#saying he's sorry for that night and he goes back to december all the time....

[alisaint]

back to december by ms swift, or as i like to call it: mandatory five full minutes of having to stop whatever you're doing to shed real life tears over byler from mike's pov bc literally every single lyric from that song applies to them perfectly

[envy-of-the-apple]

Infinite Rewind

Gojo Satoru x reader

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

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

Word Count: 18.1k

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

First, you saw a monster. 

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

And then, you saw a bright, clear sky. 

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

"Hey, you good?" 

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

When you don't respond, her eyes squint. 

"Suguru, are you okay?" 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone. 

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

You were dreaming. 

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

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

“Excited?” 

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

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

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

“Ah,” she says, “so you forgot.” 

“I didn’t.” You reply on instinct. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you were supposed to follow him. 

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

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

What should you say? You clear your throat. 

"He just wants what's best for us." 

Wrong answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fine, whatever. "Sure thing." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hurts. 

Everything hurts. 

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

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

You were going to die. 

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

And then the creature explodes. 

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

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, trying to remember the date. 

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

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

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

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

When you ask him, he just snorts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 24th, 2017, 7:06.

Holy shit, you were back. 

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

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

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

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

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

It used to be your voice. 

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

"Suguru...?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die. 

ⴵ

Again. You died again. 

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

"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks. 

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

Not again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A blue ball drops into your hand. 

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

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

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

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

"Look away." 

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

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

Instantly, you choke. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs. 

"I forgot." Typical. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He'll be dead within a year or so. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So...do we fight Greeny?" 

"It's not my name." You get ignored. 

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

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

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

He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Haven't figured it out yet." 

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

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

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

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

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

Exorcised. Ingested.  

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

You need to survive. 

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. 

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

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. Interesting. 

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

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

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

Haibara shyly shuffles his feet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “A code word?” 

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

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

“Okay, what did you have in mind?” 

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

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

“Wait, why broccoli head?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haibara told me.” 

“Ah,” He replies, “let’s go then.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do whatever, Greeny." 

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

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

Gojo only watches with a tilted head. 

"You're getting better at that."

You give a weak grin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another beat of silence.

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

You give a sheepish laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" 

He gives a wordless hum.

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

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

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

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

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

You blink at that. "What?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hungry?" 

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

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

"Oh." You take it. "Thanks." 

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

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

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

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

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

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

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

"Something wrong?" Riko asks. 

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

Fushiguro Toji has already arrived. 

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

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

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

What do you do?

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

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

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

It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor. 

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

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

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

You were wasting time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You release all 368 of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Nothing happens. 

Everything happens. 

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

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

You're sitting in front of God. 

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

You manage to smile.

"Sorry." 

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

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

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

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

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

You wonder when you got so desensitized to death. 

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

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

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

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

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

You clear your throat. 

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

He blinks back into focus, rising from his high. 

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

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

"You and Suguru." 

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

"Yeah," he finally says.

His skin still feels cold. 

ⴵ

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

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

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

Time skips a lot faster now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your hair's nice." You tell her. 

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

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

"Where are you going?" You ask. 

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

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

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

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

"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then." 

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

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

"That hurt." Haibara whines. 

Good, you inwardly think. 

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

Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You agree with him.

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

“Hey, long time.”

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

Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you know about my birthday?”

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

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

“Oh.” Gojo replies. “Huh.”

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

“How did your mission go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved them,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t help but smile.

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

“Yeah, sure, Greeny.”

ⴵ

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it. Something’s wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

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

Those words are familiar. Hold on.

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

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t be fast enough.

He picks up on the second ring.

“...What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve lost the trust of the strongest.

ⴵ

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru knows you’ve been deceiving him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo’s footsteps stop right in front of you.

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

“Did you exorcise it?” You finally ask.

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Not here.” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo. Stop.” You beg.

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru was demanding to know his future.

And...you couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, it’s directed at Suguru.

It’s even worse than you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t put another burden on the strongest.

You can’t do that to a kid.

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

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

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

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

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

Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.

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

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

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

But he’s not a God. God’s don’t cry.

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

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

You smile anyway.

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

You think of something morbidly funny.

“I’ll die trying.”

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

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

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

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

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

For now, it’s all you can do. 

“I know you will.” 

He scoffs, right then. 

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

Rely on me. Lean on me.

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

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

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

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

This time, you hesitate.

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

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

ⴵ

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

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

It’s today. 

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

The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fight to keep your smile.

“Of course. Please, lead the way.”

It’s worse than you ever could have imagined.

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

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

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

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

The twins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take them.”

“What?” The head of the village asks.

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

You go to Shoko first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” You say first.

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

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

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

He reminisces on your words.

“This happened before too?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

You play with your fingers.

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

He pauses. Then, he looks at you.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru’s quiet.

“You seem happy.” He notes.

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

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

This, was more than enough.

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

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

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

“I’ll miss you.” You tell him.

He straightens himself up.

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

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

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

“What is it?”

It’s his turn to shuffle with his fingers.

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

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

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

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

You laugh. You’ll miss this brat.

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

Suguru’s getting impatient.

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

He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.

“Yeah, Greeny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The clock clicks to 8:07.

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

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

It was over.

It was finally over.

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

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

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

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

Next week, you’ll check yourself into therapy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.

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

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

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

Again.

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

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

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

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

No, not new. You know him.

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

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

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

He actually made it.

“Ma’am?” He asks.

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

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

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

Then, he gasps.

“Greeny?”

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haibara gapes.

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

“Holy fuck.” You laugh at his awe.

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

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

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

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

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

“Haibara—”

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

A smile twitches on your lips.

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

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

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

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

“—You’re a teacher?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But maybe you could. 

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

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

You hate that brat so much. 

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You forgive Satoru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

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

You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.

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

“See ya’ later, Greeny.”

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

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

It’s closed.

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

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

Or wait. Was this Satoru’s doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.

Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.

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

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

But the view. Oh, what a view.

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

It’s 8:09. Satoru was late.

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

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

And then, you can feel hands.

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

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

“Caught ya, Greeny.”

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

"Hm?" Suguru asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nice?" Satoru echoes.

"Yeah."

And then it's quiet again.)

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

[boldlyvoid]

Little White Lies

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: Readers sister is having an Engagement/Christmas party this year and her cousin will be there. With her new fiance. Who is reader's ex. The only logical thing to do is to show up with her own new boyfriend... who isn't really her boyfriend. He's her boss.

Warnings: fake dating, mutual pining, idiots in love, flirting, teasing, there's only one bed, love confessions, getting together, oral sex (fem receiving), condom use, p in v smut, meeting readers family

Word Count: 5.3k

She sits in the corner of the jet, facing Aaron in the two-person seat near the entrance to the cockpit. She’s sat there with him on almost every trip for the past 3 years. He’s good company, not too talkative, he gets her drinks and he gives her little smiles every so often. It’s relaxing to sit with him… however, tonight, she’s not in a good mood and he can tell. 

He looks at her all concerned and then looks around at the others to assure they’re all busy. “Are you alright?” He whispers. Keeping her business between them. 

She shrugs, “My sister’s been texting me. Her engagement party is coming up and I promised I’d go but I just found out that my cousin and her fiancé are going to be there…” 

“Do you not like her?” 

She shakes her head, “it’s complicated.” 

“I’m all ears?” He reminds her. 

She sighs, “Her fiancé is my ex-boyfriend. She slept with him while we were still together… I was in the academy and he was apparently lonely all by himself and didn’t have the time to travel here to see me so he fell into her bed instead.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Hotch says, concern all over his face and disbelief in his voice. “That’s awful, why would your sister invite her?” 

“Because my parents are paying for it and all the family gets to go, no matter what,” she scoffs. “It’s to show off, nothing more.” 

“You know…” he tilts his head to the side and his brows go up as he thinks, a pondering look on his face that’s quite amusing. “You could bring someone with you, someone to prove to him that you’ve moved on and you’re in a much better place now?” He suggests. 

“Yeah, like who? Morgan?” She teases, laughing slightly. 

“Or me?” He offers. His brows were still raised but the softest, most sincere look on his face. She’s never seen him look so… so affectionate. So careful. Unless he’s with Jack. This is his ‘I love you like family I’ll do whatever you need me to’ look. 

“Yeah,” she gives in. “That would be nice… it’s December 22nd. Would you be able to take time away from Jack that close to Christmas?” 

“Where is it?” 

“they’re having it in New York, that’s where my sister lives now,” she explains. “I’m taking the train up the night before, I have a hotel room booked but I could stay with my sister and you could have the room for the night?” 

“Could we switch to a double queen?” He suggests. 

She shrugs, “I can call and find out?” 

“Okay,” he nods. “Jack’s with Haley this Christmas, I see him boxing day till New Year's Day and then he goes back to her.” 

“We’ll have to bring him home something,” she suggests. “We can even go a bit early or stay later if you want to go shopping a bit in the city?” 

“He’s always said he wants M&M’s with his face on them,” he teases. “It’ll be fun.” 

“I’ll tell my sister to expect another person,” she says as she pulls her phone out. “Do I tell her you’re my boyfriend?” 

He nods, “Whatever you want to call me, I’ll be it for the weekend.” 

—

She tells him to pack a suit and obviously an overcoat to stay warm in the cold New York air. The party they’re going to is going to be on the top floor of this really expensive restaurant, they’ll have rooftop access and there’s free drinks. It’ll be the fanciest non-FBI party he’s ever been invited to. 

The team doesn’t know they’re going together, everyone has the next two weeks off unless there’s something serious like terrorism or multiple bodies dropping, or a kid going missing. But it’s not often their Christmas breaks get disrupted. So they pack up on the 20th, everyone takes the elevators down to the garage together and they say goodbye before their vacations. 

He meets her at the train station the next day at 11am, their train leaves at 11:20, and he comes with snacks and coffee. Always in dad mode, he knows what it’s like to go on a long trip with someone who’s hungry, it’s not always fun. They have a little booth together, the trains are mostly empty this close to Christmas. Everyone’s either where they want to be already or taking last-minute flights. So it’s quiet, they get to look out the window together and she shares an earbud with him, with her phone on shuffle, exposing him to a whole bunch of new music. 

And she has a nap, head on his shoulder and wrapped around his arm. It’s not the first time this has happened, he’s let her sleep on him on the Jet and they’ve had to share beds in hotels before. He’s hugged her after rough cases and when she’s just sad… she’s his family. Everyone on the team is. He just feels it a little stronger for her. 

He rests his cheek on her head, looking out the window with a smile on his face. Excited to pretend to be her boyfriend for the next 2 days. To have her hang off his arm, to dance with her… maybe even steal a kiss or two to really sell it. And he can’t wait to see her dress, or how she does her hair or if she’s going to wear makeup? She doesn’t get all dolled up for work, but he’s seen her dress up for the bar and events for the bureau and he thinks she is so, so beautiful. Always, but especially when she puts on lipstick and her good perfume. 

He’s been harbouring this little crush on her for so long that he’s not really sure how much longer it can stay a secret. 

They arrive in New York at 6pm. The hotel they’re staying at has a restaurant and Y/N, being the genius she is, booked a reservation for 6:30. They have enough time to put their bags in their room and head back downstairs, but their room is wrong. 

“They told me they could switch to two queens?” She complains as she sees just one bed. A King bed. 

“Did you specifically say two queens or a double queen?” He teases. “Cause a double queen might make them think you want a bigger bed…” 

She groans, holding her hands over her face, “Oh god, I fucked up.” 

He gently rubs his hand on her back, “Hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind sharing for 2 nights, there’s lots of room in there. Plus… it might be good for playing pretend.” 

She smirks, “my boyfriend would sleep in the same bed as me.” 

“and enjoy it,” he pulls her in for a hug and rests his chin on her head while she snuggles into his chest where she feels safest. 

—

After dinner, they walk around the city a bit. She still has to get her sister something and she has a registry at some fancy store nearby. They get hot chocolates and stand close together as they walk, hands brushing each other but not holding, no matter how much she wants to hold his hand. So she rubs her knuckles against his and waits for him to be the one to finally give in. 

It takes a while, they walk down the block and explore two stores but he finally takes her hand in his, fingers interlocked, as they cross the street. And he doesn’t let go once they’re safely back on the sidewalk. He simply guides her towards the store her sister is registered at and they head inside, closer than ever before. 

“Hi, can I help you with anything?” One of the workers asks with a genuine smile on her face. 

“my sister has a registry here,” Y/N explains. “It should be under Lindsay and Connor Higgins?” 

She’s taken to the register and handed a list, everything they want is on it. Some crossed out as they’ve already been purchased, but a decent amount of things are still there. A lot of it is pointless, fancy shit but she likes to think she knows her sister well. She knows what would actually be used by her and what would just be a decoration to prove she had good taste. 

Her sister works really hard at a very important publishing company, she’s gone to work by 6am and home no later than 8pm most nights. She lives on coffee and wine to wake her up in the mornings and relax her at night. So she gets her an espresso maker and some crystal wine glasses. But when she goes to pay for them, Aaron reaches out and pulls the wine glasses towards himself. “I’ll get these, I can’t go without a gift.” 

She smiles, “you don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” he assures her. 

They pay, they get a decorative gift bag each and head back outside to the cold. He reaches for her hand again and she lets him, smiling over at him. “You’re taking this assignment very seriously.” 

“Have you ever known me to slack on the job?” He teases. 

She bumps her shoulder against his, “No, I guess not… and I guess this is helping, it’ll look more real in front of everyone tomorrow.” 

“It won’t be that hard,” he assures her.

“Why, 'cause I’m so loveable?” She jokes, not believing the words that leave her mouth. 

“Yes, actually,” he nods, smiling over at her. 

She just laughs, not thinking he means it as anything other than familial. “Thanks. You’re pretty great too when you’re not telling me what to do.” 

“I don’t boss you around that much,” he laughs too. “Dave teases me all the time about how much nicer I am to you than the others.” 

“Well, I am your best agent,” she shrugs with a proud smirk. “You wanna go back to the hotel or is there anything you want to do tonight?” 

“We can go back,” he agrees, leading them in the direction of the hotel already. “I’m going to need some good beauty sleep to make your ex jealous tomorrow.” 

“Ha!” She laughs, raising her hand that’s carrying the bag to cover her mouth as she giggles. “Yeah, no you don’t. You’re like a million times hotter than him, it’s not a fair fight at all.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“What?” She looks at him like he’s crazy. “Do you not think you’re hot?” 

“Not exactly…” 

“I knew you were funny but that’s hilarious,” she jokes. “You’re very, very hot. One of the hottest men I’ve ever seen in my life, like People magazine should be reaching out to you for sexiest man of the year. You’ve been on the news enough times, surely the public will agree.” 

He laughs at the compliment, “Thank you, I guess… I guess I should trust your judgement here the way I do everywhere else.” 

“Yes, 'cause I’m never wrong,” she reminds him. 

They keep joking around, teasing each other until they get back to the hotel. Up the elevator and into their room. They leave their gifts by the door and Aaron lets her take the first turn in the bathroom to get ready for the night. 

She takes off her makeup, she washes her face and does her skincare routine and he knocks, “Are you okay in there?” 

“Yeah, you can come in,” she announces, still fully dressed. 

He opens the door slowly, “You’ve been in here 10 minutes already I thought you were just changing?” 

“Nope, skincare is important,” she smiles at him, massaging the moisturizer into her face. “Want some?” 

He smiles, “Sure, why not?” 

“Wash your face first, get a new face cloth over there,” she points and steps out of the way of the sink. “My face wash is right there.” 

She watches him wash his face carefully, smiling at him through the mirror with so much affection behind her eyes. He’s so cute when he gets soft like this, she could easily see them having a life like this together. Getting ready for bed together, doing their nighttime routines and falling into the same bed. Night after night. Forever. 

Once his face is washed he looks to her, “How much moisturizer do I use?” 

“Want me to do it?” She offers. 

He nods, “please?” 

“Sit down on the toilet lid,” she instructs and he moves over there quickly. 

She opens the jar again and takes a decent-sized amount onto her fingers, she puts the jar down and smiles at him, “It might be cold.” She dabs it on his forehead, cheeks, nose and chin and then starts to rub it in for him. He closes his eyes and sighs as he leans into it. “Like it?” 

He hums, nodding slightly, not wanting to talk incase he accidentally got cream in his mouth. She just smiles, adoringly, loving that she gets to have moments like this with him. “You’re so cute…” she whispers. 

He chuckles, finally looking at her again. She cups his face in her hands, “all done.” 

“You’re cuter.” 

“What is happening here?” She asks, completely serious. “Are you just a good actor or—

“I was in a few plays,” he teases. “But no, I’m not acting.” 

“Do you have a thing for me?” She lights right up. “Oh my god, you do?” 

“And you call yourself a profiler,” he shakes his head. “Yes, okay? I like you. I think you’re wonderful and beautiful and everything I want— is that what you wanted me to say?” 

“Get up,” she says, pulling at him. 

“Why?” He asks as he stands. 

“So you can be taller than me when I kiss you,” she teases. Grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in. 

The kiss is soft at first, cute and sweet… but then they get needy. Years of close proximity and bubbling feelings and “what ifs” all coming to the surface. He cups the back of her head with one hand and holds her lower back with the other, holding her flush to his chest as his tongue makes her acquaintance. 

She accidentally moans as his hand goes down to cup her ass and he smiles against her. He pulls back slightly, noses brushing. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to do that.” 

“Really?” She can’t believe it. 

