#like it was so gentle and enjoyable to read 🥺

[monthofsick]

Hard to Stomach

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 16: Bad food

OCs: Jamal, Nikita

Unsurprisingly, I am way behind schedule and had to miss out on a few days, but here we go again! It's kind of a personal spin on the prompt about how good food can be bad for you if consumed at the wrong time. As someone with chronic gastritis, I had to learn it the hard way. Several times. It also sounded like a perfect chance to explore the relationship between my boys Jamal and Nikita a little more.

TW: Vomit, health issues

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Jamal didn't like changes at all, but lately, everything kept on changing. He was still obsessed with football and gave his all on the gridiron, it just wasn't the same since Nikita had left the team. Which was kind of absurd, considering Jamal couldn't stand the guy not so long ago. Nikita hadn't even been an active player after his concussion. According to the doctors, there was a higher risk of getting a similar or more severe head injury after the first one, so… it probably was for the best. It just sucked that Jamal himself had sparked the whole crisis.

Nikita's absence wasn't the only change for the worse in their college team. Since Jamal's breakdown from heat exhaustion, there was an unspoken obligation for everyone to pick sides. Needless to say, that had never been Jamal's intention. Of all people, he who tended to avoid conflicts like the plague was now right in the center of one. There were some teammates who blamed Brody for recording Jamal throwing up on the field. Others thought that Nikita had totally overreacted by hitting Brody for such an harmless act. They believed the trainer had been right to go off on Nikita for the physical attack, the opposition deemed it unfair – the coach should have intervened earlier and directed his rage towards Brody.

Despite a successful season, the team morale had hit an all time low. The trainer was cranky and Jamal, who had neither asked for getting sick from training in the scorching heat nor for Nikita to go into protection mode overdrive, had somehow become the eye of the storm. So far, Nikita was adamant about never talking to the coach again. He wasn't an easy person to read, so Jamal had no idea if his friend missed football or if he was actually indifferent about not being part of the team anymore.

It was high time for Jamal to get away from all the drama and clear his head. There was no better way to make the most of the mild fall than a day trip to the coast, so Jamal packed Nikita, some snacks and cool water and headed towards the shore. Recently, Nikita had locked himself away in his room even more than he usually did. A bit of sunshine and the fresh, salty sea breeze would definitely do him well.

After a pretty relaxing ride of not even two hours, they arrived at their destination and took some time to stroll along the pier. It was a pleasantly warm day that never ventured into hot and sweaty territory. Glittery patterns danced across the seemingly endless blue canvas. There was something deeply soothing about the vastness of the ocean that eventually blended into the horizon.

Noon approached fast and when it was time to fill their stomachs, Jamal and Nikita decided upon a small Thai eatery. It was off the beaten path along the seafront, huddled away in a winding alley. The food was way more affordable than what the well known tourist magnets served and the smell lingering in front of the entrance door was enough to make their mouths water. After sitting down at one of the rustic wooden tables, Jamal ordered a spicy noodle soup named Khanom Jeen Nam Ngiaw while Nikita opted for a green papaya salad.

"That is the life, huh?", Jamal sighed with satisfaction.

"Never been here before, no idea why." Nikita shrugged and leaned back. "It actually is kind of nice."

"You know what I love about you?", Jamal grinned. "Your boundless enthusiasm."

"Everyone says that's my best feature." The usual one-sided smirk curled up a corner of Nikita's mouth, but a thoughtful expression remained on his face.

"What's going on in that thick skull of yours?", Jamal asked, knocking against Nikita's forehead.

"A desire to be left alone by your knuckles." Nikita avoided Jamal's gaze just as much as he avoided the question. As he had avoided Jamal himself in the last few days, for that matter.

"Hey. Look at me, Nik." Jamal leaned over the table, put his hand on Nikita's chin and turned his face towards his own. "You don't want to see the trainer right now, I get it. Or the rest of the team. But why do I feel like you've been hiding from me as well?"

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Jamal could almost see the wheels turning inside of Nikita's head as he struggled with himself. After a particularly deep breath, Nikita finally looked up at Jamal again. "Are you mad at me?"

"Am I… wait. What?" This was not the answer – or rather, question – Jamal had expected. "Why would I?"

"Because I fucked up the entire team." Nikita exhaled audibly. "And don't say I didn't. Everyone's at each other's throat and coach asshole thinks it's gonna blow over if he ignores it long enough."

"I mean, you only went after Brody because he filmed me, so… isn't he the one who fucked up the team?"

"Truth is, no one cared before I punched him in the face." There was a crack in Nikita's matter-of-fact callousness. His anger hadn't fully turned into cynical resignation. "Coach would have probably scolded him a little if he had even noticed."

"The thing is, you can't just hit someone, especially not on your own team." Jamal scratched his head. "But then again, it's hard to be angry at you when you did it for me."

"If anyone else had protected you, there would have been no need to hit him. I wasn't even on the field in the first place. The trainer was. Pretty much any other player was."

"I don't think I need someone to protect me", Jamal said, unable to hold back a laugh. "I mean, have you looked at me?"

"I did, and that's exactly why I think… why I know that you need protection." Nikita stubbornly crossed his arms. "It's you and the rest of the world that doesn't look close enough."

"You are so weird."

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm right. You're just not used to being…" Nikita interrupted himself as a waiter brought two artfully arranged plates of food. Jamal noticed that even the reserved blonde couldn't help licking his lips in anticipation.

"Now dig in", Jamal smiled. "And stop worrying, alright? I'm not mad. Not at all. You don't mind control the entire team. If they keep on fucking up, it's their own fault."

"Plus they're too irrelevant to have a seat at this table." Looking a little more relaxed, Nikita munched away on the finely shredded green papaya, vegetables and roasted peanuts.

Jamal turned his attention to the steaming bowl of goodness in front of him – rice noodles in a dark red broth with tender pieces of pork ribs. There were cherry tomatoes, cilantro and pickled mustard greens, fried garlic and chili flakes. Other ingredients were harder to identify, something resembling smooth blood sausage and dried flowers tasting a bit like mushrooms. It all merged beautifully into a smoky, tangy and flavorful dish. Quite spicy and a little oily as well, which Jamal usually didn't mind. Today, he did feel a burning sensation in his stomach. Nothing too bad, though, and the soup was way too delicious to leave anything behind.

Nikita seemed to feel the heat as well – he was wiping his mouth (and nose) several times with his napkin. His pale cheeks were sporting a subtle flush, which was so not like him.

"Has a nice kick to it, hm?" Jamal couldn't supress a little grin.

"Nothing I can't handle", Nikita huffed. Just like Jamal, he finished his plate, then leaned back and put both hands on his abdomen.

"You know what? Let's get some ice cream to cool down our mouths", Jamal suggested while putting out his wallet as a sign that they were ready to pay.

"Sounds like a plan." Nikita seemed content, which was anything but a given. The relaxed seaside atmosphere seemed to rub off on him.

They treated themselves to homemade gelato at the waterfront, feet dangling from the harbor wall. And even though the hours flew by, the day felt like an entire miniature vacation. When the sun was near setting, it was time for them to make their way home. Driving along the coastline, Jamal felt a tranquil joy he had been missing for quite a while.

He had no idea that this was about to change in a pretty drastic manner.

-

It started innocent enough with a slight discomfort, then quickly spiraled out of control. A gnawing ache took hold of Jamal's upper abdomen. The safety belt had a constrictive tightness to it that put way too much pressure on the stomach. Jamal's lunch from hours ago was suddenly stirred up again with every bump in the road. A cold, nagging queasiness lingered in the back of his palate.

Trying to clear his throat, Jamal sent his body into a hiccup instead. His diaphragm spasmed harshly, forcing out the signature hic with every hitch of the chest.

"Need a sip of water?", Nikita asked and pulled a chilled bottle out of the air-conditioned glove box. He opened it and held it in front of Jamal's mouth so he could have a few sips without letting go off the wheel.

"Thanks", Jamal rasped. Drinking helped to get rid of the hiccup, but now there was even more liquid sloshing around in his belly. A throbbing nausea crept up Jamal's throat, tickling his uvula. He swallowed hard as a sour fluid burned through his esophagus and flooded his mouth. The situation was going from unpleasant to concerning way too fast. Jamal knew he had to pull over as soon as possible, but that was precisely the problem – they were on a busy highway during rush hour with no exit, lay-by or service station in sight.

Tiny droplets of sweat formed on Jamal's forehead and the steering wheel felt damp and slippery under his palms. With the current traffic situation, Jamal needed to focus on the road. That didn't dissuade his body from the firm decision that, for whatever reason, an emergency purge could not be postponed. The tell-tale contractions of Jamal's abdominal muscles vigorously squeezed his stomach until it propelled up a surge of dense liquid.

Jamal was at a loss at what to do. He clenched his teeth and gulped down the nasty sludge, but it instantly came back up again. His cheeks bulged out while his belly kept on jerking, relentlessly pushing up more and more vomit. Opening the window and leaning out to throw up would have been insanely dangerous. Even bending to the side to avoid drenching himself in the mess might have caused the car to swerve. And with his throat being currently used as a barf pipeline, Jamal couldn't warn Nikita that he needed a sick bag held in front of him immediately.

There was only so much Jamal's lips could do. His mouth was already filled completely, but the stomach contents kept on coming up until they finally burst out of him. With a sharp jolt, Jamal expelled a flood of puke all over his lap and shoes. The lips he had pursed in an effort to hold everything in now acted as a nozzle to project the vomit even further, splattering on the steering wheel and dashboard.

"…the fuck?" Nikita was clearly hit by surprise. After feeding Jamal the water, he had turned towards the window again and missed out on the warning signs. Once Nikita got over the inital shock, he started looking around for any kind of container. "Where the hell is that coming from?"

"Du-dunno", Jamal coughed before he was overtaken by the next heave. Determined to keep his head straight and his eyes on the road, he just let the vomit pour out of his mouth. The reddish broth stung like ant venom. It did always burn twice, just not in the place Jamal had expected. The noodles only made things worse during their forced return. Jamal had to gargle and gag them up until the long, slimy strands slipped out of his mouth and splatted on his jeans.

"Ah, whatever." Nikita gave up his futile search – it was too late to protect the car and Jamal himself from the onslaught of undigested food. He put his hand on Jamal's shoulder instead, rubbing his upper arm and the parts of his back he could reach. "I owe you a car cleaning anyways from my last puke attack, so don't even worry about it. Just let the stuff out."

"Why – why does it always – urrrrrrck – have to happen… in my car?", Jamal groaned. He had experienced first hand how persistent the sour stench had been after driving a very pukish Nikita to the hospital when the blonde had his concussion. Big difference was, the poor guy couldn't possibly have helped it at the time. Nikita had been in and out of consciousness from his head injury, but what was his own excuse? It was highly unlikely that Jamal was hit by his very first bout of carsickness while being the driver himself and he had never reacted to spicy food in such an explosive manner. If it was a stomach flu, he would have probably felt weak and feverish, which he didn't. Just sick to his stomach and raw on the inside.

"It's kind of our thing, isn't it?" Nikita put on a crooked smile. "Now stop thinking about it already. I'll treat your car to a professional cleaning session if it makes you feel better."

It was hard to feel better while sitting in a rapidly cooling puddle of his own vomit, but Jamal was still grateful. He was also relieved that Nikita didn't laugh or snap at him. The nausea combined with the fiery heat of chili was bad enough already. Now that Jamal's irritated stomach was constantly subjected to harsh contractions, it hurt even more. His body wasn't ready to show him any mercy. With another painful spasm, Jamal burped up the next gush of chunky soup. It ran down his chin and soaked his chest with spicy broth and soggy bits of meat.

"Yeah, that's it, throw it all up." Nikita's cool fingers caressed Jamal's neck. "If your lunch bothers you, there's no faster way to get rid of the stuff than vomiting it out."

If only it hadn't been the most unpleasant way as well. It was not like Jamal was given a choice anyways, he had to let his body do its job and sit it out until the bitter end. His entire meal came up in splashes of liquid with more or less lumps, flowing from his mouth with gag after gag. It was a draining process, in every sense of the word. And the end was indeed quite bitter when Jamal puked mucoid bile that tasted repulsive enough to trigger several dry heaves.

"So-sorry", he panted when his stomach was finally done emptying itself. "We… should probably clean up at the next rest area so you don't have to endure the stench for the entire drive."

"It smells pretty foul, but I can handle it." Nikita opened the window on his side, letting in a stream of fresh air. "Should have done that earlier, I guess. The rest's up to you to decide. You're the one covered in barf, if you want to get rid of it, I'm here to help. If you prefer getting home as quickly as possible, I'm fine with it as well. Stink isn't lethal."

"You sure?" Jamal actually couldn't wait to get home. Marinating in his own congealed sick for another hour wasn't exactly an enticing prospect, but still better than the humiliation of trying to get rid of the mess in public.

"Do I look like someone who lies just to make you feel better?" Nikita had found a slightly crumpled paper napkin and reached over to wipe Jamal's mouth and chin. Then he pointed at Jamal's upper belly, just below the breastbone. "Does it also hurt somewhere around here?"

"It does, how do you know?" Even though vomiting had helped to ease the nausea, the nagging pain had only gotten worse.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you got a gastritis from all that stress lately." Once again, Nikita's voice was tinged with a hint of guilt. "You can't stand the thought of someone being mad at you. And the spicy food probably pushed your stomach over the edge."

