughter from relaying it to one another in the late night hours before meeting up

Although underneath it all lurked the residual anxiety he tried to fight away, so he reminds you during the call, just to check that you didn’t regret inviting him out

As much as he despised the thought, the dark voice whispering at him that you would stand him up were quickly silenced when you show up with a bright smile and his name on your lips

Tendou reckons it’s the sweetest noise he’s ever heard, right after your laughter that he coaxes out with the little melodies he sings to himself as the two of you make way to the popular bookstore

After arriving, you wonder apart to check out separate sections and end up meeting at again the in-store café with books in hand

Over the chocolate cake slice Tendou brought to share, you take turns to gush over the selected choices spread across the tabletop

“I mean it isn’t that over done.” You argue, popping another forkful of the overly-sweet cake into your mouth.

Tendou throws his hands into the air. “Are you serious? Hero meets bad guy, then they fight a whole bunch, bad guy kills a bunch of people and the hero never kills the guy because he ‘doesn’t want to stoop to their level’,” You don’t mask your laughter at the overexaggerated deep voice Tendou imitates. “It’s not fair to the people that the bad guy goes to hurt later on.”

“Oh, I entirely agree with you there.” You take a moment to wonder how Tendou has eaten nearly half the thing to himself already, you’ve barely been seated for longer than a few minutes. “When done wrong, the whole ‘taking the high ground’ troupe is really tacky.”

Tendou blinks at you like he didn’t expect you to respond. You raise a brow at him as a toothy grin spreads over his face, a slight pink painted across his pale cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing. I like talking to someone that knows their stuff, is all. Don’t get me wrong, miracle boy is great company, but I can only try to convince him to read more than the ads they run for so long before I go insane.” He chuckles under his breath, words heartfelt enough that a matching heat spreads across your cheeks.

“I enjoy this too.”

A wide grin overtakes his face at your admittance.

“Well then, let’s not stop!” He offers, stretching his hand towards yours. You clasp it, feeling delicate against his larger one. “I still have to tell you about the whole ‘boy is given power he doesn’t know how to control and needs to find a grumpy mentor’ troupe next!”

You squeeze his hand. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on that one.”

Tendou clicks his tongue and wags his finger at you. “It’s not necessarily about my thoughts, it’s the conspiracy I think the troupe ties into.”

The seriousness in his tone made you pause, looks like you were in for a long one.

Amongst him linking the heroes journey and the innate desire for power over others, you marvel at the way his whole body comes alive when talking about something he loves.

It’s much later on, when he’s introducing you to his friends at a reunion, that you notice the bubbly and animated way he presents you to his friends, love evident in each and every word.

Semi:

Now you would think he’d be the calm and collected one after knowing each other for half a decade and dating for a month

Nope.

He's the type to plan to ask you at the perfect time, and will be in a pissy mood if he misses the "perfect" opportunity to ask

When he does finally pose the question, you’ll say yes and he’s ecstatic

Though, he will play it cool and be like, "Ok I'll text you the details later." And flash you the biggest smile that has you melting inside just a little

When he's trying to sleep that night it finally hits him

Oh shit he has to plan a date with the girl he’s been hopelessly pining for

After one text from you confirming you don’t mind where he picks, he’s both relieved and more stressed because now he has to analyse every little thing he knows about you and eventually starts doubting himself

In the end, he decides to play it safe and go with the popular, family owned cafe that plays live music Saturday afternoons

It was perfect, the music act would be quiet enough to still talk if you two wanted or serve as a mediator to break any awkward silence should it pop up

It is honestly the perfect date, in his mind

Comes the day and he swings around your place after agreeing to walk to the café together

The walk is characterised with the brisk autumn wind and catching each other up on what’s been going on during the week

The conversation doesn’t stop from there – something Semi could cry happily over

After ordering and grabbing a seat close to a stage set-up to the side, you note how bright and talkative Semi is and vow to yourself to see this more often

As he takes a sip in the middle of explaining the difference pick positions affects plucking sounds, you comment on his excitement

Even with the flush on his cheeks, he holds a suave facade and merely says that it’s hard to unwind when his friends can be so chaotic when they get together

From there he starts opening up and imparting little facts about himself that you commit to memory

You come to learn that his favourite colour was corn-silk yellow before he went to Shiratorizawa, now it’s royal purple. He loves tekka maki and boasts his mum’s hand-made ones to be the best in the world and offers to share it with you next time she makes them

All of these things slot into what you know about Semi, filed alongside the nuance’s you’ve noticed yourself.

