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envy-of-the-apple · 6 months ago

Text

Infinite Rewind

Gojo Satoru x reader

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

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

Word Count: 18.1k

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

First, you saw a monster.

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

And then, you saw a bright, clear sky.

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

"Hey, you good?"

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

When you don't respond, her eyes squint.

"Suguru, are you okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone.

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

You were dreaming.

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

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

“Excited?”

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

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

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

“Ah,” she says, “so you forgot.”

“I didn’t.” You reply on instinct.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you were supposed to follow him.

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

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

What should you say? You clear your throat.

"He just wants what's best for us."

Wrong answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fine, whatever. "Sure thing."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

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

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

You were going to die.

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

And then the creature explodes.

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

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, trying to remember the date.

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

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

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

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

When you ask him, he just snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 24th, 2017, 7:06.

Holy shit, you were back.

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

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

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

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

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

It used to be your voice.

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

"Suguru...?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die.

ⴵ

Again. You died again.

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

"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks.

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

Not again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A blue ball drops into your hand.

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

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

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

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

"Look away."

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

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

Instantly, you choke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs.

"I forgot." Typical.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He'll be dead within a year or so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So...do we fight Greeny?"

"It's not my name." You get ignored.

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

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

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

He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Haven't figured it out yet."

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

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

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

You need to leave.

Exorcised. Ingested.

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

Exorcised. Ingested.

You need to leave.

Exorcised. Ingested.

You need to survive.

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows.

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

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. Interesting.

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

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

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

Haibara shyly shuffles his feet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “A code word?”

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

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

“Okay, what did you have in mind?”

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

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

“Wait, why broccoli head?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haibara told me.”

“Ah,” He replies, “let’s go then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do whatever, Greeny."

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

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

Gojo only watches with a tilted head.

"You're getting better at that."

You give a weak grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another beat of silence.

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

You give a sheepish laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, could you do me a favor?"

He gives a wordless hum.

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

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

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

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

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

You blink at that. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hungry?"

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

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

"Oh." You take it. "Thanks."

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

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

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

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

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

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

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

"Something wrong?" Riko asks.

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

Fushiguro Toji has already arrived.

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

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

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

What do you do?

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

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

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

It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor.

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

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

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

You were wasting time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You release all 368 of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing happens.

Everything happens.

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

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

You're sitting in front of God.

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

You manage to smile.

"Sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

You wonder when you got so desensitized to death.

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

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

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

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

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

You clear your throat.

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

He blinks back into focus, rising from his high.

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

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

"You and Suguru."

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

"Yeah," he finally says.

His skin still feels cold.

ⴵ

This death is a lot more painful than the others.

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

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Time skips a lot faster now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your hair's nice." You tell her.

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

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

"Where are you going?" You ask.

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

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

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

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

"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then."

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

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

"That hurt." Haibara whines.

Good, you inwardly think.

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

Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You agree with him.

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

“Hey, long time.”

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

Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you know about my birthday?”

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

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

“Oh.” Gojo replies. “Huh.”

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

“How did your mission go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved them,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t help but smile.

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

“Yeah, sure, Greeny.”

ⴵ

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it. Something’s wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

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

Those words are familiar. Hold on.

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

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t be fast enough.

He picks up on the second ring.

“...What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve lost the trust of the strongest.

ⴵ

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru knows you’ve been deceiving him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo’s footsteps stop right in front of you.

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

“Did you exorcise it?” You finally ask.

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Not here.” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo. Stop.” You beg.

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru was demanding to know his future.

And...you couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, it’s directed at Suguru.

It’s even worse than you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t put another burden on the strongest.

You can’t do that to a kid.

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

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

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

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

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

Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.

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

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

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

But he’s not a God. God’s don’t cry.

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

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

You smile anyway.

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

You think of something morbidly funny.

“I’ll die trying.”

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

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

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

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

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

For now, it’s all you can do.

“I know you will.”

He scoffs, right then.

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

Rely on me. Lean on me.

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

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

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

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

This time, you hesitate.

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

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

ⴵ

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

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

It’s today.

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

The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fight to keep your smile.

“Of course. Please, lead the way.”

It’s worse than you ever could have imagined.

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

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

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

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

The twins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take them.”

“What?” The head of the village asks.

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

You go to Shoko first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” You say first.

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

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

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

He reminisces on your words.

“This happened before too?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

You play with your fingers.

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

He pauses. Then, he looks at you.

“What?”

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

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

You phrased the last part as a joke, but Satoru isn’t laughing.

“Wait, you’re leaving? You’re...leaving leaving.”

You nod. “I can’t believe it either.” You still can’t believe you accomplished everything you set out to do. A task that seemed so impossible, now you’re standing on the other side of it.

It wasn’t truly over. Not really, but you were able to get Suguru through the worst of it. Now, you were sure Satoru and Shoko would take up your mantel, pushing Suguru through the finish line. Just like he’ll do to them.

Satoru’s quiet.

“You seem happy.” He notes.

“Well, I did just save everyone, I think I deserve to feel a little good about myself.”

For a moment, you want to ask if it’ll be okay to visit everyone in the future. To see how Shoko and Suguru and Satoru are doing as adults. You stop yourself. Of course, they wouldn’t want to see you. You needed to stop being so greedy.

This, was more than enough.

“Will you at least tell me your name?” Satoru asks.

“You know I can’t do that.” You tell him with a smile.

“Right right.” He laughs, it sounds hollow. “Time travel, bullshit. Makes sense.”

“I’ll miss you.” You tell him.

He straightens himself up.

“I’ll miss you too, old man.” He responds. “You were a lotta’ fun to mess with.”

For once, you aren’t offended by the old man’, comment. If anything, it feels somber.

“Can I ask for some advice?” He suddenly asks. “Y’know what they say, ask the old and wise or whatever.” Okay, now he was starting to push it.

“What is it?”

It’s his turn to shuffle with his fingers.

“What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it?”

You glance at him. He looks earnest. Did something like that even exist for Satoru?

“Something I can’t catch up to?” You ponder out loud. “I guess I’d have to make a big enough ruckus to where it has no choice but to look back.”

He frowns. “That makes no sense. You’re growing senile.”

You laugh. You’ll miss this brat.

You wish you could stay more. You wish you could ask about Haibara, and Shoko, and Nanami, but the clock is ticking.

Suguru’s getting impatient.

“Bye, Satoru.” You reach out your hand.

He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.

“Yeah, Greeny.”

Within a blink, you’re back again in the middle of Shinjuku. December 24th, 7:06 pm.

It’s the same as always. People bustle around you. Children’s laughter. Everything always repeats itself, but you don’t think you can ever get sick of it. You’ll savor this peace for as long as you can.

You reach into your pocket, flicking out a lighter and the first cigarette of the box. You don’t know why you always chose this one. Despite outmaneuvering time itself, perhaps it’s within human nature to follow what’s written stone.

You’ve relived this hour so many times that you can list everything that happens. Down to the exact minute. 7:08- a little girl wearing a red dress walks by. 7:09- a lady with short hair catches your eyes and smiles. 7:14-an old man and woman bicker with each other as they pass you by. 7:21- A little dog sniffs the bench you sit on. 7:34- Two schoolchildren run past you, babbling. 7:45- five construction workers grumble out their grievances. 7:58- a businessman talks loudly on the phone.

You wait. You sit on a bench and wait until 8:06.

Five seconds after 8:06. Twenty seconds after 8:06.

The clock clicks to 8:07.

You were expecting to feel something else. Celebration. Elation. You half-expected to cause a scene and jump for joy right there in the streets of Shinjuku.

None of that comes. There’s just a feeling of relief. A weight presses you down, and you slump in your seat.

It was over.

It was finally over.

How long do you stay like that? Hours? Days? When you feel like you can finally breathe again, it’s only 8:12. Time travel warped your sense of time.

You stand up, stretch, feel your bones crack and pop. In the second timeline, you wanted to get a drink to drown your misery of nearly getting killed by a curse and being alone on December 24th. It felt like a lifetime ago when being single was the worst of your problems.

Honestly, you’d stay celibate for the rest of your life if it meant you wouldn’t have to go through that ever again.

Tomorrow, you’ll decompress and devolve into hysteria over what happened.

Next week, you’ll check yourself into therapy.

Today, you decide to go home and sleep for a couple hundred years.

You must look like a zombie with the way you wobble down the street. Physically, your body is perfectly fine. You’ve suffered no bruises or cuts. Even the numerous times you’ve been killed leaves nothing on your skin.

Mentally, you’re in shambles. The indomitable human spirit within you is snuffed out.

The stairs to your flat is your last enemy that you must vanquish before you can reunite with your adoring bed. You cling onto the railing with dazed eyes. You don’t see the curse until you’re right before it.

Distantly, you wonder how often you’ve passed a curse and didn’t even realize it. It’s almost instinct to reach out with your hand, intent on absorbing it.

Nothing happens. You remember you aren’t Suguru anymore.

It’s a grotesque-looking thing. No eyes, too many hands, a gaping mouth. It turns and looks at you.

Strange. Its’ smile mirrors the one in the abandoned house.

Adrenaline. You feel it coarse through your veins, meld into your bones, explode in your skin. You’re stumbling back, nearly tripping down the steps in your haste to get away.

It screeches. Loud and clear and angry and you can almost feel its teeth chomp on your leg, ripping your muscles and skin to mere tatters.

You’ve died before. You’ve been skinned alive before. You’ve been eaten before. Yet, it all amounts to nothing compared to the fear you feel at the thought of the curse catching you.

It can’t have been nothing more than a third grade. If you were taller, larger, special-grade, you could have killed it immediately. But you weren’t, not anymore, you were at the same level as a plant. Useless. Helpless.

A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.

The streets were quiet. You supposed that meant there’d be fewer casualties. But it didn’t make you feel any better. And even if there were people around, no one would have been able to help you.

Your brain isn’t working as clearly. Fear is the only thing that guides you. You’re reduced to a rat scampering through a maze. Sooner or later, that rodent reaches a dead end.

The alleyway was blocked off. You felt the rough brick wall scrape your hands and even the feeling of your raw skin couldn’t assuage your heart pumping in your throat. When you whirled your head back, it was right there, and you knew you were dead.

Again.

It might kill you, if it’s feeling generous. It might cut your legs off and watch you bleed, if its feeling kind. It might eat you, if it’s a decent curse.

It shouldn’t be happening. You fixed it. You were supposed to have fixed everything. But clearly you didn't. There must have been some piece of the puzzle that you forgot. You need to go back. You need to fix things, but why do you need to why can't he just leave you alone—

You don’t see what happens. One moment, the curse is there. The next it isn’t.

“Those things are so annoying.” The newcomer complains.

No, not new. You know him.

You blink. He grins. It’s kind. A toothy smile that warms.

“You alright?” He asks in sympathy. “Curses are pretty scary, aren’t they? Are you hurt?”

It’s him. You weren’t in 2006. You were in the present, here and now, and he was here with you.

He actually made it.

“Ma’am?” He asks.

It wasn’t intentional. You just blurted it out, the promise you made to him. It was a decade for him. Mere hours for you.

“Um, broccoli head...?” And then you instantly regret it.

Haibara Yu takes a minute, eyes squinting like you just grew a new head.

Then, he gasps.

“Greeny?”

ⴵ

A few minutes later, you’re seated at a restaurant. Haibara has not shut up.

“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again ‘cuz Gojo said you weren’t gonna be around anymore, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

“—Haibara.” You interrupt. “Please, slow down.”

He stops himself, right when the server comes with drinks. He shoots the waiter a smile, and then he’s back on you.

“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I—I got a little excited. And nervous. It’s just...well, I didn’t expect you to be a girl.”

That might have been your fault. Both Haibara and Gojo kept referring to you as a man, so you decided to roll with it. Earlier, you would have justified it by insisting the less they know about you, the better. Now, you just think you were being petty.

“So, how you’ve been? A whole decade...” You murmur to yourself.

“Fine! But what about you?” Haibara asks, concern etched into his eyes. “Where’d you go?”

Wow, he was actually worried for you. Despite being in Suguru’s body, you didn’t really feel like part of the group Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara were part of. You felt like an outsider, being somewhere you didn’t belong. It's because you were an outsider. Nevertheless, it’s nice to know one person missed you.

“This might be a little hard to believe, but I just came back to 2017 two hours ago.”

Haibara gapes.

“Wait, so to you, that whole thing happened, today?” You nod. He leans back in his chair.

“Holy fuck.” You laugh at his awe.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way.” You change the topic. “From the curse.”

He waves it off. “I was just paying my debt. From what you did for me all those years ago.”

Ah, Gojo must have told him. Oddly enough, Haibara doesn't seem all that perturbed that he shouldn’t exist currently. At the same time, it feels just like Haibara.

He’s different from when he was younger. Taller. The baby fat is gone. His face is more built, just like the rest of his body. His eyes are less round, but they haven’t lost the spark. A few scars here and there, but he’s all in one piece.

You weren’t able to see what he looked like as an adult from Suguru’s memories, he’d never grown up. But now, you can see it for yourself. You can see the active change you made in his life, to his life.

“Haibara—”

“Yu—” He says seriously. “My friends call me Yu.”

A smile twitches on your lips.

“Tell me about everyone.” You scoot your chair closer. “You, Suguru. How is everyone doing?”

He perks up at that, clearly delighted to be talking.

“Great! Everyone’s doing great! You should totally come visit the school, sometime. They’d love to see you. Uh, even if they don’t technically know you, but I’m sure they’ll love to meet you!” He rambles, and it’s nice to know he hasn’t changed from his younger self.

“Let’s see, Kento’s teaching the first years. I teach the second years—”

“—You’re a teacher?”

He nods. “We all are! Except for Shoko, but she has her own thing going on. Anyway, Mimiko and Nanako have become second-grade semi-sorcerors. Isn’t that incredible? I’m just a first grade semi-sorceror, and at their young ages too! But Suguru wasn’t surprised, he kept saying his girls were prodigies. Oh! You probably want to know about Suguru too, right?”

You nod. Even if you hadn’t done anything, you don’t think that would have stopped his enthusiasm.

“He’s a teacher too! At least, for right now. Yaga’s been wanting to retire, and there have been talks of Suguru becoming the next principal. Principal Geto has a ring to it, right? Oh, and Shoko is currently planning the wedding. You’ll definitely be invited, of course! She said I could bring a plus-one. Oh, and—”

It goes on like that for hours, you think. Not that you mind. You listen to Yu babble on and on about his friends, his students. He talks about Nanami’s recent baking addiction, Shoko’s new office cat, Suguru’s favorite tea pot. It’s a never-ending surge of information.

Eventually, you catch on to the fact that he’s deliberately leaving someone out.

"Yu?" You interrupt him while he's talking about the prank the fourth year pulled on Nanami. "What about Satoru? What's he up to?"

Maybe you were overthinking things. Haibara likes to talk; perhaps he forgot to exclude someone else's story in his rants. But then, he grimaces. For the first time in this entire conversation, Haibara is reluctant to talk.

"Satoru is..." He winces, and your hands turn into fists.

No. No. You were supposed to save everyone. Why hadn't you saved everyone?

A warm hand grips your own. You'd been shaking.

Yu gives a soft smile, and you remember he's no longer younger than you.

"He's not dead." He assures you, but his smile fades. He straightens himself up, and his hand pulls away.

"Satoru defected from Jujutsu tech. We don't know where he is."

What? You must have misheard him wrong. Satoru wouldn't do that. That's not like him. This is some sick joke.

But there's no teasing grin on Haibara. His face is grave. You hate it more than anything.

"It happened when he was a fourth year. No one really knows what happened. Suguru refuses to say anything about it, but I think he's just as confused as the rest of us. It came outta nowhere."

Yeah, it definitely came out of nowhere. It's so random. Why would Satoru do that? The last time you saw him, he was so happy. He was smiling; he teased you. What happened? It made no sense.

"So, you haven't seen him for nine years?" You ask. "Not even a glimpse?"

Yu shakes his head. "Nothing but his residuals. That's how we know he's still alive."

Nothing computes in your brain. None of it made any sense. You saved Suguru. That was supposed to make everyone happy, including Satoru. Why would he turn around and do this? Defecting made no sense.