"You kind of make me sound like a doormat."

"Just because you care about others?" Nikita shook his head. "Heck, you even care about me. I stayed away from people once I found out that most of them are assholes, including myself. You still take the risk. That doesn't sound like a coward thing to me."

"You're not half as bad as you like to pretend. At least you're honest." Jamal grinned and gave Nikita a slap on the back of his head. "So if it's gastritis, what am I supposed to do?"

"Prepare for a week of light meals and relaxation. No more fiery food for you until your stomach has calmed down." The hint of a smile played around the corners of Nikita's mouth. "And don't forget about tea and honey. Bet you didn't know I'm a tea expert."

"I guess there's a lot I don't know about you yet", Jamal mumbled. Weird enough, he felt only half as bad now that he knew Nikita would take care of both his car and himself. It took him back to more carefree days when a disease ment snuggling up in bed and being lovingly nursed back to health. "But honestly, I can't wait to find out."

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Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

tumblr: birdnamedenza

[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

[merakiui]

mera, can u give me link to post about chalk line au pleeasee 🥺👉👈

Yes!! :D here is the origin post. If you would like to read more cute yan with Floyb, the tag fluffy floyd hours is full of similar writings. It's an old-ish thought, but despite that I'm happy it's still enjoyable and discussed even today!!!

I've been so Skully-brained I forgot all about the cutie eel who makes yummy meals for you and is so patient with you and tries to cheer you up in silly ways and is just so soft and gentle,,, 🥺 he's the sweetest eel. It's Jade who needs to be tortured in the most medieval of ways for his crimes........ >:( but maybe it's possible to think of soft, fluffy yan Jade.

[stevethehairington]

for the writing prompt, can I request numbers 37 & 64? It sounded so cute in my head 🥺

hiiii! thank you for the prompts!! double action hell yeah!! these two go soooo well together too omg.

you did not say any specific pairing, so i went ahead and wrote steddie because they are my default <3

37. "can i kiss you" + 64. "it's two sugars, right?"

Eddie wakes up in his bed feeling more peaceful than he has in a long time.

He lets consciousness return to him slowly, basking in the soft sunlight that seeps through the blinds, the cozy warmth of the bedsheets, and the delicious ache of his body as he stretches out.

The memories of last night trickle back to the forefront of his brain, and a syrupy smile spreads across his face.

Eddie hums contentedly and nuzzles into the pillow. Lazily, he wonders if his luck has stuck around long enough for a round two (or round three, really) in his near future.

But when he sweeps his arm out from under himself and towards the other side of the bed — towards the body that’s supposed to be there, all it catches is air. There’s a lingering warmth against the sheets, but it’s the only sign that anyone was there at all.

Eddie blinks his eyes open properly and sits up. Disappointment wells up as his sight confirms what his touch had told him:

Steve is gone.

Oh.

It… it stings. Eddie can’t say that it doesn’t. Maybe it was naive of him to think that last night had meant as much to Steve as it did to him, but he had. Thought that.

The idea that this whole thing was just… just a one night stand? It hurts. Eddie doesn’t want it to be a one night stand. Steve had been so sweet, too. So attentive. It didn’t feel like a one night stand for him either. But what did Eddie know? Maybe that’s just how Steve is with all of his bed partners. Maybe he just makes them all feel that special.

Or, shit. Maybe Steve isn’t even into guys. Maybe he’d thought that he was and last night just proved that no, actually, he’s not. Except — no, no. That can’t be true. The sounds he was making last night were way too real to be fake. That was enjoyment, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. 

So then maybe Steve just isn’t into Eddie. And instead of being honest with him, instead of telling him straight up, he slipped out before Eddie could wake up. He didn’t have the guts to break Eddie’s heart, so he just… left. Disappeared. It’s a dick move, but… sometimes old habits die hard, right? Maybe his heart wasn’t so gold that the assholery couldn’t slip back through the cracks.

But Eddie can’t believe that either. Not with the way Steve’s been looking at him. Smiling at him. All of the excuses he’d make to be around Eddie; and the constant touches to his shoulder, his arm, his back, and the way they lingered; the way he’d laugh at everything Eddie had to say, even if it wasn’t funny. There’s no way Eddie read the signs wrong. Steve was interested. In Eddie.

Before Eddie can spiral any further, though, a creak sounds off from somewhere outside of his bedroom and he freezes in place. Wayne isn’t home yet, he’d taken a double shift at the plant today, and won’t be home until the evening. Which means, unless Eddie’s home is being robbed, there’s only one other person that could be snooping through the kitchen cupboards like that…

His heart starts to jump rope in his chest as he ambles out of his bedroom, down the short hall, and into the kitchen. And, just as he thought— just as he hoped, he finds Steve standing at the counter. 

He’s still sleepsoft, in nothing but his boxers (or maybe those are Eddie’s, actually) and one of Eddie’s worn old t-shirts. His hair is flat, rumpled in the front and sticking up in the back, like he’d slept on it funny. There are still pillow creases in his cheek. He is beautiful.

He’s also speaking to the ancient coffee maker in a mild-mannered tone, whispering gentle encouragements and positive affirmations to it, like those will coax it into finally working right.

Fat chance.

“Come on, baby, come on. You can do it! You can make a cup of coffee, I know you can! Come on, work with me here,” Steve pleads.

When the coffee machine continues to do nothing, Steve curses under his breath and smacks his palm against the side.

Eddie can’t help himself as he snorts at the Jekyll and Hyde change of heart, and Steve startles at the sound, spinning around.

“Oh, hey,” he says, shoulders relaxing when he realizes it’s just Eddie. 

“Hey,” Eddie replies, and his cheeks warm for no good reason. “I see you’ve met Leonard.”

Steve’s nose scrunches up. “Who the fuck is Leonard?”

Eddie jerks his chin towards the coffee maker. “Leonard,” he introduces. “He’s a crotchety old fucker. Only does what you want when he wants to. Kind of like Wayne.”

Steve laughs. “You just gotta treat him right then. That’s all. A little sweet talking is all it takes.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah — Harrington charm hasn’t failed me yet. Just you watch.”

Steve pets the side of the coffee machine, caresses it, more like. He leans in close and whispers, “Come on, big guy. I know you can do it. Just give me some of that sweet sweet lifeblood you’re so good at making, that’s all I want.”

The smooth tone and the flattery make Eddie think of last night again — the praise and the exaltation and the so good, baby, so good for me that Steve kept repeating like a prayer. 

None of this now is directed at him, but he still feels hot all over. (Is it reasonable to be jealous of a fucking coffee maker?)

But then, against all odds, Leonard sputters to life. First, a tiny little drip. Then another, and another, and another, until finally a full stream of hot, fresh coffee spills into the waiting carafe below.

Holy shit. Steve can talk anything over the edge, apparently. Harrington charm indeed.

Steve brightens and sends a triumphant grin Eddie’s way. It’s tinged with smugness too, and Eddie shakes his head at him. (Fondly, always fondly.)

“Hah, see? I still got it,” Steve boasts. He waggles his eyebrows and Eddie wants to kiss him again.

He doesn’t know if he can, though. He doesn’t know what this is, and he doesn’t want to make assumptions.

Instead, Eddie moves over to the table and drops himself into one of the chairs. “You makin’ breakfast?” He asks.

“Just coffee,” Steve responds, “but I can make something to eat if you want.”

A home cooked breakfast sounds so nice. All Eddie usually eats in the mornings is toast or cereal. Something hot off the stove would be a treat. But Eddie doesn’t want to rope Steve into cooking for him if he doesn’t want to. If he… has other plans. Like leaving. Eddie doesn’t know his morning after habits.

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie tells him.

He’s about to add on that maybe just a cup of coffee for himself would be nice, if that’s not too much trouble for Steve, but Steve is two steps ahead, as always.

He brushes up against Eddie’s side and sets a steaming mug right in front of him.

“It's two sugars, right?” He asks.

Eddie blinks up at him. “Yeah, I— how’d you know that?”

Steve smiles. “I pay attention.”

And it’s— it’s so fucking sweet. Steve’s never made Eddie a single cup of coffee in his life but— but he knows how Eddie takes it anyways. And he made it for him without even asking. Just thought of Eddie, like it was no big deal. Like he wanted to do something nice for him.

Steve turns to go back to Leonard and pour his own cup of coffee, but Eddie lunges forward to catch his wrist before he can go far.

“Can I kiss you?”

Steve wrinkles his nose, tilts his head. “You have to ask?”

Eddie purses his lips and ducks his head. It’s a little embarrassing that he does have to ask. It makes him feel a little bad, too. Like he’s doubting Steve or something.

But he’s never done this before. Any of it. He doesn’t want to assume. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. 

“I wasn’t sure,” Eddie replies.

“Eddie,” Steve says, sliding into the seat across from him. “We did a lot more than just kiss last night,” he points out.

And, yeah, they sure did. Eddie fights a flush as the memories of last night flood back. Steve on his back, Steve between his legs, Steve with his mouth and his hands all over Eddie, making him feel so good. 

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, but that was last night,” he says, curling in on himself a little. He hates that he feels so insecure about this. Hates that he has to even bring it up. “It’s morning now. It’s a new day. It’s— I’m not sure— I just don’t know if last night was, like, some one time thing for you or…” he trails off. Shrugs again. His fingers toy with the handle of the mug in front of him.

Steve reaches out across the table to take Eddie’s hands. His thumbs brush over the tops of his knuckles, and he waits for Eddie to meet his eyes before he smiles — soft and sweet and warm. 

“It’s not just a one time thing for me, it’s really really not. I’m, like, so into you it’s kind of crazy,” Steve admits, a little breathless as he says it. “I want… I want everything with you. I want as much as you’ll give me.”

Eddie’s heart somersaults beneath his ribs, backflips across his chest, puts on a whole god damn gymnastics routine.

“That’s— yeah. I want that too,” he confesses back, twisting his hands in Steve’s so that he can tangle their fingers together properly.

The smile that lights up Steve’ face is brighter than the sun. Prettier, too.

“Steve,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Steve laughs, and he nearly knocks over the chair in his haste to stand up and round the table. He pushes himself into the space between Eddie’s knees, and cups Eddie’s face between his hands, holds his head like it’s something precious. Like he’s something precious.

“Yes,” Steve says, “you can.”

So Eddie pulls him into his lap, and he kisses him.

100 ways to say i love you prompts

[bloodbrown]

I'm gonna offer a little morsel to chew on that's been driving me insane😳 for your consideration, imagine on the off chance P manages to take an actual break at the hotel, not just a quick round of chats with everyone, or weapon/strength upgrades, but a full on extended break.

And during that break he discovers he's got a love of reading, and just so happens to gravitate towards the sweet and sappier type of books! (He of course reads anything that piques his interest, but for the sake of this thought I'd imagine that he keeps to these softer books as a sort of escape from the horrors beyond the hotel!🥺)

And in these books he keeps learning about all the ways in which humans and characters show affection: The plethora of darling terms of endearment or the meaningful warmth that comes from a special nickname, the endless tiny ways to show concern or care. It's the gentle kiss placed on the inside of a wrist, giving someone your umbrella/overcoat when the rain or chill is too much, looking into someone's eyes and being so whole heartedly lovestruck it makes your chest ache and heart thump a fierce pace.

(I think he'd get really caught up on the concept of when a couple is heading to bed one will often sleep on the side closest to the door, that even when asleep they want to shield their beloved🥺)

After his discovery I honestly think he'd become a bit of a mother hen, doting and even a dash fretful at that! He once saw you make your way down the stairs of the hotel without holding onto the railings, nearly tripping and straining your ankle. You try to pull that stunt after he's read his books? Right in front of lover boy? You are getting a glower and have a choice to make, either the railing or his hand, you have to hold one! >:(

I'm telling you, he may be made out of rigid cogs and unfeeling metal, has single handedly ravished droves of enemies and terrors, but this man has sugar glass ribs and a jelly heart, so unendingly sweet and warm, and if he could I bet he'd open his chest and give you his very own heart, hoping you'd see how the pace of its ticks speed up, just for you.

I have so so many more sappy sweet thoughts, and I hope it wasn't an annoyance to get such a behemoth of an ask, but from one P enjoyer to another I wanted to send something in! <:) I hope you're doing well, and have a wonderful rest of your day/night! ^^ (Oh and!! just wanted to say that I love all of the writing and hc's that you do for the mad lad, you capture him wonderfully!🥺)

I absolutely love the idea that P realizes he should get a day off like everyone else. He's worked to the bone every day, poor guy. And can't imagine Geppetto would be too happy about his Ergo-harvesting puppet realizing that he can take breaks lol

And P would totally take romance novels to heart, I bet he'd also take to writing little love letters and leaving them around for you to find... even if his handwriting is less than stellar 🥺

He is such a bleeding heart of a man, and I say this with the ultimate amount of affection.

Also I'm never annoyed by asks, even long ones, most of the time they make my day 🐸

[pocarinapyon]

Jealousy-Jealousy: A New Banner version B1 (Bennett, Diluc Ragnvindr, Kaedehara Kazuha, Kaeya Alberich)

A new character banner is just around the corner and the excited you couldn’t help but rave about how cool they are. Naturally, you pre-farmed materials and even spent moolah for a five-star weapon, claiming they deserve only the best of best (Meaning: four star weapons and artifacts are not allowed!! And let’s not get started on the artifact stats! 😡).