When he’s unsure or embarrassed, he tousles his hair. And when he talks about something he’s passionate with, his hands start gesturing all about the place

You could’ve spent the whole afternoon like that, in the intimately-lit café, hidden amongst the dull chatter of the surrounding patrons, just listening to Semi’s soothing timbre

But life had other plans

The lights on the stage brighten as someone wearing comfortable clothes strolls on and perches up on the stool set-up in front of a lone microphone. She didn’t give off any signs of discomfort at being stared at as she sets up her guitar, giving a few testing strums before introducing herself and launching into her music.

It was only then that conversation broke and ushered in a lilting voice floating on gentle notes.

“They’re amazing.” You breath, eyes not leaving the stage until the musician dismounts from the stage.

“That’s what I want to do one day.”

You turn to him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” The corner of Semi’s lips quirk up a bit, a secret shared unto himself.

“Why?”

Genuine curiosity spurs you to ask, to know. While you could picture Semi perched on the same stool with a guitar all too easy, you never really thought Semi would pursue a career in the industry.

Semi finally turns to you, a fire in his eyes that was normally caused by volleyball and a good challenge. “I want to make people happy and sad - all the emotions really. I want someone to look at me like you did to that girl.”

Tilting your head you say, “Looking at her like what?”

Semi audible swallows. “Like someone that loves the music I make.”

Reaching over the table, you run your thumb over the backs of his knuckles, a comforting gesture. “Semi, I already love talking to you and hanging out, so why wouldn’t I like the music you write?”

The resultant blush on Semi’s face was answer enough to that, even though he tries to hide it behind his cup.

After that, meeting up at the café ends up becoming a weekly occurrence, an oasis that you both look forward to in the midst of life’s chaos.

Yamagata:

Yamagata actually is the smoothest out of them all

After a two weeks of dating, he bounces up to you after a particularly hard day and offers to take you somewhere fun the next day

Your definition of ‘fun’ varies from his, as you soon find out

Where Yamagata believes the best way to get to know someone and have fun simultaneously is putting them through challenges, whereas you believe sitting down and chatting to be the most optimal method

Unfortunately for him and fortunately for you, the paint ball range is closed

Amusement park it is

He leaves it as a surprise and doesn’t tell you until you question the sign of the park he visited frequently as a kid

Overall, you have an absolute ball with him, never a dull moment

Especially after the ferris wheel when Hayato goes to reach for his phone to check the time and finds it missing

The only reason he had it out in the plastic swinging booth was to take a sneaky picture of you looking carefree and relaxed as you gazed down at the park – not that he admitted to that when you asked just how it escaped his pocket

Obviously, it was a very slippery phone since this was the third time this week alone he lost it

After tracking it down with the help of the kind but tired ride operator, the two of you were on your merry way to the next ride, but not without a few light-hearted digs at Yamagata’s forgetfulness

You get to learn a lot about each other personally while waiting in line and over lunch after recovering

At the end of the day, your cheeks ache from much smiled

“I don’t remember it being that crazy as a kid.” Yamagata says, looking pale and breathing shallowly, as if to keep himself from being sick.

You couldn’t blame him, the rollercoaster he convinced you to go on under the guise of “This was my favourite one as a kid! You wouldn’t deny a man from reliving his childhood, would you?”

And like a fool you caved under the pout like a badly cooked soufflé. Now you wished you put up a bit of a fight against going on it. The screams of the riders before you were not exaggerated in the slightest.

“I don’t know how they allow kids on that.” Is all you supply, feeling a little green as well.