"We've actually been tasked to execute him. Since he’s been branded a curse user, all four of us. " Yu laughs with no humor. "Isn't that insane? I don't think any one of us could even fathom doing that, even if it were possible."

It wasn't possible. Gojo was the strongest. Nothing could go toe to toe with him. Once he put his mind to something, no one could stop him.

But maybe you could.

You're shutting that idea down immediately. You were done. You were done with dying and time-travel and strange powers. You wanted it all to be over. It'd be so easy to thank Haibara for the nice meal, to go home and sleep this entire day off. Satoru dug his own grave, he can go lay in it. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions. You wouldn’t. You can’t do that another time.

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?

You hate that brat so much.

You close your eyes. Take in a breath. Then, you open them.

"Haibara?" You ask. "Did Gojo tell you how my technique worked?"

He shakes his head. You grimace because convincing him might take a while.

"Okay, well, I'll need you to do a tiny favor for me."

ⴵ

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.”

You’d caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yu’s body was less athletic than Suguru’s. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.

It doesn’t weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass you’ve ever met.

“Shut up.” You snap. “Just answer the question.”

“We haven’t seen each other for a year and that’s how you react?” Satoru ignores you. “That’s mean, Greeny. How ‘bout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.”

“Satoru.” You beg, “Why are you doing this? What’s the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?”

That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.

“You didn’t have to come back, y’know.” He murmurs quietly. “You could’ve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyone’s happy with their life. 4 outta’ five. That’s a passing grade.”

For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.

“I could never leave you behind like that.” You say the truth just as quietly. “I’ll die a thousand more deaths than do that.”

He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.

“Yeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gotta’ play hero.” He gives a bitter laugh. “That’s why I defected.”

You stare at him. He’s a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You aren’t equal to him anymore in this body, now you’re starting to think you never were.

“Satoru.” You start because what he’s saying can’t be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. “Did—did you leave—did you leave everyone for a decade just so I’d come back? Why would you do that to yourself?”

He doesn’t say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.

“It’s your fault,” Satoru says like it’s instinct to blame you for his actions, “this was your idea.”

What’s he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.

What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it? So that’s what he meant. You were an idiot.

“That’s not fair, Satoru,” you say regardless, “I—I never—I couldn’t expect you’d do this.”

“What choice did I fucking have, Greeny?” There’s rapid steps and he’s in front of you, desperate and wild. “You—you just left me here. You left me alone and I couldn’t even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! How’s that fair?”

It’s true. It’s all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguru’s happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?

You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.

Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoru’s selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.

But he’s selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.

Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldn’t fault him. What a liar you are.

You forgive Satoru.

“I’m sorry.” Haibara’s voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. “I’m sorry Satoru. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

It’s hard to wrap him in a hug. The brat’s too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, he’s keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you don’t comment on it.

It’s why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.

“I can’t give you my name.” You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesn’t look at you.

“Yeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshit—”

“For now.” You add. “I can’t do that for now.”

Three pairs of eyes look at you. You’re not hiding behind Haibara anymore. You’re not trying to.

“December 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.” You look at him. “Can you wait until then?”

For you, it’d only be an hour. For Satoru, it’d be a decade.

You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; you’d let him.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll turn evil.” You laugh. His grin widens and he’s back again. “I’m serious. I’ll take over the world. I’ll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.”

“You’re such a brat.” There’s no hostility in your tone. “I will. I promise.”

‘I’ll save you,’ You promise in your head because he’s too prideful to hear it.

“Is it still possible for you to go back?” You ask, the wariness present again. “The higher ups haven’t taken any action against you, right?”

He shakes his head.

“I think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.” He shrugs. “They’ll decide it’s teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.”

You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.

When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how they’ll feel on your own.

“See ya’ later, Greeny.”

A blink. Satoru’s gone. Your hand is empty, and you’re standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.

ⴵ

December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.

It’s already 7:12 when you’re desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you it’ll cost extra because Sumida City isn’t part of his route, you’re more than happy to fork over the money.

It’s already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. It’s crowded. Fuck, it’s December 24th, of course people would be out and about.

At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.

It’s closed.

Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.

Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? You’re only human. Surely he’d understand if you couldn’t make it because the entire building was shut down.

Or wait. Was this Satoru’s doing?

You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.

Let it be known that you’ve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.

With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasn’t joking a decade ago.

The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint he’s paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like you’re a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, he’s still managed to rig it.

You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.

It’s empty. You’ve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?

Out the corner of your eye, there’s a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, there’s another one.

You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you don’t know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. You’re pushing it down.

You follow the post-its until there’s one placed right on top of a door.

Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?

But it’s already 8:03; you’re far too deep to complain.

A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, it’ll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

It’s different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isn’t all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. It’s slower, too.

That’s bad, because now you’re starting to think.

That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. You’re anxious. It’s strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.

If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesn’t get angry?

What if—what if he’s disappointed by you?

Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.

But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.

Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.

Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, it’s protected by your own. You’d steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.

It’s windy up here. That’s the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they don’t dry out so quickly. It’s colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.

But the view. Oh, what a view.

The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. She’s gorgeous like she’s picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.

It’s 8:09. Satoru was late.

Or maybe he just wasn’t planning to show up.

You lean away from the railing. It’s just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.

And then, you can feel hands.

Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. They’re familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.

His laugh tickles your ear, and you aren’t so cold anymore.

“Caught ya, Greeny.”

(“Did something happen to you, back there in the house?”

"Hm?" Suguru asked.

They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.

"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."

Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."

'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'

They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.

"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."

"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."

So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-

"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."

"Nice?" Satoru echoes.

"Yeah."

And then it's quiet again.)

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

#yandere #yandere jjk #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #time travel fix it #a crumbling storyline #platonic haibara x reader #dark content #f!reader #implied romance #tw:blood/violence #tw: child abuse #unrequited feelings #ambiguous ending #BUT its a positive one

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burntheedges · 3 months ago

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Roll-A-Trope Challenge Masterlist

Y'all the response to this challenge blew me away!! 🥺🥰 We are going to have so many amazing fics to read! 🧡 Check here for all of the character/trope pairings from when people joined.

I'll link each one as they're posted. Under the cut you'll soon find fics for Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Dio Morrissey, Ezra (Prospect), Frankie Morales, Jack Daniels, Javi Gutierrez, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Max Phillips, Nathan Landry, Oberyn Martell, Pero Tovar, and Tim Rockford! And so many amazing tropes!!

Last updated: 11/4 | Fic count: 52!

Dave York

Audience of One by @katareyoudrilling | 3k | Dave x f!reader Trope: famous person AU

Can You Remember Who You Were? by @punkshort | 9.1k | Dave x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Danger Zone by @almostempty | 6k | Dave x Lana Kane (you) x Sterling Archer (crossover with Archer (TV)) Trope: snowed in

Down Bad by @schnarfer | 6.1k | Dave x f!reader | part 2 Trope: only one bed (and bonus, it's a coffee shop AU!)

Sunshine & Rainbows by @jeewrites | 10.1k | Dave x f!reader Trope: amnesia

Dieter Bravo

Broken Hearts Mended by @bitchesuntitled | 6.1k | Dieter x f!reader Trope: time travel

Just like the Picture by @nerdieforpedro | 936 | Dieter x gn!reader Trope: landlord

Teleportation and Blue Whiskey (part 1) by @davnittbraes | 1.5k | Dieter x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

this protector by @perotovar | 3.1k | Dieter x Din Trope: only one bed

Din Djarin

Familiar yet Foreign by @whxtedreams | 3.7k | Din x f!reader Trope: fake marriage

New Home (Part 1) by @weirdoneattheparty | 2.1k | Din x f!reader Trope: friends to lovers

something worse by @corazondebeskar-reads | 3.2k | Din x f!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

The Long Way Round by @din-cognito | 3.17k | Din x gn!reader Trope: road trip

Dio Morrissey

Crimes Against Each Other by @crowandmousewritingco | 2.9k | Dio x trans!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

Ezra (Prospect)

To Leave the Green by @cas-readsandwrites | 2k | Ezra & Cee, gen Trope: time loop

Frankie Morales

a kiss, my panacea by @skittlesfics | 917 | Frankie x gn!reader Trope: sickfic

Better Love by @docharleythegeekqueen | 3.4k | Frankie x reader Trope: snowed in

Dreamers (part 1) by @beefrobeefcal | 3.4k | Frankie x reader Trope: soulmates | now with Part 2!

Forever starts tonight by @sawymredfox | 3.6k | Frankie x f!reader Trope: pining

GOING DOWN by @aurorawritestoescape | 3.4k | Frankie x f!reader and Joel x f!reader Trope: exes

I Like You A Latte by @inept-the-magnificent | 752 | Frankie x f!reader Trope: coffee shop AU

I'm Yours by @ashleyfilm | 3.2k | Frankie x reader Trope: secret relationship

To Feel Your Body Against Mine by @flightlessangelwings | 4.5k | Frankie x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

Jack Daniels

If I should die before you do by @maggiemayhemnj | 1.7k | Jack x f!reader trope: soulmates

Life's a Dance by @wordywarriorwrites | 2k | Jack x reader Trope: didn't know they were dating

Lucid Dreams by @fhatbhabiee | 3.2k | Jack x reader Trope: friends to lovers

Javi Gutierrez

Things You Knew by @eff4freddie | 8k | Javi G x reader Trope: soulmates

To Make a Day for You by @yopossum | 3k? | Javi G x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

Javier Peña

3 sides of a man by @milla-frenchy | 3.3k | Javi x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

between two floors by @glowingxeyes | 1k | Javi x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator | there’s a part 2 and 3!

GOING DOWN by @almostfoxglove | 3.3k | Javi P x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

good guys, bad deeds by @miss-oranje-disco-dancer | 3.9k | Javi x f!reader Trope: only one bed

Joel Miller

Birds of a Feather by @whocaresstillthelouvre | 5.3k | Joel x f!reader Trope: snowed in

Besties by @butterphii | >1k | Joel x f!reader

drive by @kedsandtubesocks | 2k | Joel x f!reader Trope: road trip

For Better or Worse by @captainredspade | Joel x f!reader Trope: fake marriage

Fragile State by @galway-girlatwork | 2.5k | Joel x OFC!Tara Trope: amnesia

Galway Girl by @yxtkiwiyxt | 7k | Joel x f!reader | part 2!! Trope: soulmates

If You're Reading This by @crowandmousewritingco | 4.5k | Joel x nb!reader Trope: epistolary

It Had To Be You by @jobean12-blog | 4.8k | Joel x f!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

Wish by @hotgirlbedtimescenarios | 1.7k Trope: time travel

Marcus Acacius

Searching for the stars by @the-mandawhor1an | 2.7k | Marcus x f!reader Trope: time travel

Marcus Moreno

Through Every Lifetime by @joelalorian | 4.5k | Marcus x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Marcus Pike

Pike's Place by @pedges-world | Marcus x reader Trope: snowed in | series!!

Max Phillips

A Little Broken by @clawdeewritesfanfic | 3.2k | Max x f!reader Trope: pining

Time After Time by @grogusmum | drabble | Max x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Nathan Landry

consensus ad idem by @sunshinehaze1 | 4.9k | Nathan x f!reader Trope: snowed in

Oberyn Martell

sweet and sour by @iamasaddie | 5.5k | Oberyn x f!reader Trope: fake relationship

The Correspondence of the Contagious by @crowandmousewritingco | 1.4k | Oberyn x gn!reader x Ellaria Trope: epistolary

Pero Tovar

Memories made, memories lost by @avastrasposts | 7.9k | Pero x f!reader Trope: amnesia

Tim Rockford

Keep Quiet by @auteurdelabre | Tim x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

When Only Memories Remain by @artsy-girl-76 | 3.4k | Tim x f!reader Trope: "shop" AU

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urdepressedslut · 2 years ago

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I Get Scared Too

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You have a close call during a mission, and back at the compound Bucky seems to be distant and cold towards you.

♡ Warnings: angst, fluff, reader injury, mentions of gunfire, hints to anxiety attack

A/N: this idea was from a dream i had (im a lucid dreamer). i have been writing in a dream journal since elementary school, so you can imagine the dreams i have jotted down 😭

The mission hadn’t gone to plan, shocker, but everyone kept all their limbs and were able to walk back to the quinjet.

You had a close call, you didn’t see the previously passed out agent sitting back up raising his gun to your back. Obviously before he could fire somewhere vital, Natasha had taken him down, faltering his aim. Although the bullet had skimmed you deep on your hip.

It was hardly life threatening, but Natasha being a protective best friend, scolded you for being reckless. You knew her intentions were good, and that she cared about you, but it didn’t stop you from being annoyed at her treating you like a kid.

She eventually walked to the other side of the quinjet, leaving you to your thoughts. You thought you had done really well, taking down twice as many enemies than last time. But of course, everyone always focused on your flaws, what you had done wrong.

When the quinjet finally landed back at the compound, you were the first one out, having a slight limp from the discomfort in your hip. But otherwise didn’t mind it, you wanted to find your favorite person and tell them all about the mission.

“FRIDAY, where’s Bucky?” You called out to the air once you were inside.

“Bucky is currently in his room, Miss (Y/n).” She announced, making you smile in excitement.

The mission had only been a three day trip, but you had missed him the second you stepped on the quinjet.

Arriving at his door, you knocked three times, hearing shuffling from inside. The door swung open to reveal an unhappy looking Bucky, causing your smile to waver. Assuming he was just having a bad day, you smiled wider and stepped forward to hug him.

“Hi Buck, I missed you.” You mumbled into his chest, squeezing him tighter when you didn’t feel him hug back.

His body tensed, and immediately you released him and stepped back. You were confused at what was wrong, his face was cold. You were hurt that he hadn’t hugged you back, wondering if you had done something to make him mad.

“Missed ya too um... You should go (Y/n).” He spoke finally, his voice holding annoyance.

You blinked up at him and shook your head, fully confused now.

“Buck wha— what’s going on?” You asked hesitantly, anxious that Bucky was being so short with you so suddenly and you didn’t know why.

“Nothing, I just wanna be alone.” He told you, and your heart broke for two reasons.

One, the thought of Bucky having an episode and you weren’t here for him made your heart hurt.

And two, he always came to you when he was upset and the fact that he didn’t want you with him… It stung.

You stared at him as your eyes started to water, your bottom lip starting to quiver. Your heart ached, but you wanted to respect his need for space. You didn’t know what else to say, and considering the lump forming in your throat, you decided to keep it short.

“Alright yeah, of course. I’ll… See you at dinner then.” You told him, watching him retreat back into his room and slam the door, making you flinch.

You were frozen in place, staring at the door expecting him to come back out and tell you it was all a prank. But several minutes passed and you were still staring at the door.

_____________________

You pushed the food around on your plate, keeping your eyes casted down. You had tried to get Bucky's attention, ever since you watched with glossy eyes as he passed his usual seat next to you, and instead sat at the other end of the table. He was avoiding your direction and never attempted to make eye contact.

Bucky giving you the cold shoulder, being silent with you was extremely painful. Considering how well you two communicated and talked, you were the one who had brought him out of his shell. It hurt so bad your chest ached physically.

Out of nowhere, you were slamming your fork down on the plate with a loud clank, causing everyones attention to snap to you.

"What's the matter with you cupcake?" Tony asked you, taking a sip from his wine glass.

Feeling embarrassed from everyones stares, you snuck a glance at Bucky at the end of the table, surprised when you met his concerned eyes.

You scoffed, shaking your head in bewilderment. He had no right to act concerned, after ignoring you. You almost felt bad for him, thinking he was having a bad day, but after you watched him chatter playfully at dinner with everyone, you realized it was only you he didn't want to speak to.

"Hello? Earth to (Y/n)!?" Tony announced, banging on the table to get your attention when he noticed you spacing out.

Everyone was concerned about you by now, all watching you carefully. You glared at Bucky and stood up without answering Tony, pushing your chair back and quickly exiting the dining room.

"Must be her time of the month." Tony mumbled, earning a slap to the back of the head from the redhead next to him. "Ow... What?!"

"Shut up Tony." Natasha rolled her eyes, turning to Bucky and giving him a 'What did you do' look.

_____________________

Laying in bed on your side, you pulled the blanket tighter to your chest with a sniffle. You began to turn over on your other side when your hip throbbed painfully at the movement. The waves of pain had your body shuttering, your eyes filling with fresh tears, rolling down your flushed cheeks.