Inside the world of Genshin, your bond ten boys couldn’t help but feel jealous. The flames of jealousy fueled further when you used them to grind for the new character’s items. How sickening was it to think that they have become stepping stones of your new favourite character?

The boys decided. When they materialize in your world, they will make sure to mark you and to indulge in their sinful fantasies of you. You are theirs and only theirs, after all. But they need to be oh-so-careful not to wake you up…because when you do, they will be pulled back into Teyvat immediately. 😥

Contents include [a brief scene introduction], [the actual chilis], and [after you wake up].

Starring : Bennett, Diluc Ragnvindr, Kaedehara Kazuha, Kaeya Alberich (separate)

Tags / Warnings : 🌶️ [Mild Chili] for Baby Bennett; Bennett's scene is longest (I think) because the bb is hesitant; 🌶️🌶️ [Chilis] Seggs; Implied rape; Somnophilia; Petnames (if it bothers you); Obsessive men; OOC Diluc*?*; Imagine Red Dead of the Night Diluc; Use of chains; Master-Servant; Mentions of desire to impregnate; Self inflicted orgasm denial; Stray cuss words; Schediaphilia; Masturbating; etc.; 👑/🖥️ [SAGAU/(Reverse) Isekai]; Based on the SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept linked below but spicy

Stray grammatical or spelling errors may have escaped me because I don't have a beta reader. Hopefully they aren't too annoying to turn you off. 🥺

Future Plan : JJ version B2 (Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha) GangB.; But first, I need to finish everything in the Teasers Maltesers (Jan 13); I apologize to the Bennett smut enjoyers because I just couldn't lewd the cinnamon roll 🥺

Links : Pinned Post, JJ version A1(Albedo / Childe / Venti / Zhongli) Separate, JJ version Venti solo, JJ version A2 (Albedo / Childe / Venti / Zhongli) GangB., SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept, Teasers Maltesers (Jan 13)

Target audience is female (bodied) reader.

To whoever is reading, please enjoy.

-------------------

Kaedehara Kazuha

Gentle winds allowed themselves into your room as Kazuha sat beside your open window. His gaze, eventhough his muse were only a few feet away, remained on the romantic view of the sky illuminated by the moon and decorated with stars and clouds. The street outside was quiet as most were tucked under their own blankets. It was a bright, peaceful evening, a stark contrast to the dark, sinister desire stirring in Kazuha's heart.

He tilted his head to observe your sleeping form, his mind a battlefield between conscience and concupiscence - the latter triumphing as it posed a question.

Do you think you'll have another chance?

Kazuha smiled bitterly. From behind the screen, little did you know, your enthusiasm about the upcoming character hurt Kazuha. Your angelic voice used to call his name sweetly. Now it only gushed about the new character who would soon replace him. He terribly wished you wouldn't.

In relaxed strides, Kazuha approached your unconscious form to watch your tempting defenseless body up close. Like a cat, he carefully crawled on top of you so as to not wake you up, and caged your body beneath his.

"My dove, I know the value of freedom but forgive me. I simply cannot let you free," Kazuha softly whispered in your ear before trailing open mouth kisses on your jaw to your lips.

He gingerly cupped your cheeks, caressing them in a soothing circular motion. You really were beautiful. A smile curled his lips as he realized once again how in love he was with you.

"You have captivated me."

Kazuha modestly pressed his lips against yours. A sweet little kiss of apology before he shows you the dark truth hidden inside his heart.

"I want you."

Kazuha pried your mouth to let his tongue inside. You tasted just as sweet as your voice. Like a wandering man, without a home, he sought for solace and found it in you. He hungrily explored your small wet cavern, devouring you as if this was his first decent meal after days.

As if this meal would be his last.

While his lips continued to busy themselves with yours, his hands roamed below to reveal all that was beneath your clothes, exposing you easily as you made no resistance. He then pulled away from the kiss, and observed your stripped body from head to toe. Your body - sculpted perfectly as Kazuha thought - laid bare before him.

"I love you," he declared, eyes clouded in lust and longing.

Kazuha peppered your neck with kisses and suckled on your flesh to intentionally leave his mark. A proof that you were his. As he continued to feast on your exposed flesh, a soft moan escaped your lips.

"Do you like it, my sweet [your name]?" asked Kazuha, leaving your response to his imagination as he knew you couldn't answer verbally.

But your body. Your body shuddered under his touch and kiss.

Trailing kisses, he went lower to your breasts. He smiled at you sweetly as his fingers skillfully tweaked the sensitive nub erected on it. He then buried his face on your chest, regaling upon your lumps of flesh by suckling and giving you long stripes of licks.

Even in your sleep, eventhough you couldn't voice out your desire, your body begged for more of Kazuha. Your sweetness seeped out of your honeypot as it lubricated itself and prepared to take Kazuha's length and girth. This fact did not escape the man who caused your body to react in such a lewd way.

"Haha. My love, you seem to be enjoying this as much as I do," Kazuha teased, chuckling at how honest your body was.

He slid down, littering kisses in its wake and dragging his palm across your body to feel your flesh. Finally he reached your womanhood. Your thighs received abundant smooches, inching closer and closer to rally your already aching cunt. As he reached your core, your scent became stronger.

"May I?"

Kazuha ran his tongue on your slit before landing on your puffy clit and circling his soft muscle around it. Archons, you were so intoxicating! It didn't take long before he slurped directly at the source of the sweet honey, sliding his tongue inside your hole. There, he drank to his heart's content as he scooped your essence with his tongue.

After engaging you in a long foreplay, he decided to free his aching cock from its restraints. He lubricated his shaft with his own pre-cum, pumping up and down to calm his erection. A smile full of obsession painted Kazuha's face.

Finally, he can fuck you.

Kazuha positioned the tip of his cock on your entrance. The skin contact was enough to send shivers down his spine, eliciting an excited gasp from the man. He then buried himself slowly inside you, stretching your walls deliciously.

His thrusts were languid yet forceful as he wanted to relish the way his cock slowly sculpted your walls in the shape of his love. He would unsheathe his manhood from you before slowly pushing himself back in the deepest part of your womanhood. His pace may be relaxed but, through continuous stimulation, it was enough that he felt you squeezing him in a near climax.

"Oh. You're cumming?"

Kazuha squeezed your clit with his thumb.

"Let's cum together."

He pressed his lips onto yours before engaging in a romantic kiss, his pistoning consistently massaging your pussy until it gradually increased in speed. You were clenching so hard, sucking Kazuha deeper inside, and the man just couldn't take it anymore. Soon enough orgasm crashed down on you both, leaving you moaning and panting.

Still inside your cunt, Kazuha plopped on top of you. He was still erect and he knew one round wouldn't be enough. How could he stop now when it felt so good fucking you?

........

Horny. That was what you were when you woke up. Glancing around with eyes in small slits, you found your object of affection. Kazuha, your favourite Genshin character.

Kazuha stood still, smiling at you from behind the screen. You sat up and controlled your character to face the other way before touching yourself. It wasn't ommetophobia. It just felt embarrassing to finger yourself while sweet Kazuha had an innocent grin.

"I'm sorry, baby," you said.

Oh, if only you knew what Kazuha did!

"Mmh... Kazuha...," you sighed breathily as you pleasured your lady parts. "Go ahead and use my body however you want~"

It was a shame Kazuha couldn't watch the show. But at least he knew you were thinking about him as you touched yourself. Plus he learned you liked it rough. All he asked was for you to give him another chance. He would make your body know what heaven felt like.

--------

Diluc Ragnvindr

Diluc grouched at himself. He loosened his collar in an attempt to calm down. This was a dumb idea - a seriously dumb idea. A dumb, risky idea. A dumb, risky, immoral idea. Everything in it was wrong. How did the thought even cross his mind?

Yet his cock reminded him as it twitched inside its tight restraints, begging him to please - just please do it one time! Just once and then they'll stop.

After all, this might be your only opportunity.

Diluc once again grumbled as he was in a conflict. It was no lie that he wanted to keep you. He wanted to own you. He wanted to make you his and he would do anything even if it meant he needed to resort to extreme measures. But then again, it was wrong. He shouldn't do such an indecent thing just to ensure you were his. What if you woke up and - for some reason he didn't dematerialize - you caught him corrupting your defenseless body? Would you still think of him as a hero? As a good guy? Would you still use him in-game if he were transported back to Teyvat?

Coming back from a trance, he found the answer to his dilemma. His body had moved on its own. He had already discarded his upper clothes and had caged your now naked body beneath his. He had chained your hands above your head, and now you looked like a beautiful damsel in distress.

While Diluc was your captor.

"You aren't going anywhere, darling," he proclaimed, bringing his hand to cup your cheeks. "Heh... How foolish of me. Of course you aren't...not in your sleep."

Diluc pried your mouth open so he could explore you with his tongue. He imagined you squirming beneath him, conflicted as he was now whether if you wanted him to touch you or not.

Your pretty mouth. "Master Diluc" was what you usually called him aside from "Daddy Diluc". Archons, he'd burst if he heard your lovely lips call him that while doing sex. Unfortunately for him, he could only hear you call him lewdly when you were awake.

On normal circumstances, he would love to engage you in foreplay to prepare you for the inevitable stretch. But right now, his cock was raring to massacre your defenseless pussy.

"Heh... Look at how hard I am for you. Take responsibility, [your name]."

He spreaded your thighs and clipped them to his side, giving him a pretty view of your glistening cunt. Fuck, Diluc just wanted to ram himself and bury his cock deep inside you right now.

"Unf...," you moaned.

He was balls deep and damn it was heaven! Despite forcing his way past your entrance, you were still asleep. Good.

Diluc tested the waters by doing languid thrusts at first. When he noticed you weren't waking up, he increased his speed and force by pounding onto you with great vigor and passion - not paying mind to anything else other than pleasure.

Even when he felt Teyvat was tugging him back.

"Nhh...," in a half-asleep state, you hummed.

Diluc clicked his tongue and slowed his movements. He leaned down to lessen the gap between your faces, observing your slumbrous face.

"Darling, go back to sleep and let Daddy make you feel good," he cooed, reverting to slow grinding of his hips onto yours.

"'Luc...," you murmured, blinking your droopy eyes before shutting them again.

The warmth of Diluc's body along with the heavenly sensual feeling on your pussy cajoled you to continue your sleep. Now, Teyvat wasn't dragging Diluc back. Good.

He once again continued to piston his manhood, this time not minding if he would dematerialize naked. The friction of his raging cock inside your snug wet walls felt so good to bother.

He swore he'll knock you up. That way, everyone would know you were his. You would look cute in a maternity blouse while your belly bulged in carrying his child. He wondered if you could come to Teyvat. If you did, he'd make sure to hide you in his mansion so none of your present or future characters would pester you.

Because you were his.

Too much stimulation made your cunt orgasm, milking Diluc's big fat cock in a delicious squeeze and making him follow suit. He had been denying himself orgasm that he spurted a load of warm thick semen inside of you.

After resting inside your womanhood did Diluc finally pull out. Archons, you were so full, weren't you? He ogled at your mixed cums oozing out your pussy. What a naughty girl you were, spilling everything like this?

He grunted, scooping the wasted essence in his digits before fingering them back inside your pussy.

"Don't waste any drop, darling."

........

You squeezed your thighs together in hopes of relieving your cunt. It wasn't a surprise you woke up in the mood. After all, you had a sweet erotic dream last night.

Piercing red eyes. Fiery red hair. Your partner in your dreams was Diluc Ragnvindr, your DPS Pyro Daddy.

You lazily positioned yourself to face your Genshin boy. Meanwhile, Diluc had just finished adjusting his gloves. He then returned to stare back at you, idly standing somewhere in Teyvat.

"I had a dream about you last night, Master Diluc," you narrated, staring directly into Diluc's eyes as you began touching yourself.

Holy fuck, Diluc in Red Dead of the Night outfit looked so fucking hot! You could already fantasize what he would do with his chains. Now imagine him disciplining the naughty you.

"A - Ah...! Master Diluc...! You're too big inside me! I'm sorry...!" you cried, splitting yourself up and pretending it was Diluc ruining your pussy.

Heh. He should've known you liked it rough. Had he known earlier, he wouldn't have hesitated to ravage you to his heart's content. He'd do extra compared to what he did before. All while being cautious as to not wake you up, of course.

--------

Bennett

Contrary to his usual energetic and passionate characteristic, Bennett looked worn-out and conflicted as he stared at your peaceful form from across the room. What was the point of materializing in your world? Aside from watching you, could he really do nothing? Was it really impossible to interact with you knowing that tonight might be his last?

Yosh! Let's go, Benny's adventure team!

Where is the Pyro Archon? Bennett.... Bennett... Ah, there you go!

Good night, baby Bennett.

Your kind cheers gave him so much life - better than any Statue of the Seven could offer. Although some of them were exaggerated such as you calling him the Pyro Archon or you titling him the best boy in all Teyvat, still he loved how you appreciated him.

The question was, how long were you going to give him attention?