Yamagata directs you to the nearest bench and you follow his lead and slump into the seat.

“I don’t know how I forgot how much that thing threw me around. I must’ve just about fell off as a tiny kid. Remind me to thank my dad for coming on with me.”

You try not to laugh at the image of a tiny Yamagata ecstatically cheering as the ride swings around corners at full speed as his dad frantically tries to keep his clueless son from getting tossed out of the cart.

“Your dad is a brave man to go on that thing wilfully.”

Yamagata grimaces. “Brave is a nice way of putting it. I’d call it being insane to put up with me wanting to ride it eight times over.”

This time you do laugh.

“It must be hard saying no to your own kid, though, so cut him some slack.” You joke, knocking your elbow against his side.

He playfully pushes you away, widely grinning once again. The heat from the sun blaring ahead suddenly floods into your cheeks. The sensation of your heart feeling too large for your ribcage seizes you.

And the feeling doesn’t leave, it sticks with you as he laughs, as he drops his ice cream and pouts like a child. It intensifies as a dreamy look enters his eyes as he recalls a fond memory associated with a ride.

You hope that one day that he makes the same expression when he recalls this day spent with you.

Reon:

For some reason, Reon seems like the kind of guy to be inherently talented with gardening

He’s the resident green thumb alongside Ushijima, people pass their dying plants into Reon’s hands for magical resurrection

So it was a no-brainer for him to take you to the local botanical gardens

Rife with both native and exotic flora, there were many scenic walks available, thus was the perfect place for a first date to Reon

Reon meets you at the gates with a soft greeting and an outstretched hand – you two walk through the park with your hand intertwined like that for the rest of the day

Throughout the walk, he points out flowers and gives you their common name and their meanings, along with the meanings he gave them as a kid

It was entirely too cute for your poor heart

“And those are yellow carnation.” He points to a patch of bright yellow flowers with soft-looking ruffled petals. “They represent dislike and disappointment towards the person you give them to, but as a kid I thought they meant that she was my sunshine because of the colour. My mum got quite the kick out of it when I gave them to her for her birthday.”

You burst into laughter, unable to smother it even with Reon’s apparent embarrassment at the event

If your allergies start to play up too badly, Reon will take you to his favourite part, a densely packed section of the gardens filled with trees, concealing a secluded tiny red bridge stretched across a large koi pond with the largest and most colourful koi you’ve seen

Everything within you wanted to stretch this moment out, you could easily live in this moment forever. The buzzing of cicadas in the distance, the grass blades tickling the palms of your hands from where you sat, the soothing rumble of Reon’s voice – this is your personal slice Elysian peace

You did not want to give this up

It’s there that he finally unlinks your hands and brings out the packed lunch he made.

“You made all this?” You gape, taking in the diverse range of food he brought out of his bag.

From seared fish placed neatly atop seasoned rice, to perfectly rounded onigiri. In the next box he opens sat seasoned chicken and beef slices that made your mouth water. Not to mention the salad of rich greens, reds, and yellows that called your name.

Reon chuckles at your awe. “Yeah, I did. I thought it would be nice to eat something home-made while out here, but if you wan to grab something else-“

You cut him off immediately. “Definitely not! This looks and smells amazing. It would be a crime not to eat it.”

The corners of Reon’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I did try not to burn it, so I hope it tastes nice.”

“If it tastes even half as good as it smells, you’ll have to fight me to stop eating.” You reply, accepting the plate he holds out and give thanks as he starts loading your plate.

“I’d never stop you from eating,” he clicks his tongue in false sternness, to which you grin at. “If you’re hungry, I’ll feed you until your happy.”

“I’m happy right now, but I definitely still want the food.” You cheekily fire back.

Reon shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Well then, eat to your heart’s content.”

Taking a bite, you startle Reon with your enthusiastic reaction.

“This tastes better than I imagined.” You gush after swallowing, immediately scooping up another forkful and eating it.

Reon brushes off your compliment in favour for leaning forward and brushing some crumbs off your face. The proximity as your breath stalling in your throat as he lingers for a heartbeat longer, then withdraws.