He smiles before he steals another kiss, and another and another and before they know it he’s backed her out of the bathroom and all the way to their king bed. He has her on the mattress, hand on her back and the nape of her neck as he cradles her and hovers over her. His tongue on hers, their chests pressed together, and her hands on his back with her nails desperately clinging to the cotton. 

He eagerly moves to kiss her neck and while it feels so good, she’s worried about what is about to go down. Sure, she hoped for this. She thought maybe they’d have a few drinks at the party tomorrow and stumble home and fall into bed together and regret it in the morning but this… admitting to liking each other while completely sober, was not on her mind at all. 

“Aaron,” she whispers, hesitation in her voice. 

He pulls back, “something wrong?” 

“Are we going to regret this?” She worries. 

He cups her face gently, his body weight still on top of her, it’s oddly comforting to feel so trapped under him. “I know I won’t, but if you will, then we stop. I never want you to regret your time with me. I never want you to be uncomfortable with me. I never want to lose what we have… so if that means we never have more than a friendship, I'm perfectly okay with that.” 

“I have tried so hard not to love you for the last year and a bit that we’ve been friends,” she admits. “If we go further and you change your mind, I’ll never recover.” 

“I won’t change my mind,” he says, confident as ever. “I want you to love me as much as I already love you.” 

His thumb caresses her cheek while he talks, he looks at her with the most affectionate look she’s ever seen on him. He’s so handsome all the time, but this look. The softness, his big brown eyes, the way he smelled like her face cream and he kept looking down at her lips like he was dying to taste them again… she’s always believed him when he speaks, but this is different. He’s opened his chest and handed her his heart and he wants her to hold it and keep it safe... forever. 

“I love you,” she admits, tearing up because this is so unreal. “I love you so much, Aaron.” 

He kisses her again, so gently, breathing her in and savouring every moment. Sure, it’s not their first kiss, that happened 10 minutes ago, but this is the first kiss they’ll have being openly in love with each other. 

She kisses him again and again, never wanting this to end. She wraps her legs around him, she holds him closer than ever and he lightly moans against her. She starts to work at his shirt, unbuttoning it so she can get her hands under it. She wraps her arms around him, touching his hot skin as he breaks the kiss and moves down her neck. 

“I love you, so much,” he reminds her again. 

“Show me how much?” she whispers right into his ear. 

He pulls back, delicately looking into her eyes, “are you sure?” 

She nods, “more than I’ve ever been before.” 

He gets his shirt off, and he pulls her forward to pull hers off too. Through kisses and rolling around, his pants are off, then her’s. Behind her, he kisses her spine while he unclips her bra, pushing each strap off her arms with kisses to her shoulders, he cups her breasts and kisses up to her ear again, “lay down.” 

She listens, he gets between her legs and peels her underwear off. Raising her right leg, he kisses her knee and down her thigh, as he gets on his stomach, he looks up at her for permission and all she can do is nod because this seems unreal. His big beautiful brown eyes are looking at her from between her legs as he kisses the most intimate part of her body and she’s in heaven. 

She’s died and gone to heaven. The train must’ve crashed and she’s in her own personalized forever with the man of her dreams…. But it didn’t. This is real and happening and she should be enjoying it. 

She grips his hair, and her back arches as she moans into the contact, he’s so fucking good with his mouth because of course he is? Is there anything this man can’t do?

Full of love and zero expectations or worry, she feels herself getting closer to an orgasm so much faster than she has with anyone else ever. Not even herself. Normally she’s so in her head, so nervous and worried or barely being taken care of… this one just sneaks up on her, trembling through her, she grips his hair a little tighter and moans out his name, “Oh, oh I’m cumming, I’m— oh!” 

He laps up every last drop as she rides it out, overstimulating her slightly, and he can tell. He pulls back with a grin, proud of himself and enjoying the way she looks so fucked out like this. 

He kisses back up her tummy, between her boobs and then hovers over her while she’s still catching her breath, “hi…” 

She smiles, “Hi?” 

“Ready for me to show you the rest?” 

“There’s more?” She teases, “You love me more than that?”

He laughs, “Yeah, that was just a taste…” 

She pulls him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. “Mm, a good taste.” 

“You’re telling me,” he growls. “I could do that every day for the rest of my life.” 

“And I’d let you…” 

He kisses her again, cause if he doesn’t, she won’t stop teasing him. 

Kissing him while coming down from her high, feels unreal. She’s floating on a cloud, and might as well be on drugs— it feels too good, she moans against him, legs wrapped around him, she never wants to let him go. He kisses the side of her mouth, “baby—

She hums, pulling him back in for another kiss. 

He pulls back, “I can’t fuck you with my boxers still on.” 

She sighs, pretending it’s more work than it is, “Fine, take ‘em off.” 

He shakes his head with a smile as she lets him go and he’s able to push his boxers off. “And I need to grab a condom—

“did you bring condoms?” She sounds shocked. 

He nods, “yeah… I didn’t expect anything, I just always have some in my toiletries bag.” 

She watches his cute ass jiggle as he walks towards his bag, he squats to undo the zipper and she tries not to laugh at the view of his balls dangling but it’s so endearing somehow? He’s real and there and he’s about to rock her world. 

He’s quick to grab what he wants, he rips the condom open with his teeth and tosses the wrapper to the floor as he rolls it on right beside the bed. She watches carefully, eyes scanning his whole body. She hasn’t really had a good look at him while naked yet, he’s been pressed against the bed or on top of her. But damn. 

“Jesus,” she whispers under her breath. 

He smirks, “what?” 

She waves her hand around in his general direction, “You just walk around with all that under your suits every day?” 

He shakes his head again, “I could say the same thing about you.” 

He crawls back onto the bed, between her legs again, one hand on the bed as he hovers over her, “you okay with this position?” 

She nods, “perfectly okay with it. It’s a very underrated position.” 

“Mhm,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss her again. One hand on her hip, he grinds himself against her, “Ready?” 

She nodded, watching as he lets go of her hip to grip himself at the base, she spreads her legs a bit more and he taps her clit once just for fun but it makes her whine, “Don’t tease me.” 

“But you can tease me?” He asks, head right at her entrance, about to push in… she nods and that’s when he does it. Watching her head tip back with a silent moan. “Now I know how to get you quiet.” 

He goes back to rest his hand on her hip but she reaches for them and interlocks their fingers, instead. He bottomed out and dropped to hover over her once more, bringing their interlocked hands over her head. 

She reached up to kiss him, but Aaron pushed into the kiss and made her settle into the pillow once again. It honestly felt like a movie scene, the first time between two star-crossed lovers. He pulled out ever so slightly before thrusting in again, she gasped against his mouth. Aaron trusted more while she pushed her hips into it as well, an offbeat rhythm developed in pure ecstasy. She let go of Aaron’s hands to snake them around his waist, to run her fingers over the soft and slightly chilled skin of his back. Feeling the bump of his spine Aaron ducked into the crook of her neck, placing kisses along her collarbone.

He changed the position of his thrust as he wrapped his arms under her, arching her back ever so slightly to reach the bundle of nerves that left her a quivering mess. She, in response to the added pleasure, ran her sharp nails down Aaron’s back and he groaned at the feeling, “do that again.” he requested.

“Like that?” She asked, dragging his nails down him once more.

“Yeah,” Aaron moaned, dark and deep. “Mark me… where no one can see it, only you know tomorrow.”

So she does, she runs her nails over his back with more intent, knowing there will be 8 red lines spread down his back in the morning. Just then, he starts to kiss lower, down to her boobs, where he sucks a mark that shouldn't be visible in her dress tomorrow… he wanted to mark her just as bad. But his kisses quickly return to her neck and lower ear. 

“Aaron,” she moans out. “Go a little faster?” 

He does as she asks, keeping that loving feeling but picking up the pace. The feeling of pure bliss overtook her body with each thrust, warm chills ran through him with each brush of his thumb on her clit. Every kiss to her neck and squeeze around her waist made her feel like she was on fire. The hairs on her arms stood up, and goosebumps formed along his forearms. Aaron kissed from her neck to her nipple and took the hard nib into his mouth causing her to moan like she never had before.

“Aaron,” she panted, pulling Aaron’s face back up to his.

His eyes were absolutely blown out in pleasure, those chocolate wonders he used to stare into were now replaced solely by the pupils. She ran her thumb across Aaron’s cheek before reaching to the nape of his neck to pull him into another kiss. Open mouths pressed together, hot air on each other’s faces as they panted to the pleasure.

She was in heaven.

Her orgasm bubbled in her stomach, “are you close?” Aaron whispered right beside her mouth, kissing her cheek lightly after.

She hummed, unable to speak with the mass amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Aaron fucked into her a bit harder, a tiny bit faster, hitting her G-spot dead on each time to the point the nerves in her thighs were quaking uncontrollably.

She was so close, Aaron used 3 fingers to quickly rub over her clit before she threw her head back with a shout. Cumming with her eyes pressed shut, pleasure coursed through her body stronger than she’s ever felt before.

Nothing had ever made her cum that hard, ripping through her like her soul was leaving her body. She dug her nails deep into Aaron’s skin holding him close to his body while he kept thrusting.

A high-pitched gasp left his lips, close to her ear as his hips sputtered into hers one last time. She still hadn’t opened her eyes, her breath rigid, she felt winded. Aaron had stilled as he came inside of her and then collapsed into her, deadweight lying on her.

But she didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. She wrapped herself around him even tighter and kissed the side of his head, “I love you, too.” 

He kisses her neck, “I can’t believe I was afraid to tell you…” 

“Silly man, we could’ve been doing that the whole time,” she teases him again the first chance she gets. 

He huffs a little laugh out of his nose, smiling against her. “We can do this all the time now.” 

“Mhm,” she squeezes him a little tighter. “I hope you know this means we’re dating now. I don’t just fuck anyone. Especially not my boss…” 

He manages to push himself up to look at her, and the look on his face says it all. “Yeah, I know… and I’ll handle the paperwork when we get back.” 

—

They get all dolled up together, between kisses and flirting and teasing… they end up fully dressed, presents in hand, on their way to the party. They hold hands the whole cab ride over, up the elevator and into the booming restaurant. 

It’s entirely booked out for her sister’s party, on the top floor of a fancy building. It’s completely catered, there are fancy waiters walking around with trays of hors d’oeuvres and expensive champagne. They have their gifts taken from their hands upon arrival and their hands are instantly filled with a drink. She looks around, looking for the first person she knows well and spots her mom and dad over on the other side of the room. 

“Come with me, I have some people I want you to meet…” she says as she leads him through the crowd. 

He’s nervous but more excited. She gets to show him off and this isn’t a lie. He really is her boyfriend and they are in love and happy and this is everything he’s ever wanted. With his hand around her waist the whole time, shoulder to shoulder, he meets her parents and her sister. He shakes hands with her dad and her new brother-in-law, he gets hugs from the mom and sister, they’re looking at her with eyes that he can hear. They’re saying how much of an improvement he is to the last guy, they’re amazed at how handsome he is, and he blushes slightly in response. 

“So how long has this been going on?” Her dad asks. 

She looks up at him and smiles, “Not long, but we’re really happy.” 

“The happiest,” he agrees, stealing a quick kiss from her that makes the women swoon. 

“You know, this is fantastic,” her sister announces. “I was worried you’d be upset to see Brad and Cameron here together but now you have Aaron and they’re not even coming anymore. Something happened… I don’t even think they’re together anymore.” 

“Oh?” She’s completely shocked to hear that. 

“Once a cheater always a cheater,” her brother-in-law says under his breath with the roll of his eyes. 

“We see it all the time at work,” Aaron agrees. “It’s pathological. They crave attention so intensely that they’ll do anything to get it, to the detriment of the people they love. They cheat because for a moment they’re the most important person, they’re attractive enough to get who they want and powerful enough to get away with it. And even when it blows up in their face they can play the ‘you wouldn’t be this mad if you weren’t so obsessed with me’ card.” 

“That’s Brad,” her dad agrees. “Good riddance, honestly.” 

“Let’s just leave it there,” her mom announces. “We’re here for Lindsay and Connor.” 

“It’s been lovely to meet you Aaron, but we have a lot of people to mingle with,” Lindsay announces and Connor sighs. “We’ll talk again later?” 

“Sounds good,” Y/N lets them head off and then she’s just with her parents. “Um, I’m hungry… Aaron, did you want to go raid the snacks?” 

“I’d love to,” he agrees. “It was lovely to meet you both.” 

“We hope to see you again regularly?” Her mother throws in. 

“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” he assures, “you should get used to me.” 

She manages to pull him away from them, a little overwhelmed and so in love with him. She gets him to an empty corner and looks up at him like he’s crazy, “did you seriously say that?” 

He nods, “What part of last night didn’t you understand? I’m madly in love with you. I would marry you tomorrow if it wouldn’t take the attention off your sister.” 

She just laughs, shocked and amazed that he just said that. “Really?” 

“Yes. Really.” 

She shakes her head in disbelief, “o-okay… but you still have to ask me. I don’t need anything big and extravagant and I’d like to maybe pick the ring out with you if you want but—

“You want to?” 

She nods, that teasing smirk he loves so much plastered on her face, “I don’t just want to be your work wife, Aaron.” 

“We’ll revisit this in the new year… I need Jack to know about this and be okay with it before I spring a step-mom on him,” he explains. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

[marypaol]

3rd Of December

Percy Jackson x fem!reader (AU)

Summary: She remembers the 3rd December, but she wishes more than anything that she was Annabeth.

Warnings: Self hated, angst angst angst, crying, insecurities, self doubt, negative mindset, etc all that good stuff.

Note: This is inspired by the wonderful song “Heather” by Conan Gray so listen while reading if desired! Also, there isn’t going to be a part two, it’s just a little story to get going again because I took such a long break from writing I need to get back into it!! :) (Also my only Percy story, sorry!)

Also thanks so much to my followers for their great patience!

If I recall, I still remember. Of course I would. It was the night my butterflies came flying back, the night where I was wrapped in a sweater flooded with his scent, the night of the third of December.

The night my heart sang and blossomed into what would later turn into deadly rose thorns, poking at my heart until it ripped into shreds.

I desperately wished I could go back- go back to the night where my heart was fine, where it was beating without a problem as I stared into those sea green eyes that I was practically drowning myself in (no pun intended) since I was staring at them for so long. Mind as well do so, I would rather be dead at sea then experience what my chest was feeling right now.

But I’m stuck in the present. Stuck in this pain of having to watch them two, her wearing his sweater now.

Being stuck here doesn’t stop me from going back mentally, for when I close my eyes at night my mind goes back to that night, for it has once again done it tonight as I feel my sheets beneath me.

My third of December went as this:

“You cold?” I heard him say. I looked over from where I was shivering. We laid on a slide at a playground outside of town, the starry sky watching over us. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I looked into his eyes and couldn’t bring myself to lie to him.

“A little.” I finally responded. I soon regretted my action of speaking truth once he sat up, his hands fiddling with his sweater before pulling it over his black hair and setting it in my arms. “Here.” He said with a small smile.

“But you’ll be cold, Perce.” I protested softly, sitting up slightly and I could feel my hair sticking to the slide due to static.

Percy gently fixed it, making my cheeks flush but thank the gods he can’t see it due to the dark.

He smiled at me assuringly. “I’ll be fine. Trust me I was kinda warm anyway.”

Despite the fact I was still hesitant, I still wanted to be indulged in his scent, I wanted the sea and salt to be something that surrounded me for the rest of the night. So I pulled the polyester clothing over my head, and, as predicted, the pure smell of Percy Jackson evolved me within seconds. I almost wanted to pull it to my nose, to not only have a piece of him on me but in me, close within my chest.

“It looks better on you than me.” He mutters. I turn to him, a shy blush covering my cheeks so I hide it with the collar, taking more of his scent without him knowing.

‘Only if he knew’ I thought, back to the present time and staring at my ceiling with glossy eyes. ‘How much I adore him.’

But he’d never know. Oh gods no. I couldn’t bear to tell him how much I look forward to seeing his smile and how his eyes twinkle when he talks about something that I interests him. He was pure perfection in my eyes and my heart practically beats for him, but I doubt he felt the same way as I. How could he love someone like me when there are so many other perfect girls waiting for his arms?

Little did he know how much I hold onto that moment, how much I replay it in my head. It replays over, and over, and over, and over again.

How many times am I going to replay the memory just to make myself feel less lonely?

But once again before I go to sleep I thought back to it, back to his curved lips that I desperately wanted to kiss, back to his sea green eyes I wanted to get caught looking into, back to his messed up hair I wanted to place my hands in.

Back to when it felt like he was mine.

But I watch him as she walks by. Her prefect figure that I so wished I had. I would transform myself for him. Anything he wanted me to be I would, but I know deep down I would always want to show my true self to him.

I watch him today, at lunch, his green eyes walking her walk by. Her appearance, as always, is perfect. Brighter than a blue sky, Percy’s mesmerized by her, Annabeth, also known as Wise Girl.

All while I die.

‘She’s so much prettier than I am.’ I think, my eyes drifting over her. ‘I wish I looked like her.’ My eyes drift back to Perce, his sparkling eyes still on her.

‘Damn it, Percy.’ I think, my eyes digging so far into the side of his head I hoped he felt it. ‘Just please look at me for once.’

But why would he? I’m not pretty, and I’m not smart like she is. I’m not even half as pretty so why would be ever look at me, let alone kiss me?