You blamed your tears on your hip pain, but all the emotions you’d piled up since you’d gotten back from the mission was weighing on you now.

Light knocks sounded from your door, causing you to tense up and turn your back to the door. You didn’t feel like talking to anyone, especially if it was him.

“(Y/n)? I know you heard me.” Natasha muttered, opening the door, letting herself in.

“What do you want Nat?” You snapped, not meaning to take out your frustrations on her.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Your little scene downstairs has everyone worried.” She told you, earning a scoff from you, still refusing to face her.

“It’s nothing.” You sighed, wishing she could leave so you could attempt to sleep your issues away.

“Didn’t seem like nothing.” She retorted, huffing in annoyance when you stayed silent.

You were staring at the wall, biting your lip, trying to hold in your built up emotions. Too busy to notice Natasha whispering to another person entering the room. It was when you felt the edge of the bed behind you dip down that snapped your attention back.

“Hey doll,” Bucky greeted, “How’s your hip?”

You twisted your body back facing his worried form, but your eyebrows were furrowed on how he even knew about your injury.

“How did you…”

“Nat told me.”

Rolling your eyes, you were cursing under your breath. Throwing the blanket over your head in attempt to hide.

Your blanket cocoon was quickly ripped away by Bucky, pulling the blanket all the way down below your knees. His eyes dancing around your bandaged hip, clenching his jaw at the red seeping through the white gauze.

“(Y/n), is your hip feeling okay? Do we need to change it—“

“I’m fine!” You snapped, “Now go away.”

You we’re looking everywhere but his eyes, knowing you’d break down if you saw the disappointment in them.

Bucky was taken a back, but he couldn’t be all that angry when he’d brought all this on himself. He just got into this weird headspace when he’d heard the mission report, hearing that you’d been hurt. He realized it wasn’t fatal, but he didn’t like seeing his girl hurt at all. He realized he took it a little too far, he didn’t mean to make you upset the way he did. He’d shut you out and he felt like his old self when he’d first arrived at the compound again. Anxious and closed off, pushing you away when he really wanted to pull you into his arms and tell you how much he loves you.

“Doll, talk to me.” He practically begged, his metal arm whirring, having to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

“Why are you ignoring me?” You rushed out, your voice louder than you intended it to be, “Is it because I messed up on the mission? A-are you disappointed in me or something? Huh?”

Your chest was rising and falling in a fast rhythm, your mind going haywire at the possibilities of why Bucky was suddenly indifferent with you. Your throat felt like it was tightening up.

Bucky stayed silent, his heart hurting, feeling terrible for making you feel this way.

You couldn’t stop your mind from producing the awful thoughts, and like a switch had been flipped, the dam inside of you cracked. The tears wouldn’t stop, your sobs painful sounding

“Is it… Is it because you— I— Do you not love m-me anymore?” You wheezed out.

Bucky snapped out of his silent trance, his hands cupping your face, brushing away the tear streaks.

“Baby no…” He hushed, trying to stop your mind from torturing yourself.

“I’m so sorry Buck, I-I love you so much and I…” You hiccuped, “If I did something— If I’m not good enough—“

“No Doll hey… Stop that,” He cooed, “You haven’t done anything wrong, okay?”

“Bu-but you…”

“I know baby, I’ve been a dick. I shouldn’t of shut you out like that I was just… I was scared.” Bucky confessed, your tears and breathing slowing down, you sitting silent besides the occasional hiccup.

“I still… I don’t understand?” You thought out loud.

Bucky breathed heavily, swallowing the forming lump in his throat. He scooted closer to you, pulling your form closer to him, and you let him.

“(Y/n), you have no idea how scared I was when I heard you had gotten hurt.” He started, watching your face soften at his wavering voice.

“Buck, I’m okay though.” You reassured him, grabbing his palms, rubbing your thumb comfortingly over the back of his hand.

“I know baby, but… I couldn’t help but think if you got hurt on a mission and—“ He panted out, “And you didn’t make it.”

Your heart ached at the pain laced in his words, him holding onto your hands in a desperate grip.

“Buck..”

“I know that doesn’t give me an excuse to be a dick to you I… I just get into this headspace every time you are headed back from a mission, when I’m waiting to hear that you’re alright and… When I heard you had gotten hurt— I just assumed the worst.” He finished.

The disappointment was clear on his face, but it wasn’t directed toward you, it was directed to himself.

You understood that he meant no harm, and you felt incredibly bad that he suffered so much while you were gone, you thought it was the other way around. You felt extremely loved in a sense, feeling lucky enough to have someone worry as deep as he did for you.

“Buck, you should’ve just told me how you were feeling from the start. You know I’d listen,” You paused, doubt clouding your thoughts, “You still trust me enough to talk to me… Right?”

Bucky immediately nodded his head, cupping your face, hearing your faltering voice.

“Of course I do baby, I trust you with my life.” He reassured you, “I don’t know why I got like that.”

“I know why,” You started, cradling his face, watching him snuggle his cheek deeper into your palm, “You have a good heart, and sometimes having a good heart can be overwhelming, because you can care so much about something.”

“I don’t want a good heart if it’s going to make me act that way.” He whispered sadly, lowering his eyes.

“That’s the thing about having a good heart,” You lifted his head slightly so his eyes met yours, “Its not something you can just change, it’s a part of you.”

He gazed from each eye, to your lips, then back up to your eyes, mesmerized by your beauty and soul. How could you be so forgiving and caring towards him?

“I’m so sorry I shut you out (Y/n), I love you and I will never do something like that again.” He promised, lifting and pulling you into his lap, curling his arms around your frame. Sitting his chin on top of your head.

You snuggled your face into his neck, wrapping your arms around him protectively.

“It’s okay Buck, I get scared too.”

#reader insert #light angst #fluff #oneshot #imagine #bucky x female reader #buckybarnes #bucky x y/n #falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #marvel cinematic universe #sebastian stan characters #hurt/comfort #protective bucky barnes

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eldritch-spouse · 10 months ago

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I love the idea of Zizz becoming obsessed with a lucid dreamer.

She talks to him about things she's too afraid to talk to other people about, rants about how tiresome her work is, and doing stupid shit while they wander a dreamscape she makes. Sometimes she fucks him if he doesn't take on a human appearance (realizing she's a monsterfucker). She thinks he is nothing more than a random figment formed from their dreams, enjoying these moments that will be gone by the morning.

Zizz keeps getting drawn to her, the more time he spends, the harder he falls for her.

[Aaah, this is a cute idea. Reader is ambiguous.]

The first night, you didn't know what was happening.

There was a presence in your dream, you felt it as soon as it invaded the sanctity of your slumber. A thick shadow lurking in the halls of the manor you spent so long visualizing during waking hours just so you could bring it into your dreams.

Curiosity led you to follow that strange pull. You didn't consciously manifest anything or anyone yet, so what could it be that your brain cooked up on its own?

It seemed to be wandering, and the closer you got to it, the louder these slow thumps could be heard, footsteps making aged wooden floorboards creak in protest. The parts of your dream where this thing dwelled seemed to become somehow more vivid than the ones you created, as if it were breathing life into them. Your curious search becomes a frantic chase when you catch the outline of something massive turning the corner.

Was the manor this complex? Were there these many halls?

No, you remember it being smaller. Is it... Changing its location? Changing your dream? This has to be the product of your sudden distraction. Yes, that's it.

You remember the way you stopped breathing when you opened a door, only to see him pass by.

What you can only describe as a giant demonic entity, with pallid, ash-like skin and a great veil over its horned face. A thin tail that ended in a crescent shape swaying lazily behind a masculine inhuman figure.

Between the shock and fear, you could only watch it trudge to another division, uncaring of your presence.

Your lungs start working again, on the first desperate gasp-

You wake up.

The second time, he laughed.

Some time had passed.

You never truly felt all that comfortable in your own dreamscapes after that odd encounter and, strangely, even if you remembered the sight of that demonoid so clearly, manifesting him was proving itself to be harder than expected.

You felt like you needed to bring him back, if only because his appearance left more questions than answers, and that encounter begged some clarifications.

The versions you did manage to create always seemed oddly deformed, as if you were a novice at this.

Tonight, you were dedicating your time to making him reappear, which led you to a mostly white space devoid of features beyond a floor, and the several copies of the entity you are failing to put together.

Some are discolored. Others have too many horns, the one in the corner is... Melting? The latest keeps disappearing and popping up in random spots. None of them are behaving at all, just standing there like mockeries of statues.

They feel so fake, so paper-like, cheap imitations of something that felt so powerful and perfect! Like there really was another person in your dream...

You're getting frustrated.

It's a pointless effort born out of a spook.

After what feels like an eternity of populating an endless landscape with grotesque reflections, you simply sit down and watch them fail miserably at existing.

Except... A new one emerges from the back of a swaying, greenish copy.

It looks around, tensing, as if perturbed by something, then casts its gaze to the clones surrounding it.

You didn't make that one. Not willingly. It's... It's too perfect, he looks exactly like the demon you saw, down to a T! Even the little glowing blob on his head, that's him! That's... Him. The real one. Oh fuck.

Horrified yet oddly gleeful, you simply stay very still and watch everything unfold.

The giant demon begins exploring once more, touching the flawed versions of himself he comes across. The ones that seem to particularly disturb him are waved at, and with the simple gesture, disappear entirely. Although you cannot see his face, his tail swats quickly behind the monster's body, it's clear he's at least amused by what he's seeing.

One second he's moving to the nearest malformed abomination, the next you blink and he's standing still, fixed on you. There's no doubt he's spotted you sitting cross-legged like an idiot, you bet you stick out like a sore thumb.

It felt like hours passed in that silent locking of stares. This time, you remember to breathe. But your mouth certainly won't open. And he doesn't utter a word either, resuming his perusing.

Finally, he spots the one whose clothes keep flickering in and out of place. You don't know why it's like that, and it embarrasses you. Your brain can guess the general body type and coloration of the demon given he doesn't cover all that much, but it has no way of knowing what his genitals look like, so your mind is visibly cycling through possibilities.

Seeing himself naked, with a variety of ridiculous genital equipment, the entity invading your dream starts to shake slightly.

You fear you might have greatly offended him without meaning to, but then, this sound starts bouncing off non-existent walls until it reaches you.

A melodic sort of chuckling that fills you with some unknown lulling tingle, rising into amused, helpless belly laughter, cackling. His head throws back and his shoulders quake. It's the only thing you can focus on, a voice so clear and so distinct, something you've never heard before. How incredible.

Well... At least he finds it funny? Good, that's. Good. You guess.

When the noise dies down, you find him looking at you again.

The flustered tightening of your belly is probably what woke you up.

The third time, he spoke to you.

It must not have been more than a week.

You think he's lurking around more often, because you're starting to pick up on the way his presence alters the spaces around him, makes them feel all the more immersive.

This time, you were creating a garden, picking the flowers you'll put in a variety of plots.

When you head to the little gazebo in the center, you find that not only has it increased twofold in size, he is sitting at the table you placed there.

The demon seems calm, legs spread, one hand resting on the table, the other holding his covered head as he watches you freeze.

Your first instinct is to turn back and pretend he's not there, to walk away, maybe try shoving him out of the dreamscape. But do you really want to?

" Stay. " He beckons, the moment you take a step back.

" Who are you? " Is instantly shot back.

The monster leans back on his seat, the clawed hand previously resting rises, and with a snap, day turns into night, a brilliant sky with millions of stars and swirling cool hues.

It's nothing short of gorgeous.

At this point, you think he has more control of your dream than you.

As if to prove that, the chair opposing him slides back, and he tips his head towards it, waving.

" I like your dreams. " The demon starts. " You're interesting. "

" ... Thank you? " Because what else are you supposed to say.

" Sit. " He beckons again. " Talk to me tonight. "

You didn't believe it.

Didn't believe who he said he was.

How he managed to enter your dreams.

Didn't believe that someone like him could ever find you worth any time.

You chalked it up to total madness, and took the entire conversation as a humorous game, laughing when it seemed as if he was getting almost enamored with you.

After an admittedly delightful night sharing drinks he had conjured for the two of you, Zizz sighs and tells you that it's time for you to wake up.

You're about to ask how he would know such when he leans forward to gently tip the glass up to your lips, and the richness of your favorite drink is the last thing you feel before it all fades away.

Tonight, he offered to take you into one of his dreamscapes.

A smile in his words and a shine to the soft paw he extended your way convinced you to accept the offer.

Maybe the way he purred and whispered your name like a prayer should have been warning enough that you were playing a dangerous game.

It's been hours. A day? Too long. Longer than you've ever been dreaming for. Tracking time is harder in a location you have no control over.

This is a very beautiful royal mansion, and you've been having lots of fun spending time with Zizz in it and all...

But you'd like to wake up.

It's not happening. You can't bring yourself out of the lucid dream. You... You're stuck.

When a quiet moment falls between the two of you, a small hand taps the supposed demonlord's arm.

" Zizz? "

" Mmm? "

There's a gulp. " ... I need to wake up. "

Seconds bleed into what must have been a minute of complete silence.

Until his palm lands on your head and he affectionately combs over your hair, leading you forward beside him as you're about to enter his dreamscape's bedroom.

Claws tighten on the skin of your scalp.

" Don't be silly. "

#Zizz oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #yandere demon #monster x reader #not sfw #minors dni #monsterfucker #terato tag

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thoughtsfromlayla · 7 months ago

Text

Layla's One Shot Masterlist

Main masterlist here

Love and Loss (18+): 11k words

☾ Despite being married for centuries, the two lovers have yet to produce an heir. Desperate for a child, she makes a deal with Phanes, God of Life, unbeknownst to her that motherhood has its own complications much like love and marriage. Now she must find a way to save both her child and her love.

If I Dream Hard Enough (18+): 8.1k words

☾ Morpheus' daughter Elise wants you to become her mommy against every odd in the world. Will you?

My Dearest Defiance: 7.5k words

☾ Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power. Now your brother has been kidnapped and you can't do anything to help him.

Dreamweaver's Heart: 8.6k words

☾ The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Trip Down Memory Lane: ~800 words

☾ Dream gets absolutely fucked by a piece of metal

Sound of You: ~1.1k words

☾ Dream of the Endless thinks about you amidst the song of sirens.

You Might Say He Looks Sort Of... Blue?: 300 words

☾ A little fun friend date with Johanna Constantine

Lover Dove: 350 words

☾ Cuddling with Dream

Tea Time With Morpheus: 165 words

☾ Morpheus does not care nor wants to understand slang

Plucking Dream's Eyebrows: ~300 words

☾ Something domestic about taking care of your loved ones

I'm Sick: ~200 words

☾ Dream confesses something to you.

Embrace Me, Dream Lord: ~500 words

☾ For all of the times Dream of the Endless has wrapped his loving arms around you

Ow... My Foot...: ~500 words

☾ Dream does something stupid that makes you jealous and you only have one thing to say to him—I mean do to him.

Apple Juice: ~100 words

☾ Suck if you're a dumbass

Dream Makes You A Pair of Socks: ~300 words

☾ The reader likes the stars on Morpheus's coat, so he gives the reader a pair of socks that have the same beautiful shining stars on them

Spellbound, Soulbound

Nine Point Eight

Grounded Dreams

Ebb and Flow

Lady Luck is Smiling

Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypses

24 Hours

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus x reader smut #masterlist #dream of the endless smut #dream of the endless x reader smut #the sandman dream #the sandman morpheus

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 month ago

Text

𓅨 Love in the Dark: Chapter Ten

Love in the Dark: You discover an intense connection with a dream lover, yearning for a love beyond physical appearances. As your encounters blur the lines between the waking world and the Dreaming, your grapple with the complexities of desire, friendship, and mortality. Can you truly love in the dark?

Warnings: You Are Not Doing Well.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x NAMEDFem!Reader.

Word Count: ~2.2k

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Your days are spent in a daze, mechanically going through the motions. Your job, once a source of joy and fulfillment, now feels like an endless chore. You make your way through the office corridors like a ghost, your eyes vacant and unseeing. Your coworkers look at you with concern, but no one says anything.

The coffee is your only solace. It keeps you awake, keeps you grounded in reality. It's a bitter brew that burns your tongue and leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but it's better than the alternative. Better than falling asleep and waking up in his arms again.