“I hope we can do this more often. This is the most fun I’ve had in a while.” He quietly admits, the mood taking an intimate turn even with the shouts of kids playing in the distance.

“Me too. I don’t want this date to end.”

Shirabu:

This man prides himself on being observant and not oblivious like how his friends are

And yet, contrary to this, it takes him several trips to realise that he’s been on what would count as a date with you

You'll talk about needing a new jumper for winter and Shirabu will ask to tag along. You wanted to watch a movie? Shirabu is coming too. Like having someone besides you while studying? Shirabu was your go-to study buddy, whether in silence or as a conversation partner when your brain was overloaded

Out of the blue, he asks with no certain amount of panic, "Were those trips I went on with you dates?"

"I never really gave it much thought…” You match Shirabu’s expression as you consider his question. "I didn’t want to be presumptuous and assume that they were, and you never brought it up, so I left it be."

"Let me have a re-do." Determination flares in his usually guarded eyes and you couldn't refute.

“Gladly.”

Shirabu glances away from your face, unable to bear looking at the fond expression you wore for too long without his heart suffering. “I want to take you somewhere nice.”

“Everywhere I go with you is nice, Shirabu. It’s less about the place and more about the person.” You rebuke.

Shirabu looks away before you catch the full extent of his blush at your words. “No, I mean I want to take you somewhere that can become special for the both of us.”

You catch his hand in yours, tugging it for him to turn back towards you. Gone was the characteristic impassive façade, now replaced with a tenderness that makes you near melt.

Your first official date with him is a picnic in a park on top a hill to watch the sunset

Something he thinks is extremely cheesy and overdone but the look of excitement on your face immediately silenced his rebuttals

There was no way in hell that he was going to be the reason for your disappointment if he can help it

As such, he went all out

Hiring the gazebo and ordering food to be delivered from a restaurant he knows that you’ve wanted to try out for the longest time

Not that he actually tells you, but it wasn’t hard to deduce his excitement when he waits for you at the gazebo with a small smile, dressed nicely in pressed slacks and a dress shirt with a bundle of flowers

Upon the wide-eyed stare he receives from you, he spends the first minutes of the date describing what the florist thought best for him

A bunch of camellias ranging from a deep and vivid red to the first blush of love pink to the innocence of white gathered in a golden ribbon. He doesn’t exactly tell you their meanings other than a short, “Flowers are flowers, all I want them to show is that I love you.”

What he didn’t know was that the florist had the foresight to hide a card detailing the meaning of each flower amongst the paper holding them

White camellias meaning “You’re adorable” to red camellias meaning “You’re a flame in my heart” (something you blush at in the security of your own home) and the pink one representing longing

As the meal arrives and the two of you eat, the conversation drifts from current events to bits and pieces of everything and anything

The highlight of conversation was Kenjirou’s answer to the question “What do you think you’ll see first: a ghost or an alien?”

Apparently Kenjirou was secretly a space-lover

From the lecture he launched into about the statistics of it all and you come away from that conversation with more knowledge of possibility of E.T's versus spectres than you would’ve thought

The afternoon starts fading into dusk quicker than you realised, too wrapped up trading short anecdotes of your respective families

Shirabu only realises the fading light once the fairy lights decorating the space become brighter, and it is only then that Shirabu like a gentleman, brings out a blanket and escorts you to the grassy knoll besides the gazebo

Laying out the blanket, you notice it’s the perfect position to watch the sun set and you can’t help but give him a quick hug in gratitude before you sit down and make yourself comfortable

It floored you how much effort and consideration he put into this one afternoon amongst all his classes and assignments – it made you feel incredibly warm against the cool night air creeping in

As you shift to get comfortable, your hand lands on top of his. You’re just about to whisk it away, but he shoots you a soft smile and twists his hand in your grasp and gives it a squeeze

Your hands stayed intertwined as the blues faded into pinks and oranges, then into purples and the deep satiny blue of the night sky

The sunny photos with matching smiles from that afternoon soon decorate your wall

Kawanishi:

Unlike the others, Taichi really doesn’t care about being seen as “basic” for taking you out to watch a movie and grab dinner afterwards

He asked you out so casually, you agreed without it even hitting you that it was a date until he grinned at you and cheekily replied, “Great, it’s a date then.”