It wasn’t until I saw them two at the playground hang out that I lost it. My chest burned as I say the polyester material around her figure, her hair touching the fabric as she walked around, a wide smile on her flawless lips. And as my blurry eyes looked down, I saw her smooth hand held in Percy’s. The same playground he gave me his sweater. The same slide I laid on as I got lost in his eyes.

My Percy.

‘He’s not yours.’ A voice inside my head told me, reminded me, but my heart still hurt all the same, and the events of the hang out seemed very unappealing now.

With wobbly legs and blurry eyes, I sped walked to my apartment door, my hands shaking with the knob before slamming it.

The tears came full force, my nose tingling and eyes burning as waterfalls fell down my cheeks. I crawled into my bed after putting on a sweatshirt, wishing it was his, using the sleeves to hopelessly wipe the tears.

The blankets swallowed me as the tears soaked my face. The sobs were muffled my the sleeves, my heart cracking when I couldn’t help but think of his smile.

I wish I were Annabeth.

*Bonus* (Percy’s POV)

“Do you think it’s working? Does she look jealous?” I ask the girl beside me, my hand feeling poisonous in hers. I so wanted to rip my hand from her grip, and she did so as soon as my love was out of sight, walking into her apartment quickly, the one across from the playground the friend group hung out at this evening.

“I think,” Annabeth started, leaning forward a little after wiping my touch off her hands with her shorts. Her voice got softer than before, and my heart stumbled from the next words. “That you’re breaking her.”

—

-I hope you liked it! By the way, there isn’t going to be a part two, it’s just one part until further notice. :)

[riofann]

7. tempestuous

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Previous Chapter

Trigger Warning: Violence, mentions of SA

Saturday December 5, 2020 

As much as you hate to admit it, Rio was right as soon as Cure relaunched it didn’t take 3 months before you found yourself busy with the bar. You were hoping it would be a flop. You didn’t like the fact that people were so eager to come back. It was as if Gracie meant nothing to them all they wanted was the food and drinks. 

“Fuck you!” you feel the rage spilling over 

He scoffs “Fuck me?!” “Why am I collateral damage for whenever shit goes wrong?” He sighs “You're not” 

“So then why does it keep happening? What happened this year? What happened last year? Why am I bearing the brunt for shit I don’t even ask to be involved in?” “You're a boss, you know that sometimes..” 

You slap him with all the strength you can muster “Gracie is dead because of him”  You point to Alejandro “and you want to talk about being a boss?” he had told you to stop by the warehouse tonight “Are you done?” he asks

“No Fuck you!” You say shoving him causing him to stumble back a little, when you go to push him away again he grabs onto your arms “What do you want from me?! Have I not given you everything?” “Chill out Y/N!” he raises his voice holding onto your arms

 “Why is Alejandro here?” You ask him, struggling against his strong grip

“He’s here because he works for me now”

“At what expense?” “You don’t dictate who i work with” You nod “so its not a partnership then, it’s never been one” 

“It is” 

“So why is he here? I don't want to work with him, do you know what he used to do to me?" he just scowls at you "I can’t sleep because of him and you employed him?!” 

“I told you I’m taking care of it so chill” 

“NO! Fuck you Rio, I can’t believe I was stupid enough” You pause  “Why not just kill me?" you ask voice breaking "Why are we even pretending here?” 

“Why you asking so many questions? Stop overreacting” 

“Fuck you I’m not overreacting!” you maneuver your way out of his grip “What did he tell you that you’re so eager to work with him?” You turn to face Alejandro “What did you say to him huh? Told him how big your dick is? Tell him how you can’t wait to feel his lips around it? Did you shove it in his face?” 

“Chinga tu....” before he finished you punched him he laughs “hit like a girl“ You continue punching him the men go to stop you but Rio stops them from rushing to you 

“What did he tell you?” You ask Rio out of breath

With a bloody mouth Alejandro speaks “that’s for me to know carino” you punch him once more and he falls to the ground “chinga” you stomp on his head knocking him out ultimately 

You chuckle cynically "I'm fucking stupid" you speak to yourself. Rio says nothing. You pick up your purse and walk away.

Tuesday December 15, 2020 

“Where’s Rio?” You ask gripping the bag tighter 

“Sorry carino, boss is busy you now have to work with me” he smiles showing his two gold canine teeth 

“I’m not” you say getting up 

“OYE! Where you going? You owe us money loca!” 

“Nope I owe Rio money if he wants it, he knows where to find me” you say defiantly getting in your car

Thursday December 17, 2020 

“Glad you made it back home darling” he speaks as he takes a sip of beer after your shower

“Oh you’re home!” You smile sarcastically although he did break in after you got in for the night “Can you just knock? I’ll let you in just fucking knock” 

“Where’s my money?” “Oh you know where that is, Mick is very aware of the layout of my home” “Y/N” “Go get it” you look at him with a confused look “isn’t that why you’re here?” He sighs “Why did I have to cut my trip short?” “Why you asking soo many questions?” You throw back at him pointing to the time he wasn’t responding to you over Alejandro 

“Just because you wanna throw a tantrum” he speaks

“It’s not a tantrum” 

“No? Then what is it mama?” he stands up and walks to you “You refusing to give Alejandro the money” You throw your hands up “I told you I’m not working with him, someone needs his listening ears” you tap your ears “Well you’re gonna have to” “Looks like you’re gonna be making a lot of house calls. I would give you a house key but seems like my door is always open for you” “Y/N” “Christopher

“You gon have to work with him” 

“I’m not”

“This ain't up for debate!"

“I’m not debating you,” you scoff at the thought “I’m telling you. You do not get to pull this shit with me and expect me to just sit there and be happy about it. So you have 2 options get someone else to pick up the money or kill me and get someone else to do this shit” Mick walks back with the duffle bag “Oh look Mick got the money get the fuck out of my house!” 

He pauses to look at you before leaving 

Thursday January 7, 2021 

Y/N: Where are you? 

Rio: Tied up 

Y/N: I’m going home 

Rio: It’s a one time thing, just deal with it for today 

Y/N: One too many 

“OY! QUE TAL WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOIN?” he screams at you as you walk away 

“Home” He catches up to you “No no no mi novia” blocking your path

“Fuck you!” you say moving around him  

He grabs your arm “I tried” 

“Let GO!” you demand He turns to face his friends making light of the situation “Esa mujer, puta!” He struggles with you and some time during the struggle you get slapped. You pause for a second before unleashing on him there's some commotion people are trying to pull you off of him 

He laughs proudly “you fucking bitch you think you’ll ever run anything you’re nothing but his perrito you're no boss acting like you can do shit you...” you kick him, he groans in pain falling to the floor 

“Pinche puta!” The other men say with their hands in the air you had reached in your purse and pulled out your gun

Alejandro looks up to you “What are you gonna do shoot me?” 

“Yes” you say calmly before aiming and pulling the trigger 

Sunday January 10, 2021 

“You called?” You say to Rio as you stand by the door of his office. He puts a finger up and continues to talk on the phone. You step into the office, closing the door behind you. You take in the environment; it's not what you expected, it was even better than your office. The tones of green, mahogany, and black complimented the exposed red brick. You take a seat by the chair on the opposite side of the desk as he finishes the conversation. 

“Soooo” you begin after the call ends 

He puts up a finger again, not looking at you but down at his phone. You huff in response and pull out your phone to keep you busy. 

“What happened?” He asks when he is done

“Here’s your money” you say placing the duffle bag on  his desk 

He doesn’t glance at it, his glare dead set on you “What happened Y/N?”  he asks again 

“We fought and I shot him” you state matter of factly 

“That's not the story I got” 

You open your hands as you shrug “Well seeing that you have no care when it comes to me why should I bother convincing you otherwise? You were never gonna believe me anyway” you pause “it is what it is huh?” 

He sighs “This isn’t a joke Y/N” 

“I told you I didn’t want to work with him” 

“And I told you I’m working on it!” 

“Yea you say that but...” 

He cuts you off “You can’t just go around shooting people point blank”

You roll your eyes in annoyance “He’s not dead, don't be dramatic” 

He bangs the table “Listen to me! This isn’t a game!” he lectures 

You scoff “so what you called me into your office to reprimand me? Is that it? I got called to the office?” you mock 

“No, I called you to ta...”

You stand up abruptly “Fuck this I’m done, there's your fucking money”  you say standing up and walking away 

“Get back here!” He bellows 

“NO FUCK YOU RIO!”

You can hear the chair wheels squeaking followed by the sound of it hitting the wall behind. The stomping of his boots walking up to you echo in the room. The very short walk to his desk was now a very long walk to the door. Your heart races, you can’t hear anything besides your heart and Rio’s boots thumping on the floor quickly approaching you. It feels so intense that all the other noise, the TV, the chatting outside, the low mediation music ceases to exist. You feel like your heart is going to explode from your chest. You just need to get to the door. As soon as you reach for the knob he pulls you back roughly with no care to you falling, stumbling, tripping nothing.

There's a pain radiating from your left arm “LET” before you can finish he has pulled you closer you can feel the air passing through his nostrils 

“Chill. the. fuck. out!”  he grits out, his glare is so intense you can see the vein popping out on his forehead. You look up at him going to rebuttal “I told you I was taking care of it and that's what the fuck I'm doing!” 

You feel yourself getting emotional “I told you...” 

“I know what the fuck you said, but that don’t mean you go around shooting people Y/N! Throwing a fucking tantrum!” 

You pull your arm only for him to grip tighter and pull you impossibly closer. The glare itself makes you stop struggling “Stop calling it a tantrum!” 

“Then stop acting like a child!” 

You try to push him off “NO! I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T WANT TO WORK WITH HIM!” you try another tactic, if you knew anything about Rio he hated people being in his business

He jerks you abrasively away from the door walking you to the middle of the room as you stumble to keep up “OW RIO! LET ME FUCKING GO! WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBL...” 

“Be quiet” he commands authoritatively

“I..”

“NO! STOP TALKING!” He booms; it feels like the bass in his tone vibrates through you. You stand shocked speechless at what just happened. You’ve seen him angry when he was convinced you stole his money and this was giving you flashbacks. You stand reserved chest rising up and down rapidly as your lungs try to take in as much air as possible. 

With a hushed tone he says “You painting a fucking target on your back, did you stop to think what this means for you now?”

Still in an argumentative mood you taunt “I had a target on my back the moment I started working with you! It doesn’t matter now does it?! Nooo so long as Rio gets his money! Fuck me fuck everything that has happened, he is loyal to no one but his fucking family and money." You snicker bitterly "What they say about the Serraño's is written in stone.”  

He doesn't say anything just looks at you with a deep scowl after a minute he says “I’m trying to protect you."

You go to pull away “I’m not asking you to do that” He doesn’t say anything and just waits for you to give up “I’m not asking you to do that Rio” you stress

He loosens his grip but not enough for you to get out of it “I’m trying to protect you Y/N listen to me” “By having me work with the man that killed Gracie? That burned me? That put out a hit on you? On Marcu...”

He cuts you off “There’s shit that you don’t understand and I'm not going to explain. Listen to me this is my last fucking warning, chill. the fuck.out!” and with that he lets go bumping your shoulder on his way back to his desk 

You stand there watching him return to his desk before turning to leave

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

XOXO Rose

Taglist:

@katymae12344, @yinmaggiorebass , @flirtyjen, @wnbweasley, @meadows5, @ffenthusiastt, @rio-reid-whoreee, @belezaya, @meera10, @aunicornmademedoit, @stilestotherescue,

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Baby, it's cold outside

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 27

Prompt: Coffee shop/bookstore/tattoo studio AU

Rated: M

CW: Alcohol; Implied sex

Tags: Coffee shop owner Steve; Tattoo studio owner Eddie; Christmas fluff; Flirting; Sexual tension; Getting together

Notes: Continued from my December microfic, but can also stand alone

Eddie swivels morosely in his desk chair, stretches until something in his lower back pops. He glances out the window and immediately regrets it. If anything, the snow has gotten worse, the dark street outside near invisible behind the curtain of flakes that's been falling for hours. 

The blizzard hit just in time for Christmas, grinding all air traffic and most of the roads to a standstill. Eddie called Wayne to break the news, groaning and grumbling all the way, only to be gruffly told off.

“Ain't nothing to be done about it, kiddo. You be safe and I'll see ya when it clears.” 

He was right, of course, the old shit. Eddie is a sensible adult who knows this. And so he holed up at the tattoo studio for some long overdue paperwork. A perfectly reasonable, adult thing to do on a lonely holiday.

Except it's boring as fuck and his back hurts and the cold is creeping in from outside and now he's feeling like a little boy who's had Christmas stolen by the fucking Grinch. 

To top things off, he isn't even sure he'll make it back to his apartment with how things are looking outside.

He's just resigning himself to a night on the foldout in his office when there's a sharp rap against the front door. Eddie almost falls out of his chair. 

“Jesus fuck-” he mutters, bridging the distance and fumbling to unlock the door. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Steve stomps inside, shaking off snow as he goes. Even though it isn't more than a few steps from his door to Eddie’s, he's positively covered in the stuff, hair weighed down and uncharacteristically droopy. Cradled against the chest of his cable-knit sweater is a tray. Eddie spots cookies and two mugs overflowing with copious amounts of whipped cream. 

He watches how Steve sets the tray down on the table in his waiting area and runs his hands through his hair to get the residue snowflakes out. It leaves him looking deliciously disheveled, all mussed-up strands, golden skin flushed pink from the cold. Eddie finds his mouth watering for reasons not exclusively related to the scents wafting off the tray.

Steve is looking at him, like he's waiting for an answer, and shit, he said something, didn't he?

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asks. 

“I said,” Steve shakes his head, but there's no malice behind it. “Dig in, it's not getting any warmer.” 

Eddie crumples down onto the couch, hides his face behind one of the mugs … and blinks in surprise.

“Alcohol?” 

“Grand Marnier,” Steve says, settling down beside him and taking the other mug. Eddie has no idea what the fuck that means. Somehow though, the way the words tumble off Steve’s tongue, low and rumbly and distinctly French, really does it for him, so he doesn't complain. 

“Cheers,” he says and clanks their mugs together before taking a tentative sip. A firework of flavors bursts across his tongue - bitter coffee and thick, sweet cream and something heady and boozy and orange-flavored? 

“Good?”

“So fucking good, dude!” 

Behind his own mug, Steve's mouth tugs into a smile. Eddie isn’t quite sure if the heady rush that floods him is entirely due to the coffee. 

*

“Soooo,” Eddie slurs. The boozy coffee is long gone, as is the second helping Steve got from his shop. He's brought the entire bottle of the fancy French, orangey stuff though, pretty little genius that he is. Eddie giggles and takes another swig. “How c’me you're even here, huh? No family to visit, no girls to kiss under mistletoes?” 

“Have you looked outside?” Steve snorts, swaying into his space to snatch the bottle back. God he is pretty - cheeks flushed from the alcohol, cookie crumbs at the corners of his mouth. All Eddie would need to do is twist his fingers into that preppy sweater of his, yank him closer. Lick them off. 

“-not exactly on visiting terms with my folks,” Steve is saying and Eddie jerks back to attention. “Or speaking terms. My best friend was gonna visit, but I think she'd end me if I so much as brought a mistletoe near her. Anyhow, she can't come, what with the blizzard and all…” 

“So what?” Eddie grins, tongue loosened by alcohol and sugar and the way the light brings out the gold in Steve’s hair and eyes. “You decided to drop by out of the goodness of your heart and save my holiday like some perfect little Christmas angel?” 

Steve blinks. Averts his eyes. Flushes a whole new shade of pink. It blooms on top of the blush that has settled over his nose and cheekbones, like a fresh layer of color on a painting. Eddie thinks of all the other parts of Steve’s body he'd like to paint like this.

“Whatever,” Steve mumbles, “Just thought we'd both feel less alone, if- … It's getting late, I'd better-” 

“Go?” Eddie catches the sleeve of his sweater just as he's about to stand. Steve falls back into the couch. “Where? You're not gonna trudge home through that weather, are you?” 

Steve licks his lips, pink and glossy. Eddie wonders if they still taste like coffee and cream and oranges. His fingers find the soft skin of Steve's wrist under the hem of the sweater. 

“Just stay. You're right, I don't feel like being alone tonight.” 

“Stop it,” Steve's eyes are impossibly bright in the low light. “Please, I … I'll put up with your teasing any other day of the year, but not today.” 

“Steve …” Eddie rumbles. The heartbeat under his fingers flutters. “Stay … and I'll show you how serious I am.” 

He leans in, breathes his next words against the shell of a pink ear. “If you wanna, I'll even call you angel again.” 

They do end up using the foldout, the cold quickly forgotten.

All my holiday drabbles

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Right here? Right now? | Jack Hughes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!!! Language, breeding kinks, unprotected, alcohol.

Summary: Jack has this incredible idea to have some extra fun at Jesper’s house at a party.

A:N- idk if this has been done, but I thought it was fun!!! Lmk if you’ve seen something similar (sorry)

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Today is December 31, New Year’s Eve. Jesper decided to throw a party to celebrate with the team. Some of us couldn’t make it, but we did party all night. Most of the couples came, and Nico, Luke, and John came as solos.

“We should hit body shots!” Nico insists, obviously I back away from the conversation. I’m wearing a red lacy thong underneath my black leggings, I have a matching bralette lying in between my skin and Jack’s grey navy hoodie. Not to mention the fact I’m like the most insecure person on the room.

I step back into the couch that sits in Nicole’s and Bratter’s living room. I lay on my back lying flat across a piece of the white couch. “You gonna try?” John walks over to me. He sets his cup of beer onto the coffee table in the middle of the sitting area. He scooches over to me and lets me rest my head on his lap.