Sure, he was a support character. Sure, he could be squeezed in almost any line-up. Sure, he was indispensable. But after you pull the new character, he knew you would be all over that newbie instead of him. In fact, you kept gushing about your soon-to-be favourite even if you have not pulled them yet.

"[Your name], I really really like you," Bennett whined.

Mustering his courage, he took a few steps forward. One foot on the front then carefully followed by the other. Slowly but surely, he would reach you using the way he knew how: determination.

But luck was never on his side. Without getting far, the light illuminating your room suddenly blinked, making the place pitch black for a quick moment. Along with the strange phenomenon, he felt Teyvat tried to drag him back.

Bennett paused, fear and disappointment coursing through his body. What exactly happened? Why did the lights flicker? Why did he feel he was going to dematerialize yet was still in your room? Were these signs he was not meant to be with you?

"Ahhh... I'm really, really unlucky, aren't I?" Bennett sighed in defeat.

He wanted to - desperately wanted to at least whisper in your ear. He wanted to convey his emotions: how happy he was whenever you used him and praised him; how sad he was to think you will have someone new; how disappointed he was at himself as he imagined what if he was not a suitable support for the upcoming character's party setup.

"Mmh...," you noised, stirring in your sleep.

He wanted to and he will. After all, he wouldn't be called an adventurer if he didn't take risks. With a newly lit determination, now burning more than ever, he boldly marched forward towards his goal, each step making the butterflies flutter in his stomach.

He will admire you up close.

He will whisper words of affirmation to you.

He will touch you.

"Heh... Hehe...!" Bennett uttered in disbelief. He froze still, not knowing if this was all a dream or not. Yet seeing you in a short distance and actually smelling your fragrant scent told him it was all real. "I - I made it... I made it!"

The young adventurer celebrated as he now stood beside your slumbering form. If he knew he could be this close to you, he would have tried it sooner.

He then excitedly laid beside you and engulfed your body in a warm hug. He leaned his head towards yours and he swore you were the most fragrant he'd ever sniffed.

"Mmh...! You smell so nice," Bennett happily remarked in a hushed whisper.

Euphoric: that was the state Bennett was in. This odd satisfying feeling stirred something inside him - an instinct.

"Hey, uhm...," the adventurer bashfully said. "Is it okay if I kiss you?"

Bennett stared at you as he eagerly awaited your reply.

"O - oops! Hehe...! I forgot you were asleep...!" he sheepishly admitted, laughing at his own foolishness. He pleaded in a monologue, "Then... I'll help myself, okay?"

Nervously, he inched his lips closer to yours. A little more. A little bit more. But the moment he felt your lips on his, he immediately pulled away.

"Ah-! Sorry...!" he fussed, scratching his head in embarrassment.

Focus! He squeezed his eyes shut, breathed in, and exhaled on his mouth. Yosh!

At a steadier pace, with lidded eyes, he approached your lips, and did not shy away when yours and his collided. A simple peck on the lips. It made butterflies flutter in his stomach. Slowly he opened his eyes to see your beautiful face close to him. To think that someone like him had a chance to be with you like this was overwhelming.

He suddenly was timid while thinking about the sweet you and him on a modest date. In embarrassment, he hid his face on the crook of your neck - an area where your scent was more concentrated.

Aside from kissing your lips, can he do more? He glanced at your body from head to toe and immediately noticed how your nightwear hugged your figure. Your seemingly soft lady lumps were accentuated topped with perky nipples. Meanwhile, your smooth plush thighs were exposed and were waiting to be touched. Everything he could have asked was beside him and no one was stopping him to do what he wanted.

Still. Bennett shouldn't do anything more, especially not something indecent. He was already lucky enough to be able to place a shy peck on your lips. He knew he should not be greedy. Instead, he should focus on you. A sweet cuddle was what you needed. Just this was fine.

"Thank you, [your name]."

Bennett hoped his heartfelt gratitude would reach you in your sleep. He loved you and he respected you. Even if you were naked in front of him, he would never take advantage of you. You were kind to him and what would he be if he did you wrong?

........

"Nnhhhh!!" you squeaked, stretching your limbs after a long relaxing rest. "Good morning, Benny!"

You hurriedly washed yourself first before playing your favourite game. As usual, you went to hunt for the new character's materials and artifacts using Bennett and his three other companion.

While farming, a godly rune dropped from the dungeon you were in and it was something your baby boy Bennett could use.

"Hey, hey! This is an awesome artifact for you, Benny!" you chimed after comparing Bennett's current artifact versus the one you recently obtained. It was alright to replace the one Bennett had as it will not affect your piece-set bonus effects.

Bennett, deep down, was glad you still thought of him. You didn't have to give him a better artifact. He didn't deserve it.

"All hail the Pyro Archon!" you exclaimed in a playful tone. "We better prepare you so you can actually become the Pyro Archon and take over Natlan."

Yet here you were, cheering again for him. It was excessive, sure, but he appreciated it very much. It meant the world to him. In truth, he wanted to cry, not in pain but in joy. If he could control his movements, he would grovel and chant you praises. All this time he was afraid you would discard him. Perhaps his fear of being replaced was all in his head after all.

--------

Kaeya Alberich

Beside your peaceful sleeping form, Kaeya laid on his side to watch how beautiful you looked. From time to time he would ever so slightly graze his fingertips on the shape of your face. Discarded on the floor were his accessories and extra layer of clothes, leaving him in his white blouse and tight-fit pants. This scene was a very common one, something of a routine whenever Kaeya materialized in your room. The only difference was that now, Kaeya longed for more.

However, something warned him he shouldn't.

Risk was something Kaeya enjoyed very much. He claimed it would be boring if there were no such hindrances. But you - you were a risk he could not take. One wrong move - only one wrong move might ruin his chances to be with you.

"I promised to accompany you in your journey, did I not? I've kept my word. So don't abandon me, alright?" Kaeya pleaded in a hushed tone before placing a sweet kiss on your cheeks.

More...

"You've always looked lovely, you know? If only you'd allow me to stare at you more."

Kaeya began to kiss your lips passionately while his hands traveled to cup your breasts.

"Heh... It's amusing you don't know I am aware how you ogle at me. Cryo Daddy, wasn't it?"

His fingers skillfully stimulated your perky nipples. Followed by a satisfied hum, your eyebrows, he observed, knitted together momentarily before relaxing once again. That meant your body was reacting to his ministrations. Good.

"Ah - ah... What a naughty girl you are," the Favonius Captain teased as he exposed your womanhood.

More...

"You wouldn't hate me, would you?" Kaeya cooed as he slid his manhood between the plush of your lovely thighs.

Archons, Kaeya felt like he was in heaven!

"Ah...! Angel, s'good...!" Kaeya moaned in between thrusts.

Fucking your thighs. That should be enough to satisfy him, right?

"Hah... Say, angel, you fantasize about this, don't you?"

More...

Being sandwiched by your thighs had Kaeya crazy. His cock twitched and spurted cum. Regardless, Kaeya kept rutting, painting your skin with his essence.

"Fuck-! You're squeezing me tightly, baby doll...!" feeling his cock penetrate your snug velvet walls, Kaeya choked a moan.

He kept himself still, cuddling you from behind in a spooning position. Your warm wet pussy around his cock already felt divine. Imagine how it felt like if he-

......

"Ah, shit...!" he began to thrust his cock in and out. "You feel this, baby girl? Ugh....! Angel, I could come right now!"

But he wouldn't give you his seeds so easily.

"You're so good for me, angel."

As he nibbled on your exposed neck, his hand trailed down to give attention to your puffy clit. His ministrations made your body shudder and your cunt spasm.

"Oh? So this is your weak spot...?" Kaeya teased.

He was so mean to you, riling your pussy up with his fingers as he let his cock sit snugly inside. He didn't even have to move as your self-contracting love-hole massaged his manhood for him. It was the third time you came from just this.

"Mmh... So, so good to me, baby girl," Kaeya growled in excitement. He brought his hand to cup and squeeze your breasts. "Wish we could do this every night."

Kaeya then began to piston his cock once again while stimulating your body further with his free hand. The first thrust made you cum once again, but Kaeya continued to arouse and fuck you. You cumming all over him was in his favour.

"D - damn...! Fuck, baby girl! I'm cumming!" Kaeya let out a guttural moan, rutting into you like an animal in heat. "Fuck...!"

One final thrust drove you and Kaeya into orgasm. His was so hard the he had managed to choke out a low growl.

The night was young. Seeing as you were still in dreamland, he reckoned he could try other things he had in store for you.

"Mmph...," you moaned.

Your dream was so delicious. Your lewd brain vividly simulated how sex felt like, starting from the foreplay down to the head-spinning stretch of your pussy. Sadly, now that you were awake, you realized how lonely your cunt was.

"Mmh... Kaeya, come here," you murmured.

Previously, Kaeya had his back facing the screen as you fell asleep during one of your Teyvat adventures. Now, you had him turn around so you could ogle at the hunky Favonius Captain.

"Kaeya, you're so sexy...," you said, bringing your hand to your crotch area.

Wow, damn! Were you really this wet to the point you've stained your thighs? Perhaps it was impossible but you were indeed horny so you paid no thought as to why your thighs were sullied.

"S - shit...!" you squealed, feeling your orgasm closer than you expected.

-------------------

Damn, you were really too horny, weren't you? No matter. A beautiful lazy morning was ideal for lewd things like this anyway.

Kaeya internally gloated as he watched how you masturbated for him. It seems the risk he took was worth it after all.

Spaces!! The reason why my draft wasn't saving was because of spaces/new lines! 😡😡

I swear. Diluc is 🥵❤️

To whoever read this, thank you for your time. Here, have some grapes. 🍇

Links : Pinned Post, JJ version A1(Albedo / Childe / Venti / Zhongli) Separate, JJ version Venti solo, JJ version A2 (Albedo / Childe / Venti / Zhongli) GangB., SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept, Teasers Maltesers (Jan 13)

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Ronance 7 for the unrequited requited ship meme 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

send me (not)unrequited love prompts!

It started at the library. Both of them sitting on the floor, enjoying their research a little too much, and each other’s company even more. Nancy hadn’t yet decided if she was annoyed because Robin talked too much when they should have been studying or if what bothered her was the fact that she very much wasn’t annoyed with Robin when she should have been. It started with a confession, nervously followed by “But I’ve actually never kissed a girl,” and impulsive but secretly hopeful, “Well, me neither… It can’t be that different, right?” Robin scoffed and disagreed. Nancy risked it all and dared her to prove her wrong. It wasn’t surprising that Robin was right, but it was downright shocking that Nancy loved to be wrong for once.

It happened again, in Robin’s bedroom, halfway through a movie that Nancy wanted and simultaneously couldn’t pay attention to, both because of Robin. When the actors started making out on screen, Robin made a joke about chemistry and breaking character, and Nancy had to do and say it was only acting, anyone could do that. Again, Robin rolled her eyes and disagreed, but this time she took the initiative to dare Nancy to prove it. In the end, breathless watching the credits of the movie, Nancy couldn’t figure out which one of them had been right. Robin didn’t ask, anyway.

Soon enough, it became far too easy to come up with excuses, dares, and points to prove. At school, Family Video, Steve’s house, Robin’s empty house, the Wheeler’s basement. Nancy had never been so eager to lose countless arguments. Though she had to admit that when, after all the kissing, Robin pulled back, flushed, smiling, and with darkened eyes told her she was right, those were the greatest victories of Nancy’s life. 

There was only one problem, and the millions of ramifications it had: Nancy was falling for Robin. Not just when they were kissing. Maybe especially when they weren’t kissing and it was all she could think about. It wasn’t her fault that Robin Buckley happened to be an extraordinary kisser, capable of reading Nancy like a book and channeling her gentlest or most enthusiastic approach at any given time just following what Nancy most desperately wanted from her. It would have been heaven, if not for the fact that, without fail, Nancy walked away burdened and frightened of her emotions, while Robin seemed to go on with her life as usual, cheerful and unattached.

After one too many failed attempts at ending things, Nancy finally reached her limit. They were parked on the side of a lonely road, and she was quite successfully proving to Robin that making out in a car wasn’t too uncomfortable to be enjoyable. 

“We have to stop,” Nancy whispered, against Robin’s lips.

Robin, who was always a little too nervous and committed to making sure Nancy was comfortable, pulled back instantly, as if struck by lightning. That didn’t stop her from continuing to stare longingly at Nancy’s lips, as if she hadn’t been kissing them half a second ago.

“What’s wrong?” Robin wondered.

“You have to stop kissing me like you mean it,” Nancy said, smiling sadly. But she contradicted herself and indulged in one more kiss from Robin, even if it was too short, even if it was the last, she would treasure it forever. When she pulled back, she said, “Because I’m starting to believe it. And, I… I shouldn’t.” Nancy looked down at her lap. She had promised herself she would find a way to end this without saying too much, but her feelings for Robin turned out to be too large to be completely contained. “I should let you go,” Nancy said, avoiding Robin’s eyes, so quietly, hoping maybe Robin wouldn’t hear her say, “Before I break my own heart…”

If there was anything else to say or a chance to escape, everything was interrupted by Robin’s gentle but slightly trembling fingers on Nancy’s chin. 