The movie in question was one you’ve been waiting forward for its release and Taichi was interested in it as well, so really it was an excuse for the both of you to watch the movie together instead of alone.

It went great, asides from the old couple staring the two of you in line, not so quietly reminiscing their first date

Embarrassment aside, Taichi was sweet throughout the entirety of it

Arguing to pay until reluctantly splitting the bill when you argued that it wasn’t fair

Waiting outside for it to start, Taichi and yourself bide the time by guessing what the other movies were about by their posters and making each other laugh

Once the movie starts, the chatter between you two dies down, yet the casual intimacy doesn’t fade in the slightest

Sharing an arm rest, the both of you exchange glances at one another throughout the movie, and bump elbows when something interesting or funny happens

It was a far-cry from the intimacy of the other’s dates, but it was perfect for the two of you

By now, the two of you have been friends much longer than you have been dating

Neither of you wanted to rush things, happy to take it as it comes and retain that familiarity from years of friendship stay untainted from the innate awkwardness of new love

Coming out of the theatre, Taichi is the most talkative you’ve seen him yet as he offers his opinion on the film

You avidly listen without a word of complaint

It was nice to hear what went through Taichi’s mind when he always kept his emotions close to his heart, you felt damn-near jubilant over him coming out of his shell – even after all the years of friendship

He offers to grab dinner and after a mild debate over which place is better, you end up flipping a coin and grabbing some fast food and eating it at a near-by park

Eating the meal in relative silence, it was only broken to point out the ducks and giving them names. It was laid-back and you were enjoying yourself, yet Taichi remained stiff by your side.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly the most romantic date.” Taichi rubs at the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes.

You quirk a brow at him. “How isn’t this a romantic date?”

Taichi finally looks at you, although in confusion. “Because I should’ve taken you to a nice, fancy restaurant for our first date.”

“I work on the belief that anywhere is romantic if you make it so. It depends on the company.” You shrug.

Taichi’s mouth curves into a smirk. “Oh? So you wouldn’t mind having our next one at a cemetery?”

You dig an elbow into his side and roll your eyes at the performance he puts on.

“That’s not what I meant, smartass.”

Taichi stops the pouting and slumps into the seat. Hating the sombre mood he’s in, you curl your arm through his and tuck into his side.

“Besides, you can always make it up to me in the future. I want the place to be so expensive that the proportions are baby-sized.”

Taichi’s rich laugh rumbles through you. It was a losing battle against the rapid thrum of your heart and the thoughts of warmth that consume you with his proximity.

You also didn’t try to fight the urge to cuddle further into his side, something he gladly accepted as he wraps his arm even tighter around you.

“I promise.” He sighs, a happy noise as he rests his head against yours, two bodies becoming one whole on that one spring afternoon.

Goshiki:

Not everything in life is a competition, yet Goshiki couldn’t thrive without it

Besides, if he thought too long and hard about it (which he did) an arcade date was the best option

It presented the perfect chance to show off his skills and impress you

When he finally works up the courage to ask you, it had been a while since you’ve been, so you were more than happy to accept

Goshiki deflated with relief because a back-up option didn’t exist

Even after dating for over a month by this point, this would be the first official date he’s taken you out on

After worrying that it was too childish or not at all romantic for a first date, you spent the better half of the afternoon before it convincing him otherwise

At the arcade, Goshiki takes your hand and guides you around the place, pointing out games he bested as a teenager before finally settling on war-cross-zombie two player shooting game

With the growing win streak, the two of you continue playing the game until Goshiki accidentally gets his player killed

Pouting, he suggests a different game to soothe his bruised ego

The pout disappears as he finds a different game he’s decent at, tickets flying out as the points rack up

He glows as you praise his skill

It was too easy to bait him into playing hoop games, which he surprisingly sucked at

You discovered him to be especially gifted at reflex games, where the both of you won the most tickets

With each claw game he stubbornly refuses to “eat his hard-earned money”, he proudly passes off each plushie to you

Goshiki wins whatever prize your eyes linger over, no matter how frustrated it makes him

With each one, you promise to keep and inwardly muse that you’ll have to install a new shelf for them

A few hours deep, you had managed to win him an eagle. It’s the only prize you had won big enough to portray the amount of affection you held towards the bowl-cut male.