“No. I’m really tired.” I announce as I rest my hands and let John play with my hair. “You coming baby?” Jack walks over to us.

“no. I’m exhausted from our day today.” I responded to jacks question.

John and I have known eachother from our days in Pittsburg. I’ve followed him down to Jersey, he’s like a brother to me.

~

If he hurts you, y/n, I’ll make sure he’ll know not to do it again.

~

I mean that’s what John said the first time I told him that Jack and I are going out.

“Please! I want to body shot. I don’t what to do it with Nico, or Luke. Sure as hell not John.” Jack says as he points around the kitchen towards the guys. John picks my head up and walks over to the group of boys.

“Now it’s just you and me.” Jack whined. “You can say it. Just tell me if you don’t want to do it. Just letting you know, it’s gonna look wierd if we don’t do it.” Jack jolts at me. I sit up letting his head resting on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around his back and I lift my legs to cross them over his legs.

I kiss jacks cheek, “well if it makes you happy, I can get up there and do it.” I let go of jacks body and start over to the counter.

I hope ontop of the cold granite and lay flat on my back. Jack walks over and pushes through the crowd and rolls down my leggings. He reveals my belly button and he sets a small lemon ontop of my belly, he pushed my top up until you can see my bra.

Luke hands him a bag of leftover crushed jolly rancher mixed with sour patch kids smashed together. Jack sprinkled a little bit in between my breast. My cleavage slips jacks fingers inside letting him spread a bit. He sets a fireball in my mouth and he backs up, looking at his masterpiece from afar.

The party goes silent as people turn down the music and record. “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5-“

The count down starts for the new year! Jack walks up to me. He rolls his sleeves up from his own hoodie and sets his hat down. “-3-2-“

Jack takes the small lemon from my bellybutton and squeezes it into his mouth. He licks my abdomen from any crumbs that spilt on my torso. His warm wet tounge slips between my breasts and he takes all of the candy onto his tounge. The sourness hits him as he clings to me shoulder. With no hands, Jack takes the fireball from my mouth and takes the shot into his own.

He grabs me to pull me up. He walks over to where he set his beer last. He sips on his cooled drink and hands it to Nico.

“Yeah, goodluck trying tonight! She’s not letting you get anywhere near her. Especially at Bratters house.” Nico chirps at Jack. Jack smiles and walks away.

“I know, and I still am gonna try.” Jack holds his eye contact on my boobs as I pull down my hoodie from our fun event.

I laugh out, maybe I should let him try to buy me in. “Okay, go ahead.” I say and I hold jacks chin, and pull his mouth to my ear letting him whisper into me. He kisses my check before starting.

“I got like really- like really hard, I’m horny- I’m like REALLY , really turned on. Y/n please. Don’t make me beg.” Jack holds my left ass check in his right hand and he holds my back- right under my shoulder blades with his left hand.

He swaddles me in his hold for a minute as he prances around the room. We dance to the music, “it’s a new year anyway, we can celebrate!” Jack convinces me. He slides his right hand into my leggings discreetly and he pulls at my thong. He lets go as he lets it slap into my skin.

“Baby, I can’t wait any longer.” Jack pulls away from our hug that lasted like five-ish minutes. He runs towards Jesper.

“hey, um- I’m gonna need that guest room okay? And don’t let other people walk in, me and y/n are going through it. She’s really tired and I wanna stay so keep the music loud enough where you can’t hear us aguribg.” Jack sets our story up. Knowing Jesper, he already knows that Jack is trying to get in my pants. Jack walks around with his dick pressing against his pants whenever he sees me.

I whisper in his ear before he runs away with me, “seriously? Right here?” I judge him, he doesn’t care.

He takes my hand and runs into the room Jesper sets up for the party people- well Jack requested one, he always does this.

~

Jack throws me onto the bed, “legs.” He commands, I’m the only WAG that’s not wearing a sexy dress. I don’t need to impress anyone, Jack is the only one who’s seen me, and will probably be getting it.

I slides off my leggings and let him take off the rest of my clothes. He leaves my bra on, he takes my legs and sets them up. He moves my thing to the side. I’m already really wet.

“Wow, either you peed, or you really are horny.” Jack devilishly looks up from my pussy.

“No, you’re the one who’s horny, I just got off of my period.” I correct him. He’s never right, and I’m never wrong. “Fine, so that means your ovulating? Right?” Jack giggles as he stuffs a finger into my hole. He gets up licks his finger and locks the door.

He comes back and I’m already dry.

“You took to long.” I angrily reply to Jacks confused face. Jack jumps down onto his knees as I scorch up to the head of the bed. I hid a pillow between the wall and the headboard. I open my legs and throw off my underwear.

I unclip my bra and Jack tears it off my chest. He beds me down, my ass in his face, he lays down on his back as I sit ontop of this face. He moans as he takes me in. I start to jump on him. I feel like I’m going to cum, so I get up from him sucking inside of me, the suction form his mouth and my pussy breaks and I turn around.

Climbing into Jack, I face his hard dick, and he faces my very wet cunt again. “Again?” Jack gets annoyed. “Yes, you’re getting special treatment as well.” I pull onto his dick.

I play with his balls bad start taking his tip into my mouth. He lifts his hips up, the bdeige of his back lifted, my naked body lying on his bare skin. He licks my pussy out, cleaning every droplet of cum, and creating more. I do the same, except jack dumps everything at the same time.

“Excited, hey?” I tease him, Jack hits his nose into my bud. I realse more than ever and white juice spill onto jacks face. I get up finishing Jack.

~jacks pov~

Liftibg my hips, my shaft still in her mouth I thrust my dick into her throat, almost feeling her tonsils. I feel her tounge massaging every bit of my skin. My tip almost reaching to her stomach at this point I cum. I can feel her swallowing, impressive.

I pull a special on her as I hide my nose into her pussy, what a slut, a slut only for me.

She arrives and finishes on my face, dumping every ounce of fluid onto my face. I make her lick me clean and I lick her creases dry, leaving her actual holes wet, awaiting for her king to touch her.

“Baby, you can take it can’t you?” I ask her, out of breath already I stand up, I push her down onto her back, in missionary I fall into her. Spreading her legs I grab one and throw it over my shoulder.

Grabbing an extra pillow, I fold it stuffing it under her hips, allowing me to hit her G-Spot. She moan out, the music draining all of her cry’s. She ccleched her pussy onto my dick, closing all of the possible gaps. No air is filling her holes, noting but our cums bonding together, and my cock filling her vagina.

~ur pov~

He stuffs every inch of his cock into me. Jack talks me through it:

“Breathe for me.”

“Come for me, I can’t keep hitting you.”

“You’ve taken it before.”

“You’re such as little whore.”

“Slut”

“I love you.”

“You feel so good”

“You so tight.”

*moaning*

Jack is a horny person, and that’s his personality, I love him for it. He grips I to me and finally finishes his love for me. He pulls out belong up with the inside of his hoodie.

He slides his clothes back on and helps me up, he clings to my side as we head back to the party. My hair is frizzy, the perfect curls that I trwiled in a hot tool for hours are ruined, my shirt is crinkled. My makeup is messy, and I have red bits makes everywhere. Jack just seems out of breathe. But he’s a pretty boy, and he’ll get anything he wants.

We pretend like nothing happened. The party ended when John decided to body shot on Nico- not licking his abs, or taking the shot class for his mouth but performing a dance for us and eating a lemon with eachother. I drove John home and made sure he got to bed alright, by the time we got home Jack was sleeping and Luke had to help me carrru him in the house.

I guess there is no part two to our fun tonight.

[ethical-cain-vinnel]

NO NUT NOVEMBER WITH RORY CHARACTERS

Pairing(s): Gabriel (2014) x GN! reader, Euronymous x GN! reader, and Jack Thurlow x GN! reader

Tags/Warnings: Pure smut, penetrated reader but no mentions of which hole (so it works for anyone), sub reader for euro and jack but soft dom reader for gabe, slight varg vikernes slander cause as fine as emory is i hate the actual varg, kinda boring sorry :(

Notes: This is a collab with @icarus-star who is absolutely amazing! He’s writing for Danny Cooper, Chris Kenton, and Possum and you can find his fic here! Also, for the Euronymous part I am STRICTLY going off of Rory’s portrayal in the movie Lords of Chaos. I hope they’re not too ooc i really tried to make them accurate

GABRIEL

Okay so I have always felt that Gabe is on the asexual spectrum, specifically demisexual and/or aceflux

In other words, I think that he has little to no sexual attraction to someone he hasn’t formed a bond with. For the aceflux part, I think that he has some periods of times where he feels no sexual attraction at all and has a very low sex drive and other times where he has to go at it at least 3 times a day (and obviously times where he’s in between the two)

So, some years are easier than others and sometimes he can go for months without having to jerk off or have sex but I’m going to be talking about a month where he has a pretty high sex drive

I feel like he doesn’t often participate, but one year, you wanted to try it with him and he agreed

It is TORTURE FOR HIM

Poor boy is so pent up because in the last few weeks of October, his sex drive started to get higher again :(

Within the first few days, he’s so whiney and pent up and all he wants to do is hold your hand and kiss you as you two make love

I think for this year’s no nut november, he lasts a week MAYBE two before hes whining and telling you that you won

He’s so teary when he finally gets inside you and he cums almost as soon as you start moving

He needs you to take control because he gets fucked dumb so quickly

Overall, he doesn’t last long but the sex afterward makes it worth it

EURONYMOUS/ØYSTEIN AARSETH

He usually doesn’t care about no nut november, but stupid varg brought it up to the rest of the inner circle so now they’re all doing it.

On Halloween, he fucks you until you’re both overstimulated and passed out to hopefully make this easier for you both

He goes into it pretty cocky, thinking he’ll win the prize that the inner circle decided on

And he does pretty well

Until midway into week 2

Euro has a VERY high sex drive. Like at least 5-6 times a week but thats on a bad week

He could barely sleep in the same bed as you, your scent instantly making him pop a boner

He NEEDED to feel you again and by tuesday of the 3rd week, hes shoving you on the bed and tearing your clothes off

He fucks you so hard that you can’t walk for a few days and he has to either carry you everywhere or bring it to you

He’s pounding into you and saying the nastiest shit

He’s so mean about it but the aftercare is way better than normal

JACK THURLOW

I know that his fans (me included tbh) loves to make him out as a sex fiend but honestly, I think he has a pretty average sex drive

Out of the three characters I picked, he’s the one making it to the end

He’s only doing this cause he’s curious to see if it does anything (cough cough make him more emotional so he can write kick ass poems cough cough)

He lets you cock warm him on the last night of november

“Quit moving. Only an hour left. Be good”

Once it’s December first, you know you’ll need to call out for work in the morning.

He fucks you at his desk before taking you to the bed

He fucks you until he’s shooting blanks, and even then, he keeps going for 1-2 more rounds

The last week was really hard on him but he didn’t realize until he was back inside you

I genuinely think that he became more insufferable and aggravated without realizing it at the 2 ½ week mark

He takes care of you reaaallll well for the next couple days hehe

[zimms]

new york city

you called me last night on the telephone and i was glad to hear from you cause i was all alone you said, "it's snowing, it's snowing! god, i hate this weather" now i walk through blizzards just to get us back together

Derek twists the telephone cord around his finger, straining to hear Will's words down the phone. "Sorry, you're cutting out. The landline's a little dodgy."

He definitely doesn't fail to hear the crackle of Will's laughter down the phone. "A landline? What is this, Nurse? The eighties?"

"Shut up! My moms prefer it for some reason. And, I don't know, it has a bit of je ne sais quoi, a bit of nostalgia, a bit of style, y'know." To emphasise the point, even if only to himself, Derek winds the cable around his fingers a couple more times.

"I don't, but I'll take your word for it."

Derek huffs his own laugh before softening his voice. "Look, the point is that I missed what you said the first time. Please could you repeat it, babe?"

Will's voice comes through the phone. "I said that it's snowing here."

"Isn't it always snowing in Maine in December?" Derek says, "Like I thought that was a given?"

"Yeah, but it's the first time I've seen snow since I last saw you." Will's voice goes quietier. "I miss you."

"That was literally two weeks ago, Dex." Derek rolls his eyes, knowing full well that Will can't see him. "You can't possibly miss me that much; you literally went almost two years without talking to me between leaving Samwell and the spring." He sighs and grins to himself "But- I miss you too."

we met in the springtime at a rock and roll show it was on the bowery when it was time to go

One second Derek is bouncing along to the song that the band is playing, the next, his gaze is fixed on a very familiar head of red hair that's darting through the crowd at the gig.

Dex?

Derek is too packed in by the surrounding crowd to do anything but watch, tracking the figure of a man who, two years ago, he never thought he'd see again. Well, maybe not never, after all they'd been to two weddings together this summer alone. But the point is, it would never be just the two of them again.

He allows himself to be swept back up in the words of the song, singing along with the rest of the crowd, but he never truly stops staring at the back of Dex's head. It's fine; Derek will catch him at the bar after the show. He has to.

The gig is in a tiny bar that masquerades as a club/concert venue, packed to the brim with people here to see bands make their first stumbling steps into the music industry. Derek first listened to these guys in his Senior Year at Samwell and fell head over heels in love with their music. They were even the soundtrack to his alarms for the year, greeting him before every 5am practice (because Dex was a total hardass).

After the final song, the crowd starts to disperse and Derek seizes his moment to chase after Dex.

He can't let him slip away from him.

Not this time.

Derek pushes through the crowd, apologising every step of the way, until Dex is finally within reach. Naturally, as soon as Derek goes to close his hand around Will's shoulder, the man in question takes a step forward and Derek takes a big handful of just air. "Dex! Hey! Dex!"

Will spins around and suddenly they're chest to chest for the first time in- Derek doesn't even know how long.

He forgets how to breathe.

"Nursey?" Dex's eyebrows furrow in that familiar way: the way they would when he couldn't figure out the problem with a particularly tricky bit of code, or when he was trying to figure out the best way to shut down the opposing team's attack. Derek hasn't realised until now just how much he missed that expression.

"Dex!" he says, trying desperately to sound normal and not at all breathless and relaxed. "How are you? I didn't- I didn't know you were in New York?"

Dex rubs the back of his neck. "I'm, erm, I'm not really, but I guess, I am?"

"Dex, I say this lovingly, but genuinely what the fuck does that mean?" Derek takes the opportunity to step back, breaking the physical contact between them at last. He can finally breathe.

"I'm living over near Lincoln Park, but I'm working for a start up here."

Derek laughs. "Dude, you could have just said that!"

"I was suprised to see you, okay!" Dex mumbles. "Though I'm not sure why I'm that surprised considering that you were the one that got me into this band, but it's whatever."

Derek pauses and considers what to say for a second, looking Dex up and down to try and gauge how much interaction with him Dex would be willing to stand. He takes another second to throw all of that consideration out of the window and just say fuck it.

He grins up at Will. "Can I buy you a drink?"

we kissed on the subway in the middle of the night i held your hand, you held mine, it was the best night of my life

One drink turns into two and two turns into four and so on and so on until the two of them stumble out onto the Bowery and into the open air at 3am.

Derek doesn't know how to describe it, but everything always feels easier at 3am. As they walk along the street towards the subway station, he brushes his hand against Dex's once, twice, three times until finally Will takes his hand in his.

They tangle their fingers together, relaxing into the easy rhythm that they lost at some point during senior year, and falling into each other's orbits yet again.

Derek tugs Will towards the Houston Bowery Wall, gravitating towards the explosion of colour in the night light. "C'mere." He squeezes Will's hand. "This is the Bowery Wall Mural. It's one of my favourite pieces of art in New York, especially this one."

"This one?" Will's voice trembles a little as if they're in a holy place rather than stood on the intersection of two busy streets in New York.

"They change the wall every so often, a constant fresh start, constant new opportunities. Sometimes they decide that a mural has had its time, sometimes other people decide for them, covering up the work with graffiti, showing the world what matters to them. But the wall always comes back with a newer piece of art, a never-ending cycle of hope and new beginnings."

Derek looks down at his and Will's interlocked hands and gives them another squeeze. "Last year, they decided to stop commissioning new murals because they kept being destroyed, but out of the ashes came this mural."

The wall is painted in a bright array of portraits, depicting people of all shapes and sizes. It takes Derek's breath away as he looks at it, even though he walks past it every week; there's something different about bringing Will here.

Will's voice catches in his throat. "It's beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here."

Derek grins back at him. "Thank you for coming with me."

Will's expression shifts and his eyes begin to dart around. "I should be going."

"What? All the way back to Jersey at this time? You're not going to get back until like 8am. Seriously, come back to my place; you can take the guest room."

(Internally, Derek kicks himself.)

"No, no, I can head back; I wouldn't want to impose."

"No, seriously I insist," Derek says, slowly beginning to steer them towards the subway station. "We're like ten minutes from my place on the subway; way better than going back to Jersey."

Will huffs a sigh, knowing that he's lost this battle. "Okay, fine. But I'll pay you back somehow, y'know."

Derek smiles at him as they enter through the ticket barriers. "I know."

(Derek will unashamedly admit that they made out in the empty subway carriage. Like c'mon, how could he resist waiting until he got home?)

because everyone's your friend in new york city and everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty the streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see but the best thing about new york city is you and me

Derek wraps his arms around Will's waist and pulls him in closer, letting their bodies slot together in the warmth of the bed. "I'm so glad that I spotted you at that gig," he whispers into the crook of his neck. "I couldn't let you get away again."