You drink cup after cup throughout the day, letting the caffeine course through your veins. It makes your heart race and your hands shake, but it keeps you awake. And that's all that matters.

Your lunch breaks are spent staring out the window of the break room, watching as people go about their lives. They seem so carefree, so oblivious to the turmoil that's raging inside you. You envy them their ignorance.

At night, you go home to an empty apartment. The silence is deafening. You used to enjoy the solitude, but now it just serves as a reminder of what you've lost. You eat dinner alone at your kitchen table, staring blankly at the half-eaten meal in front of you. You've lost your appetite, food tasting like ash in your mouth.

You sit there for hours on end, staring at nothing in particular. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each one more painful than the last. You don't want to sleep. You can't sleep. Because every time you close your eyes, you see him. Morpheus. His face haunts your dreams, his voice echoes in your ears. His embrace tears your mind apart.

Your friends finally confront you, their concern etched on their faces. They ask if you're okay, if there's anything they can do to help. You just shake your head, offering them a weak smile.

"Sorry," you say, "I've just been having trouble sleeping."

You don't tell them about the dreams, about Morpheus. How could you explain it? How could they possibly understand?

Instead, you bury yourself in work. The endless reports and meetings are a welcome distraction, a way to keep your mind off the ache in your chest. But even at work, there's no escape. Every closed door, every dimly lit room sends your heart racing. Every shadow seems to hide his silhouette. His voice whispers in the rustle of papers and the hum of the air conditioning.

After the urging of your friends, and even your boss, you go to the doctor. You find yourself in the sterile environment of the doctor's office, the stark white walls and cold metal instruments an unwelcome contrast to the warmth of your dreams. The doctor, a kind-faced woman with gentle hands, listens patiently as you stumble through an explanation.

"I... I can't sleep," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. It hurts to say the words, but you need to. "I'm afraid to."

She raises an eyebrow, concern etching her features. "Afraid of what, Kora?"

"Of my dreams." You let out a shaky breath, looking anywhere but at her. The words hang in the air between you, heavy and full of unspoken fears.

There's a moment of silence as she takes in your confession. She scribbles something on her notepad before turning back to you, her gaze soft. "Dreams can often be a reflection of our subconscious mind," she says gently. "They can bring to light our deepest fears and desires. But they are not real, Kora."

You nod, knowing that she doesn't understand, knowing that she isn't a lucid dreamer.

"I'm going to prescribe you Melatonin," she says, handing you a prescription. "It's a natural hormone that your body produces to regulate sleep, taking it before bed will reduce your ability to enter R.E.M. sleep and in some cases prevent it. It should help you get some rest."

You take the prescription from her with trembling hands, thanking her for her help. But as you step out into the sunlight, prescription in hand, you can't help but feel a sense of dread. You're not sure if a pill can banish Morpheus from your dreams or ease the ache in your heart. He always finds you.

You don't know what scares you more: seeing him in your dreams or never seeing him again.

With the setting sun casting long shadows on the pavement, you make your way to the pharmacy. The bottle feels heavy in your hand, a tangible reminder of your predicament. The reality of it makes your heart ache.

That night, you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the bottle of Melatonin on your bedside table like an unspoken challenge. You pick it up and twist off the cap, shaking one pill into your palm. With one last glance at the darkened room around you, so starkly different from the vibrant dream world, you swallow the pill and brace yourself for sleep.

Whether you find yourself within the Dreaming or not remains to be seen.

In the Dreaming, the air is thick with a tension that has everyone on edge. It clings to the walls of the palace, seeps into the very fabric of the dreamscape. It's an unease that echoes in the silence, reverberates through every whispered word and shared glance.

Morpheus is brooding.

He sits on his throne, his posture rigid, his face a mask of stoic indifference. But his eyes, those dark, endless pools, tell a different story. They are clouded with worry, with longing. Devastation. They are devoid of their usual warmth, their glow dimmed.

He's been like this for two weeks now.

Lucienne tiptoes around him, her voice barely a whisper as she reports on the happenings of the realm. She knows better than to question his mood. Matthew is less subtle. He perches on Morpheus' shoulder, squawking loudly about some dream or another that's gone awry.

Morpheus barely reacts.

It's not like him to be so distant, so withdrawn. He is the Dream King, after all, always attentive, always in control. But these past two weeks... he's different. Unreachable.

Matthew finally gives up trying to get Morpheus' attention and flies off to sulk in some far-off corner of the palace. Lucienne watches him go before turning back to Morpheus.

"Is there something you wish to discuss, sir?" she asks gently.

Morpheus remains silent for a moment before shaking his head slowly. "No," he replies quietly.

But Lucienne knows better than to believe him. She has been with Morpheus long enough to understand his moods, to read the subtle shifts in his demeanor. And right now, she knows he's hurting. As she watches him brood on his throne, Lucienne can't help but think back to two weeks ago, when you abruptly stopped visiting the Dreaming.

You, who’s been such a constant presence in their realm, who’s brought life and laughter into their quiet existence. Your absence has left a void that no dream or nightmare can fill. Lucienne doesn't know why you stopped coming, Morpheus hasn't said a word about it, but she can guess. Her suspicions are strong in evidence.

She can see it in Morpheus' eyes when he thinks no one is looking; in the way he stares off into space as if he can will you right into his realm; in the way he flinches at your name. It’s not the first time she has seen her lord deal with the melancholy of heartbreak. And so Lucienne keeps her suspicions to herself and lets Morpheus brood in peace because sometimes love, even for an entity born from Night and Time, can be unbearably painful. She does, however, dispatch Matthew to check on you.

The raven is more than happy to check on you, because with the boss sulking, and you not visiting? Who is going to entertain and be mischievous with him? Taking flight, the raven disappears into a portal leading to the waking world.

He flies over parks and skyscrapers, over bustling streets and quiet neighborhoods. He takes his time, enjoying the view. But eventually, he reaches your apartment. He lands on the window sill and peeks inside. The apartment is dark and empty. He waits for a moment, then another. But you don't show up.

He squawks in frustration.

"Of course you're not home," Matthew tutted, his feathers ruffling. He should've known better than to come here unannounced.

With a sigh, he tucks his wings against his body and settles down to wait. He's not sure how long he'll have to wait, but he knows he can't return to the Dreaming without checking on you. Hours pass. The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city. The once bustling streets grow quiet as night falls.

And still, you don't show up.

Matthew grows restless. He flaps his wings, pacing back and forth on the window sill. His thoughts race, where could you be? Why aren't you home? Is everything alright?

Matthew has been waiting for hours, his worry growing with each passing minute. He ruffles his feathers in agitation, his beady eyes darting around in search of any sign of you.

Suddenly, he hears a noise. He freezes, his body going still as he strains his ears to listen. It's the sound of a door opening and closing. Matthew turns towards the source of the noise, his heart pounding in his tiny chest.

Your neighbor steps out onto their balcony, a phone pressed to their ear. Matthew can hear their voice drifting over to him on the evening breeze.

"Yeah, she left yesterday," your neighbor says. "Said she needed a vacation, that's why her trash bin is still out."

Matthew's heart sinks at the words. A vacation? You never mentioned anything about going on a vacation. On what vacation would you not dream? Matthew knows something is wrong; he can feel it in his bones.

Your neighbor continues, "She asked me to water her plants while she's gone, that's why I have her key. Stop being so nosy.”

Matthew listens to the rest of the conversation, hoping for more information. But there's nothing else that could help him understand why you suddenly disappeared from the Dreaming and now from your own apartment.

A vacation could mean anything: you could be trying to get away from it all or perhaps trying to find some peace of mind. But where would you go? And why didn't you tell anyone? The questions swirl around in Matthew's mind like a dark cloud. Eventually, your neighbor ends their call and retreats back into their apartment, leaving Matthew alone on your window sill once again. He lets out a frustrated caw before taking off into the night sky.

As he flies back to the Dreaming, Matthew can't help but worry about you. You've never been away from the dreaming this long, and he had a bad feeling deep within his gut that something bad has happened.

Matthew's return to the Dreaming is swift, but his heart feels heavy in his chest. The sight of Lucienne waiting for him, her face a mask of worry, only deepens his concern.

"She's not home," he reports immediately, his voice tight. "Her neighbor said she left yesterday... on a vacation."

The words hang heavy in the air, their implications clear. A vacation? But that wouldn't alter your visits to the dreaming? It doesn't make sense.

Lucienne's eyes narrow slightly at this news, her brow furrowing in thought. She remains silent for a moment, absorbing the information.

Finally, she speaks, her voice calm but firm. "Thank you, Matthew. Keep monitoring her apartment. Something isn't right. I need to talk to her before Lord Morpheus begins to… spiral."

Matthew doesn't know what she means by Morpheus spiraling, but with the way he was acting now and the tone in which the librarian spoke, indicated that it is to be avoided.

Matthew nodded, his wings twitching with unease. "Got it, Lucienne. I'll keep an eye out."

As the raven flew off into the night once more, Lucienne turned her attention back to the Dreaming. The air was still thick with tension, the palace walls seeming to close in around her. She has to act quickly. She couldn't bear to see Morpheus suffer any longer.

Returning to the vast library of the Dreaming, Lucienne began her search for any clues that might help them find you. She pulled down ancient tomes and scrolls, searching for any reference to sudden disappearances from the Dreaming or disruptions in the connection between realms.

Hours passed as she pored over the texts, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the room. She was deep in concentration when a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Lucienne?"

She looked up to see Mervyn Pumpkinhead standing in the doorway, his carved face twisted into an expression of concern. "Any luck?"

Lucienne shook her head, sighing heavily. "Nothing yet, Mervyn. I've sent Matthew to monitor Kora's apartment, her appearance might have influenced Morpheus' mood. She is a rather constant figure within our halls."

"You think she's the reason why he's actin' like this? Mervyn questions in surprise. Lucienne's face does not betray her thoughts.

"It is… a possibility," She replies, not wanting to hint at more than she had to. Her place was not to gossip about her Lord's personal matters, regardless of how they influenced the realm.

Date Published: 10/18/24

Last Edit: 10/18/24

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#sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #dream the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman netflix #dream the endless x reader #morpheus #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #the sandman

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 1 year ago

Text

"hey Lucid Dreamer make up your mind, caught on the other side."

"you dream for the one you swoon."

synopsis// a boy you believed to simply be a figment of your imagination ends up being real.

pairing// izuku midoriya x gn!reader

word count// 3.4k

contents// fluff? maybe like a hint of angst? UA is a hero college, y/n's quirk is never told/explained but plot armor yk.

notes// i feel like this kinda sucks n is kinda cringe bc i wrote this MONTHS ago but i digress !! anyway omg guess what... this is actually inspired by a song... omg i know ive never done that before how unique!!! the song is the dreamer by I the mighty (my fav so good ughhhh)

You lean against the sink, palms flat against the countertop, your head hovering over the sink bowl, water dripping from your face. You, in a poor and ultimately futile attempt, splashed yourself with water to try and calm your nerves. Tomorrow was your first day at college, but not just any college; no, it was your first day at UA, the ultimate hero college. How could you not be nervous for something like that? You sigh deeply before standing up straight and grabbing a nearby towel to dry your face off; once finished, you begrudgingly shut the bathroom light off and make your way back into your room. You stop at the side of your bed, looking down at your bedside table and the clock on it.

The clock reads one a.m., and you groan; even if you somehow manage to fall asleep right now, you’ll still be completely dead in the morning. You ignore that thought and slip back under your covers, sighing. You lie there for what seems like an eternity with your eyes closed, tossing and turning, trying desperately to fall asleep but to no avail. You quickly return to lying flat on your back before turning your head to the side to check the time. You let out the loudest and most guttural groan in frustration, realizing it’s barely been ten minutes. Once you’ve accepted that you can’t fall asleep and probably aren’t going to for a long while, you decide to just lay there glaring at your ceiling, as if that would help your situation at all. Eventually, your mind starts to wonder toward everything and anything, from your first day of UA tomorrow to your childhood, and you suddenly remember him.

You frown at his remembrance; you haven’t thought about him in ages, nor have you seen him in ages—which makes sense given that the him in question is an imaginary friend from your youth, and typically, most college students don’t have imaginary friends anymore. Now that the first thought of him has occurred, you can’t stop the rest from coming. Recalling how you spent your entire childhood with him. You first met him a few months before you turned five. You had just come to the realization that you weren’t a late bloomer in developing your quirk; no, you simply didn't have one. So it’s safe to say that almost five-year-old-you was absolutely devastated and you cried yourself to sleep that night.

You ended up waking up in a cold sweat, soon realizing that this was not your bed—nor your room, for that matter. There were All-Might posters plastered all over the walls, and even the new sheets that covered you were All-Might themed. After looking around the room in confusion, your attention was drawn to a desk in the far corner of the room and the video playing on the computer that sat atop it. You made your way out of the bed and toward the desk only to find a little boy sitting there, a boy who didn't seem shocked to see you there at all. After a few minutes of talking with him, you learn his name is Izuku, and he’s also quirkless like you, something you were excited about considering how terrible and alienated you felt about it.

The two of you were inseparable after that day, or as inseparable as you and a figment of your imagination could be. Considering that you only ever saw him once you fell asleep, you spent more time sleeping than what would be deemed healthy your whole childhood, constantly sleeping just to spend time with your only (imaginary) friend. You appreciated having him around since he was constantly going through the same things you were at the same time. Like when, you realized you truly were just a late bloomer in middle school, and then that night when you saw Izuku, it turned out he was also a late bloomer. Though it was bittersweet, yes, you appreciated it, but how sad and lonely were you that your brain felt the need to provide you with an imaginary companion for all of your huge life experiences?

Though in high school you stopped seeing him when you slept completely, you were relieved at first to finally feel normal. Relieved to not be the only teenager who still had an imaginary friend, but that relief very quickly faded when you realized how lonely you were without him. Even though he wasn't real, Izuku was your closest and dearest friend, and you missed him so much it hurt. Most days, you'd take sleeping pills in hopes of seeing him again, but to no avail, your childhood best friend seemed to have been completely wiped from your brain. So you accepted it; it took a long time, but you eventually came to terms with the fact that he was just your imaginary friend, and that was all he’d ever be; he wasn't real, and he’d never be, so you stopped thinking of him. Until tonight, when you ended up dozing off while thinking about him.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You groan as you awaken to a faint light shining in your face. Your eyes shoot open when you remember that you didn't leave any lights on or leave your curtains open.

You’re not in your room.

Your heart begins to race.

You are not in your room.

You sit up straight, anxious yet impatient, and are pleasantly surprised to see the familiar walls filled with All-Might posters and the familiar All-Might themed bed sheets, which you can't help but laugh at because if Izuku ages when you do, he'll be a college student with All-Might sheets. Suddenly, your gaze darts all around the room, hoping to spot Izuku, but he's nowhere to be found, and you frown.

“I can make up his room again, but not him?” you mumble angrily to yourself.

You get out of his bed with a sigh and begin looking around his room; everything is mostly the same as you remembered it, but there are some new things. There are new pictures of him and his friends on his walls scattered amid the All-Might posters, as well as clothes thrown haphazardly on his floor and a messier desk. All in all, it appears to be his room, but a more mature version, which you chalk up to your brain just taking after your own room since it seems like your brain likes to do that a lot. You attempt to pick up some things from his desk only to be brutally reminded that anything you touch here simply ripples away before returning to normal, as if you just touched a puddle of water. Except for his bed, you can't physically interact with anything here. You dont hear the door creak open because you're too busy glaring at the stuff on his desk that you can't touch.

“Y/n?” someone calls out breathlessly from behind you.

You whip around so fast that you momentarily lose your balance, mouth agape, as you stare at the boy in front of you. “Izuku?”

He cracks the largest grin you’ve ever seen from him. He looks exactly how you remember him, yet different all at once. He still has his curly green hair that messily falls in his face despite his best efforts, and his cheeks are still permanently flushed with his constellations of freckles, but this Izuku is bigger. He’s tall and lean, you can see all the muscles that have grown on him, and you think if you ran a finger down his jawline, it would cut you. But it doesn't matter; you can't touch him anyway; he's not real.

“Holy shit! I can't believe it's you!” He exclaims excitedly, and he looks just like he used to when he would tell you about All-Might as a child.