It was a bit mishappen and looked more fit to be the mascot for a horror game than a children’s show, however you still offered it to him.

His eyes grow wide. “Really?”

“I mean, I can get you something better if you give me a few minutes…” You frown at the plushie as Goshiki holds it up. It’s even uglier in the light. Why the hell would they have this as a prize?

You reach out to grab it from him and Goshiki snatches it away from your grasp, pressing it into his chest and curling around it protectively. “No!”

You stand there, stunned, as Goshiki flushes at the looks he got from the shout and starts stumbling over his words.

“I mean, it’s fine and not creepy at all – No, I mean it’s cute,” he unconvincingly amends at your wince. “It’s something that you worked hard to get. I’ll treasure it forever, I swear.”

The conviction in his voice was enough to ease your concern.

“I could get you a better one, though. One that’s less creepy.” You offer, gesturing towards the wide array of claw machines boasting figurines and cuter plushies.

“No thank you. I like this one.” Goshiki is stubborn and you should’ve expected that.

You sigh, lips unsurely pulling upwards. “If you’re sure?”

Goshiki gives a sharp nod, and you know that that’s the end of that. He would not budge.

Yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to be exasperated at the awe-filled look he gives the plushie as you two leave the arcade, holding it like it was made of expensive finery instead of cheap thread and fabric.

Months later you got to see the monstrosity again, tucked up on the shelf above his bed, proudly sitting between medals he’s won through the years.

[tonysiron]

You got any dinluke fanfiction recs?

BRO, SO MANY!! You have come to the right place since I've literally read every single fic up to when we hit about 90 of them in the tag 😎 Here are all the fics (in no particular order) that are completed and that I have finished reading that I have recced on my ao3!

Separate Ways || 80.9K Words || Explicit

With Moff Gideon defeated and the Darksaber reclaimed, the rumours of newly named Mand'alor Din Djarin spread through the galaxy... along with the stories of the Child he carries with him. Determined to meet him, Luke Skywalker arrives on Mandalore -- but before he can get any closer, he has to prove himself worthy of Mandalorian standards.

This fic is a classic! Its literally The Dinluke fic to read. It's a great starting point, and it was written Pre S2!

Together || 1.49K Words || General Audiences

“You can come with us” the man said.

Din looked up, not quite registering the words yet. In his arms he was holding the child. Grogu. He still hadn’t gotten used to the name.

“This doesn’t have to be goodbye for you and the youngling” the Jedi repeated.

you are a clan of three || 1.49K Words || General Audiences

Din stands quite still, polite-like, with his hands crossed at his waist. So does Luke. After a moment, the baby crosses his hands too.

At last Din appears to relax completely and Luke turns away. ‘I’ll be back for him,’ he tells Din, his voice warm, ‘but first I must attend to my other Padawans.’

‘Oh,’ Din says respectfully. ‘Is that… a Force thing?’

Crystal Tears || 2.95K Words || Not Rated

“This is going to be awkward,” Luke sighs down at the baby in his arms. R2 beeps besides him and Luke nods in agreement. “Nothing to do but go back.”

His X-Wing is almost completely dismantled, sparking where wires hang limply. There is no way he’s getting off of this cruiser until it’s repaired. There aren't even any escape pods on board all of the docking bays empty. He hadn’t anticipated this, and now he was going to have to walk back to the bridge with the baby and explain himself to a heartbroken Mandalorian.