Will leans back into the embrace. "I'm glad you found me too." He wriggles a bit, getting more comfortable. "It feels like I was stumbling blindly around the city before you found me. Like New York and you are so intertwined; you are New York, New York is you. It was weird to be in the city without you, to be honest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Will turns around to look at him. “Seriously, Derek. I’ve loved the past four months of you dragging me around the city.”

Derek tickles his sides and Will squirms in his arms. “Drag?! I seem to recall you were the one that made a whole list of places that you wanted to see, including Co-Op City.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will mutters, ducking his head. “Maybe we shouldn’t have trekked all the way out to the Bronx just for it, but I thought I should see it, okay? It was a big case study in my urban planning class.”

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you.” Derek leans down to kiss his boyfriend. “I think it’s sweet, honestly. Especially considering you didn’t think to do any of this stuff in your first two months of living here.”

“I was getting used to a new city! I wasn’t trying to sight-see; I was trying to survive!”

Derek hums to convey his total belief in Will’s statement. “Uh, huh.”

“It’s true!”

Derek hums again and grins down at him. “Anyway, do you still have that list somewhere? I need to figure out what’s left on your New York bucket list.”

Will blindly flails his arm onto his bedside table. “Yeah, yeah. Lemme just find it.” He rummages around a bit more, before finally producing a crumpled-up piece of paper. “here you go.”

statue of liberty, staten island ferry, co-op city, katz's, and tiffany's, central park, brooklyn bridge, the empire state, where dylan lived, coney island, and times square, rockefeller center

“Okay, I think I have the perfect idea for what our final stereotypical New York sightseeing trip will be,” Derek says.

“Mhhm, am I allowed to know what it is?”

“You’ll find out in, like, three months, I promise.” Derek can’t resist and gives Will another peck on the cheek. “It’ll be worth it.”

wish i was there

Derek finally removes his hands from where they’ve been covering Will’s eyes for the past ten minutes. “Surprise?”

They’re stood just outside the Rockefeller Centre ice rink, which is filled with a hurricane of screaming children and couples desperately trying to keep their balance whilst holding hands.

Will chuckles. “I’d say yes, but somehow the fact that you blindfolded me when you caught me looking at a sign for the Rockefeller Centre says otherwise.” He pauses. “Also, the fact that I caught you stealing my skates from my apartment the last time we were there.”

“Okay, you got me,” Derek says, “but it was good choice, yeah?”

“Yes, definitely.” Will threads his hand in Derek’s. “It was a great choice. Plus it’s like full circle, y’know. We first met at an ice rink and it’s nice to bring the list to a close with an ice rink too. Especially considering how much our relationship has changed over the past seven years, though it was a bit touch and go for a while, eh.”

Derek can’t help himself; he laughs. “Eh? Have you been spending too much time with Jack, huh?”

“Shut up.” Will lets go of his boyfriend’s hand so that he can elbow him instead. “I’m trying to be romantic and poetic and shit; don’t make fun of me.”

“Okay, okay.” Derek says. “You said exactly what I was gonna say, is all.”

“Oh?” Will mock-gasps. “So, I was in fact being poetic and shit?”

Derek kisses him – mostly to wipe the smug grin off his face – and then pulls back. “Are you ready to go and show these kids and tourists how it’s done?”

“Aren’t we technically tourists for this exercise?”

“Shhhh.” Derek kisses Will again, just for the fun of it this time and as they break apart, he feels something wet on his cheek. “Wait, are you crying?”

“No, you idiot, it’s snowing.”

Oh.

So, it is.

Derek feels a little stupid right now, but he can’t tell if that’s because of the kiss or because he was so obviously wrong.

Will taps him on the shoulder. “Come back here, idiot. This feels like a pretty perfect ending to my first year in New York.”

Derek waggles his eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”

He’s met with an eyeroll, but Will also rewards him with a “yeah” and another world-stopping kiss.

Derek has to agree with Will: with the snow falling down on them and the hubbub of the city around them, it does feel like a pretty perfect ending to their first year in New York together.

you wrote me a letter just the other day you said, "springtime is coming soon so why don't you come to stay" i packed my stuff, it's on the bus, i can't believe it's true. i'm three days from new york city and i'm three days from you.

Will has to laugh when his mom hands him the mail stack, an envelope with his name on it sat on top. Did Derek seriously send him a letter for the two weeks that he was back in Maine? Well, yeah, clearly – that much is evidenced by the fucking letter in his hand.

In fairness, the gesture does have Derek written all over it.

He carefully rips open the letter, thankfully not wax-sealed like some of the love letters that Will had watched Nursey send in his earlier years at Samwell, and the contents spill out.

Will pick up the letter first and begins to read it.

Dear Will,

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been nine months since I found you again at that gig on the Bowery; it feels like we’ve been exploring New York together for years. But springtime is coming soon again and I’m hoping that I’ll never have to find you again, but instead that you’ll always be in easy reach by my side. You know how you said one night that to you New York is me? Well, in the past nine months, New York has instead become You and Me. I feel like you’re pulling back the curtain and I’m seeing the city I’ve lived in for my whole life in a completely different light. Everything is suddenly so much brighter and more beautiful with you around. I hope that this new light continues with the dawn of this new spring, a third new beginning for us perhaps, but just to make sure, would you do me the honour of moving in with me? I mean, if nothing else, it saves you (and, rather selfishly, me) the commute the Lincoln Park every other night.

I know it’s only been a week, but I miss you so much.

I love you.

Derek.

The other item sitting on the kitchen table in front of Will is a keyring with two keys and a picture of the one of the windows from the current Bowery Mural. The keys are engraved with the numbers #24 and #28 and Will can’t quite hold back the mistiness that begins to gather in his eyes.

Of course, after everything, Derek brings it back to hockey, back to Samwell, back to that period of time when they were inseparable, but constantly at odds with each other, so similar, but so different.

Will carefully threads his old keys onto the new keyring. A third and final new beginning sounds perfect to him.

because everyone's your friend in new york city and everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty the streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see but the best thing about new york city is you and me

[wheels-of-despair]

Under Pressure | Eric x You vs. The Apocalypse | Series Masterlist

Chapter Three: It's A Christmas Miracle Summary: Eric comes back for Christmas, and experiences all the joys that the most wonderful time of the year has to offer. Words: 3.8k

"Hey!" you beam as you open the door for the fiftieth time tonight. Finally, someone you're actually happy to see. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Thanks for inviting me," Eric says shyly, hesitating in the hallway at the sight of all the people milling around inside your apartment.

It's December 23rd, and you're having a Christmas party. Well, your husband is. Evan is leaving for a fellowship at a hospital on the other side of the country in January, and this is his last chance to get all his coworkers and friends together before they go off and spend the rest of the year with their families.

"You can come back tomorrow when everyone's gone if you're having second thoughts," you tease, and he finally steps inside. "Your room is doubling as the coat room at the moment, but I promise it'll be all yours again before the night's over."

Eric scans the room, looking intimidated and out of place. Turnout had been a tiny bit higher than you'd expected, but it was no reason to panic. If you can survive, so can he.

"You wanna go dump your stuff?" you prompt.

Eric nods and flees toward the bedroom. You follow slowly, waiting by the door for him. He drops his backpack and his coat, and stands there with his back to you and his face in his hands for a minute.

"Eric?" you ask quietly.

He whips around with wide eyes, not realizing you were watching. You step inside and close the door, leaning against it to provide another barrier between the two of you and the rest of your guests.

"Are you okay?"

"M'fine," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "Just wasn't expecting so many people, is all."

"Neither were we," you smile. "But they're good people, for the most part."

"I don't know any of them," he says nervously.

"You didn't really think I was going to set you loose in a room full of strangers, did you?" He stares, so you keep talking. "I'll introduce you. Stick with me, babe. You'll be alright."

Eric nods, takes a deep breath, and walks toward you.

You catch him in a hug instead of opening the door.

"I really am glad you're here," you whisper. "To be honest, I don't know half of these people either. They're mostly your brother's doctor friends. If I hear one more joke involving a body part tonight, I'm going to fling myself off the roof."

Eric chuckles, and you let him go.

"Ready for this?"

He nods, and you leave the room together. You walk around the living room with him, introducing him to people in between conversations. He's polite, but so nervous. Before every handshake, he tries to subtly wipe his palm on his pants. Poor boy. After you make the rounds, you reward him with a visit to the snack table. You load up a plate of appetizers, glance around the room, and grab his sweater to pull him into his brother's bedroom.

"What are we doing?" he asks when the door is closed.

"Taking a break," you answer, sitting on the foot of the bed and surveying your snacks. "You earned it."

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"What are you sorry for?"

"Being so bloody awkward," Eric says pitifully, looking like he's about to cry.

"C'mere," you order, moving the plate of snacks further up the bed and patting the place next to you. His lip quivers, and he walks the few steps to you with an air of dread. What does he think you're going to do to him? When he sits, you wrap an arm around his back and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"I know this isn't your idea of fun," you say quietly. "It's not really mine either. But your brother wanted one last get-together before he goes, and I love him, so I will tolerate these nerds for a night. After that, it'll be just the three of us. Then we can relax."

"And you can stop baby-sitting me," he mumbles.

"Are you kidding me?" you ask, pulling away. "Sneaking away with a treasured confidante is the best part of any party."

You reach back and drag the plate of snacks closer to you.

"You've gotta try one of these sausage rolls," you order, holding a bite-sized bit of heaven between your fingers. Eric takes the treat from your hand and pops it into his mouth. He grins while he chews. "See?" you smile. "Best part of any party. We have snacks, we have comfy seats, and you haven't old one joke that's made me want to shove a grape up your nose."

Eric laughs and reaches for another appetizer.

You return to the party after you clear your snack plate, grateful to see that it's winding down. You resume hostess duties, never straying far from Eric. All three of you sigh in relief when the last straggler finally leaves. You perform a quick clean-up, and once the pile of dishes becomes a mountain, unanimously vote to go to bed and deal with the rest of the mess tomorrow.

On Christmas Eve, you wake in an empty bed to the sound of dishes clanking. You contemplate going back to sleep and letting Evan do all the work, as punishment for leaving you behind for his "once-in-a-lifetime opportunity", but your conscience gets the better of you. You don't bother getting dressed before following the noise, mildly surprised to find the brothers washing and drying together at the kitchen sink. They're not talking, but that's the closest you've ever seen them outside a one-second handshake.

You don't get to observe them for long.

"Oh, look! Sleeping Beauty has decided to join us! After the bulk of the work is done, of course. Wonderful timing as always, darling," your husband snarks.

"Thank you, thank you," you respond with a curtsy. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, we were waiting for you," Evan answers.

"Waiting for me to to cook for you?" you tease.

"You see what I have to live with?" Evan asks his brother indignantly. "Listen to her! Working my fingers to the bone in here, and this is how she talks to me. Unbelievable."

You raise an eyebrow and wait for an answer.

"Pancakes and sausages are fully cooked and in the bloody oven," he says with phony exasperation, throwing the dish rag into the sink dramatically. "Eric, would you please?"

Eric grins and grabs an oven mitt, pulling out a pile of pancakes and a stack of sausage links.

You cross the kitchen to get the plates and silverware, stopping to kiss your husband on the cheek.

"You could've woken me," you say quietly.

"S'alright," he smiles. "We had a good talk."

Your face splits into a grin. It's a Christmas miracle.

"Oh, go on," he says with a roll of his eyes, pushing you away playfully. You grab the plates and silverware and set the table with a little help from Eric while Evan gets the drinks. After an excellent breakfast, you spend the rest of the morning cleaning up the party debris. In the afternoon, when all the work is done, you reward yourselves with showers and relaxation.

You're lying on the roomy sectional under a fuzzy blanket, your head in Evan's lap while you watch an old Christmas movie, when his phone chirps. You feel your spirits sink before he even picks it up.

"Bloody hell," he complains, throwing his phone onto the couch with a thump. He picks it back up and reads the text again. "I have to get to the hospital," he sighs, patting your shoulder. "It shouldn't take too long."

You sit up to release him. Evan scrambles to the bedroom to change, then stops by to kiss your forehead on his way out. You stare at the door emotionlessly.

"It must be hard," Eric observes from the other side of the sofa, "loving someone who has to be away so much."

"I'm told that absence makes the heart grow fonder," you deadpan. Evan had joked about it after informing you that he would be leaving for a year. You still don't find it funny. "Do you want to finish this movie?"

"Not really," he admits, scrunching one eye.

"Me either," you smile, turning off the TV. "I only tolerate this one because Evan loves it. Why he loves it, I couldn't tell you."

Eric chuckles.

"I think…" you muse, racking your brain for a distraction, "I'm gonna make some Christmas cookies."

"Okay," Eric says quietly.

"Wanna join me?"

Eric nods. You stand and reach out your hands, which he takes, and pull him off the couch. The recipe book is located, the supplies are lined up on the table, and you get to work.

Baking cookies is supposed to be classic holiday fun, but Eric takes it a little too seriously. He checks each recipe repeatedly, terrified that he's going to get a measurement wrong. They're just cookies, you remind him. They're for personal consumption. Half of them will probably be gone before the night's over. Very low stakes. But he waves you off, determined to get everything right. It's sweet.

Just like the cookies he proudly pulls from the oven the second the timer dings. You sit at the table for tea while you wait for them to cool.

"How've you been?" you ask.

"Okay," he answers, eyes on his cup now that there are no distractions in place. You know the feeling. You take a drink while you wait for him to elaborate. He doesn't.

"How's school?"

Worry clouds Eric's face, just like when you'd asked him at Thanksgiving.

"Hey," you say quietly. He looks up. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Eric shakes his head and focuses on his tea, then looks up at you like he wants to say something. You wait patiently.

"School is…" he licks his lips. "It's hard."

You wait a beat before prodding.

"Well, if you wanted the easy route, you should've become a doctor," you wink. He gives you a weak smile. "What's hard about it?"

"It's just… it's a lot," he answers slowly. "It's a lot of classes… and a lot of work… and everything's so different here. And I'm trying so hard, and it's still…" Eric looks to the ceiling, eyes filling with tears. "I'm going to fail at this, just like I've failed at everything else in my life. Everyone knows it."

"I don't."

Eric scoffs. "Surely you've heard about what a loser I am."

"You want to know what I think?" He eyes you warily. "I think you're trying your best, and that's very brave." Eric shakes his head, but you continue. "You came to a new country, all alone, and created a whole new life for yourself. If that's not brave, I don't know what is."

"I'm not brave," Eric protests. "I'm a bloody coward. I'm scared of everything. Every time I have to leave my room, I…" His tears spill. "It's so stupid." He crosses his arms and puts them on the table, hunching over to hide his face in them.

"It's okay to be scared," you say quietly. "Fear is what keeps you alive. You've heard of fight or flight?" Eric lifts his head to look at you, then nods. "You're fighting. You're scared, and everything is new, and school is hard, but you haven't packed up and run home. You're still fighting. And I'm so proud of you for that."

Eric covers his mouth, but the sob escapes anyway.

"Can I hug you?" you ask, on the verge of tears yourself.

His tear-filled eyes widen in shock. But he nods. It makes a new wave wash down his face.

You scoot your chair closer and lean in, and he buries his face in your neck. You hold him tight, rubbing his back in light circles. His tears soak into your sweater.

"You're gonna be alright," you tell him gently. "If you're struggling in school, we'll find you a tutor. If you're uncomfortable in the city, call me, and we'll explore together. You're gonna get through this. It's gonna be okay."

Eric lets you hold him until he calms down. When he pulls back and dries his eyes on his sleeves, you give him a smile.

"You ready to decorate some cookies?"

The conversation turns lighter while you decorate. Eric takes his time, sticking his tongue out adorably as he concentrates on making each cookie look perfect. The evening flies by.

"You made cookies without me?!" is the first thing your husband says when he gets home. You point to a plate containing several undecorated cookies, saved just for him, and he kisses the top of your head on his way to the sink to wash up. Evan decorates and fills you in on the hospital drama of the day while Eric helps you make dinner, which pairs nicely with easygoing conversation. After cleaning up the dinner dishes, you all settle back onto the couch for another movie before bed. A better one, this time. With cookies to munch on.

Christmas morning is nice. The three of you exchange gifts (Eric is quite happy with a new sweater and pair of tickets to that show people won't shut up about) and eat a light breakfast together. It's calm, and it's quiet, and it's just what all of you need.

And then Evan throws you out of the kitchen.

"Get a move on, no Yanks allowed, I'll not have you interfere with our proper English Christmas!"

"Pudding should not have raisins in it!" you call from the doorway.

"You leave my pudding alone!"

"What pudding? You're making FRUIT CAKE!"

"Silence, uncultured swine!"

You cackle and head back to the couch, reaching for the remote and leaving the Englishmen to their feast.

About an hour later, Eric joins you.

"Have you been thrown out, too?"

"My services were no longer required," he says seriously.

"Don't take offense," you smile. "He's very particular about Christmas dinner. I thought you were a great help on Thanksgiving. When we had REAL FOOD!"

"I didn't hear that, and I won't respond to it!" Evan yells from the kitchen, making you both laugh.

"This is almost over," you gesture to the movie on TV. "You get to pick the next one."

Eric looks through your Christmas options, most of which he's never heard of, and chooses It's A Wonderful Life. (After you assure him it's not a musical, like the one you gave up on yesterday.) You're almost asleep, cloaked in a warm blanket and enjoying the delightful smell of the Christmas dinner being cooked by your loving husband, when the sound of a sniffle makes your eyes fly open.