You can't help but giggle at his excitement because you're feeling the exact same way. “When did you start cussing?” you ask, still giggling.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah well, I picked it up from a friend of mine…”

“It’s really nice to see you, Izuku," you mumble softly with a grin as you take a step forward toward him.

Izuku’s entire face turns into the perfect hue of pink. “It's really nice to see you too, Y/n,” he mumbles back, “I missed you.”

He’s not real, what are you doing?

“I missed you too,” you say without missing a beat.

Izuku poorly attempts to bite back from smiling even harder than he’s already been this whole time as he walks to his bed. Once he's sat down, he pats the space next to him, and you go wide-eyed. He remembers that you can only interact with his bed?

You sigh and murmur to yourself, “Of course he remembers; he’s pretty much you, Y/n.”

He tilts his head at you. “What’d you say?”

You shake your head quickly and sit down. “Nothing,” you squeak out far too hastily for belief.

“Where have you been?” He blurts out quietly, and the way his voice wobbles ever so slightly sends a twinge of agony directly to your heart. God, your brain is very good at making him seem like he has actual emotions.

You sigh and fidget with your hands, which are resting in your lap. “High school was rough, but at least it's over now, right?”

He hums in agreement. “It was rough for me too... Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shrug. Oh fuck it, why not? This is essentially your brain giving you free therapy; you might as well indulge yourself. “I’ll talk about it if you talk about it.”

He nods enthusiastically. “Deal.”

You sigh before lying down, and he does the same, turning your heads to look at each other. “I’m gonna be honest, high school was only rough for like a few reasons.”

He frowns. “You say that like you think it means it shouldn’t have been rough... Any reason is reason enough.”

You give him a small smile before continuing, “One of them was just me pushing myself to my limit to try to get into college, another was just not really having any friends, and uh... The last one was because I missed you.”

You don’t miss how his eyes practically flutter at your words. “Would you believe me if I said all of those reasons were also why high school was rough for me?”

You hum. Yes, because he's literally just made up to make you feel less alone. “Zuku, you have pictures of yourself with your friends.”

“I know, I know! but I didn’t really make them until senior year…” He explains sheepishly. “You mentioned college; you’re going, right?”

You nod. “Yep, I’m assuming you are too?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims. “What college are you going to?”

You exhale heavily in defeat, remembering that you do, in fact, have college to attend when you end up waking up from this. “UA, I actually start tomorrow.”

Izuku sits up excitedly. “No way! I’m going to UA too!”

Of course he is.

You sit up with him. “That’s great, Zuku! I’m so proud of you for getting in. Not like it’s been the only thing you’ve ever talked about since we were little.”

He laughs, and if you were standing up, the sound would’ve made you weak in the knees. “I did talk a lot about that, didn't I? But didn’t you also talk about not wanting to go to UA?”

Even though you know he’s not real, you're flustered by how much he remembers about you. “Yeah, changed my mind.”

“And what made you change your mind?” he asks, coyly.

“Definitely not you.”

“Rude."

“Okay, maybe it was you,” you admit sheepishly, mostly because you’re embarrassed at how a figment of your imagination could have such an effect on you.

He smiles at you warmly and places his hand mere inches away from yours. Lord knows he’d love to hold your hand, but he also knows that if he even tries, you’ll disappear. “I never forgot about you, Y/n.”

You go wide-eyed at his unexpected confession, and a lump forms in your throat. “I—I never forgot about you either, Izuku,” you practically have to choke out the words past the lump in your throat.

“You know, we practically grew up together,” he reminisces fondly. “And we've still never actually, um, I don’t know, met in person?”

Cause he's not real.

“I know.”

“You should find me,” he whispers, his voice deep and low, and his eyes never looking away from yours, sends shivers down your spine.

You swallow harshly. “Find you?”

He nods, his gaze still unwavering. “At UA, we’ll both be there. Find me.”

You can’t.

“Okay."

He smiles softly, but there’s a hint of melancholy in it, and you realize why when he says, “One of us is probably gonna wake up soon.”

You feel your heart drop; he’s right; you’ve been here far longer than usual; it’s only a matter of time. “Izuku."

“Yes?”

Oh god, this is so humiliating. What has gotten into you? Why are you seriously about to confess to someone who isn’t even real? “Izuku. I lo-“

He puts his hands out in front of him in a stop pose and immediately interrupts you, “Don’t.”

If possible, your heart drops even more; actually, no, it doesn’t drop; it breaks. This is your brain, your imagination. Why is this not going as planned? How is someone you made up rejecting you?

“Don’t?” you ask quietly for confirmation, like you don’t even really want him to clarify what he meant.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I want to say it too, but I want to say it in person.”

Okay, well, that’s never going to happen.

“Izuku.”

“Please?" he pleads, his expression softening. "Find me and tell me that face to face.”

You.

Can’t.

“Okay.”

He can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

You return his smile before sighing. Oh fuck it, this is most likely the last time you’ll ever see him again. “I’m going to do something, but the minute I do, we’ll wake up.”

He looks at you wide-eyed, slightly afraid even. “Do wh-“

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence before you’re pulling him into your embrace, or you would be if you could touch things here, so the minute you do "touch" him, both of you are rippling away like reflections in a pond.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You jerked awake at the sound of your alarm clock, sitting straight up. Your chest heaves as you take in the fact that you’re back in your room and you just saw your imaginary friend, whom you're evidently not over, which is, within itself, embarrassing that you even caught feelings for someone who's not real in the first place, but you digress. You cringe as you have to practically peel your covers off of you from how much you were sweating. You quickly find yourself back in your bathroom, your head hovering over the sink and water dripping from your face. You, again in another futile attempt to calm yourself down, tried splashing your face, but like last time, it didn’t work. Every time you close your eyes or let your mind wander for even a second, you're met with Izuku telling you to find him. You can’t seem to escape how he was staring at you, like he could see right through you, like he was real and sentient. Like he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. You slap your cheeks softly as if to slap the thought away.

After a few moments, you take a deep breath and point at yourself in the mirror. “No. Nope. We are not going to be delusional today, Y/n. We have places to be,” you say to yourself, half-heartedly.

And someone to find.

You shake your head at the thought before ignoring it ever happened and getting dressed.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

By the time you were finished getting ready, it was already a little past eight in the morning, and class starts at nine, which wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that you have to walk. You practically flew out of your house and down toward UA, never stopping for a second, even when you were breathing so heavily that it sounded like you needed medical attention immediately. You start to calm down a bit when you can begin to see UA, but you’re still running, even through the other college students who are calmly heading toward the entrance. But you can’t stop now because, honestly, if you do, your legs would most certainly give out on you and then you really would be late, so it’s either you keep running or you'll tumble to your demise. The closer you get to the entrance, the more people you have to run past and the more crowded it becomes, so it’s no surprise when you run into someone's back just as you're about to enter UA.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You exclaim breathlessly as you stumble backward from the impact.

The person stumbles forward momentarily before regaining their footing. They turn around to face you, reassuring: “It’s okay! Don’t wo-“

Both of you grow wide-eyed when you’re face to face with each other, and you feel your mouth go dry.

“Izuku?”

“Y/n?”

You don’t say anything; you simply stare at each other in disbelief until recognition flashes in your eyes, then excitement; your whole demeanor shifts as you realize what's happening.

“Izuku!” you exclaim excitedly as you quite literally jump into his arms, causing him to stumble backwards, falling down and taking you with him. You instinctively cover the back of his head with your hands to save it from hitting the pavement. It dawns on both of you simultaneously that you’re touching him. He’s real, you’re real—and you’re touching him, and he’s actually alive. He’s actually a person, a true thing, no longer just a figment of your imagination.

He smiles up at you, who’s straddling him from the fall, your face hovering over his. “You found me.”

You nod fervently. “You’re real,” you remark breathlessly.

Izuku reaches up and cups your cheek with one of his hands. “You’re real.”

You can't say anything or do anything but laugh with glee; he’s real. His curly green hair is real; his constellations of freckles is real; he’s actually real. You push a strand of his hair out of his face and watch how his cheeks flush scarlet.

“You’re staring, Y/n.”

“How can I not?”

You notice his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows harshly and brings up his remaining free hand to cup your other cheek, both hands engulfing your face, and you know there's no way in hell he doesn't feel his palms burning from your face growing hot.

“Can I kiss you?”

You go wide-eyed, your mouth falls slightly open, and you catch his attention flit down to it before returning to your eyes. You nod slowly and lean down hesitantly.

Izuku meets you half way by lifting his head off the ground, and with his mouth just inches from yours, you close your eyes, nervous from the anticipation. You can feel his breath fan against your face as he prepares to kiss you. But when he does, he doesn't kiss your mouth; he more so kisses the corner of your mouth before pulling away slightly to see you staring at him in confusion, though you aren't confused for long when he suddenly and roughly crashes his lips against yours passionately, as if he’s been waiting for this, dreaming of this, and who's to say he hasn't?

You can't help but smile into the kiss, and he does as well. You pull away slightly, both of you trying to catch your breath, but even so, Izuku is looking at you puzzled and disappointed. Before he can ask why you pulled away, you lean back in and cover his whole face in tiny kisses, eliciting little giggles out of Izuku that make you kiss him even more just to hear the warmth of his laugh.

“I love you,” you mumble inbetween pecks on his face.

Izuku pulls away from your kisses, causing you to stop momentarily and pout, before he's leaning back in and kissing you all over your face.

“I love you.”

169 notes · View notes

novlr · 2 years ago

Note

How do you write a dream sequence?

Dream sequences allow writers to tap into the mysterious and sometimes bizarre world of dreams, exploring the subconscious and integrating symbolism and metaphor into their storytelling. Dreams can reveal a character's deepest fears, desires, and motivations in ways that may not be immediately obvious in the waking world. Writing a dream sequence can be challenging, but it's also an opportunity to let your imagination run wild, bringing your characters and stories to life in powerful and unforgettable ways.

What makes a good dream sequence?

Dream sequences should mimic actual dreams: chaotic, disorienting, yet meaningful. Readers should experience the same confusion and vividness they would in their own dreams.

A good dream sequence should give insight into a character's inner world while also advancing the story. To achieve this, it's important to strike a balance between the logical structure of the narrative and the illogical nature of dreams.

Vivid imagery: Dreams are often hyper-real, so the more vivid your descriptions, the more captivating and immersive the dream becomes.

Sensory details: In dreams, senses are often heightened, and evoking the senses can both enhance and subvert expectations

Symbolism: Everything has meaning in dreams. Dream sequences use symbols to foreshadow, hint, and reinforce.

Emotion: Using emotion in dream sequences allows characters to explore their heightened state, and expose their feelings on events.

Confusion: Dreams can be illogical and disjointed. By disorienting both your characters and readers, you can explore new narrative avenues.

Representation of desires or fears: Dreams often reflect our subconscious thoughts and emotions, and the images and events in the dream can reveal important information about the character's inner world.

Types of dream sequences

There are several different types of dream sequences that you can use in your writing. Each type serves a different purpose and can be used to convey different information about your characters and their inner worlds.

Foreshadowing: Dreams that set up or hint at future events in the narrative.

Nightmares: Dreams that evoke fear or anxiety in the dreamer and can reveal their deepest fears.

Lucid dreams: Dreams where the dreamer is aware that they are dreaming and can control what happens.

Fantasy dreams: Dreams that involve fantastical elements, such as talking animals or magical powers.

Recurring dreams: Dreams that happen over and over again and may represent unresolved issues in the dreamer's life.

Realisation dreams: Where something “clicks” for a character that they couldn’t figure out while awake.

Internal conflict: Dreams that give a colourful illustration of a character’s inner turmoil, letting the writer show, not tell.

Linked dreams: Dreams that allow two characters to communicate while asleep through a shared connection.

Quick tips for writing dream sequences

Dream sequences can add a unique and captivating element to any story, but they can be difficult to write. To ensure that your dream sequences are engaging, there are three things to keep in mind.

Firstly, apply logic, but remember that the dream needs to function as a scene and needs some sort of narrative.

Secondly, use narrative distance to create a floaty, dreamlike feel that makes your readers feel they're dreaming too.

Finally, use detail to create a certain atmosphere, either vague and eerie or overcrowded and stressful. Take care not to overdo it and make your readers uneasy to the point of wanting to walk away.

366 notes · View notes

shmowder · 5 months ago

Note

It was such a treat to read your Yulia hcs!! Earlier you'd made a post wondering what your writing feels like to others. Sometimes I'd liken it to bubble gum - like a big gumball I just want to bite into and chew for a long time (don't worry, it's a magical gumball that doesn't lose its flavor).

The Yulia hcs were like a pastry with powdered sugar and cream (no doubt this is influenced by you mentioning the pastry at the beginning) - something delicate. Like snow falling in a snow globe and like a warm hug at the same time. Lovely ♡ I appreciate that you always take care to mention her leg as well.

I love both kinds of food!!!!! Thank you for taking the time to write my requests :) <3

Ooh, ships! I haven't ventured very far into any Patho ships tbh! I know the big one is Daniil x Artemy ofc. I'm really hoping that the Marble Nest and P1 will help me connect with Daniil more. And I do enjoy Artemy x Aglaya.

What I meant was more along the lines of what personality traits in a reader would make them a good match for those characters? Uhh I cannot phrase this to save my life. In your Victor x reader fluff, you said that a stubborn confident reader would do well with him, so something like that!

But you basically answered my question anyway ^^ "Someone who can stand her enough to live together" for Yulia lmfao. Your description of Peter and Yulia is killing me. This too is #girlrotting.

I'm interested to see how Yulia x Eva plays out in P1 or if it's just mentioned in passing. Somebody on reddit described Eva as "a dreamer without a dream" - I barely know her but that seems to match up with what you're saying and I LOVE that phrase.

I see both of your Bad Grief visions and I've actually seen some vaguely shippy Victor x Grief art before.

I'm not too invested in any ships. If you want to know something terrible... I've briefly entertained the idea of Big Vlad x Artemy........ if he didn't always call Artemy "my boy" and if other characters weren't frequently accusing Artemy of being like, owned by him or whatever, then I wouldn't be like this..... it's the guard dog trope. Obviously this would have to be in an alternate universe where Artemy's dialogue choices didn't strongly imply he's not on board 😆 Well, there's my cursed opinion of the day.

🐿️ anon

Oh! I'm sorry, i must have misunderstood your request then.

Here is what I think the "ideal" Reader for each character would be:

Katerina Saburova

Someone who would never lose faith in her no matter how dire her state becomes. To see her value hidden beneath the role she failed to play, the responsibility she failed to fullfill and the Misteress she couldn't amount to.

To understand her pain, take it from her shoulder and carry it before her collarbones crack. Wipe her tears and tell her it will be okay, allow her the small relief of medicine and never judge her because her cruel harsh mind already does that.

She knows she is a mess, she knows her addiction to morphine is wrong. Moments of lucidity sneak up on her from time to time, the guilt suffocating and the shame like razors dragging down her throat.

She is aware of what the town people whisper behind her back, of her ruined reputation. Don't become one of them too, please, more than anything she needs a friend right now.

Someone to love her unconditionally, but also someone to take the difficult steps her in stead. To hold her and comfort her as withdrawal set her nerves on fire and her nails dig into her skin.

To make her forget about this damned town or her barren womb, grant her a moment of genuine peace, a facade of normalcy. Take her outside, let her remember the smell of fresh air, pluck stray dandelions to gently tuck between her hairstrands, keep her warm in your arms as the chilly autumn winds breeze by.

Remind her how life was before all of this madness, who she was. Katerina can't even recall her own hobbies or interests, she is lost and only she can save herself.

So at least be there for her, show her that there is more to life. Be gentle, never cruel. Be patient and never judgmental. Be loving and never afraid.

Yulia Lyuricheva

As pathetic as it might sound, Yulia just wants one soul who will stand her enough to spend time together, to live in the same house and share bread and a bed.

She is often quiet around other people, she learned to be. She had to. Being too much was her curse for this lifetime, apparently. Ever since she was young, she quickly understood how saying the wrong things would tremble down the fragile foundation every relationship is built on.

Yulia likes most people, believe it or not. How can she not when everyone is so interesting and unique? Every single person is the accumulative of all the choices and paths they picked during their lifetime. A coin toss of fate during every decision, red strings weaving into a whole person, scouplting their personality out of clay from their history and experiences.