This fic is great, but so its the series its apart of! I really love Din and Luke's dynamic, so if you read this fic I definitely reccomend reading the 3 following ones as well! Altogether its 19.8K Words!

the art of missing Din Djarin || 1.15K Words || Teen

Somehow, Luke had a distinct feeling that the bounty hunter was an easy man to miss.

Or, 4 times Grogu wants to know if Luke misses Din.

I remember reading this and absolutely loving it. Its short and sweet (most of these fics are) but they made me giggle stupidly, so I reccomend it!

Yoda's Academy for Li'l Padawans || 17.6K Words || Teen

Being a new student is hard.

Being a new student whilst your socially awkward father avoids the school at all costs and your new teacher pines uselessly over a man he’s never met before is even worse.

But by god, Grogu is gonna get through this.

Legitimately I think this might be my favorite fic so far and it barely has any actual dinluke in it. Luke's dynamic with all of Din's friends, plus him complaining to Han and Leia the entire time is just so fun to read that the whole fic flies by so fast. Also Din just desperately avoiding Luke bc the idea of having to talk to 1 (one) pretty boy has completely crippled him.

More Than His Armor || 12.6K Words || Teen

Din visits Grogu at Luke’s academy more than any other parent. Luke isn’t complaining.

His Beacon, His Harbor || 21.4K Words || Mature

The first thing Din noticed was the fire in the hearth. Near the hearth was a small, handmade crib, and from the crib came an excited cry. It spread through Din's chest like a bloodstain, perhaps it had in fact pierced his heart. He knew that little voice.

“Hey, you,” said Din softly. He dropped to his knees as the Kid scrambled out of the crib and scampered to him, crawling into his lap and burbling happily.

“That’s the most excited I’ve seen him in months,” said Skywalker. Din hadn’t even noticed him sitting across the room at a rough-hewn wooden table, nursing a cup of something. He wore the same carefully neutral expression he'd had on Gideon's ship, but his clothes were now desert-colored and hung loose around Skywalker's wiry frame. His hair was in disarray and it made him look much younger than he'd seemed on the ship; there, he'd seemed world-weary and ancient. Now, Din felt an insane need to protect.

Skywalker raised his cup at Din in greeting, a lopsided smile on his face. “He’s missed you," he said.

“Feeling’s mutual,” said Din gruffly.

___

The Mandalorian becomes Din Djarin.

Din Djarin becomes.

(Luke helps.)

Oh man, I read this fic last night and it's literally pure art. Its so fucking sweet, I love it so much. Force sensitive Din is definitely something more people need to write, and I genuinely adore this whole thing from start to finish. Leia is in it very briefly too, and that's always lovely. 💖

They Know This || 1.2K Words || General Audiences

“This is Luke, Gregory. He is going to be having dinner with us. Remember that I told you we’d be having dinner with someone significant?” Dad asks so gently, and his rough hands run through Grogu’s hair. It’s like being scratched.

Grogu nods once more and Dad breaks into an even bigger smile, though by a lot of standards that’s not very large. Dad’s smiles are always like when comets fly past the moon, so sudden and shocking and a reminder of how truly small Grogu feels in this bigger universe he calls home, this feeling that’s so overwhelming.

He loves Dad. A lot.

So hehe this is actually my fic! It's just a fic in grogu's pov about meeting Luke for the first time, and he and Din are on a date :)

Alright, I hope these are good enough for you! I don't really rec fics on here, so I hope I did okay this first time around 😎

[kitkatpancakestack]

Hold up...your theory on all the season finales focusing on Buck and his love interests — Buck ending each season being left by someone he loved (he didn't really love Ali, but doesn't matter). Hold. Up. Not really a theory, but a keen observation of fact on your part! But what was different about season 4, hmm? He almost lost Eddie, but the episode ended with Eddie staying, Eddie choosing Buck. THIS SHOW!!!

911 narrarive parallels are rarely one-on-one, they are like fractals. What on earth is coming next???

(And I am now just remembering that that scene with Buck and Eddie was the final scene of the episode, before the montage.)