Eric's crying. He's so invested in the movie, he doesn't realize you've seen him. Tears stream down his red face, and he hugs his knees to his chest while he watches the plight of George Bailey. You rise slowly and quietly, grabbing a box of tissues from the end table and sitting next to him. He takes a few sheets and dries his face. You wrap an arm around him, and he leans into you. By the end of the movie, he's melted into your lap. One of your hands strokes his hair absentmindedly. You can feel the occasional teardrop soak through your jeans from where his head rests on your thigh.

"Should've picked a bloody musical," he gripes as the end credits roll.

You chuckle and tousle his curls.

"Can we do a happy one next?" he asks.

"You got it, babe," you smile as you stretch for the remote, not wanting to get up and disturb him. You select a lighthearted family comedy and resume stroking his hair.

You're both asleep when Evan comes in and announces that your Christmas feast is ready. The kitchen table looks like it belongs in a magazine. You are married to a miracle worker. You take your seats and eat together, keeping the conversation light and positive.

"It's not bad… for English fare," you tease when you finally put down your fork. Evan glares. "It was great, sweetheart. You did amazing, as always."

"Thank you," he grins.

"Yeah, it was really good," Eric echoes. Evan gives a bow, then gets up to grab dessert.

"So which dinner was better, Thanksgiving or Christmas?" you ask Eric, leaning forward with a devilish look in your eye.

"Do not answer that!" Evan barks.

You all laugh and eat your dessert, then start the clean-up process… again.

"It's almost time," Evan says mournfully, looking at the clock when the last dish goes in the drainer.

Fifteen minutes to go until the video call Evan has scheduled with his father and step-mother in England. You start stacking books on the coffee table to put the laptop on, and Evan rushes around to make sure everything in the background looks perfect. Eric looks on nervously.

"Why don't you just put the computer on the coffee table?" he asks, while you sit on the couch to test the camera height.

"Because last time Dad saw me from that angle, he asked when I was going in for chin fat reduction surgery," Evan seethes from the Christmas tree, where he's decided that an ornament has been placed a few centimeters away from its optimal location.

"It's a five-minute catch-up," you remind them, "it'll be over before you know it. Get her talking about her dogs, and all you have to do is smile and nod. Don't stress."

"Don't stress, yeah, thanks, all better now," Evan grumbles, dropping onto the couch next to you. You smack him with a pillow, which he then fluffs and sets aside carefully.

"C'mon," you urge Eric, who sits on your other side. You turn the camera on and make sure you're all in frame and lighted to your husband's approval.

"Is that bloody ornament still--" Evan growls and tries to get up, but you grab his sweater and stop him.

"Stop. Those ornaments are perfect. Sit your ass down."

He sighs and leans in front of you to check his appearance on the screen, taking a few seconds to straighten his sweater and smooth his perfectly fine hair. Eric sits quietly the whole time, like he's awaiting sentencing.

"Polite, happy, quick," you remind them. "Then you can be yourselves again."

"Eric, fix your hair," Evan orders.

"What's wrong with my--" You turn to him and smooth it down with your fingers before he can even finish his question.

"Okay, boss, how are we looking?" you ask.

"Dreadful," Evan mourns.

"Thanks," you smile sarcastically, lightly smacking his thigh. He grins, then looks at the clock and lets out a deep breath.

You can see his blood pressure spike when he presses the button that makes that old man and his child bride appear on the screen.

"Hi, Dad! Hi, Camille!"

"Is that Eric?" their father's fourth wife asks, leaning closer to her screen.

"Hi, Camille," he smiles.

"What are you doing there?!" she asks.

"I…" he looks to you for help.

"We thought we'd make it a family affair," you smile, reaching for his hand where the camera can't see. "Hi, Camille! How are the dogs?"

Camille rambles about her pure-bred ankle-biters for a few minutes, and then the old man - and sitting next to her, he does look hilariously old - decides to interrogate Eric about his grades. Eric stutters through a recap and is berated for not getting better marks. He passed, you want to scream! He's doing fine! But you sit quietly until Camille interrupts to hold one of her prized pups up to say hi. The girl grates on everyone's nerves, but her one-track mind makes for a great distraction from the old man's glare. The boys each have one of your hands in a death grip by the time the call ends.

Evan reaches out to close the laptop when it's over, and leans back against the couch with a groan of exhaustion. Eric looks miserable.

"I need a drink," Evan says suddenly, heading for the liquor cabinet.

"Make that two," you mumble, flexing your hands.

"Three?" Eric asks.

Evan brings the bottle back.

An hour later, the boys have deepened their bond by unloading on the awfulness of their father and his last several wives. Between the ranting and the alcohol, they've both unwound significantly.

You've got your head on Evan's shoulder, holding him around the middle, legs stretched out across the couch cushions and tangled together. He's got one arm around you and one holding a nearly empty liquor bottle. Eric faces you from the other end of the couch, his arms spread wide across the backrest. Their feet almost touch in the middle of the long sectional.

"What was your favorite Christmas ever?" you ask, looking up at Evan with all the love in your heart.

"I was around five, I think," he says, the story already on the tip of his tongue. "And all my older brothers were down with the flu. Guess something good came from them never letting me play with them after all. Anyway, on Christmas morning, it was just Mum and I. And Eric, but he was so small, I think he slept the whole time. But Mum watched me open my presents and gave me sweets. Just the two of us. And the rest of those bastards spent the day in bed."

You nuzzle your cheek into his chest. He doesn't talk about his mother much, but you know he misses her. He squeezes you with the arm he's got wrapped around you and takes another swig from the bottle.

"What about you, Eric?" you ask, turning your sleepy eyes to your brother-in-law.

Eric purses his lips and thinks for a moment, before answering: "This one."

You can't decide if that's more sweet or sad, but you know you have to hug him. Right now.

"Awwww," you coo. His face turns red immediately. You untangle yourself from Evan and crawl to his baby brother, not realizing how drunk you are until you nearly lose your balance on all fours. Eric watches you in surprise as you straddle his lap and pull him to you for a hug. "I'm so happy you're here with us," you say, squeezing him. "You deserve so much better, you both do, because you are sweet and wonderful and perfect and I love you so much, even if--"

"OKAY, I think it's time for the Little Drunkard Girl to go to bed," Evan laughs, pulling you off of Eric and hauling you to the bedroom.

The next day, you wake with a pounding head and a vow to never drink again.

Eric leaves that afternoon, after a lunch of leftovers, with a quick hug and another reminder to call if he needs anything. You'll see him again… wait, when's the next holiday?

[writebackatya]

Bradford: I am pleased to report that F.O.W.L’s goal for total control of the world is progressing on schedule. But this is no time for celebration for there is still much for us to accomplish. It is imperative that you all complete this next task discreetly and efficently. I need you all to kidnap Santa Claus.

Rockerduck: …

Steelbeak: …

Phantom Blot: …

Gandra: …I’m sorry but do you think you can repeat that?

Bradford: Your next mission will be to kidnap Santa Claus both discreetly and ef-

Gandra: {trying to hold back laughter} Efficiently. Yeah. Yeah. I got that.

Black Heron: I’m sorry Agent Dee; do you find our evil plan amusing?

Gandra: I mean…it’s kinda hard to take Director Buzzard seriously when he’s standing up there saying we have to “kidnap Santy Claus”

Bradford: I didn’t say “Santy Claus” and this plan is not evil!

Steelbeak: I mean we are talking about kidnapping Santa Claus here

Bradford: And?

Steelbeak: Well he is the guy who decides who is naughty and who is nice

Phantom Blot: Who does that man think he is to decide whether my actions are good or bad!?

Rockerduck: I have to agree with Phantom Blot here. What’s considered good and bad is always changing. There were a number of things that I did and believed in back in my day that is considered bad these days and vice versa. The whole world is topsy-turvy now if you ask me

Phantom Blot: Do not side with me…

Gandra: Tough shit, Rockerduck. Slavery is bad. Gay marriage is legal. You’re just gonna have to live with it.

Bradford: Can we please get back on track?

Steelbeak: Right. Anyway, if we do this job we risk being put on the naughty list for life which I say sounds pretty evil

Black Heron: Steelbeak. Everything we do here is evil!

Bradford: No. No. Everything we do here is not evil. It’s all necessary work in order to achieve our end goal.

Gandra: …So what you’re saying is that our work is a necessary ev-

Bradford: I do not want to hear another sarcastic comment from you, Agent Dee!

Pepper: Well I love this task, sir! We’re gonna kidnap the Sandy Claus!! But sir. May I ask why? Is it because he gives out presents for free every December 24th and that goes against your capitalist utopia or is this like the thing with your grandmother where you’re mad at him and blaming him for your bad childhood?

Bradford: If there are no other relevant questions, will you all just go already!?

Black Heron: We’ll get it done, Bradford. By the end of the night, Christmas will no longer be!

Bradford: THAT IS NOT THE END GOAL HERE! Besides we’re not eliminating Christmas. It’s a profitable season

Gandra: Right. Go capitalism. Do you need us to capture the Easter Bunny while we’re out?

Bradford: What did I just tell you, Agent Dee!? Everyone just go and get me Santa Claus and bring him back alive

Steelbeak: So if we accidentally kill this guy will one of us become the next Santa?

Bradford: Leave. Now.

Pepper: I think that’s if we put on his coat, Steely. If that’s the case I vote Blotty to be the next Santa!

Bradford: EVERYONE LEAVE NOW!

[corpseontheloose]

Cookies|Adam Stanheight x fem!reader

Warnings:Adam not having a great past

Genre: romance

Summary: Christmas with his roommate turned out to be the night of their first kiss

A/N: SINCE CHRISTMAS IS COMING I THOUGHT ABOUT MAKING A FANFIC WITH ADAM ABOUT THIS. But I also have an announcement. If you want to change the storyline of this story, I made a Character.AI bot with him! Enjoy!! And by the way, I used "make your choice" line from Jigsaw's tapes to incorporate Saw in this story. Ugh this is so bad 😭 im sorry

♡♡♡

A shared apartment with cheap utilities and expensive rent. Water sometimes running cold, the power sometimes going off, leaving both Adam and his roommate in complete darkness. Tonight was different. They were both hanging Christmas lights up, up on the wall and sorts of decorations on the ceiling, and around the house. A cold December night was coming upon them, but they wanted to feel the Christmas mood even in this shithole place.

"I think we did good. It screams 'broke people'"

Adam's voice was faintly soft, ragged almost,like he's been having a sore throat for a few days without any treatment. But he didn't. He was just tired and out of breath after spending half of his day thinking about how to rearrange their apartment and another half of day actually doing so. Of course, with the help of Y/N, who had more vision about designing.

"I think we did great actually! And on time, too. Before Christmas Eve is a new record in my book"

Their house was lit with the basic green and red pigments, blue and yellow and sometimes even orange mixing through the other hanged wires on their walls. Some cotton scattered around the living room, imitating snow, because they couldn't afford any fake snow supplies and a small, flowerpot-sized tree resting on top of the coffee table.

The TV was broadcasting 'Home Alone' in the background at a low volume enough to catch their awareness from time to time and lose their attention at the scenes while embracing the Christmas spirit with their home, and end up yelling at each other for misplacing the socks or almost burning the place down after using a lighter to wake up old, half melted candles.

"Where's the snow globe?"

Y/N asked, moving her head left and right looking for the one thing she still holds dear from her family. It was special, in her own way. Although she owned a few more in her parent's house, this was the only one she took from there in case she won't make it until Christmas to their house.

Y/N would often spend Christmas with her family,but after she moved in, for being 'independent', there were days when phone calls and text messages were less and less due to busy days and lack of time. And she called before Christmas, asked if they want to spend Christmas with her, but this time Y/N's family decided on a trip to other relatives. Y/N declined the offer, and assured that she's going to spend Christmas in her apartment with her dear roommate, Adam.

"It's in the box. We still have a few lights in there, too. And a mistletoe. Where do I put those?"

Adam, on the other hand, did not communicate with his family that much. Barely any messages, calls almost none at all. Their relationship was different from Y/N and her parents. After the age of 20,he tried to make a living on his own, running away from so called 'family' that was not so kind to him in his childhood years. He ran away from every single problem, and never looked back. And even after so much time, there's still a hole in his chest, wishing he could fix everything with his relatives and go back in his mother's arms for one more hug. His flip phone would get voice mails from his brother as well, but he cut off any contact with them whatsoever. Never replied back, but always listened to them.

"I'll take care of them. Can you check the cookies?"

Y/N says, grabbing the snow globe and mistletoe, stealing a look for a few seconds at Adam. He gave her a quick nod, muffling a 'mhm' and went straight to the kitchen. The smell of fresh baked cookies flooded his lungs, almost as intoxicating as the smell of cigarettes he was smoking from time to time.

The little kid in him was inpatient to taste those goodies that him and Y/N prepared through the midday just to have something to snack on during the nights of December. A plate was already filled with the baked dough, but they were still cooling down, so Adam couldn't put his hands on them even if he wanted to. Which, surely, he would've if he could.

Both Adam and Y/N were surprised to learn that they had enough money for ingredients, but they weren't complaining. It was heartwarming, even.

"I think they're almost done"

He says from the kitchen, making Y/N's ears twitch at the thought of another plate full of chocolate chip cookies that they will munch on later in the evening.

"Hold on a second!"

She replies, struggling to keep the mistletoe straight.

Y/N was a very bad hider of secrets, especially secret feelings for a person, but she was certain that Adam had absolutely zero idea of her liking the way his hair sat on his forehead, or how his voice was cutting her breath whenever he was around. She was certain, because Adam wasn't the smartest being either. Sure,he was smart, but romance was never his thing. That's why most of his relationships failed. He had a hard time controlling his anger.

So he found himself alone, in a silent apartment, taking pictures of strangers and living off of his client's money. That until Y/N showed up and helped him with rent and loneliness. Especially loneliness. Now the empty fridge was somehow not so empty whenever his money ran out. Nor the sad living room that was now filled with laughter most of the times of the day. He had someone to complain about broken tapes and rude customers and someone who actually listened while he did so.

So, as much as an anger issued person he was, someone found good in him and was there for him. And vice versa, of course.

♡♡♡

"Man, these cookies? They're the best. I never tasted such sugary treats before. The ones from the supermarket are shit"

Both of them laughed at Adam's statement, which wasn't false at all. Supermarket cookies were tasteless and most likely out of date too.

"I'm glad you like them. To be honest, I was skeptical about baking them. My mom taught me how to do so, but I failed almost all my attempts. Except once or twice when I actually got the recipe right"

"Nah, they're perfect. Soft and crunchy at the same time? And so much flavour. Mixed with warm milk is just the cherry on top, really"

Y/N giggled as she took another cookie and dipped it in her own mug of milk and swallowed the snack, happily. Her cheeks were now crimson red at Adam's compliments, but she chose to ignore it and continue the movie they were watching.

'Home Alone' was a classic, but almost too boring for them. It was cold too. The outside was covered in white snow, and the windows were now losing their purpose after being covered by tiny snowflakes that were constantly falling from the sky. Twilight was not helping either, and the street lights were now just shiny, smudged dots on the glass.

But It was cold. The heater wasn't exactly the best either,but the couch was cozy. So slowly, both of them found themselves shifting closer and closer to each other. It was like a magnetic experience going on.

"Where did you put the mistletoe?"

Adam asked, his gaze following Y/N's lips and eyes, right after. She turned around and faced him, then pointed at the gap between kitchen and living room. And there it was, a tiny mistletoe, hanging with the other shiny lights, waiting for its purpose to be met.

"Why? Do you want to kiss someone tonight?"

Y/N's joke caught Adam in full act. She continued to dip her cookies in milk after speaking those words, which forced Adam to fall in a small silence while rolling his eyes. He smiled, moving his eyes back to the movie and the food.

"Maybe. Maybe I had in plan to take it with me on a date tonight"

This time, Y/N felt her heart cracking at his words. He never mentioned anything about a date, and was sure that they would spend Christmas together... Like two broke rats in a cage,eating cookies until they're full and laugh at cliché scenes in Christmas movies.

"You're not going anywhere, Adam. Otherwise I'd know about this 'mysterious date'. You can't keep a darn secret"

The room fell into silence again. Adam was gripping onto the couch's material while anxiously chewing on his cookie, trying to decide whether he spills whatever he has to say, or stay silent like a coward. The candles were burning across the room, the sound of melting wax tickling Adam's ears and pressured him even more, while the Christmas lights were pulsing over his hands. He started feeling hot out of sudden.

'Make your choice' was silently pushing him in his mind.

"Or maybe...I wanted to kiss you"

He whispered, turning his head to Y/N and completely losing interest in the other two activities, such as eating or watching the movie. Y/N blinked at Adam as her heart starts booming in her chest. His eyes met hers and, somehow, Y/N felt herself floating.

"I'm so done with your jokes, Adam. They cause me a heart attack"

She answers, her side smile showing off in the corner of her lips. But Adam stayed serious, his eyes desperately searching for a place to rest, but instead they were roaming around Y/N's features. He was begging with his eyes for one kiss. He was pleading.

"Adam..."

That's when Y/N realises that he's serious about his words, and without a minute more, she closed her eyes and took his lips on hers. The sweet remainings from the cookies were tasting on their tongues, as well as the cigarette Adam smoked a while before he joined Y/N on the couch.

And even without a mistletoe, Adam's plan was coming true.

Because he fell in love with a girl that was never meant to mean anything in the first place, just a simple roommate that helped him with groceries and rent. But he fell in love hard. It was almost uncontrollable. And she did the same.