“What if I meant them?” Robin asked as she tilted Nancy's chin up to face her. She grinned when she caught the awe-struck look on Nancy’s face. “I’ve meant every single kiss, Nance. I like you. I’ve liked you even before the first one.”

Nancy’s lips parted in surprise, and for a moment she thought she might cry. Then she chuckled lightly and asked, “Really? Do you mean that?”

Robin’s timid smile turned into a playful grin that confirmed to Nancy it was far too late to run away from her feelings for the other girl.

“Can I prove it?” Robin asked her, raising an eyebrow and laughing along with Nancy. But, a moment later, Nancy shook her head, and although she couldn’t fight her smile, she was entirely serious when she replied.

“No more dares, Robin. Nothing to prove. Just you and me, okay?”

[specialgradefckr]

Heyyo! I'm usually just a lurker, but your Heatwave series has been absolutely incredible and I had to write in. I'm not usually an ABO fan, but you are rapidly changing my mind. Started with the Yuuta/Rika piece and loved your characterization of that sad eyed dude. Sweet and mostly passive while also being fully aware of reader-chan's BS.

Day 4 tho??? 🥵🔥🥵 I'm a more recent Gojo convert and oh my stars, "...you think for a moment he sounds like a dog toy. You think you want to make him your dog toy." Arrogant, but also whiney and pathetic Gojo really hits for me. The Pining? Phenomenal.

Just wanted to gas you up a bit and let you know what an excellent writer you are. Totally looking forward to the rest of the Heatwave series and whatever else your big brain cooks up in the future! 😊

wanted to gas you up a bit

awwhhhhHHh THANK YOUUUU 🥺 i super appreciate it!!!

honestly i started this blog recently and i've been trying not to compare the numbers but sometimes i get discouraged, you know? like, i AM doing it for the art (i knew day 3 was not gonna get a lot of love) but i'm posting it bc it makes me happy to see people enjoying it.

it's super encouraging to hear from you (and all the others who leave comments or reblog etc.) that my work is doing well.

i'm trying to be more critical of my own writing, fix things i don't like about it, and sometimes i need a reminder that it's still worthwhile and enjoyable to read even when i feel like it could have been better.

I've been writing like? All 10 of the Heatwave prompts concurrently, and while it means I have all of them drafted and partly written rn, it also means I switch between them a lot.

Inevitably I start to kinda. Lose the plot sometimes of a scene I'm trying to write skdfhglsdhg like the intro to the Yuta fic was SOOOO long actually and it was rambling about social phenomena with alphas, basically the omegaverse version of red pill dudes LMAOOO

and that was also supposed to lead in to like. the idea of what a REAL alpha is. the non-gendered values of leadership, protectiveness, and actually being sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of people around them (a crucial trait for someone in a leadership position).

and yuta fits those things SO WELL. he is CONSTANTLY worried about the people around them, how they feel and what they think. he admires the shit out of his classmates who like, tried to attack him when they first met fghskjdfgh. he wants to protect them but he never looks down on them.

later in the manga we see that yuta's consideration and empathy isn't just for his classmates. he cares a lot even for people who are very capable of protecting themselves - he cares about their feelings.

so i just knew like. yuta and tsundere reader. yuta who can see though your fussiness because he's always been perceptive.

yuta who thinks you're hot bc he has a constant boner for strong women but also has a deep yearning to see you be honest and vulnerable with him, and goes feral for it.

yuta who you can be vulnerable with because you know him and his gentle smile, his kind words, how he looks up to you even though he's a special grade and stronger than you'll ever be,, hhhh....

but yeah anyways. *grasps you and shakes you by the shoulder* GOJO. GOJO SATORU BEING HIS PATHETIC NEEDY SELF. GOJO BEING YOUR SQUEAKY TOY AND LOVING EVERY SECOND OF IT -

tmi but "fuck me until i sound like a dog toy" is actually something a previous partner said to me??? i've never been much of a top but hearing that just kinda had me... hsdfgjhdsg HHHHHH

i think a major part of gojo's appeal is how he can be arrogant and pretty AND sultry all at once. there's something utterly delicious about a slutty confident man who is also crying screaming throwing up for you to let him put it in you skdhflsdhg

next heatwave fic is sdkfgsdlhgshg uhhhHHhh different from the ones you have read, it's a yandere piece with gojo and geto.

After that it's another gojo piece i think you'll REALLY like >.> masochist!gojo is a favorite headcanon of mine and i was actually super hyped writing some of the smut there so far hehe.

glad you've enjoyed so far! more to come for sure ;)

[chelseasdagger]

hey love! hope ur doing okay and i wish you all the best. wanted to come on here and tell you that i absolutely adore your teachers series no matter how many times i reread it. i especially love the last chapter you posted, the handjob scene??? my god i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone write a handjob scene as great as you did (i don’t think i’ve really seen anyone write one in such detail in general) so thank you for that. i adore it so much, love how you write frank, i know everyone loves writing him as a brooding dom man, don’t get me wrong i love that version of him too but the way YOU write him is such a different take on him. its absolutely marvellous, he’s soft, gentle and of course guiding (hence the fic name being ‘teacher’ lmao) it’s truly refreshing to read. keep doing what ur doing and know that ill support you no matter what. as much as i would love for the teachers series to continue i know that writers block and creativity takes time and it comes and goes. again wish you the best love and take care of yourself first and foremost x))

oh my gosh nonnie!! you have no idea how much these words mean to me. i truly am just a melted pile of love, thank you so so much! 🥺🫶🏼

i always get so blown away each time someone says they’ve reread my writing. i don’t ever feel like it’s worth that but i’m so incredibly grateful nonetheless :’)

the handjob comment made me laugh CJSKDKSK i always worry i’m putting waaaay way too much detail into my fics but on the other hand, i know it’s easier for me to picture and ends up making for a longer, more enjoyable fic all together. so maybe that’s why i do it? i just want to make it fun for you guys!!

oh my gosh! the part about my frank 🥺🥺🥺 thank you so so much! i feel like there’s glimpses of frank’s true nature underneath all the hurt and the wall he puts up and i really wanted to try and tap into that side! i feel like big mean tough frank is a lot of fun but sometimes i just wanna be a big old baby and be soft with him! and i just feel like he’d be the type where if it came down to a scenario like this, he’d be gentle and patient? at least that’s what i think anyway 😅

that bit at the end was so so sweet! thank you so much :’) writer’s block has definitely had its hold on me for the past few months and i really truly do feel so sorry it’s taken so long for an update. i had a lot of difficult things happen this year but i’m starting to level out and i feel okay again. i’ve been thinking more and more about how to execute the idea i once saw so clearly in my head so hopefully i can get the wheels moving and get it posted in time!

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

…I am worried there aren’t enough words to express how much I LOVE 🩷THIS🩷FIC🩷 OH MY WORD I- I!!!!!!- it’s pure and complete melt. Oh my heart Cyno just when you think he can’t get any cuter I just - Miserable Day, Warm hugs is my new Roman Empire for the next lord knows how long (probably until another amazing earth shattering fic comes out 😭😭) the level of fluff and softness and the cooing?? Nari softly cooing?????????? HELLOO??? I’m gonna die. Okay. Breathing.

everything about this fic was so abundant in sickfic and comfort it’s insane. Cynos disposition this time around was so delightfully new!!! I mean he clearly felt terrible. Just, wretched, him describing feeling like he’s on a *boat* AFTER having already thrown up?? That’s some serious sick tummy stuff right there, and it just seemed like it was. Not. Budging. I ADORE how unusually emotional Cyno was 🥺🥺🥺🥺and I won’t say what but the reveal as to why was just absolutely the most precious thing 😭

all the little details, the super snuggly Cyno, the rainy day, his weepy eyes, and the slowly worsening nausea. Tighnaris smart and gentle attempts to help and his just overflowing caregiver energy??? The green robe 😭😭😭THE LITTLE FOX PLUSHY???!!!!! AAAAAHHHHHH also also also Cyno finally breaking (and finally puking even tho it didn’t seem to help him at all poor thing) was just chefs kiss x1000 I LOVE.

uhg just so indulgent and cozy I can’t- I am re reading this until I can no longer look at my screen damn it. 😤 and you best believe I gotta draw stuff from this. I mean PLEASE Cyno- it’s one thing to be sick but to be that sick with out rest and also just so sad 😭.

hold him. Hold him forever 🥺

You have no idea how happy this ask made me, I've already read and reread it about three times since I woke up this morning 🥺🩷

This fic just over all felt like it wasn't my best work, so hearing that you loved it so much just makes me unreasonably happy!! I'm so happy to know that, even if it wasn't what I had pictured in my head, it was still enjoyable and somebody still really liked it! Thank you so much!!

I really went hard on poor Cyno here 🥺 I wanted to just capture him feeling really really bad, like he's just feeling way too poorly to have any of his walls up. His stomach was just really sick and not planning on feeling better anytime soon. (Not gonna lie my brain ran away with this, I was thinking "He's really sick, what if he's really really sick, what he keeps going downhill and this leads to an ER visit...." I'm not sure if I'll actually write that as a follow up because part of me just wants to keep this soft and cozy, but part of me is definitely tempted to dig deep into the angst.)

It wasn't even originally my intention to have Cyno be sad outside of feeling sick and miserable, but he just. He decided he was going to be sad. So I took it and ran with it and made it a plot point! He was just really feeling like the world was against him by the end of it, somebody hug him 🥺

Don't get me started on how much fun I had just making this COZY! I was having so much fun with that. I just, I'm in love with the mental image of sickly Cyno curled up in this dressing gown that's one, just way too big on him (because an oversized robe is a comfy one, Nari probably deliberately bought a slightly big one) and two, obnoxiously bright green and with a flower pattern, like it's so visibly Tighnari's and not Cyno's but that makes it all the more precious. And of course the fox plushy makes a return!! It's an official character now

Ahh I'm just so happy you enjoyed it so much!! Omg art would absolutely make me squeal, but of course no pressure, we don't push ourselves here!

Thank you so so much again!! 🩷

[damienthepious]

Can you reccomend your fave smutty rad bouquet fics? Either your own or other peoples. Looking for new reading material.

OKAY forgive me please for taking literally weeks to actually get to this. the entirety of my March was spent slowly and then very quickly moving to a new house, and it has been CHAOS over here.

MORE IMPORTANTLY! Happy Lizard Kissin' Tuesday, let me recommend some SMUT.

(tho honestly you'd do just as well checking my bookmarks on ao3 because... for some bizarre reason the smutty stuff is the ONLY thing i ever think to bookmark? I don't get it.)

HERE we go. These aren't really in an order but i'm starting with my three all-time faves and then moving to some sturdy solid mainstays:

Sir Arum and the Green Knight [ao3] (27k words) - I mean it's a green knight au AND a monster-human swap au AND it's full of fucking feelings and ALSO it's joyously smutty and ALSO- look!!! i keep this fic open in a tab on my phone at all times. I truly love the way this one is written. it was the first fic i EVER bookmarked. i would call it plot with porn rather than the alternative but the sexy chapter is VERY sexy.

Here's Eglantine, Here's Ivy [ao3] (5k) - PWP Of All Time for me. ALL TIME. Pure and beautiful kink, Arum playing dom and slowly and perfectly ruining his humans with magic vines. i am ruined also by this fic. good lord.

The Honey of Our Lit Up Veins [ao3] (5k) - also magic sex vines! don't perceive my vibes from this. I love Damien in this one honestly, he's so very sweet and his inner emotional path throughout the fic is so deeply enjoyable and relatable.

.💖.

A Shift in Leverage [ao3] (9k) - Rilla in armor. Rilla in armor getting fucked by an extremely enthusiastic Arum. Rilla in armor getting to fuck an extremely enthusiastic Arum. It's all incredibly enormously sexy and lovely and warm and i fucking adore it.

in my world (constantly, constantly) [ao3] (6k) - Very soft and sweet and gentle, i love to see damien get taken care of in ALL capacities 🥺🥰

easy like [ao3] (4k) - I associate this one with like... slow lazy summer warmth. honey gold. it's a soft happy place for me. and also it's fucking sexy.

Snapdragon [ao3] (8k) - includes the tag "T4T4L (trans 4 trans 4 lizard)" so like. yesssssss. Rilla breaking the other two is extremely my jam. Hell yeah.

should've worshipped her sooner [ao3] (4.5k) - I mean you start with a hozier inspired title and then the fic is about damien getting pegged, so. All good all around. fucking LOVE it.

selfish prayers [ao3] (4k) - ... another magic tentacle one. there was a THING going on for a while, it's honestly not my fault. This one is shockingly funny? Arum in particular is so fucking charming, but it's also VERY sexy.

I smelled no salt, I touched no sand [ao3] (3k) - okay this one is probably the most nonstandard pull on here because it's sir damien/saint damien and maybe that's not what you'd expect but . it's written by the same person who wrote the green knight au and it's honestly VERY compelling! i love it very much ngl.

Also this isn't a fic BUT honorable mention to:

lilf rights! [ao3] (art!) - Genuinely and truly the best and most joyous smutty bouquet art in the world. One of the pieces overtly inspired a chapter of hb3! go. enjoy. ENJOY.