I don't know what I'm asking except I would love to hear more of your thoughts on this parallel (or anything else 911 that is on your mind...)

OHohoh be careful what you ask for, I will reach into my brain and splatter the proverbial canvas with every over-analytical triviality I can get my hands on.

@yramesoruniverse I am so happy to see you in my inbox, every time your url pops up on my dash I smile. I vibe with your vibes! Reading your tags on my posts and vice versa feels like we're sitting down with some popcorn to talk shit (affectionate) about this beloved weewoo show.

Okay okay onto the ask - naturally I have some opinions, 90% of my headspace is the weewoo and 10% is nonsense like bills, groceries, my job, school applications, etc. I've got thoughts. So here we go:

I've started realizing this on my latest re-watch, and I just got to the season 3 finale, and as I was shoving my face full of Wendy's I thought to myself, whoa whoa whoa, this is the third finale of this show and the third time I have to see Buck all forlorn and woe is me bc another LI is leaving him. And everything snowballed after that. Let's go in order, and then we're gonna talk about other character's arcs as they manifest in the finale, and then hopefully I can pull this mess together at the end so it makes sense!

Let's preface these analyses by saying that typically season finales are reserved for revisiting the main storylines of characters, and in the case of 9-1-1 which focuses on the personal lives of the first responders, the main storylines revolve around those characters' families. Buck's main storyline is his search for meaningful connection and having something that he can call his own.

1x10: "A Whole New You"

Abby leaves Buck. That's what this boils down to in regards to the theme of this post. After Buck prepared himself to "step into it with her" and "keep her company there," Abby's mom passed away and relieved her of the last thing tethering her in place, resulting in her deciding to travel the world and rediscover herself. I think the title of the episode is hilarious as it relates to Buck and Abby, because it's pretty obvious in Abby's case but in the context of the next season we literally start to see the transition to a "whole new Buck." I hate speaking its name aloud, but Buck 2.0 anyone???

Why Abby leaves: she was afraid she would lose herself if she stayed

What Buck learns: he is capable of a monogamous relationship and actually he might prefer this to the alternative

2x18: "This Life We Choose"

Ali leaves Buck. Her mere existence in this episode shows the audience Buck is actively moving on from Abby. He is trying to make this whole meaningful connection thing work, which feels more authentic to him probably because Ali is already established in his life (sound like someone we know from season 4 anybody??? sorry I digress), but we know how this turns out.

Why Ali leaves: she couldn't handle the inherent danger and unpredictability of his job

What Buck learns: people leave, but you know what will always be there for him? His job. Let's project our entire self-worth onto that, then.

3x18: "What's Next?"

Abby leaves Buck (again, and this time for another man!). It's more like the continuation and finalization of the process she started in the season one finale, but absolutely this gets its own mention. Never mind that Tim said the train was literally a metaphor for Buck. Abby isn't walking off into the vague unknown with this one. She is about to marry a single father (cough cough) and that is the deliberate cut-off to her and Buck's relationship, which leaves him in a bit of a freefall as is obvious during the first bit of season 4 (hello Dr. Copeland, better late than never I suppose).

Why Abby leaves: she found someone who she can be her authentic self with, who she doesn't feel will make her backslide

What Buck learns: everybody walks away, he is always the one left behind, maybe the problem is himself.

4x14: "Survivors"

Eddie almost left Buck. The difference? Abby and Ali both made active choices to leave him. Eddie had to literally get gunned down in the street, through no choice of his own, in order to even be added into this parallel. Considering the culminating events of Buck's story arc throughout the years and especially the plotline we get in season four alone, this is huge, don't you think? I know the writers do, because they literally put up a huge neon sign with the final scene between Buck and Eddie like, "We know Buck always gets left behind at the end of each season but look at this! He isn't! In fact, it's the exact opposite!" and then we're forced to go insane ruminating on the meaning of these choices for an eternity during the hiatus.

This is already obscenely long, and I have some thoughts about other characters and how their main plotlines play out during the season finales, but I'll leave this here for now. Hope this gave you something!