Most humans are interesting and rather adorable. She enjoys observing them, making notes, and connecting the dots. Appreciating the work of art, mathematics' creation.

Each of them like naive children in a playground, pretending to know what they're doing as they wear their adult clothes and go to their adult jobs. Pretending there is some inherent meaning in it all, as if life isn't one big joke, and a rather tactless one at that.

Yulia couldn't fool herself like them. She couldn't play make-believe. She ran by facts and hard evidence, numbers never lied and the grim reality was that humanity's whole existence is just one big coincidence. A blep in the universe, a speck of dust amidst the galaxies and stars.

People didn't like being reminded of those facts, that every birthday is simply one inch deeper into the grave.

Damn her cursed tongue and restless mind.

Therefore she watered herself down, remained content with being an observer. Never causing harm or annoying others, mild mannered and keeping to herself. Isolating, suffocating, forced to be the only victim subjected to the dark corners of her mind.

When the abyss started to whisper to her back, Yulia turned to smoking.

She wants someone who would want her, all of her. The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. Someone to admire her brilliant mind while remaining strong in the face of her occasion episodes of apathy. Someone who will understand or at least sympathise why she hasn't cleaned her room in weeks, why old coffee mugs are rotting on the table, why she barely opens the windows in her home.

Why she simply cannot bother to exist on some days, dissociating as she blankly stares out the window, or at a wall or an equation drawn on the chalk board.

Why the clocks in her residence require frequent repairs, courtesy to being smashed against the wall in a swift motion when their ticking starts making her ears bleed.

Could someone even stand her when she cannot stand her own self on most days? Could someone love her as she is? Or is she really irredeemable, cursed since birth.

She may seem smart, but she is prone to rather stupid impulsive decisions from time to time. Indulging life risking experiments out of curiosity because she might as well go down in her own style rather than wait for time ungratefully reap her soul.

Someone who will get her out of bed on the days where the idea of chewing food seems too exhausting.

Yulia doesn't want someone who will gift her meaning and a purpose on a silver plate, rather she'd like for you to kindly hold the candle and shine the light so she may find her way herself. It's been years, and she's gotten used to living in the dark.

Be sympathetic but not overindulgent. Be forgiving and not vindictive. Be her shoulder to lean on but still let her walk on her own two legs. Steady her steps but do not lead her or attempt to diverge her path.

Peter Stamatin

He might make it seem like he needs a muse, that a shiny new thing is what will get him out of this rut.

But it won't, all the nymphs of the forest will look dull after one night, all the gems will lose its shine after one touch.

What he needs, is to wake up.

To stop mourning things immediately after their birth, to not borrow grief from tomorrow and keep reliving it each day.

What he needs is the mundane, the human animal basic requirements. To remember he is a mammal deep down, he isn't a concept nor an abstract collection of ideas, he isn't a ghost watching people pass by, he is flesh and blood.

Someone who will bring him back down from his journey up in the clouds, who will steal him back from the stars, from all the gaint things bigger than life itself that he got accustomed to befriending and haveing one sided conversations with.

He cuts his own thoughts before he finishes them because he lost interest, he stops mid sentences because he grew bored of the words coming out of his own mouth.

He will complain and throw tantrums, but you must prevail his trails and stand your ground. He will dramatise things and get mad, he will cry and break down, he will act as if you're plucking his heart out of his chest and crushing it in your hand.

You must prevail.

Remind him that he will survive. Sure, he can get mad, but he must stay alive. Peter needs an intervention, someone brave enough to risk upsetting the crowned prince of humanity's best of the best and tell him it's bedtime.

To drag him away from the blank canvas he has been staring at for hours, to hold him accountable for skipping meals or rotting in bed for weeks without going outside.

Someone to reteach him the basic maintenances task of being alive, the ones he neglected and gradually forgot as he couldn't bother to remember he too own a human body that requires care. That his brain is an organ that requires fuel and breaks as much as it is visions-plagued maze.

Take him with you to bathe, gently lather shampoo in his hair as he stiffly sits in the lukewarm water while watching the yellow rubber duck float by. Guide his fingers when it comes time to apply conditioner and let him remember how the texture of his own hair feels like, watch him rediscover how nice it is to let water wash his worries away.

Peter needs the simple pleasures in life, his soul requires a soft served ice cream cone, a cheap candy from a corner store, a hummed melody you made up while hanging your clothes to dry.

The mundane, the ugly, the eggs with burnt edges. Food that is merely food and nothing else, drinks that are simply drinks rather than magical twyrine mixtures that let him hear whispers he will never be able to decipher or understand.

Be firm but never controlling. Be a teacher but never condescending. Be a human, most of all, a real human being to show him that he is too.

Bad Grief

Grief can't decide if he wants someone to see the good in him or if that would cause more harm than good. He has a role to play and he's very good at it.

It is a necessary evil. The gangs will exist with or without him, it's better that he leads them and makes sure they never cross the line than someone else who might not be trusted.

A cause surprisingly more noble than anyone would ever expect of him. This life has fallen directly into his hands, every road led him down his path as if it was custom made for his measurements alone. It was always suspicious, how well things fell into place, how convenient fate was at times.

Does he need someone to see the good in him? peak behind the curtains and view him at his most barest forms? Not really. He is content with playing this role for eternity, a glorified shopkeeper, he can keep the jig up for many years to come.

But is it what he wants? is that what he really wants from life? to surrender to fate and simply take it laying down? He pushes these swarming thoughts away, as if they won't return at dawn.

You didn't fear him, either someone with a death wish, a brave fool or an apathetic idiot.

But he felt weird under your gaze, as if your eyes could see through him, through the facade. You never reacted to his empty threats or intimidation attempts, neither did you acknowledge the fact he is a criminal much. You weren't here to challenge him or take his throne, neither were you here for a favour or to obtain something illegal.

...you were merely here for him? To what... chat?

He did think you were a fool for a while, he won't lie. ulterior motives or not, you were walking into a den of criminals each morning just to what? Talk to him about the weather and how cold autumn is?

You weren't part of the script, clearly an unfated encounter that you deliberately went out of your way to have with him each day.

Until one day, he noticed the lack of any ticking sounds as you approched him. Your usual pocket clock seemed still in place from the chain dangling from your pocket, which could only mean one thing.

"Hand it over dollface."

And you did, as if you anticipated this request.

He fixed it for you, fingers moving by sheer muscle memory alone, a skill he thought he had long forgotten.

Bad Grief wants someone who isn't afraid to be free, who comprehends the role he has to play, who doesn't condemn things they do not understand.

Someone who isn't trying to save him or make him change from this life of crime, but also someone who is brave enough to walk by his side on the streets, to hold his hand in public, to not bend to the whims of the public's opinion.

The air is really chilly, would you like his jacket? ....don't ever call him a gentleman again, he just doesn't want you to freeze to death, that's all.

Grief would love someone who walks their own path, someone who will make the first step for him because deep down he is frozen by fear, too cautious for his own good. Too aware of what's at risk, of what could happen.

Of how much he could endanger you just by knowing your name, just by people seeing you at his side. You do realise what you're sacrificing? the opportunities which will never be presented to you just because you decided to be with someone like him? It's your funeral.

But he really is touched, that someone will see him worth all of that. Bad Grief had to ensure he remains useful to people all his life, that the townfolks need him more than they hate, that he is a necessary foundation that could never be uprooted without the entire structure collapsing.

Even the authorities know that, the Saburov understand his usefulness in keeping the criminal structure plates at bay, how he sets the rules and decides where to draw the line. A mutual beneficial relationship built of begrudging respect and fear.

He needs you to understand that he must. He digged his own grave, he was lead here on a leash by life. It was this or death. Don't look at him with distant, don't let fear cloud your judgements.

Be brave, never afraid. Be direct and always sincere. Be smart and clever but never cautious or cowardly. Be moral but never vendective.

Most important of all, the ideal reader would be different to each character based on what they value most. Someone like Aglaya values personal freedom above all and would fall for an independent Reader with their own convictions rather than blindly follow the herd. Someone authentic and brave.

While someone like Alexander Saburov would rather be that person for the reader. Preferring that you're more dependent on him and believe in his notions and principles, having faith in his justice and righteousness. To rely on him to tell you what's right and what's wrong. It's important to only indulge within limit and never stray too far from the path of what's wrong and right.

On the other extreme, Andrey also values freedom but it is his own freedom he cares most about. Your freedom shouldn't challenge his too much nor ask him to change his ways, if you love him then you must love him for who he is because he doesn't plan on changing for anyone. Morals are treated as another cage that suppresses his freedom rather than human decency.

My own writing tastes like a gumball to you- I know you meant it as a good thing but ouch. Does my writing really seem childish and overwhelmingly sugary? Ah-

It's not a bad thing, it's just not what I was aiming for either. At least you seem to enjoy it so yeah. I hoped my style would seem more... poetic to you? Sincere?

I'm grateful regardless. I liked the pastry comparison in Yulia's story, however. It fits the vibe I was aiming for.

I hope your day is amazing, do please take care of yourself.

#♧🐿 anon #♧character study #♧comfort #♧fluff #♧angst #♧Grief #♧katerina #♧Peter #♧Yulia #♧x reader #pathologic x reader #Yulia Lyuricheva x reader #peter stamatin x reader #Katerina Saburova x reader #bad Grief x reader #x reader #fluff #angst

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 5 months ago

Text

Need a Dream Woven? Let's talk about it!🖊️

🩵"Welcome in, Dreamer. Shopping around for a dream? I have many to choose from, so take your time. Look around and take your pick. Can't find what you're looking for? Find me at the desk and I can search my dream backlog or start to weave a dream order for you personally."🩵

☁️There are often times a specific dream realm (hyperfixation) will consume the shop and the only dreams created can be within that realm- please understand and wait patiently until the cloud passes☁️

☁️Please remember to follow the rules when inside the shop☁️

☁️Shop Directory was last updated: Nov. 14, 2024☁️

☁️If you're pleased with the shop's content, please consider buying the Owner a Kofi! Any and all donations are appreciated☁️

Masterlists:

Genshin Impact

Honkai Star Rail

Kyojuro Rengoku (kny)

Boku no Hero Academia

Popular Tags:

the Passionate: Kyojuro Rengoku

the Cowboy: Boothill (hsr)

the Bomb: Bakugou Katsuki

boothill/mechanic!reader: you're exhausted: 1.8k, comfort [newest!!]

zhongli/reader: growing old with this gold of old: 900+, bittersweet

zhongli decides he wants to grow old with you

boothill/mechanic!reader: you lose your companion robot and freak out: 1k, fluff

in which you call boothill to freak out and he calms you down

ayato/fem!reader: wishing on golden stars pt.5: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?) [updates every 2 weeks!!]

what's a girl who just wanted to enjoy the banner of one Kamisato Ayato to do when she finds herself waking up not at the computer desk she fell asleep on, but instead outside on an unfamiliar pier? furthermore, waking up with armored spearmen threatening her?! being taking in by the Kamisato's is a blessing that kept you out of prison, but how can you expect yourself to survive in a world you just found yourself in with all the knowledge from reality residing in your mind? on top of trying to ignore your feelings for the Yashiro Commissioner himself? inazuma was not the place to be.

zhongli/reader: [~healing daydream] - 'growing old' w this god of old :')

jing yuan/reader: [~healing daydream] - 'reader had a scuffle w marastruck soliders -> jing yuan takes chin and moves face around -> worry worry fret fret something something fluff'

wanderer/reader: [lucid daydream] - 'wanderer listens to your yapping, even if it doesn't seem like it'

boothill/mechanic!reader [2parts]: [lucid deep sleep] - belobog shenanigans and such

kaeya/reader: [healing daydream] - kaeya didn't realize just how much he misses you until he see's you again in liyue :((

...loading...

How long would you prefer to dream?

Dreams 500-2k -> Daydreams Dreams 2k+ -> Deep sleep Dreams 8k+ -> REM sleep

Types of Dreams for Order:

Angst: Nightmare Comfort: Healing Dream Fluff: Lucid Dream Spoilers!: Prophetic Dream ...more pending...

🌩️I DO NOT allow any reposting/translations/plagiarizing of my content!! If my work is published under a different username/site, please notify me ASAP!🌩️

#masterpost #masterlist #pinned post #pinned info #blog rules #blog faq #navigation

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wisteriadaydreams · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I'm new to tumblr and hopefully me trying to contact you and my request is appropriate. I found your blog amazing and even relatable in a lot of ways and i'm honestly very grateful I've found you! (Side note, this request is dedicated towards Tanjiro!)

I had an idea evolving around gaining consciousness in a dream and a form of bond between the two. I'm a lucid dreamer and a fan of concept where dreaming space is perfect for unique and pure interactions, a lot of mutual reassurance and a need to put in effort to go lucid, for the two to recognize eachother. I'm leaving particular ways of interactions to the creator, all i wanted to mention is the aspect of rapidly passing time and the two dreamers being aware of the coming unpredictable waking point. I believe it makes the scenario tense and sensual in a way, since nothing you experience in a dream should be taken for granted! Maybe it's worth working on a concept where the dreaming space is the only one that brings them together.

What i've brought up is probably very generous but I wanted to take a little step and maybe find a possible ally. Where my dream buddies at? 🪴

ONLY AWAKE WHEN I'M DREAMING

pairing: Kamado Tanjirō x gn!reader

genre: fluff, a dash of angst

words: 3.9k

a/n: anon, ur mind is sth i'm envious of, this is such a big brain idea

You know this place, but you have never been here before.

It's like you've stepped into a childhood memory that you have no recollection of, the sides of the fragmented pieces so blunt that you have no idea how to put them all back together. You look around and everything is hazy, like you're in one of those paintings where the background are but languid and dreamy strokes.

You think you feel the sun on your skin, the grass beneath your feet, and the air tastes heady and sweet like a summer night. You blink and the world remains streaks of color smeared on canvas, but a splash of emerald green and red catches your eyes.

You move (or you think you moved) and the last thing you expected to find is a boy.

His wine-dark gaze falls to you and everything at once becomes foreign.

"-ho...ar...ou?" You open your mouth and your voice sounds like a melody played on a broken record.

He doesn't reply to you, or at least, when you focus, it seems that he's trying to. When you squint your eyes you think you see his lips move, but everything is disjointed.

"...do...T...ji...ō."

You feel like you're in one of those social events where you're introduced to a friend of a friend of a friend and you know their name will slip out of your mind, but this is on another level entirely. Though there's definitely some guilt there, you figured that it would be rude not to introduce yourself back.

"I'm (Y/–"

You wake up, the last syllable dissolving like cotton candy in your mouth, and the threads of the dream slips through your fingers.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

This place is familiar to you, but you're certain you've never set foot here.

The wind tousles your hair and you think it carries with it a light scent of the flowers surrounding your feet. Nothing is concrete, save for the boy before you.

There's nothing like the relieving sense of recognition that washes over you, followed immediately by the gripping flash of panic that you didn't manage to catch his name. Would it be rude to ask again? Or can you nod and bluff your way through this?

"Hi," you offer tentatively.

"Hi," he responds with a polite smile. "Have we met before?"

"Yeah, briefly." You shuffle your feet. "Do you know where we are?"

"I'm not sure. It's familiar to me, but I don't know where this is."

So maybe you're not crazy after all. "I feel that way, too! This could be any place from my memories, but I can't pinpoint which one it is. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do." His eyes dart around the empty landscape before settling on you once more, and if your mind didn't deceive you, you think you see his eyebrows knitting together a little bit. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you've told me this before and this is very rude of me, but I don't remember your name." He then begins to apologize and bow to you profusely.

Your shoulders sag in relief. "No it's okay! To be honest, I didn't quite catch your name either."

"...Tan...ji...rō." You're able to hear him better this time, but whatever he said earlier still eluded your mind.

"(Y...N)," you say and hold out your hand. You lean your head to one side when he looks at it like he doesn't know what to do. Maybe he's just one of those people who doesn't like handshakes?

Now that you think about it, he's not dressed in a way that you're familiar with. No offense to his fashion style, but it's not every day that you see someone wear a long kimono-like jacket with black and dark green checker patterns.

You're starting to feel awkward when he finally grasps your hand uncertainly.

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too Tan—"

The last of those syllables burn on your tongue until not even ash is left as you rise with the morning sun.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

"We have to stop meeting like this."