...

and okay sure my own smut is here

[definitelynotshouting]

I read your arospec scarian post and oh my I am SO on board with this, incredible iconic beautiful thank you for sharing

It’s been a full day since you posted it and I read it and I am still going insane about it /pos

I’ve read the post and the little fic like 3-4 times it is so so good

AROSPEC ENJOYERS WE STAY WINNING!!!!

im very attached to this little au, its so sweet and gentle and funny. Sometimes we just need a little bit of fluff in the mix to keep us going (shocking words coming from me, lord of angst /lh)

Im really glad you liked it so much!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i had a lot of fun writing it, so maybe i'll end up writing more snippets in the future 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[bella-rose29]

ok first of all I am screaming with joy bc I thought I would never find this fic again and also I'm so glad I did

second of all everyone go read this because it's incredible

Wordlessly, he opens his arms and she crumbles into them without hesitation, burying her face in his shoulder.   omg 🥺

She mumbles eventually, using a finger to trace the outline of one of the many unflattering doodles of Lockwood on the thinking cloth.  *cue the interview where Cameron lists three (four) words to describe lockwood, and says he's beautiful, handsome-*

Chances are they’ll be back to their obnoxiously happy ways within the week, but if he doesn’t treat this as seriously as Lucy is clearly feeling it is then he might as well turn in his best friend title on the spot.   I love their friendship omg

She’s still fully dressed from the day, passed out on top of her blankets with a book laying open beside her.  It’s so easy to picture her laying on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, fighting to try and make it through just one more chapter before the weight of her eyelids won and sleep finally overcame her.   that's so me

If he hadn’t already, this would have been the moment he fell in love.   my hEART-

“It’s time to wake up, beautiful.”  He says, the last part slipping out unbidden. oh dear I think I might need my bucket before I melt too much

He’s completely forgotten how to function, torn between blindly following her wishes and remembering why he’s in her room this late to begin with. fueisjhfsuhgiusrh I have no other words

“Oh my god.  I AM SO SORRY.”  She shrieks, flailing away from him with such vigour that she throws herself straight off the opposite edge of the bed.  He dives across the bed in a valiant attempt to catch her but he’s just a hair too late, the echoing thud of her body hitting the floor making him wince sympathetically.   😭😂 I snorted so loudly omg

There’s a stutter in her step and a brief scrambling noise that has him holding his breath, but she manages to rebalance herself and continues down the next flight on her way to the kitchen without losing any momentum.  not the way I felt all the times i've tripped on the stairs reading this 😭

He dips his head in understanding, shooting her a smirk that hopefully says ‘I’ll be here’ and not ‘I’m hopelessly in love with you’. pfft he's so in love

He’s about to close it but hesitates for a moment before reaching in to grab a second.  If his tea had gone cold, hers had as well.   omgggggg

She walks back into the kitchen in a fresh pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t- shirt that looks strangely familiar OMGGGGGGG

taking a sip and letting out a sinful sound of enjoyment that almost makes him choke, effectively distracting him from inspecting the shirt.  He barely manages to pass it off as a poorly timed inhale, but she’s considerate enough to accept it with minimal teasing. i- 🤭

Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink as she gapes at him.  He beams at her, finally feeling as though he has the upper hand.   She pushes herself away from the table, standing up abruptly and padding out of the room as he leans back in his chair victoriously.   he's so funny

His mouth goes dry.  Okay.  He hadn’t seen that coming. too busy being in love

Lockwood considered himself a charming man. He prided himself on being capable of sweeping a woman off her feet with a few carefully placed words or gentle touches.  There were very few people on this planet that made him feel like an absolute simpleton, but unfortunately, she was one of them.  Just once, he’d like to be able to maintain his composure around her and not make a fool of himself the second she looked in his direction SCREAMING for some reason I kept thinking of "barbie has a great day everyday, but ken only has a great day when barbie looks at him"

He passes her at the top of the stairs, opening the door to his bedroom for her and giving a teasing little bow. chivalry isn't dead then I guess (I love it)

She saunters into his room, giving the space a curious scan and he realizes it’s the first time she’s actually been in here.   first time in his room and it's to share his bed??? excuse me while I scream into my pillow

When she’s satisfied with her search, she shoots him a look before sighing dramatically, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint onto his bed.  ohhh so this is what it's like to be made for each other him with his lil bow and now this? omg I love it

He follows her lead to climb under the covers, though he’s sure he’s not nearly as graceful or cute as she had been.   I imagine he looked a lot more like a bear laden with a lot of food just plodding around (idk why that specific comparison came into my head I won't lie)

I can't pick one bit to talk about now mostly because I was screaming for the next however many paragraphs

just screaming

nothing else

the whole morning scene has me screaming

kicking my feet

Lockwood is an idiot but my word-

Oh.  He was going to have to remember that for later. PLEASE DO

Not that it would be a problem, that noise was going to play a part in all of his fantasies for the foreseeable future. OH?

ok so from here ^^^ onwards I just spent saying 'oh' in various ways (OH WAIT I JUST REALISED HOW THAT SOUNDS- I mean it's still relevant but)

“Sorry, wait, hold on… rewind for a second.  Did you just skip straight to asking me to move in with you instead of actually verbally admitting that you want to date me?”  She gawks at him incredulously. “I believe I did, actually, yes.  Thoughts?”   “I’m bad with heights and it is freezing up there in the winter.”  She replies without a second’s hesitation. had to add this in because this is so him

aaaand I'm back to saying oh again

He blinks, takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, puts his glasses back on, and stands there staring at them for a long moment in only boxers and an oversized shirt. trousers are for wimps 💪

“Hey, I almost forgot to ask.  Is that my shirt?” of course it is the role of girlfriend is one that must be prepped for

SCREAMING AT THE ENDING

this is a true depiction of me:

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Lucy's having her first serious fight with her girlfriend and needs her old room back for the night; leaving the current occupant of the space with no place to sleep.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Light sexual content, strong language, no use of Y/N.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Happy (still technically) early Valentine's Day to the little gremlins in my phone <3 This was supposed to be a nice short oneshot to help me overcome some writers block around my main series, but, uh... once again, it got out of hand. Special thanks to @websterss and @why-what-no for helping me figure out how to approach the attic scene, which ended up being the catalyst of this veering so far out of control 😂 Hope you guys enjoy! (Oh god I completely forgot to mention, the title is from I Love You So by The Walters)

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 5.3k

It was a quiet night at 35 Portland Row, the team having a rare evening off between jobs that seemed to double by the day.  Gaining fame and notoriety had been Lockwood’s goal since the day he and George had officially formed Lockwood & Co. several years previously, and to say they’d been successful would be an understatement.  

There had been a call for him to increase his numbers and branch out as a better manned agency many times, but to do so would mean giving up certain freedoms he wasn’t willing to relinquish.  Including the house he and his agents had come to call home.   Hiring extra hands would require extra accommodations and though that would come with its own set of bonuses, there was something to be said about the consistency and approachability of a single door at street level on a seemingly unassuming family home.

At least, that’s what he tried to remind himself as he was startled from a rare peaceful sleep by the sound of a closed fist pounding insistently on his front door.  

For a solitary moment, he considers ignoring it.  

“ANTHONY!  I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!  GET YOUR ARSE UP AND OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.”  A familiar voice hollers from the front porch.  

He’s out of bed before his sleep-addled brain can register the movement, turning on the lamp on his side table and grabbing a grey sweatshirt off the chair at his desk, pulling it over his head as he descends the stairs at a breakneck pace.  

The several locks on their front door had never really seemed like overkill before, but they’d never stood between him and a friend in obvious distress before either.  He fumbles the last of the bolts and pulls the door open to find Lucy Carlyle looking disheveled, eyes rimmed red and lip trembling, the picture of misery.  Wordlessly, he opens his arms and she crumbles into them without hesitation, burying her face in his shoulder.  

They stay like that for a while, until his toes remind him that he’s still barefoot and London nights are cold this time of year.  He pulls away enough to usher her inside, closing the door behind them and locking it tight for the night once more.  She sniffles, allowing herself to be led into the kitchen and sat in her old chair as he goes through the motions of filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil for tea.  

He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to interrogate her.  If and when she’s ready to talk about it, she’ll tell him.

“I need my old room for the night.”  She mumbles eventually, using a finger to trace the outline of one of the many unflattering doodles of Lockwood on the thinking cloth.  “Norrie and I got into it tonight, she says she needs some space.”  

He remains silent as he pours water into their mugs, trying to puzzle his way through how to make that happen.  She knew that room was occupied now, and he knew she wouldn’t ask if she wasn’t in desperate need of the comfort of her old home.  

Nodding decisively, he walks back to the cupboard and pulls out another cup.  

“I’ll go wake her up and get the bedding changed over.  Do you want to talk about it?”   She shakes her head vehemently at the question, choosing instead to drop her head onto the table with a loud thud.  He has to smother a laugh at that.  Despite understanding the serious nature of the situation, he’s acutely aware that this is their first major fight in three years.  Chances are they’ll be back to their obnoxiously happy ways within the week, but if he doesn’t treat this as seriously as Lucy is clearly feeling it is then he might as well turn in his best friend title on the spot.  

He places her tea on the table beside her head and his own across from her, patting her shoulder reassuringly as he withdraws his hand.  Doubling back to the counter, he picks up the third cup and takes it with him out of the kitchen and up the stairs, closing the door to his room as he passes it on his way to the top of the house.

Standing on the landing outside her door he falters, almost losing his nerve.  Then he reminds himself this is for Lucy.  

Rolling his shoulders back and straightening his posture, he raises his free hand and raps his knuckles against the wood.

Silence.

Brow furrowing, he knocks again.

Still nothing.

Raising his eyes to the ceiling he silently curses heavy sleepers, under no illusions that most of his resentment is’t based in envy.  

Weighing his options for a moment, he grimaces.  Go tell his woe-filled best friend he’s too much of a coward to wake their coworker himself, or risk having whatever items have accumulated on her bedside table thrown at him when he enters her room.

Unfortunately, it’s a no brainer.

He places his hand on the handle, foolishly hoping it would be locked.  

It’s not.  

Muttering curses under his breath, he pushes the door open and ascends the last flight of stairs into her room.

He finds himself frozen in place on the last step, entranced by how serene the scene before him appears.  

She’d fallen asleep with the lamp beside her bed still on.  It casts a soft golden glow across her face, and for a moment she takes his breath away.  

She’s still fully dressed from the day, passed out on top of her blankets with a book laying open beside her.  It’s so easy to picture her laying on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, fighting to try and make it through just one more chapter before the weight of her eyelids won and sleep finally overcame her.  

He could feel a soft smile making itself at home on his face, an affectionate exasperation at her dedication to the written word settling comfortably in his chest.  

If he hadn’t already, this would have been the moment he fell in love.  

Wrestling himself from his thoughts and trying to shape his face into something at least slightly less lovesick, he thaws his feet and makes his way over to the bed.  

“It’s time to wake up, beautiful.”  He says, the last part slipping out unbidden.  

She doesn’t react, so he closes her book and moves it to her side table to make room for himself to sit on the mattress beside her.  The bed settling under his weight makes her stir, rolling onto her back and mumbling something incoherent.  

When she makes no move to wake any further, he reaches across to squeeze her shoulder gently.  She whines, scrunching up her face in indignance and opening bleary eyes to blink slowly at the disturbance.  Her eyes come to focus on him and the tension drains from her face, a sleepy smile taking its place as she hums and rests her eyes shut again.  

He smiles right back at her, letting his hand run down her arm.  His intention is to pull away, but apparently she has other plans.  She reaches after him, catching his hand with her own and pulling back towards her.  His heart leaps into his throat and he can actively feel the blood rushing to his face as her body curls in his direction.

“Come back to bed…”  She mumbles, voice still laced with exhaustion, resting her forehead against the back of his hand and sighing contentedly at the contact.  He’s completely forgotten how to function, torn between blindly following her wishes and remembering why he’s in her room this late to begin with.

He’s saved from having to decide anything by her eyes suddenly flying open, face transforming from sleepy bliss to sheer mortification in the blink of an eye.

“Oh my god.  I AM SO SORRY.”  She shrieks, flailing away from him with such vigour that she throws herself straight off the opposite edge of the bed.  He dives across the bed in a valiant attempt to catch her but he’s just a hair too late, the echoing thud of her body hitting the floor making him wince sympathetically.  

He peeks over the side of the bed to find her laying on her back with her hands over her beet red face.  She parts her fingers, staring miserably at him from between them.  

His lips are pressed together tightly with the effort maintaining his composure.

She cracks first, a giggle slipping past her hands.

Within seconds they’re both in stitches, almost crying with laughter.  By the time they manage to compose themselves, several minutes must have passed.  

He stands and walks around the bed to offer her a hand.  She wipes the tears from her eyes, heaving for breath as she reaches up to accept his help and is pulled to her feet.  

“Now that that’s out of the way, what the hell are you doing in my room at this time of night?”  She gasps, bracing her palms on her thighs as she struggles to make her lungs understand she’s not suffocating.  

Lockwood’s eyes go wide with horror.

“I’m an awful friend.”  He rushes out, covering his mouth.  She does a double take in response, looking like she’s about to get whiplash from the sudden shift in topic and energy.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Luce is downstairs in the kitchen right now.  I guess she and Norrie had a lover's quarrel?  She needs her room back for the night.”  

He cringes as she gapes at him.  