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Happy end of the holiday season, here is the Spider Hallmark Christmas Movie. Sorry it ended up way more serious than I meant for it too, it was supposed to be silly and fluffy. I will take criticism to make it fluffy:

-Spider used to live with his foster family next to the Sully's. The MsCoskers weren't great to him, and definitely never saw him as one of their own, but things were good. They never really cared where he was, and he spent all his time in the woods with the Sully kids, climbing trees and building treehouses and pretending to be forest people. He would help Kiri rescue baby birds that had fallen out of nests, and race Lo'ak up the tallest trees they could find until the branches get thin and breakable. Sometimes he would just sit and talk with Neteyam, about anything and everything. Neteyam always insisted on being the king of the forest, meaning Kiri and Lo'ak were the prince and the princess, but Spider was never quite sure what he was in the kingdom.

-He's been gone for a long time, after his dad got out of prison and got custody of him and took him far away to some military base out of the country. It wasn't good, and now that his dad is back in prison Spider has one year left before he turns eighteen and he's not quite sure where he'll end up. But, it's December and he's back and he's meeting his new foster family out in god knows where and through some insane fucked up version of fate it's the Sully's.

-They bring him to a new, smaller home than he grew up in, this one by the ocean and closer to other homes than the big forest properties from their childhood. But it turns out Lo'ak is good at surfing now, just like he used to be good at climbing trees, and Kiri likes to go protect turtle nests at night. Things are different but also the same.

-Tuk makes him decorate the entire house with her. Neytiri is not good at decorating, Christmas is not her thing, but it's not Spider's either. Santa never brought him things like he does for Tuk. They kind of let Jake and Tuk direct them into activities. Picking the tree is a very serious process, because it has to be one Lo'ak has climbed, but also can fit in the house. According to Kiri it gets harder every year. Kiri (and Neytiri) teach him how to bake sugar cookies, and Tuk teaches him how to decorate them to a nearly inedible result. Lo'ak takes him beach sledding, which is an activity his new girlfriend taught him. Jake makes him watch Die Hard four times.

-Neteyam hovers at the back of every activity in a way Spider isn't used to. He's usually right in the center of every activity, in Spider's memory. The king of the forest. Well, if Spider has to be involved then so does Neteyam.

-When Tuk directs Spider to put lights on the porch railings, he hands Neteyam a strand. When Kiri asks him to measure the flour, he asks Neteyam where the cups are. When Tuk goes to get the frosting for decorating, he gives Neteyam a blank canvas cookie snowman of his own to decorate. Spider does not let Neteyam leave him to go beach sledding with Lo'ak and Tsireya alone, and Neteyam watched Die Hard at least twice.

-On Christmas Eve, the family go with Kiri to check her turtle nests again. Neteyam is hovering in the back, not checking a nest, and it's just so weird Spider finds himself walking over and questioning him about it. What happened to the king of the forest that was always the center of everything going on?

-Neteyam says there isn't a forest here, and ever since they moved there, he hasn't been the center of much. He doesn't fit in here anymore. Well, that's just fine for Spider, he wasn't sure where he fit in in the forest, even if he loved it. He can't just not be involved at all. They can just not fit in together.

-And maybe, that is where they do fit in. Together.

[spooky-pomegranate]

So I found your “Violence and Timing” fic which led me to ao3 and I binge read every chapter. It is really good. Like really good. Like really fucking good. Like I was up all night last night just reading through those chapters because it’s so good. I just had to let you know because wow. I’m kinda sad I finished all the chapters so far because I feel like I just finished a tv show and I always get sad whenever I finish those. So yeah… just letting you know your writing is top tier.

It Was Supposed to Be Simple:

Captain Price x F Reader Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: For Price, it was supposed to be a simple mission. For you, it was supposed to be the most important meeting of your life. But nothing ever goes to plan, does it? (A/N: Thank you so much @peepawsbeardhair ! That's incredibly sweet to say. I've put a lot of excerpts from that story on Tumblr and people seem to eat it up, but I've never posted the first chapter. Maybe it's time?! )

--------------------- RUSSIA. DECEMBER 2022 ---------------------

“Bravo 5 how copy?”

Captain Price’s surveillance crackled to life in his ear as Gaz responded, “Approaching Building 1 from the west now sir.”

“Rog. Ghost what’s your status?” The bitter winds burned his lunges with each deep breath.

Another crackle, “In position on the east. Ready to breach on your order Captain.”

The blizzard had made for good cover. In the ten minutes Price had occupied his overwatch position nearly half an inch of snow had gathered on his back. His fingers ached as he pinched his radio.

“Alright lads. On my order in 3, 2, 1. Go!”

For the next several minutes gun smoke, fire, and blood filled the air. The mission was simple. Enter the building, kill any armed guards, and secure the intel.

The location, albeit currently freezing Price to his very core, hadn’t been a complicated one either. An old remote KGB intelligence outpost deep in the heart of Siberia; small, run-down, minimally guarded.

“Nothing that’ll win you chest candy.” Ghost had quipped when Laswell briefed the trio on the mission.

While Price fired another sniper round into the building, he thought back to the last words Laswell had said to him before he had boarded the helo at base.

“We have solid intel the Russians are planning something John. Something big. I know this isn’t the type of job I usually ask of you boys, but we need this intel and we need it now.”

Price didn’t mind that it was a straightforward mission. In fact, he was looking forward to something simpler. Scars and nightmares often reminded Price of his more complicated missions. He hoped this trip wouldn’t add to either of his unwanted collections.

Another cackle over the comms, “Captain, the building is clear.”

“Copy you Lieutenant. You have eyes on the intel?”

“Yes sir. But Captain…” Price heard Ghost’s voice waver ever so slightly. The most minute change in pitch.

“Bloody hell Price, you’re gonna want to see this.”

--------------------- LONDON. DECEMBER 2022 ---------------------

“Just a hot coffee black. You know what actually, can you add a shot of espresso in there? Sorry, yeah thanks.”

“One red-eye. Anything else today?”

“No, no that’s all thanks.”

You knew the caffeine wouldn’t help your shaky hands. The extra shot certainly wouldn’t quell your uneasy and empty stomach either, but you moved onward, grabbing your order and heading out to the street. You had more important things to worry about today.

As you took your first sip a text came through on your cell.

“In the lobby now. They want to move meeting w/ Deputy CTO up. Didn’t say why. Can you be here in 10?”

Luckily you’d been pacing around the same three London blocks for 20 minutes now.

“Be there in 2.”

You crossed the street and made your way into the towering high-rise lobby. It was crowded with businessmen. You tried to scan the room for your boss. Where the hell was he? Damn it, all these men in suits looked the same.

“Didn’t get me a coffee then?”

“Jesus! Oh my god, I didn’t see you sitting there. Why the hell did you scare me like that!?”

You nearly spilled your coffee whirling around to face your boss. He’d been quietly sitting in a corner, briefcase and winning smile in tow.

“And why are there so many people in this goddamn building right now anyway?”

You tried to calm yourself a bit. The espresso was a bad choice. Your nerves were on fire.

“Did you forget who we’re meeting with today? Half the people in here are Secret Service. We’re lucky the CTO has a few minutes to spare for us between these international summit meetings. ”

You looked around the room. Now that he’d said it, you realized there weren’t a lot of grey hair men in the lobby. Most of these guys were younger, closer to 30, and their posture was straighter than anyone who normally spent 8 hours a day slumped over a desk.

“Right, yeah that makes sense.”

“Hey.”

You looked back at your boss. He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“We got this okay. Don’t be nervous. You’ve made something that’s gonna change the world, so let’s change it okay.”

You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay. You’re right.”

“I’m always right.” He huffed out a low chuckle. “Let’s head to the elevators. We’re meeting on the 56th floor.”

Your boss grabbed his briefcase, you clutched your coffee, and the two of you made your way across the room. As you waited for an elevator you took a final look over the cramped lobby when you thought you saw… him. He was in a black jacket, dark jeans, boots, and a hat pulled low over his face. You were sure it was him. It couldn’t be. But it…

“You coming or what?” Your boss’s voice cut through your racing thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m coming” You entered the elevator and tried to put the man’s image out of your mind. It was probably just the coffee and your nerves. A mirage brought on by stress and anxiety. You really didn’t need that extra shot.

A very official-looking staffer met you on the 56th floor. She led you to the meeting space, a modern but sterile-looking conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows, tinted glass separating the room from the hallway, and a massive oak table with a dozen chairs.

“The Vice President and Deputy Chief Technology Officer will be with you both shortly. Please have a seat.”

“Wait the Vice President? Like the Vice President of the United States? He’s coming to our meeting? I thought we were just meeting with the Deputy?” The sentences jumped out of your mouth quicker than you would have liked.

“Yes, as you may know, the Vice President has made technology and anti-terrorism efforts a focus of his office for several years now. He’s been briefed on your work by the CTO and is eager to discuss further details with you both.”

And with that sudden news, the staffer disappeared, slipping back out into the hallway.

As you watched her figure move down the hall behind the tinted glass, the walls felt like they were starting to push in on you. Could the ceiling be dropping in on you too? You took another sip of your coffee, nerves fully on fire again.

Several more minutes of pacing and pep talks occurred before the conference room door opened again. The staffer was back with important friends this time.

After the most formal introductions of your life, your boss took over with his presentation. It’d been decided a long time ago he’d handle the flashy intro and you’d seal the deal with the demo. This was your baby after all and no one knew it better than you.

As your boss finished the pitch you stood from your chair, resting your hands firmly on the briefcase he’d brought. The leather was cool and soft.

You locked eyes with your boss. His eyes crinkled at you again. You felt the air come back into your lungs and the walls didn’t feel so close anymore. You could do this.

As you slipped your hands inside the briefcase the sound of heavy boots echoed outside. Black shadows in the shape of half a dozen men darkened the tinted glass separating the conference room and the hallway. Then came the voices; deep, angry, decidedly unAmerican.

“If you fucking muppets don’t let me into that room I promise you you’ll regret ever stepping foot in this bloody country.”

An agent whipped opened the conference door, nearly tumbling over as four combat-clad men pushed their way inside.

“Diaz, what’s going on?” The Vice President eyed the fumbling agent.

“Sir, we need to move you to…”

The agent's voice was cut off as the windows behind you exploded rocking you forward. Shards of glass rained down on your back as your ribs collided with the oak table. Every ounce of air was knocked from your lungs as you crumbled to the floor. The table toppled over onto its side in front of you while behind you the room opened up to the London skyline.

Total silence enveloped the room except for a high pitch buzzing that felt like it was crawling its way out from deep inside your ear.

Enormous pain rippled throughout your chest as you reached above you for the briefcase now precariously dangling off the edge of the table. You pulled the smooth leather to your chest.

As your braced your forearms on the ground and pushed yourself up to your full height you heard a murmur of a deep voice. Someone was trying to penetrate the ringing in your ears, but you couldn’t understand. The buzzing was still too loud.

Fully upright you came face to face with one of the foreign soldiers. He towered several inches above you, a British flag squarely on his chest. His steely blue irises glanced over your body and when his eyes came back to rest on your face his pupils were nearly double in size.

Then the soldier lunged at you.

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

Price wrapped one of his hands around your waist and the other on the back of your head as he tackled you to the floor. He didn’t care about the bruises he’d leave on your hip as he pressed his full weight roughly against you. He needed you on the ground now.

“Get down! Sniper on the roof across the street. Soap take him out now!”

“On it!”

Before Soap could pull out his rifle the first shot rings throughout the conference room. Price watches as it slams into a businessman’s chest ripping flesh and bone. He can taste the terribly familiar scent of coppery blood in the air.

Before the crimson cloud can even reach the carpet, another shot. This one takes down the stubborn agent who delayed Price getting into this room. A mist of blood plumes where the man once stood. Price grits his teeth.

Then another bang. This time the staffer is down.

Soap fires next. His Scottish timbre yells out, “Sniper down.”

Ropes drop down outside the building. Price knows this means the fight is just beginning. He quickly kneels removing himself from you and grabs your hand, yanking you to a seated position. He can see tears forming in your eyes. He can’t worry about exfiltrating a civilian now. Secure the high-value officials and eliminate the threat, those words repeat in his mind like a command he’s ordering to himself. There are only seconds before this room will be invaded.

But he won’t leave you here out in the open, he can’t watch another civilian die if he can stop it. So without saying a word he looks at you and points to a spot behind the overturned table. He hopes you’ll understand his wordless intention. You hadn’t answered him when he’d asked if you were alright after the blast, a shot eardrum from the blast most likely.

Price lets out a small breath as he watches you scurry to cover behind the overturned table.

He reminds himself of his own order, secure the officials. Price barks, “Gaz, Ghost get the VP and CTO out of here now! Roof’s compromised take the stairs. Go!”

“Moving now sir.” Ghost answers.

Then comes the smoke, the Russian voices, and the sound of boots crunching on carpet and broken glass. Prices slides in next to you behind the cover of the large overturned oak table, shoulders and thighs pressing up against each other. He can feel your body shaking. He doesn’t need to see your face to know that tears are down your cheeks by now.

Price peers around the table. The smoke is thick. Wait, he tells himself. The haze will thin out soon with the windows blown away. Wait … for the moment to strike. Wait… for the enemy to compromise themselves. Wait… because everything in Price’s life depends on the perfect balance of violence and timing.

One of the Russians get’s impatient and fires a rogue round into the ceiling. Patience pays off and Price shoots his pistol. One down.

The smoke is clearing fast now. Price moves from his cover behind the table. Soap emerges from the receding smoke with him. They fire and fight together, pushing their way forward toward the London skyline with bullets, knives, and brute force. Russians falling one by one in their wake.

There’s no one left in front of Price to gun down when he hears a scream from behind him. You’re standing by the door, briefcase clutched to your chest, and knife to your throat. One of the Russians must have taken the stairs from the roof down, sneaking into the room during the fighting.

Price tries to remind himself to wait. To wait for the right moment. To pair his violence with perfect timing… but your eyes. Your eyes beg him not to. Your eyes beg Price to move now, to fight now, to save you now.

So he moves. Price raises his pistol and fires. But at that same moment, you move and two bodies hit the floor.

Fuck. What had Price done?

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

(Read the rest of this story here)

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Holiday Spirit

Summary: Don's just fine with his friendship with Bobby despite his yearning. Then he gets a couple of texts that definitely weren't meant for him.

Things can only get better from here.

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Modern AU, Pining, Getting Together, Accidental Pics, Holiday Theme (in the bg)

Words: 2526

A/N: for @b00ks1ut !! mery chrysler

-

AO3

or

Don should be used to this by now.

The bitter Seattle winter rolls in and he still doesn’t dress right for the first practice in an ice storm. His hands are numb, his hair is clumped in frozen chunks, and the thought of warming up is the only solace getting him through this.

That and Bobby.

Bobby is a shivering mess in front of him, not even allowed the grace of rowing to keep warm. But his eyes shine, his yells through the mic don’t falter. Don can’t help but admire his spirit and he lets his breath warm the cold air when Bobby smiles at him.

“On my go-ahead, Hume, baby.”

Don brings up the pace with ease at Bobby’s command, face flushed at the pet-name, the praise that follows after. Despite the pelting ice, the boys break their record from the day before and the cold air is a comfort as the fire burns low in Don’s chest.

He’s not sure why he keeps denying himself year after year. Bobby is a gentleman. If he doesn’t feel the same, their friendship will continue on like always. Yet. Don has settled into his longing, an old friend he’s not quite ready to get rid of yet.

“Can you come over for dinner?” Don asks as they change in the locker room.

Bobby’s smile is strained and he shakes his head. “Got other plans. But rain check?”

Don nods, curious to what could be so important for Bobby to not jump at the chance to hang out. Then again, the holidays are in full blast. Bobby is on every committee imaginable, planning multiple parties. The fact that they ever see each other at all during December is a miracle within itself.

So, Don ends up in his shared apartment with Chuck, the two playing video games as the night wears on.

“This gonna be the year?” Chuck asks, eyes glued to the screen.

“What do you mean?” Don’s focus wavers. He knows, but still he has to ask.

Chuck laughs a little, manages to score on Don in his moment of distraction. “Telling Bobby you want to date him, man. I don’t know why you keep putting it off.”

Don scowls as he mashes the buttons on his controller. Chuck had the upper hand and his usual combinations aren’t working.

“Look,” Chuck pauses the game and Don is left to stare at the stilted screen. “I know Bobby likes you. He hasn’t said it out loud, but the way he looks at you…the fact that he always makes time for you? That counts for a lot.”

Don hums in response, looks down at his hands. He can’t explain his indifference. He loves Bobby, desperately so, but he’s come to accept that they’ll just continue on like they always have. And that’s more than fine with him. They cuddle, he lets Bobby steal more than a few sweaters, and as far as friendship goes, Don has been truly lucky. Bobby knows him inside out, he’s the one person Don can confide in for everything.

Except this one glaring point.

Chuck sighs, defeated, and gets up to go to the kitchen. Don isn’t sure what to say, but it doesn’t matter as his phone pings and he sees a couple of messages from Bobby come in. Don is quick to open up his phone and ends up almost choking.

Bobby has sent a picture of himself lying on his bed. He’s on his stomach, the angle just enough to catch that Bobby isn’t wearing anything except red panties. The text underneath is even more teasing.

Wanna come over and open your gift?

Don’s eyes go wide and he grips onto his phone for dear life. This can’t be real, this is all a dream and then the onslaught occurs.