The boy smiles at you in greeting, and a fraction of a second later his name flows like spring water into your mind.

"I agree. No-not that there's anything wrong with meeting you like this. It's just...a little strange."

"I get it." You sit down on the grass beside him, the blades so velvety smooth that you feel like they're not even there. "It's still weird to me. Like I'm half here and half not."

"Like you're in a dream."

"Yeah." You pause, the notion itching in your brain. "Something like that. I'm still not even sure how I got here. This feels a little too far away from home."

"Which is where, exactly?"

You tell him, but seeing his blank stare makes the nagging feeling in your gut become more intense. You explain where it is, and the way he almost jumps out of his skin makes you flinch in turn. All of your muscles seem to tense up as you ask him the same question.

"I used to live on a remote mountain in the countryside, but now I travel all around Tokyo and beyond for my job."

You blink several times, as if this would make the words make more sense in your mind. "No wonder you're dressed like that. But, um, can I ask what year it is for you?"

"It's the 10th year of the Taisho era," he says like that's the most obvious thing in the world, but you have no idea what that means. "Uh, what about you?"

You answer him, and his reaction is all you needed to know that there's no way that your time period lines up with his.

You slap yourself in the face, ignoring the worried cries of your companion. You don't feel a single thing, not even a featherlight touch.

"Holy crap, we're in a dream, aren't we?"

The realization settles like a dew drop that slowly falls from a leaf, and the moment it hits the ground the mist around you is washed away by the hands of early dawn.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

"You're pulling my leg," you exclaim.

Tanjirō's brows knit together. "I'm...doing what?"

"Sorry, figure of speech. But demons? Really?"

After mutually establishing that the landscape they find themselves in is in fact a dream, and realizing that the other person (maybe?) isn't simply a figment of their imagination, both you and Tanjirō have been able to settle down enough to understand the situation.

It appears that this type of dream doesn't occur every single night, but they have no way to determine that for sure when their memories of their encounters are scrubbed clean every single morning. But as soon as you laid eyes on each other, those snatched memories are returned to you like a worn blanket that you once thought you lost.

Every time you get to know him a little better, hearing snippets of his life with his sister and friends. You offer stories of your own about your daily life and trying desperately to explain the leaps and bounds technology has made to him.

Soon enough, you both found out that though this might be your dream, or his, you don't have total control. He would be in the middle of telling you the story of how he got his scar when he would be thrown out of the dream, or you would wake up while passionately ranting about your day, leaving you to show up the next night huffing because you realized you've lost all train of thoughts.

You and Tanjirō make it work, somehow. Even when you're from different cultures and hell, completely different time periods (even though you're still not sure he's some illusion your mind came up with), you get along well with him. Despite of all the differences, Tanjirō is one of the most open-minded person you've ever known. He listens attentively and is genuinely interested in anything you have to say, and it makes you breathe easier knowing that he's the one with you in this weird dimension.

"I had the same reaction as you," he says to your previous sentence. "I couldn't believe at first, but then..."

He turns away from you, but you catch the flicker of pain nonetheless. Though Tanjirō has been all smiles, though he is so good at hiding it that it makes your heart twist, you still notice it a couple of times, especially when he talks about his sister and the life he used to have — rife with hard work and financial worries, but oh so blissful.

"They sound scary." You curse yourself for not being able to find better things to say.

"It was, it is still. But that's why I chose to do what I do, so that no one have to go through what I went through." He tugs at the fabric of his dark uniform. "You know, when I first met you, I felt a little afraid because I didn't have my sword with me. For the first time in a while, I was vulnerable. I kept reaching for something that wasn't there." He looks down at the empty space by his side. "But now, I'm glad. I feel safe here, I don't have to watch for every movement or be wary about anything. I can breathe easier here." He turns to you, and you idly wonder how the sun can hope to compare with such a smile. "And I'm glad I'm able to do it with you."

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

"If this is a dream, what do you think we can control in it?" You ponder, the grass disappearing through your fingers every time you wave your hands over them.

"I've never thought about it." Tanjirō is lying on his back, staring at the formless clouds. "You mean like changing our location?"

"Maybe. This place is cool and all, but it gets boring after a while. I think I heard somewhere that there's people who can control what they dream about. I'm pretty sure it's called lucid dreaming. I wonder how they do it though. Like do they just think very hard about it?"

"Well, wanna give it a try?" He sits up. "How about we take turns thinking about a particular place and see what happens?"

"Okay." You can't help but grin at how easily he is to get on board. "I'll try to go first."

You close your eyes, a funny notion now that you think about it, and begin to pull at the strands of your memories, searching for something that calls to you. You find it, its soft weight as familiar as a hug. You smell something in the breeze, hear the muffled voices calling your name, and when you open your eyes you're delighted to see the place you're envisioning being painted right before you. The verdant landscape give way to something much more nostalgic and corporeal, a thought given life.

You feel time lost being flown back into your veins, emotions that were once distant and foregone rise to the surface like a stream of fizzy bubbles, bursting into pockets of sweet sugar inside your mouth. Everything that once was is so within of reach.

But all too soon, the illusion breaks. You find yourself knees on the ground, heaving an imaginary breath as if you just ran a marathon. You feel Tanjirō's hands laid gently on your back, rubbing it in a soothing motion.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern clear in his voice as he takes a hold of your shoulder.

You nod slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I didn't expect that to take so much out of me. But it felt so satisfying, like I just stepped back into the past. Did you see it, too?"

"I did. It was brief, but it was a beautiful place. I felt warm and giddy, like I was a child again. It was so familiar, even though I'm sure I've never been there before. Will you tell me about it?"

"Maybe after you try. I wanna see what you come up with."

Tanjirō's fairs a little better than you. For a moment, the sky begins to turn dark, twilight shades splash against the blue canvas. The nebulous sun is replaced by a dazzling moon, shining its silvery light onto the canopy of trees that are emerging from the grassy expanse.

You think you see something golden twinkling in the forest, filling you with a sensation so wistful that it almost brings tears to your eyes. But just like you, the image fizzles and dies out. Tanjirō has his palms on his knees, his chest going up and down as he takes in breath after breath.

"I get what you're saying now," he pants.

You pat his shoulder. "That was better than me. But I also get what you were saying. When I saw that, I felt something. We have a term to describe that kind of feeling. Déjà vu, it's called. It's for when you think you've seen or been somewhere you've never been before."

"Déjà vu," he repeats, his accent melting over the words like butter. "That's beautiful."

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

You didn't think it would be possible to be tired while sleeping, but that's exactly what you felt when you stepped into the dream.

The heavy weight of the day bears down on you, further intensified by the stress that has been accumulating since god knows when. You rub your shoulders, tilting your head in an effort to get rid of the crick that has been bothering you for the whole day.

You wave at Tanjirō half-heartedly, your demeanor telling him all he needs to know.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Not really. Just tired."

"Long day?"

"Mmhmm." You hum and sit down beside him, scooching closer until your head rest gently on his shoulder. "I just wanna close my eyes and lie down, which is funny because I'm technically already lying down."

He adjusts your position so that you would be more comfortable, his hand rubbing your head up and down, the rhythmic motion setting you at ease.

"Hey," he speaks up after a while. "You wanna see something?"

"What is it?"

"Close your eyes."

You do as he says, anticipating swirling in your stomach. Pinpricks travel up your arms, shooting sparks of warmth down your body like you just sipped a hot drink your parents made for you on a cold day.

"Open your eyes," Tanjirō whispers softly.

You slowly do so, your jaw slightly dropping your open as you take in the scenery before you. You're in a forest drenched in argent moonlight, the branches swaying with the song of stars. A golden stream of light weaves through your vision, and before you know it, you're being surrounded by hundreds of fireflies that forms and unravels like mini galaxies.

You reach your hand out, your eyes wide with wonder as a group of fireflies twist through your fingers, bathing you in their luminescence, spreading sunshine through your body.

"This is amazing, Tanjirō." You say. "How did you manage to do this?"

"I practiced before you came." His attention is solely on you, spellbound by the way your features are illuminated by the glowing bugs. "I figured this might cheer you up since it did for my siblings. Whenever summer comes, we would go to the forest and try to catch them. But we would always release them, because we never have the heart to keep them in a jar. Hanako said that a beautiful sight like this is better shared with other people rather than keep it for your own."

"Wise words for someone so young." You turn to him, resisting the urge to run your fingers through his gold-tinted burgundy hair. "Thank you, Tanjirō."

You go back to admiring the fireflies, quietly talking with him at some points and chuckling when a bug gently boops his nose. In the spaces of the silence, you got to thinking.

It's almost worrying how comfortable you are here, how free and alive you are when you know you're only dreaming. It's a siren song that pours saccharine honey into your ears and blinds you until all you see is a vast, stagnant peace. It would be so easy to succumb, to stay in this place forever. But you have a life to live.

Nevertheless, you would be lying if you say the temptation isn't there. Especially when you have Tanjirō with you. Sweet, caring, amazing Tanjirō, who can brighten up your day with nothing but his smile.

But when you turn around, he's no longer there.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

There have been times when you arrive at the dream before him.

The first time it happened, you wander around the area with a slowly sinking feeling in your gut that burrows deeper the longer you wait. It led your mind to think about all of the implications that you've never thought about before. What if all of this was coming to an end? What if you have to face the reality that you'll never see him again? Could you dream any longer knowing that he isn't here by your side?

Then he appeared, like he always did, and you couldn't help but run into his arms.

So this time, when your consciousness falls into this hazy place and you don't see that familiar shade of red that stands out like a guiding light, you choose to simply sit down. You just hope that he comes soon, for the last time this happened, you were only able to call his name before you were ripped away.

The air shifts, and you know that he's here. The smile that was on your face died out like a candle when you see him slumped on the ground, shaking furiously. His hands roam frantically over his hips, as if searching for something, and he mutters something under his breath too rapidly for you to catch.

You run over to him, just as he has his hands on his throat, scratching madly and digging his fingers into the skin. Your eyes are wide with panic, never having seen him act this way before, and you crouch down and snatch his hands into yours in one motion to prevent him from hurting himself.

"Tanjirō!" You yell as he struggles in your hold. "Tanjirō! What's wrong?! Tanjirō, look at me!"

He's strong, but you're steadfast and refuse to let him go, not when he's in this state. You continuously call and speak to him until he raises his head, and the haunted look in his ember eyes makes your heart instantly drop into your stomach.

He looks trapped, terrified, eyes constantly flitting around as if what makes him this scared is right around the corner. He looks like he hasn't had a decent night of sleep in a while.

You stare at him, imploring him to recognize you and know that he's in a safe place with you. Finally, a glimmer of light dawns on him, and his shaking becomes less intense, though in no way does that mean that it stopped entirely.

He croaks your name, and the way he says it makes your heart breaks into pieces and your stomach to twist into a tight knot. He says it timidly, brokenly, like it's a fragile thing that he's so afraid of disappearing.

You nod again and again until he is convinced. Your panic heightens when tears well up in his eyes, and before you could react, Tanjiro had thrown himself into your arms.

Even when you're caught off guard, you don't hesitate at all to wrap your arms around him, a hand sinking into his hair. He holds you tight and firm, his fingers curling around the fabric of your clothes as he buries into the crook of your neck, his tears streaming down to your collarbone.

You don't know what to do. You don't know what to do when he's clearly in distress. You don't know what happened to make him this way.

You know what he has been through. He told you of his struggles, all his pain and cracked bone in his body and every time you do, you have an urge to swaddle him and protect him from a world so cruel. How could someone as young as him have gone through so much, how is it fair that his hands are already callused with scars and roughened from training at such an age? He deserves better, he deserves so much better than anything the world can ever offer.

But maybe right now, the only thing you can do is rock him back and forth in your arms, speaking to him in quiet and gentle tones, reminding him that whatever happens, this place is safe for him.

This place is safe for him.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

"Tanjirō, have you ever thought why us?"

"Hm?" He answers you from his position where he's cuddling with you, his arms circling around your waist and his legs tangled with yours. Ever since what happened last time, he always has to have a point of contact with you, whether it's holding your hand or hugging you. "Why what?"

"Why us in this dream? Why two people from completely different places and time?"

You have no idea why you've been chosen, why this dreamscape continues to pull your unconsciousness into it. An even more upsetting question for you is what happens when it ends?

Perhaps it's a mercy that you don't remember anything when you wake up, because if you do, you just know that you'll be searching endlessly for Tanjiro. You think you already unconsciously do, constantly searching for that spark amongst the strangers in the crowds.

But if one day this all ends and you never see him again, would your life ever be the same? Knowing that in the back of your mind, in some fuzzy corner, there will always be that nagging feeling that you're missing something?

"I don't know," he replies, snuggling more into your warmth. "But whatever the reason, I'm glad it's you."

You nuzzle your nose into the top of his head, breathing the sun from him. "I'm glad it's you, too."

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

The sun sinks lazily, but the last of the daylight still cling stubbornly to the azure sky. Tanjirō stands among a row of houses, staring down at the piece of cloth in his hands, wondering who could've dropped it.

The fabric soaks in the sunset, and as the sky turns orange, he hears rhythmic footsteps against the dirt path running towards him.

He turns his head towards the sound, his nose picking up a scent that he could almost name. From afar, he sees that it's a person, the breeze running its gentle fingers through their hair.

The wind suddenly picks up, causing him to inadvertently close his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, it's right at the moment the person is running past him. But when their eyes lock, the world seems to slow down. Everything falls away and clicks into place at the same time.

His wine-dark eyes become wider as recognition shocks him like lightning. Their name rises from the deepest part of his soul like the tides, coating his tongue like winter snow.

It spills from his mouth in foamy waves—

Tanjirō wakes up.

He doesn't know what he dreamt about. He never seems to remember his dreams.

➺ All of the following works belong to me. Please don’t repost, copy, or steal my content off of Tumblr. Plagiarism will not be tolerated.

#kamado tanjiro #tanjiro #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro x y/n #tanjiro oneshots #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #sunshine of my life #he's my sun #a dream come true #wisty writes

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago

Note

I wanna be hunted down by Zizz in a dream, come get me big boy

[Ah yes, I've wanted to do something with him for a while. The chase isn't that long, but I hope it's fine! Fem reader.]

TW: Dubcon then full consent; Mentions of past non-consensual somnophilia; Spit as lube.

You're not sure if you can call yourself a lucid dreamer.

Because while you've been aware of dreaming before, things have always felt a bit distant, fogged. When you touched a table, it didn't quite feel like a table. So you knew that it wasn't one, and that you weren't awake.

Lately however, your nightly episodes of brain activity have taken a sharp turn into the unexpected, if not mystical.

Everything has become so vivid. So real. It feels as if every part of your conscious has been pulled into these dreams, like there's nothing beyond the dreamscape. You truly are living in them, with no care for anything else. Nothing appears to be out of place, every minute detail sculpted to perfection, something one's brain is largely incapable of without extensive visual training beforehand. Which you have none.

They almost feels like someone else's dreams, as if you have been invited to take place in them.

Nothing about the location in which they take place is familiar to you either. This scarcely lit maze of rooms and halls is a warm, comforting mansion you have never set foot on in waking world. Not a bit of it rings a bell. The patterns in the floor are alien to you, the symbols inscribed in the ceilings and walls are meticulous but utterly nonsensical, the blue-lit candles, flickering into violet hues, are entirely new to you. Even the starry, abyssal skies fogging the small windows of this place raise no memory. Everything here is suspended in space and time, a crafted capsule which has consumed your resting hours.

At first, you were charmed. And how could one not be, right? It is a beautiful place, if a bit ominous, but you enjoyed roaming by those uninhabited divisions, captivated by pleasant scents and lulled into a comfortable tiredness that beckoned you to simply pick a corner and settle down. Although bizarre, this felt like home, like a cradle. A respite to life's many hurdles and clawing duties. No good thing lasts forever, as is common knowledge, and this is no exception...

A couple of days ago, the ambience in this dream mansion has become a tad stifling. Nothing has visually changed, that you can spot at least, but the air is heavier with some form of tension you can't quite place. Moving between rooms, no matter how much curiosity beckons, has become a slightly dreaded occasion, for every step of yours elicits goosebumps on your flesh. Eyes. There are eyes on you. Somewhere. Somehow. Someway. Immaterial and tireless, prey instincts pick up on them sharply. You turn and turn like a dancer in their stage, but there's only ever shadows staring back at you.