Thankfully, instead of scolding him she bolts into action.  The bed is stripped bare before he can even process the speed with which she’s moving and suddenly she’s shoving his arms full with fabric.

“Laundry room!  Now!”  She snaps, already across the room rifling through her wardrobe for fresh bedding. 

He’s on the second step by the time she calls him back to ask what Lucy was wearing when she showed up on their doorstep.  

“Jeans and a jumper.”  He calls over his shoulder as he descends the steps two at a time.  

The laundry room is close to George’s room, so he decides to err on the side of caution and leave the items in the washing machine and makes a mental note to start it in the morning.  By the time he finishes separating everything and has it all organized, he can hear footfalls approaching rapidly from overhead.  There’s a stutter in her step and a brief scrambling noise that has him holding his breath, but she manages to rebalance herself and continues down the next flight on her way to the kitchen without losing any momentum.  

His shoulders slump in relief and all at once the late hour catches up with him.  

Or does it officially qualify as early now?  

He’s still pondering that when he almost slips on a small puddle of liquid at the top of the stairs.  The adrenaline wakes him up a bit but now he has another, if slightly more pressing, question.

What the hell is on the floor?

And then it clicks.  

The tea.  

She must have grabbed it off her bedside table on her way downstairs and spilled it when she almost took a tumble of her own.  

He chuckles and shakes his head, almost uncomfortably aware of how smitten he is with the small tornado occupying the attic room as he turns back to grab a towel from the room he’d just left.

By the time he makes his way into the kitchen, she’s helping Lucy out of her chair and herding the girl upstairs.  

He raises his eyebrow at her in a silent question, but she shoots him a look that says ‘stay here, I’ve got this’ and an almost shy smile that promises she’ll be back soon.  He dips his head in understanding, shooting her a smirk that hopefully says ‘I’ll be here’ and not ‘I’m hopelessly in love with you’.

After the girls exit the room, his eye is drawn to his now lukewarm tea on the table.  He sighs, reaching across the table to grab his cup.  

He stares at the liquid for a while, already hearing one of George’s endless rants about wasting tea bags rattling through his head.  Even when he’s asleep, Karim manages to torment him.  

Shrugging, he dumps the cup out into the sink and busies himself making another to pass the time.  

The kettle is starting to whistle on the stove as he opens the cupboard to grab himself a tea bag.  He’s about to close it but hesitates for a moment before reaching in to grab a second.  If his tea had gone cold, hers had as well.  

Sure enough, her cup sat abandoned beside the sink, only down the small amount that had spilled on the staircase.

She walks back into the kitchen in a fresh pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t- shirt that looks strangely familiar just as he sets their mugs on the table, shooting him a grateful smile as she collapses into her chair.  

She clasps the tea in both hands like a treasure, taking a sip and letting out a sinful sound of enjoyment that almost makes him choke, effectively distracting him from inspecting the shirt.  He barely manages to pass it off as a poorly timed inhale, but she’s considerate enough to accept it with minimal teasing.

They’re both half finished before either dares to address the elephant in the room.

“So…”  She starts, giving him a rueful smile.

“I’ll take the loveseat in the sitting room, you can sleep in my bed.”  He states matter-of-factly, intending to leave no room for argument.  

Her cocked eyebrow tells him very quickly his intention failed.

“No, I really don’t think so.  I can sleep on the loveseat, your neck will be kinked for days if you do that again.”  Her eyes are filled with a warning he readily ignores.

“I couldn’t very well call myself a gentleman if I let you do that, and you know it.”

“Anthony-“

“I’m not arguing this with you.”

“Fine then, we can share the bed.”  She retorts, a prideful twinkle in her eye as she stares a challenge at him.

“Seems like a valid compromise.”  He surprises them both with his answer, the words hanging in the air.  For a moment he wishes he could unsay them, but then her face shifts.  

Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink as she gapes at him.  He beams at her, finally feeling as though he has the upper hand.  

She pushes herself away from the table, standing up abruptly and padding out of the room as he leans back in his chair victoriously.  

But instead of rushing to hide away in his bedroom as he expects, she catches him off guard by stopping with her hand resting on the doorframe and glancing back over her shoulder. 

“Well…  are you coming?”  

His mouth goes dry.  Okay.  He hadn’t seen that coming. 

Lockwood considered himself a charming man. He prided himself on being capable of sweeping a woman off her feet with a few carefully placed words or gentle touches.  There were very few people on this planet that made him feel like an absolute simpleton, but unfortunately, she was one of them.  Just once, he’d like to be able to maintain his composure around her and not make a fool of himself the second she looked in his direction

Disarmed and feeling like a floundering imbecile, he sits there in silence for a second, begging his brain to come up with some kind of charismatic reply to help him save face.

An unrecognizable emotion flashes across her face and she drops her eyes, leaving him even more confused than before.  

And then his mind catches up.  

Vulnerability.  Uncertainty.  Insecurity.

Concern.

He’s on his feet before he can overthink it, gesturing for her to lead the way.  Her relief is raw, undisguisable.  He passes her at the top of the stairs, opening the door to his bedroom for her and giving a teasing little bow.  She laughs and rolls her eyes at his theatrics, but he can tell she appreciates the effort to set her at ease.  She saunters into his room, giving the space a curious scan and he realizes it’s the first time she’s actually been in here.  

He leans against the door frame, watching her approach his bookshelf and run her fingers along the spines, searching for any titles she might find familiar.  A tender smile finds its way to his face once more, and this time he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it.  

When she’s satisfied with her search, she shoots him a look before sighing dramatically, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint onto his bed.  He laughs, shaking his head as he crosses the threshold.  

He considers the door for a moment, trying to decide if he should leave it open or close it.  

His eyes wander across the hall to George’s door, and he closes his own with sudden and complete confidence in his decision.

A giggle from his bed tells him she’d watched his thought process play out and agreed with his choice.  He turns to make a clever remark, but the words die on his tongue as soon as he lays eyes on her.  

She’s laying on her side across his pillows, propped up on her elbow with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, watching him through her lashes with… another unfamiliar emotion flickering behind her eyes.  

Before he can dwell on it too much, an idea occurs to him.  He crosses the room swiftly with a mischievous grin, jumping and twisting his body at the last minute to land on the mattress sideways.  She shrieks as she’s bounced at least a few inches into the air, cackling as the momentum from the landing rolls her closer to him.  Their shoulders rub together as they laugh, laying on their back and staring up at the ceiling before falling into a comfortable silence.  She lifts herself up onto her elbows, looking down at him.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely exhausted.  Do you know what time it is?”  She queries, tilting her head in curiosity.  He lifts himself up enough he can see the clock on his bedside table, hissing a breath between his teeth at the glowing numbers taunting him.  

“You don't want to know.”  He groans, dropping back to the bed.  She pokes at his side with her elbow until he looks up at her, gesturing towards the pillows with her head.  A sly smile breaks out on her face and her eyes twinkle at him.

“‘Come back to bed.’”  She echoes her own words from earlier back at him playfully, poking fun at herself as she rolls onto her side and crawls up his bed.  He laughs freely as he watches her, something he’s grown quite used to doing around her over the past few years.  She lifts the covers, diving beneath them and wiggling around until she finds a comfortable spot laying on her side close to the wall.

Trying not to overthink himself into a tizzy, rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, grunting with the effort.  He follows her lead to climb under the covers, though he’s sure he’s not nearly as graceful or cute as she had been.  

Once he’s settled comfortably beside her, he finds himself feeling oddly out of place.  He’d never been so aware of where his hands were while laying in bed before, but now he has no idea what to do with them.   He settles for resting them awkwardly on his chest.

He can feel her staring at him.

He keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling.  

She sighs in exasperation, the bed dipping under her weight as she shifts to lean over him and turn off the lamp on his side table, somehow oblivious to him forgetting how to breathe as he becomes hyper aware of every place her body is touching his own.  She retracts her reach, but doesn’t move all the way back to her spot, leaving him completely blind and incredibly confused by her continued proximity.

Her hand touches his forearm, fingers dancing across his skin until she reaches his wrist, grabbing it and gently pulling until he lifts the arm closest to her into the air.

There’s shuffling noises and movement beside him, leaving him even more perplexed, until she’s resting her head on his shoulder and he declares himself officially braindead.  She scoots closer, tucking her body into his side and resting her open palm on his chest.

“Goodnight, Lockwood.  Sweet dreams.”  She whispers in a calm voice that would have had him completely fooled if he couldn’t feel her heart pounding against his ribs.  Her words restart his brain, allowing him to drop his arm around her, his hand automatically coming to rest on her hip.

“Goodnight, darling, you too.”  He whispers back, and though it’s too dark for him to see her face, he can still feel the heat radiating through his shirt.

He’s honestly thankful for how tired he is, otherwise he’d never be able to fall asleep with the adrenaline coursing through his veins alongside his blood.

His fingers trace absentminded swirls on her hip as his eyes begin to droop, sleep overtaking him before his conscious mind can register it happening.

For once, his dreams are actually sweet.

When he’s finally dragged unwillingly back to consciousness, the perpetrator is sunlight streaming in through his window and directly into his eyes.  

He tries to lift his right arm to block it out, but there’s an unexpected weight holding it in place.

The events of the night before rush back to him, and suddenly the blinding sun isn’t anywhere near the top of his priority list.  He lets his head roll towards her just to find her already awake and looking at him.  

Her hair is a mess, and he can’t help but laugh as he reaches across his body to brush it away from her face, though he’s sure he looks much the same.  

His fingers linger on her cheek of their own accord.  

That look in her eye from last night is back, and if he didn’t know any better he’d swear her gaze flickers to his lips for a split second.

And then, with the kind of clarity only morning light can bring, it hits him.  

A bonafide lightbulb moment.

He really is a bloody simpleton.

Truly, he could be an absolute moron sometimes, and he swore to himself in that moment the next time someone told him so he’d willingly agree with them.

Acting without thinking had gone surprisingly well for him in the past twenty-four hours, so what’s one more gamble, in the grand scheme of things?  

His hand slides down from her cheek, his fingers lightly caressing the back of her neck as he guides her face towards him.  Her eyes flutter closed and he swears his heart is about to break free from his chest.

His lips ghost over hers, giving her plenty of room to pull away if she’s in any way uncomfortable.  

As always, she surprises him, rolling her body towards him and gripping the front of his sweatshirt with both hands, using it to pull him closer to her.  

There’s a need poured into the next kiss, a desperation and hunger born of pining they’d both been so certain was one sided.

He meets her intensity with his own, slipping an arm underneath her waist and placing a hand on her back to pull her tightly against him.  

She lets a muffled moan slip, and a thrill runs up his spine at the thought of spending as much time as he wants learning each and every noise of pleasure she’s capable of making, and how to coax them out of her like music.

Her hands release his shirt, roaming over every inch of his body they can touch instead.  

Her exploration must have caused his shirt to start to bunch around his waist because as the hand on the nape of her neck finds its way into her hair, one of her roaming hands grazes a sliver of bare skin on his hip and he gasps, automatically tightening his grip and giving her hair a gentle tug in the process.  She whimpers against his lips, breaking the kiss as her head falls back in an instinctive response.

Oh.  He was going to have to remember that for later.

Not that it would be a problem, that noise was going to play a part in all of his fantasies for the foreseeable future.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, he takes advantage of the opening to pull her closer and kiss her neck.  

His name falls from her lips like a prayer and as he grins in delight his teeth graze her skin.  

She moans in earnest at that, back arching involuntarily as she presses her body against his so close he can feel her heart beating through their clothes.  

Keen to test a theory, he presses kisses up her throat until he’s high enough to catch her earlobe, letting it slide lightly between his teeth.

“Fuck.”  She hisses, digging her nails into his hip.  He can’t stop the growl that rumbles from his chest at that, and she hooks a leg over him in reply.  

He feels like he’s drowning in her, everything in him is screaming to surrender and worship her like the goddess she is but he knows it would be too much too fast for both of them.  

So, exhibiting strength he didn’t know he had, he pulls back.  Gulping oxygen like he’s been holding his breath for hours and sliding his hand back down to her neck before pulling her in close enough to press a firm and reassuring kiss to her forehead until he can compose himself enough to swear he isn’t in any way rejecting her.  

Somehow, as always, she understands exactly what he’s doing and balls her fists in his shirt, taking stabilizing breaths of her own.

Once he’s confident they’re both back in full control, he slides his fingers under her chin, lifting her face and pressing his lips to hers in a leisurely and indulgent kiss that promises it won’t be the last.

She hums contentedly when he pulls away again, chasing after him to give him a gentle peck.

“I really am a dunce, aren’t I?”  He asks when he’s regained his composure, replaying so many events from the last several years over in his mind in a whole new light.  

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Always.”

“Yeah, you’re right thick sometimes.”

“I really am, because now that I’m thinking about it, you are terrible at hiding how you feel.”  He grins as she smacks his arm, tossing her head back and laughing.  

“Like you’re one to talk!  Anthony Lockwood, you are an open book and I’ve been a fool not to notice it before.”  She teases, tilting her head to rest their foreheads together.  He shrugs, planting a peck on her nose before dragging himself reluctantly out from under the covers.

“Up you get, if we stay in bed too much longer they’re going to start asking questions.”  He offers her his hand as he whispers the last part conspiratorially.  

She rolls her eyes at him but takes the offered appendage anyway, letting him pull her to her feet before trudging across his room to the door.  She places her palm on the handle, but hesitates before turning it.  

Seeming to steel herself for something, she turns instead to face him.

“And if they do?  Y’know, ask questions?”  There’s a crease between her brows that speaks of concern and it makes his heart ache, something in him begging to reach out and smooth it away.

“I suppose that depends.  How attached are you to the attic?”  He deadpans.

“What?”  She’s taken aback, confusion painted across every feature.

“I mean, personally, I’m rather fond of this room.  I did move out of the attic because I felt I’d outgrown it, but I am willing to compromise.”  He smirks, waiting for her to catch on.  “I’m far more fond of sharing a bed with you.”  He adds quietly when she continues to stare at him in bewilderment.  

Her eyes go wide when she pieces it all together.

“Sorry, wait, hold on… rewind for a second.  Did you just skip straight to asking me to move in with you instead of actually verbally admitting that you want to date me?”  She gawks at him incredulously.

“I believe I did, actually, yes.  Thoughts?”  

“I’m bad with heights and it is freezing up there in the winter.”  She replies without a second’s hesitation.  Soothing the twinge of protective guilt at the thought of her shivering alone in the cold with the knowledge he wouldn’t let it happen again, he grins and crosses the room to pull her into a passionate kiss.  

He almost loses himself to the softness of her lips and the feeling of her body pinned between him and the door, but he manages to hold himself at least partially to the task at hand.

“Just to be perfectly transparent,” He manages to add between kisses, “I would very much like to date you.”  She lifts her arms and lets them drape around his neck, pulling him close for one last kiss before separating.

“Good, because I would ‘very much’ like to date you too.”  She laughs, giving him a playful shove back to make enough room to open the door to the hallway.  

They exit his room holding hands and bumping shoulders as they venture towards the stairs.  

George’s door flies open and they freeze, both looking at him like deer caught in headlights.  

He blinks, takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, puts his glasses back on, and stands there staring at them for a long moment in only boxers and an oversized shirt.

“Fucking FINALLY.”  He hollers with the intensity of a man infuriated by years of their unending mutual idiocy, storming off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.  

They slowly turn to look at each other, breaking out in laughter for what must be the hundredth time in the past two days.  

Before they resume their journey downstairs though, George’s oversized shirt had reminded Lockwood of something.

“Hey, I almost forgot to ask.  Is that my shirt?”  He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.  The colour spreads from her neck to her face almost instantaneously as she begrudgingly nods, looking pointedly at the ground.  He wraps an arm around her shoulders, his signature smile plastered on his face.  

“Good.  I like it.”  He confesses, squeezing her arm reassuringly.  She leans into him, wrapping her arm around his waist as they descend the stairs and head for the kitchen.

What they find upon entering the room is wildly unexpected.

Lucy and Norrie are sitting side by side with their arms crossed, both wearing the same smug smirk, five mugs of steaming hot tea placed around the table in front of them.  

The girl tucked into his side gasps, connecting the dots rapidly and letting loose a quiet shriek of betrayal and indignation.  

“You sneaky bitches!”  There’s awe in her voice when she finally speaks, though she’s clearly not certain if she should be grateful or angry at the manipulation.

Even though he should probably be upset, feeling the warmth of her body against his and already making plans to move her belongings into his - their room, he just can’t bring himself to be anything other than thankful for their intervention.

Looking at the calendar on the wall, the final piece of the puzzle clicks into place.

Sneaky bitches indeed, he finds himself thinking as the women in question pick up their teacups to cheers each other. 

Reaching down to press a kiss to the top of her head, he leans in close enough to whisper;

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

⤛⊹ 𝔣𝔦𝔫 ⊹⤜

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

[villainwannabe]

!Welcome to the Jayden's✨Horny Lair✨!

What to expect here? Shitposting/thirsting at it's FINEST form. And art. And smuts. And hate. On the world. I guess. LMAO.

Here, uhh, have some user boxes ig.

Also, check out my main while you're at it: @tireddovahkiin

>> My Ultimate F/O list!!! <<

My two main F/O's are Sephiroth (from Final Fantasy VII) and Hanami (from Jujutsu Kaisen!). I love them both so much I'm insane about them <3

(Dni if we share a f/o that I'm not comfortable with sharing.)

Minors, do not fucking read below this point. (Srsly, just shoo away ty)

Some of my personal fave kinks uwu:

vanilla (Naw im actually scared of non-loving sex/rough n animalistc fucking...💀)

size kink (just thinking about a big beefy man or a massive woman or a humongous monster standing beside me will make me faint-)

body worship (*faints* [both giving and receiving])

pampering (i just wan sum lov😢)

praise kink (*bats eye lashes cutely and explodes*)

voice kink (SEPHIROTH IM LOOKING AT YOU)

hand kink (big veiny arms holding me in a tight headlock... ZOOWEEWOO-)

mommy kink (ONLY FOR WOMEN THO daddy kink is iffy to me ngl)

cockwarming (Dudeee don't get me even STARTED. I just love the thought of such a way of being connected to your beloved without the need to do something more and intense, we just basking in each other and chilling🥴)

foreplay (no foreplay NO SEX IDFC /hj)

bondage (BOTH SIDES- GIVING AND RECEIVING [although not so hardcore like shibari, but yes to hand restains uwu])

dry humping (the thought of being vulnerable while riding someones thigh and being praised for my good job makes me so DAMN WET-)

breeding (.... oui🙊🙈)

dacryphillia (NOT IN ANY DEGRADING sense. Just making me cry innocent tears from either frustration or overwhelming emotions, and pampering and soothing me and wiping them away and mmmnndhshhsd~🙈)

manhandling (again, not hardcore, and in NO degrading sense way. Degradation is a BIG BIG no for me. But GENTLE, safe manhandling like a bear taking care of me🥺)

> WARNINGS AND DNIs!! <

⚠ PROSHIPPERS /COMSHIPPERS /RACISTS /LGBTPHOBICS /HATERS /ZOOPHILES /PEDOPHILES /FURRIES (SORRY) /TOXIC PPL /SEXISTS /NAZIS /TERFS /ZIONISTS /AI ART USERS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

⚠ THE SAME GOES FOR THOSE WHO LOVE FREAKY KINKS (R4PE/AG3PLAY/SC4T/V0RE/3METO/PR1MAL/P4IN ENJOYERS) (Sorry guys, I'm just not vibing with ya. I'm too sensitive for that scary/disgusting shit. For my own comfort stay a goooooood distance away from me.)

⚠ I have age regress, so I may act brash and not so 'adultey' as I'm expected! the tone I use may be a bit too energetic, so, if you find it annoying or uncomfortable, feel free to block me! But just to make sure other age regressors know, it is not safe for littles!!!

⚠ I cuss a lot!

⚠ For those who already know me, just so you know, I'll be a lot more open here with my misanthropic/pessimistic nature. So yeah, dark Jayden it is.

⚠ I can be quite forgettable (ADHD things)! If I happen to ghost you/forget to answer/don't remember some of the things you said, I'm really sorry, it was never my intention🙏

⚠ My OC and S/I lore is very... Unrealistic, which means, they are usually non-human and/or immortal beings with a bit of overemphasized powers and such. They're not really a Mary Sue OC, though. If that bothers you, feel free to block me!

⚠ It is a safe space for any LGBTQ+/Neurodivergent person, and any Race/Ethnicity/Age!

⚠ There will be a LOT of sin here!!! Art or one-shots, or just rants I post in general (sometimes)! If OC x Canon/Canon x Canon art bothers you, no hate, just block please!

⚠ I will be blocking minors/ageless blogs who follow me, since this blog ain't safe for kids that much!!! And yes, this blog is 18+!

[Ty for reading! I hope you enjoy your stay ^^]

[pillow-anime-talk]

HEY BAE i just read ur 36. jakurai and im in love with him 🥺 can u do a 46. + jakurai with a female reader but like her first time receiving u know what 😏 if its not much to ask oc, thank you <3

# tags: scenario; current relationship; romance; fluff; smut; nsfw

warnings: mention of sexual activities, oral sex, hypersensitivity

includes: female reader ft. jakurai jinguji {hypmic}

author’s note: HEY, HEY, HEY!! and yes, i’ll do it with pleasure 8) thank you so much, love &lt;3

46. Kisses that are in places other than the face.

“J-Jakurai.” You whispered, and moments later you groaned again as soon as you felt a sweet kiss on the inside of your right thigh.

You closed your eyes a little tighter than necessary, and shortly thereafter you called the man by his first name once again, grabbing the white sheet between your fingers in the process. The thirty-five-year-old didn’t answer just like before, though, and instead bit into the soft skin on your leg while stroking the other, equally delicate one, very gently.

You felt terribly insecure and shy with the fact that for the first time in your life someone was between your legs and so close to your touchy spot. Of course, sex wasn’t strange to both of you; you and Jakurai did it more than once, that twice, and always when you wanted to do it and when you both had a moment of free time. Likewise, sucking his dick wasn’t unusual for you. To be honest, sometimes oral sex was more frequent than normal one. You loved doing it. You loved to surprise your boyfriend under his desk or in the morning before he even got up and please him in the least expected times to show him how much you love him, how much you want to take care of him and relaxed his body after working in the hospital.

The reverse, however, was different. You’ve never had a sexual partner before who also took care of your needs. It was like that until Jakurai showed you the true meaning of pleasure and about giving attention to the other person. He always asked you if you were feeling well, he always prepared your body properly with his long fingers, he relaxed you, kissed your forehead or hands. These were by far the most enjoyable hours of the day for the two of you.

“Ohhh.”

However, receiving oral sex from him was new to the two of you (especially you) and you didn’t know what to do; where to look, where to put your hands, what to say or say anything at all. Although you had to admit that the feeling of a man’s hot lips against your body was truly soothing and extremely pleasant. When he squeezed your hips, calves or bit the skin on your thighs, you had the impression that he was doing it with incredible, almost medical precision and tenderness. Therefore, due to these gentle gestures, you decided to look down and of course you blushed instantly as soon as your eyes met.

“I-It’s too much.” You admitted, and he merely smiled as he pushed his face away from your thigh and leaned forward a little, this time kissing your naked, soft stomach.

“I haven’t done anything yet, darling.”

“... It’s still too much f-for me.” You grunted, bringing another slight smile to his handsome face.

“I’ll do it slowly, okay?” You nodded uncertainly at his question, and a while later your eyes rolled back as you felt the first contact between his mouth and your own, sensitive place that no one had seen so close before.

[morganaspendragonss]

to add some distraction from everything else on here, and cos i wanna know.

bestie rank the john and jojo dances pls

erin i actually hate you for asking this of me. but of course i did it anyway

1. week four: american smooth

not a favourite. i think john sometimes looked a bit unsure when he was out of hold, especially at the beginning, and in hold i didn't seem like his technique was quite as polished as it could have been. not that i'm a dancing expert, but it didn't look right to me.

2. week eight: samba

this is the one where there is the biggest contrast between the two of them. you can really see how john is holding himself back from being too camp or too gay, like he said in the christmas cake video, and that contrasted against johannes just going for it makes this dance a little less cohesive.

3. week six: quickstep

do love a good quickstep, me. but this wasn't their best, i don't think. looked like there were a few stumbles and stiffness and a little bit of hesitancy from john which means it's lower on this list.

4. week seven: rumba

i can't stand rumbas usually. they're slow and boring and the celebrities rarely do it in a way that looks good. HOWEVER. something about theirs felt very soft, very gentle, and i can't type this without mentioning their little hug after it was over 🥺 can't call it a favourite because i still don't like rumbas but it was good.

5. week one: tango

you can very much tell that this is a week one dance, but it's still so so impressive. like, the synchronicity is just so 👌 knew they were going to be great from the very first moment.

6. week ten: argentine tango

controversial? probably, considering it scored so highly. but if you wanted the actual ranking of how good they are, you could just look at the leaderboards. argentine tangos always miss the mark for me. i don't know why, maybe it was seeing flavia and vincent perform professional ones when i was younger, but i always expect too much from the celebrities and i always end up disappointed. which is wholly on me, but there we go. also i felt like the end section was kind of messy.

7. week nine: viennese waltz

again, really good, but it's very much middle of the table for me. i feel like there was a bit of hesitancy still, sadly.

8. week two: cha cha cha

now, normally, i don't like the cha cha. i think it's a boring, annoying dance masquerading as some fun party thing. but, credit where it's due, johannes pulled some spectacular choreography out and this was actually enjoyable for me to watch. hips were on point.

9. week eleven: salsa

for a brief moment rewatching it i forgot how it ended. and then i saw poor johannes give john the wrong hand and it was just 😭 poor boys. this could have been exceptional, but the lifts just didn't go that well for me, even the one nearer the beginning. and, well. jotato radebe 😭😭😭

10. week five: charleston

SYNCHRONICITY. THE PIE IN THE FACE. AMAZING. but not quite perfect.

11. week three: paso doble

amazing showstopping incredible, we both knew this was coming. i don't even need to rewatch this one to know that it's going straight to the top. i'm going to anyway though. i'm still fuming that it didn't get 40. linking this one because it deserves to be seen by everyone. (even though i know very few people will bother to read to the end of this)