Someone has taken note of your presence here and you're an object of interest to them. Now comes the belated realization that you may not ever have been the owner of this mansion, as your mind liked to assume. Maybe not even a guest, but only a mere intruder. Are they angry at you?

You can't answer that. You don't know.

So, tonight, in an effort to not offend this entity of your lifelike dreams, you refuse to leave the banquet hall. Maybe, if you stay put in one place and don't touch anything, not even those beautiful padded chairs, it won't get angry at you. And it will look elsewhere. Should you apologize? To the air? No, come on, there's got to be a way to force yourself to wake up, right? Yes, you've read about this before. You need to blink! Blinking helps stimulate the brain into waking up.

After several moments of frantic eyelid flapping, you've determined that either this method is complete bullshit, you're horribly incompetent at basic functions, or this is simply too soft a strategy. The next hypothesis is to pinch yourself, or otherwise induce some form of pain that would be great enough to force an awakening. Pinch after pinch, scratching your arm, and finally, actually giving yourself a slap. Fruitless... And the worst part is that you felt it all.

Joy.

OH! Falling asleep! Falling asleep in lucid dreams helps. Perfect really, this place is already so tailored to personal comfort. The banquet hall is large, furnished with its laced curtains and the ambient blue lights that you love so much, there's many a plush seat to choose around these large, generously furnished tables, but your eyes gravitate towards another option a slight distance away. By one of the massive windows of this residence lies the most dreamy chaise-lounge you've ever witnessed. Dear God, had you not known any better, you'd say the damn thing is made for a giant. It's certainly about the size, no, bigger, than a king sized bed. Why is it so damn big?

Nonetheless, your hands drift across its velvet greedily as you sink onto it like an anchor, sighing in great satisfaction. Oh, what you wouldn't give for one of these in real life! The perfect solace after a day of troublesome, annoying work. This must be tremendously expensive... An adequate position is found, the mansion is warm enough that no chill dares pry into your bare skin and the nightgown you wear is more than enough cover. A smile resting on your cheeks, your eyes finally close and you bid this dreamscape adieu.

...

" Mm, are you truly that tired? "

Every bone in your body freezes.

Suddenly, the mansion has never been colder. You're afraid to turn around, because you know something large is behind you, so your horrified hues poise on the darkness of the sky, spotting a horned silhouette just barely reflected on the glass. What is this?

" I can't let you leave so soon, but worry not, we have all the time in the world. " It, or rather he, begins. This smooth, low and almost disinterested tone. Attractive, if not for the fact that you've never heard it before, that you've never pictured anything that sounded remotely like him. " There is no time in dreams. "

That's a very nice way of saying "you're here until I wish otherwise".

You can barely swallow the lump in your throat. " Who- Who are you? "

He's tapping something on the wooden table. This distinct clack clack clack that you know only something with claws can achieve. " Turn around and find out. "

Figures. Knowing you'll never move on if you dwell on the choice, you rip off the band aid entirely and turn faster than a startled cat, sitting up on the chaise-lounge and setting eyes on what might be the most majestic monster out there.

You were right, this is made for a giant. You're looking at him.

Where do you start? The way his grayish light skin almost seems to sparkle? The odd, dark garb that clings to his supple form maybe a tad too scandalously? The curious shape of his thin, crescent-tipped tail? Speaking of crescent- That's definitely the shape of his striking horns, this shapeless glob of matter swirling almost hypnotically between them, hues of yellow and blue framed prettily. Even more curious is the ashy veil covering his head and face, the sides bleeding into star-adorned shades of mauve. For lack of better wording, he's unexpectedly gorgeous. Fascinating. Certainly some type of demon, there's no doubt about it, though never did you think they could ever share this sort of ethereal look to them- Even mellow as he seems to be, your subconscious recognizes the power basically seeping off his presence.

Nothing in the room matters anymore, your vision and your dream shrink down to the monster before you.

What now? What the fuck do you say? This feels too real, too dangerous, too out of your depth, like you shouldn't even be talking to this guy.

" H- Hi? "

Bravo. Perfect. Survival ensured. You're a master of raw charisma.

The entity chuckles. " Good night. " He takes a step forward, making you lean back. " I'm glad to see you enjoy the mansion. "

It's his. That's obvious now. You've been loitering around his living space for nights on end apparently.

" I probably won't have to change too much about it. "

Change? Your eyes narrow. " ... You live here? "

A vague hand wave. " Yes and no. This is a careful reconstruction. I made sure to be as meticulous as possible, just so you can get a proper look at your new living quarters. "

Fucking what now?

" Excuse me? "

The demon pauses, then appears to brighten. " Ah yes, my faulty manners. Everyone calls me Zizz, I am Sloth's Icon. "

None of that made sense. " You lost me at ´Zee´."

" Zizz. "

That sounds a lot like jizz honeslty.

" Zizz. " You correct yourself. " Sloth as in, the deadly sin? Sloth? That exists, that's a place? "

He sighs, snickering to himself, probably at you. Amidst your inner questioning, you fail to react in time when he, Zizz, sits beside you on the sofa. The weight of the monster causes a slight depression that pulls you to him like a magnet. All it takes is one slight brush against his warm skin for you to jump back. Not very far away apparently, because he can still grasp your hand with unnerving ease. Even now, you feel like a toddler gazing at an adult, it's uncanny.

" Focus. " He coos, unaffected by the panicked pull that only results in making your wrist sore. " You don't need to worry about any of that for now, I want to share this night with you, ridden of any fear or doubt. " The grip tightens, his voice takes on a desperate lilt, excitement bleeding into his speech. "To get to know each other. I've met many a dreamer in my time alive, how can it be that my true mate has escaped me up until now? "

This is the most insane dream you've had in your entire life. Though, deep down, something tells you it's definitely not just a dream, maybe a curse. Some sort of nasty prank dealt onto you by something you can't comprehend for reasons that elude you. What if all of this truly is real, and you've caught the eye of a being older than you can conceive? Is there even anything you can do or is your fate being carved into stone with every word Zizz speaks? Sweat forms on your forehead the moment the demon starts moving your hand, hovering towards his chest.

" W-?! L-Let go! " But he doesn't, only stopping once that palm is firmly planted. Any further protests die when a frantic thump thump thump is felt. It takes you a moment to realize his chest is heaving a little.

" Can you feel my relief? My happiness? I swear on my name this heart has never beaten so fast. " You don't need to see his face to feel the level of mania this monster is under.

" S- Shut up. This isn't real! Get away-! " Perhaps it was the shock of hearing you shout, or the slight slump of the great monster's frame, but you manage to drag yourself out of his grasp, up to your feet, taking several steps back, as if he may lunge at any moment.

That never happens, but he does rise as well. One measured step at a time, attempting to close the distance that seems to deeply perturb him now. " You know better. My lonely little star, how I long to quell you... " A chill runs down your spine at the dip of his pitch, a baritone full of promises making it feel as if your knees are about to run off in opposite directions. " Your dreams have kept me warm at night, I only ask that you let me do the same for you. "

Nope. Mind racing, heart hammering, adrenaline making you feel lighter than a feather, you race out of the banquet hall with terror in each stride, fueled by the ringing of amused guffawing in the distance. It should have been a blaring flag that you heard no footsteps hot on your trail, and you only realize what a pathetic idea it was to attempt to hide in his mansion when Zizz appears standing in the next hall you come across.

" Where will you run to? "

Anywhere, anywhere you can. The door to your left disappears right as you are about to push it open, replaced by a seamless wall that you nearly rammed into, making the demon lord snicker. " This is childish, dear. "

You know you were only able to dash into the right one because he allowed you to. Lo and behold, it's a bedroom. Or at least you think it is, it's hard to tell with the ludicrous amount pillows tossed onto every corner. There's a humongous bed inundated in blankets and pelts, more cushions than you care to count, it even has a canopy with lights. Are those plushies? This... This looks like a rich kid's pillow fort. What the fu-

It was a mistake to linger, because a figure traps your back against itself.

" Ah, you've found my resting chambers, how astute. " Oh yes, he's definitely mocking you. Your flailing and kicking goes vastly ignored, not only is this creature immeasurably stronger than your untrained self, it appears determined to end your pointless game of cat-and-mouse. It's poetic that he didn't actually have to move much to catch you, really befitting of his title as, what did he say again, "Icon of Sloth"?

A tug at the hem of your nightgown distracts you. " Do you always dress this scantily to bed? " Zizz taunts, a lewd grin audible. " Perhaps for me? "

" In your dreams, pervert! " Maybe you should have thought twice about the wording. Though not all is lost, because he does let you go, taken by another fit of merry laughter.

" Oh, absolutely... " The giant moves towards the center of the room, tossing pillows away and arranging the blankets on that opulent bed. " Has anyone told you how adorable you look in deep slumber? I could barely keep my hands off you, there's a softness to your body that's so addicting, I could never hope to replicate it. Nothing feels half as good. "

The color washes off your skin, leaving you as pale as Zizz himself while you try to guess what was done to you when you were most vulnerable. Did he fondle you? Used you like some toy, some doll, unwilling to let you wake, to let you know- You feel dirty, skin crawling with all sorts of emotions, one of them being muted arousal. In spite of the repulsive act he's just admitted to doing, all your mind wants to focus on is the possibility of that large body covering yours, large hands curled over your limbs, taunting images filling you with shame. This is far from the reaction you should be having.

In an effort to escape, perhaps not so much from him but more so your reprehensible desires, you make one last ridiculous attempt to flee the room, rewarded by the door slamming itself shut. It signals the finality of your little game, as if he won't let you flee from your own wants.

" That's cute, but I'm not very fond of running. "

Cute. He thinks your genuine efforts to flee are cute.

Defeated, you stand by the door, in the most vain of hopes that it will miraculously open for you when most needed. When Zizz turns, you can almost feel the frown in his stance, like he's pondering. Sure enough, he was.

With a snap of his fingers, your clothes are gone. It was like a blink, one second they were there, the next your body was bare and cold. " Much better. " Zizz hums.

All you can do is squawk and cover yourself, face steaming in fury and embarrassment. " You sick fuck! "

That only earns you a senseless coo before he's making grabby hands and closing the distance. The pitiful attempt you made to dash left is halted by a thick forearm, and, in a blur of movement, you've been tossed onto that massive mattress.

The impact itself was painless, lord knows this particular division is so thickly padded that he could just about launch you at the walls with no risk of serious injury. Maybe motion sickness. But the shock of his strength keeps you still like a catatonic animal ready to die. He just- He slam dunked you into his bed like a fucking doll.

Said moment of weakness is fully taken advantage of, as Zizz crawls on after you, arms holding your naked form to his front and ripping a yelp out of your still very much terrified self when he flips to lay on his back. The move was calculated, he gets to rest his head and upper back on the several pillows and stuffed cushion he was previously arranging, trapping your dizzy body against him.

More than afraid, you're now mostly confused, grasping those merciful moments of motionlessness to steady your breathing. What now...?

Zizz appears to be very comfortable, if not happy, his light hum-turned-sigh letting you know how at peace the demon apparently is right now. You suppose he ought to be, with your tits against his abdomen and thighs brushing a- Oh for fuck's sake. He's hard. Of course he is, the freak. You can feel it pushing at his robes, nudging beneath you. That's definitely something to worry about. Dream or not, everything up until now has felt so unbelievably real that you're not chancing getting penetrated by something that would tear you in real life. Because you know you'll feel it.

Renewed, frantic squirming is smothered by a powerful embrace as Zizz allows you to tire yourself out, scratching and arching pointlessly like a pitiful bug's death throes. You're more than sure that achieved nothing except getting him noticeably stiffer. With neither grace nor dignity, you proceed to flop dead onto him.

" ... So? Come on, fuck me already, I can't do shit. " Taunting a demon is a horrid idea, but you're livid.

" Mmm, I was hoping it'd be the other way around. "

That just about makes your brain buffer entirely. " Huh? "

" I love your fire, it's perfect. " Large hands start roaming up and down your sides, warming you in more ways than one. " Show me more, please? "

You blink.

Is he serious? You thought he'd just take you however, get it over with. And yet, here he is, spreading his legs beneath you, short of breath at the mere thought of having a human so much tinier than himself taking control. This has to be some divine parody. A nasty god's prank. Although, possibly fueled by the novelty of that same idea, or maybe just hatching a brand new fetish, you consider it.

And by "consider", you mean you start grinding on him.

Zizz immediately lets out a hiss, immensely pleased, tail thrashing against silk sheets. " O-Oh, that was fast. I'm glad we're on the same page. "

" Shut up. " The nerve.

Unwilling to take it easy on the pervert that has forced you into these dreams for the past week or so, you start tugging and pushing at his outfit, annoyed by the way it appears to cling to his curves. Really it's just an impractical mess, do demons really wear this? " I hate this shit, it doesn't make sense. " You grumble, resigned to trying to tear the straps clinging to his hips and upper thighs.

The other only delights in your roughness it seems, laughing heatedly. " Maybe it's me who should wear less for you, no? "

That's not a bad idea, but like Hell you'll admit it. Nonetheless, he scoots and lifts his ass off the bed for you, but only just long enough for the garb to be edged up. You're not content with the way it looks balled up on his tummy, as you'd like to have full access to his body, but it'll do. Because it's not the main prize, that would be the purple-ish length that bobs free. Pretty. Zizz is hardly anything to scoff at, and even if you think the odd curl which appears to wrap around his cock is curious, you know that can't be safely ridden.

The doubt must show on your face, because he makes a quiet chuff. A digit rises, the amorphous blob shifting by his horns darts to it, until he flicks it your way. Although you recoiled, as if the thing was going to splat itself on your face, you squint an eye open and determine, after some gazing around, that it's perched above your own head now.

" Uh- Thanks? "

That solves nothing.

" Among other things, it will help you welcome me. "

That solves everything.

" Perfect. "

And, with little to no fanfare, you spit on his hard dick, using it to lube him as much as possible while you position yourself above that girthy trial. It's exhilarating, you've never been this rash and gross to a partner, you've never had so much control or been in a situation half as peculiar, your heart thunders when his tip pokes at your folds.

Zizz gasps, fingers trying to settle on your thighs, though you bat them away. " What's the rush, my star? We have endless time to enjo- Hhrk- Fuck ohh! "

Your eyes water and roll to the back of your head as, in a ballsy move, you take half of that cock inside. Your own breathless expletives join his noises when you feel him warm and twitching, filling you tightly. He really wasn't kidding, this thing works, the pain is minimal.

" L- Like you deserve that. " Rocking in an effort to sink further onto him, you can't help moaning, every shift bringing you sharp waves of pleasure. Lord, that strange growth around his member has a delectable texture. " Teasing me for nights on end, doing who knows what- Ah! "

A piston upwards has your vision spinning, a cry loud enough to pass as a scream ripped out of your throat, drowned out by his low, satisfied groan when the root of his member is swallowed and you're flush to him. Zizz appears to tremble, you don't have the wits to push his hands off again when he grabs onto your hips, stroking everywhere and moaning at the fluttering of your walls. " Every second of the wait was worth it, ohff- You're so tight. " The smirk behind his next words is almost gross. " Feels good? You can have this every single night if only- "

" I-... Is this really a dream? " You interrupt.

It feels too realistic, too accurate. Even with the powers you don't doubt this demon has, this is scarily vivid. Would a dream ever be able to replicate the sensation of something as huge as Zizz inside you? Are you being tricked and this is actually reality?

A touch to your cheek startles you back to the present.

" Do you want it to be more than a dream? "

Mouth agape, all you can do is stare back at the demon lord. The ensuing silence speaks volumes.

" Wake up. "

" W- What? "

" I said- " His other hand rips that dark veil off his face, lidded eyes on yours as a pearly white grin stretches on a void-like face. It's... Incredible.

" Wake up. "

With a harsh gasp, you jolt upwards on your bed, head smacking right into something solid and warm.

Oh God...

Gulping, you glance up in total darkness, greeted by the same face, with the same swirl of yellow and blue glowing above it. A sudden thrust makes you realize he's been here all this time, in your bedroom, in your mind.

In your body.

" Did you sleep well? "

#Zizz oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #yandere demon #monster boyfriend #terato #monsterfucker #minors dni

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