SHIT I’M SO SORRY DELETE FUCK

A part of Don wants to laugh. He’s been terrified of making the same mistake and it’s a bit of a relief that Bobby did it first.

“What’s got you all wired up?” Chuck asks as he comes back to the living room.

Don tries to think of a response but then his phone rings. With a shrug, Don all but sprints to the sanctuary of his bedroom, making sure the door is shut before answering.

“Don, I’m so sorry,” Bobby is breathless. “Just forget about what you saw. That was meant for someone else.”

“It’s alright,” Don smiles. There is an ache in his heart but he ignores it. “Totally forgotten. Won’t tell a soul.”

Bobby takes a few breaths and there’s a thump as if he’s fallen onto his bed. “Thanks. Must’ve been our shitty practice fucking up my fingers.”

“Shitty? I thought we did alright,” Don jokes and this makes Bobby laugh.

“Yeah, of course you did. You guys are amazing.”

Don’s chest warms and he leans back against his door. “So, you getting some tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Bobby sighs. “Kinda don’t want to send her the pic after all this.”

“Do it anyway. You looked cute.”

Don’s stomach drops as he realizes what just left his mouth. He stammers through an excuse but his mouth and brain refuse to work together.

“Hot—I mean, for her. I’m sure she thinks you’re great just like I do.”

Don slaps a hand over his face and slides down to the ground. He’s a walking disaster. The silence on the other end is deafening and Don’s panic rises to his chest.

“Are you at home?” Bobby asks at last.

“Yeah?” Don’s voice shakes as if he’s answered wrong question.

“Then get your ass over here.”

Don stares at his phone, making sure he’s still talking to Bobby and not some spam robot.

“Hume, swear to god, if you don’t come and fuck me right now, we’re no longer friends.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Don scrambles to his feet.

He’s a flurry as he shoves on his shoes and grabs his keys. All that runs through his head is Bobby. They’re about to do something ridiculous, he’s sure, but that makes it all the more exciting.

“Have fun,” Chuck calls from the living room with a shit-eating grin.

In response, Don flips him off before skidding out to his car. The roads are clear tonight, but Don still tries to keep his head on. He doesn’t need this to be his last moment on Earth.

When he reaches Bobby’s apartment, he digs out the spare key from its hiding place and enters into a dark room. There’s a sliver of light down the hall, beckoning, but now, Don’s nerves act up. Taking a deep breath, he toes off his shoes, makes his way to Bobby’s bedroom with quiet steps.

When he pushes open the door, the sight before him is all he could have wished for.

Bobby is scrolling through his phone, lying as he was in the picture and still dressed in nothing but that single piece of clothing. Don doesn’t know what he wants to do first as he soaks in the scene before him.

“Creep,” Bobby teases before looking over his shoulder at Don. “Are you just gonna stare or do something about this?”

It’s all the permission Don needs and he strides over to the bed, climbing on to hover over Bobby. On his back now, Bobby wraps his arms around Don’s shoulders, a soft smile on his face.

“Finally came around, huh?”

Don blinks, tilts his head.

“Fuck, Don,” Bobby laughs. “I was waiting for you to say something first. Do you know how hard these past few years have been?”

Elation and regret swarm through Don as he gives Bobby a small, apologetic smile. He was happy as they were, but knowing what he can have, what they can be, it’s overwhelming.

Don kisses Bobby, hopes this says what he needs for now.

Bobby is a tidal wave, crashing into Don and stealing the last of his breath. Their mouths move in tandem, Bobby’s hands knead into his shoulders. Don is drowning in Bobby and he couldn’t ask for anything more. His hands trace along Bobby’s sides until he grabs at his waist, squeezing.

The gasp that leaves Bobby stirs the embers and Don trails his mouth down, biting at Bobby’s neck and then at his chest. He needs to leave his mark, to know that this is real.

Bobby arches into Don’s touch, fingers tangling in his hair. The little tugs send sparks along Don’s spine and he grazes his teeth over Bobby’s nipples.

“Fuck, knew you’d be good,” Bobby sighs, head tipped back.

Amused, Don bites a nipple, just on the edge of too much and Bobby groans. Just hearing it once is not enough. Don teases the other nipple, reaches to rub Bobby through the panties. They’re lace, hardly hiding a thing at all and Don presses his palm down.

“Donny,” Bobby whines, his hands yanking at Don’s hair.

With a low moan, Don kisses down Bobby’s stomach until he has his mouth on the outline of Bobby’s cock. He teases as Bobby writhes on the bed and then slowly pulls off the panties.

Don swallows then. Bobby’s cock is red, weeping as it rests on his stomach but more than that is the green jeweled end of a plug he sees at Bobby’s hole.

“Was she going to peg you?” He can’t help but ask

Bobby snorts, gives Don a playful kick with his foot. “That was the plan until you came along.”

A streak of possession fills Don and he grabs Bobby’s cock, sucking at the head.

Bobby goes speechless then, mouth dropping open, eyes shut tight. Don grins a little before taking more of Bobby in his mouth, his other hand trailing to the plug. Fitting as much of Bobby as he can, Don holds Bobby there before giving the plug a small tug.

The whine that leaves Bobby sends a shiver down Don’s spine and he fiddles with the plug some more. He pulls it out to the part that’s widest, mouths along Bobby’s length as Bobby shakes and spasms.

“Don’t tease, baby,” Bobby begs. “I’m ready for you. I’m so ready.”

Biting his lip, Don shoves the plug back in, loses his breath at Bobby’s stuttered groan. His own cock is straining in his jeans and Don leans back to free himself. Disheveled and glowing, Bobby is a dream sprawled out on the bed. Not a part of him is hidden and Don struggles to get his jeans undone.

“Let me,” Bobby sits up and shuffles forward.

He does what Don can’t, slides the zipper down with a steady hand. Tugging Don’s jeans and boxers to his thighs, Bobby then takes Don in his hand, gives his cock a light stroke.

Don’s body is awash with pleasure and he bucks into Bobby’s hand. Just this alone would be enough.

“Come on, Donny,” Bobby lays back down. “Fill me up.”

Don doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes the plug out of Bobby, his thumb catching the rim to stretch him a little more. He can’t look away, never wants to as he watches Bobby’s hole clench and pulse around nothing.

“Don,” Bobby whines.

Eager doesn’t begin to cut it and Don is quick to find condoms and lube so conveniently on the bedside table. He’ll make a joke about it later but for now, he preps himself before lining his cock up with Bobby’s hole.

“Just put it all in,” Bobby buries his face in his pillow. “I’m good.”

Don believes him but he still pushes in at an agonizing pace. For Bobby at any rate. Bobby cusses Don out, tries to push his hips down to make him go faster, but Don holds him in his place. If he doesn’t take it slow, he’ll come in an instant.

When he’s fully sheathed inside Bobby, Don’s head spins. So tight and warm, Don knows he won’t want anyone else on his cock after this.

“Please, please,” Bobby pitifully begs, his hands twisting in his pillows.

Breathing in, Don grabs hold of Bobby’s hips and starts fucking Bobby at a harsh pace. The bed moves with him, Bobby sliding back and forth on Don’s cock, the headboard thunking against the wall.

Bobby cries out Don’s name, swears and praises him in the same breath. He’s breathtaking like this and Don pulls Bobby up into his lap. With a quick adjustment, Bobby throws his arms around Don, buries his face in his neck as Don snaps his hips up into him.

“Don, Don,” Bobby begins to repeat, as if he’s praying.

Don would be Bobby’s deity if he could, and he crushes him in a tight grip, his release building as they move together. Bobby comes first with a sob, cum splattering both of them, rubbing into their skin as Don keeps his hips going. From Bobby biting along the shell of his ear, to the tight heat around his cock, Don can no longer hold back.

He slams into Bobby with a groan, savors the digging of nails into his back. He’s in their own personal heaven and he doesn’t want to leave so soon.

Bobby is the one to pull back first. The room is quiet, a fragile stillness that could be broken with a single breath. It’s then Bobby looks into Don’s eyes and his stare is pensive, soft.

“This isn’t just a one time thing, right?”

Don swallows, brushes a stray piece of hair away from Bobby’s face. “Not if you’ll have me.”

Bobby laughs a little at this before kissing Don’s cheek. “Such a gentleman. Of course I’ll have you. Any way I can.”

Don’s heart beats steadily in his chest and he hugs Bobby again. If it was possible he’d never let go.

“So, you meeting my folks over winter break?”

Don rolls his eyes with an amused huff. “They already know who I am, Bob.”

“Yeah but this time you’re my boyfriend,” Bobby grins.

Heat rises to Don’s cheeks and he ducks his head, trying to hide his shy smile. It’s all really happening. One minute friends, the next, lovers. Some kind of holiday miracle must be at work.

Don’s coyness only encourages Bobby and he brings Don into another passionate kiss.

“Alright, I’ll see what my parents have planned,” Don says when their kiss ends.

“Perfect,” Bobby whispers against his lips. Then he all but scrambles off of Don. “Come on, let’s shower. I’m feeling gross.”

Don’s wrist is snatched before he can say a thing and he’s dragged into the bathroom. One shower and the changing of sheets later, Don is settled against the headboard with Bobby cuddling into him. At their feet sits a laptop, playing a Christmas movie neither are paying attention to.

With a glance at the window, Don can see a few snowflakes beginning to fall, so stark and brilliant against the dark night. Don smiles to himself and pulls Bobby even closer, placing a kiss on top of his head.

He’s certainly going to have more than enough to keep him warm this winter.

[shinsengumi-archives]

I’m back (after writing a 55 pg fic so far). I’m trying to wrap my head around Soji’s timeline and pouring over the timeline you have posted.

In September 1867 Soji becomes seriously ill - does he stay with the Shinsengumi still during that time I’m guessing?

January 1868 - I assume he went to Osaka for the battle of Toba-Fushimi but he doesn’t take part in it? He stays behind with Kondo who was shot in the shoulder?

February 4 - they sail to Edo, and I assume Soji is with them? And this is his first time on a ship?

Feb? ?? - Okita’s sister Mitsu and Okita Rintaro left (which I’m guessing they were in contact and it’s unknown how they parted)

February 28ish - This is when Soji goes to Matsumoto Ryojin’s clinic and is staying at Matsumoto’s house at Imado shrine.

March 24 - so a month later the Shinsengumi goes to Kofu Castle and stays in Hino which is still in Edo where I’m guessing Soji gets bad/feverish and can’t travel so this is actually where they officially leave him at Uekiya Heigoro’s house? In the “site of Okita Souji’s death” post you say it was the end of February when he moved there (which would be a month prior to this when he was going to Matsumoto’s clinic - so I just want to clarify that it was around the end of March that Okita moved to Heigoro’s house.

Sometime in March (before the 28th) - the Shinsengumi visits Soji and he smiles and doesn’t let them know how sick he is so they won’t worry.

March 28-April 25 - the shinsengumi are pretty much all around Edo until Kondo is beheaded in May and Hijikata gets injured at the Battle of Utsunomiya Castle - Where does Hijikata go?

July 19 - *sobs* we lose him. So he’s at the house alone and suffering from end of March to July? 4 months. And in those four months, he did visit Kondo’s wife Tsune and daughter Tama at Joganji Temple in Nakano (when was this?).

Let me know if I missed anything we know about Soji here as well!

Thank you so much and super grateful. I want to learn as much as I can and flesh out the timeline a bit so I can fully understand what he experienced and how he lived up until the end.

Hi @sayitcanonlybeme, sorry for the extremely late reply. I've gone back to grad school and have been busy with classes/projects for the past few months, so I haven't been able to be active on Tumblr until the holidays.

The timeline was posted a long time ago when I first started learning about the Shinsengumi, so there are inaccuracies, especially mixups between Lunar calendar and Western calendar dates.

Here are the events with details and corrections:

September 1867 Soji becomes seriously ill

It's not clear exactly when he became ill, but according to Japanese Wiki Corpus:

according to Kanefumi NISHIMURA's "Mibu Roshi Shimatsuki", he [Okita Souji] was seriously ill around September when the quarters were moved to Fudodo Village; and in a letter to Kondo dated October 13, Kojima wrote that he was worried about Okita's worsening condition. Given the above, when Okita's health condition worsened so critical that he could not bear fighting was from autumn to winter in 1867. It is also thought that his intense exercise might have been an added burden on his lungs and aggravated his illness.

I'm not sure whether the dates are Lunar or Western calendar, but September is October on the Western calendar. Here's a useful calendar converter.

January 1868 - I assume he went to Osaka for the battle of Toba-Fushimi

He was first staying at Kondo Isami’s mistress’s house in Rokujo, Kyoto, not far from Fushimi (according to this article and this article). Abe Juro arrived there on the morning of December 18 (Lunar calendar, Western calendar: January 12, 1868), hoping to assassinate Okita. He later mentioned in the "Shidankai Sokkiroku" (史談會速記錄), "However there was no one there but one woman, who after interrogation admitted that there was an Okita Souji the other night who at 10PM returned to Fushimi. It was really regrettable."

December 18 was also the day Kondo got shot in the right shoulder on his way from Nijo Castle (more info).

They were both sent to Osaka Castle to receive medical care, so neither of them participated in the fighting that started on January 3 (Lunar calendar, Western calendar: January 27).

February 4 - they sail to Edo

According to this article, Kondo, Hijikata, and Okita boarded the Shogunate's ship Fujisanmaru on January 10 (Lunar calendar, Western calendar: February 3).

(image sources: [1] [2])

Nagakura boarded the Jundomaru which left a day earlier. Out of the 150 Shinsengumi members, 116 remained. They went back to Edo on those two ships along with the rest of the Shogunate army.

The Fujisanmaru arrived at Shinagawa, Edo on January 15. Kondo and Okita went to a medical clinic in Kanda Izumibashi (神田和泉橋) to receive treatment from Matsumoto Ryojun. The rest of the Shinsengumi stayed at a garrison in Kajibashi Gate (鍛冶橋門).

This is likely Okita's first time traveling on a ship since the Shinsengumi originally arrived in Kyoto on foot and there are no other records of Okita making long journeys.

Feb? ?? - Okita’s sister Mitsu and Okita Rintaro left

Okita Mitsu and Rintaro evacuated along with the Shinchogumi's sponsor, the Lord of the Shonai domain Sakai Tadazumi, to the Shonai domain in northern Japan (source).

Since Souji wasn't fit for travel, he was left behind in Edo. According to the Okita Family Records, they left him on February 26 (Lunar calendar, Western calendar: March 19, 1868). However, according to this article, Mitsu and Rintaro left in March (lunar calendar), so I'm not sure which date is more accurate.

According to the Shinsengumi's financial records, Okita withdrew money to pay a carpenter on February 26 (lunar) to repair Uekiya's house in Sendagaya where he spent his final days, so he had either just moved in or was about to move there when Mitsu left.

February 28ish - This is when Soji goes to Matsumoto Ryojin’s clinic

I think February 28ish (lunar) is when he left Matsumoto Ryojun's clinic.

According to this article:

In January of Keio 4, Matsumoto Ryojun was summoned by a certain Hiraoka, a young official of the shogunate, and receive news that "The wounded from the Battle of Toba-Fushimi were returning to Edo, and that they should be given temporary hospitalization at the residences of the lords". As if following in the footsteps of the Shogunate's army, news spread that Satsuma-Choshu army had moved eastward and was coming to Edo. Most of the wounded had already been cured, and more than 30 patients were treated at Imado. He built his own dormitory in a corner of the grounds of the shrine in Imado, where he lived, and built a hospital building in Shofukuji Temple, which was used as a field hospital, and moved his own patients there as well. The Shinsengumi, defeated in the Battle of Toba-Fushimi in Keio 4, returned to Edo aboard the Fujisanmaru and were transported from the Kamaya (釜屋, an inn/teahouse) in Shinagawa to a medical clinic in Okachimachi, Kanda Izumibashi, and then to a field hospital in Shofukuji, where Kondo Isami and Okita Souji were treated by Matsumoto Ryojun, but this is only speculation.

So it's not clear when they went to each location, but from that article, it sounds like Okita went to Matsumoto's clinic at Imado Shrine shortly after arriving in Edo.

March 24 - so a month later the Shinsengumi goes to Kofu Castle and stays in Hino

They went to Kofu on March 24 (Western calendar, Lunar calendar: March 1), so it makes sense that after Okita got too sick in Hino, he was left behind and eventually sent to Uekiya's house in Sendagaya.

He was probably either about to move in or already living in Uekiya's house before he left towards Kofu, since he took out money for renovations on February 26 (lunar).

Sometime in March (before the 28th) - the Shinsengumi visits Soji

Since Nagakura assumed Okita died at Imado in his diary, most Shinsengumi members probably didn't know that he was staying at Uekiya's house starting from March. They were probably trying to keep his location secret to keep him safe.

Since Kondo was captured soon after the Battle of Koshu-Katsunuma, it's unlikely that he ever visited Okita again.

Hijikata did go back to Edo for a short time after that battle, so it's possible that he could have visited Okita, but he was busy pleading Kondo's case and preparing for battle.

It's also possible that a few other trusted Shinsengumi members knew Okita's whereabouts and visited him. Since they didn't want to tell Okita about Kondo's death, it could mean that Okita was still in touch with some Shinsengumi members.

March 28-April 25 - the shinsengumi are pretty much all around Edo until Kondo is beheaded in May and Hijikata gets injured at the Battle of Utsunomiya Castle

At the Battle of Utsunomiya, Hijikata was shot in his right foot on April 23, so he was carried from the battlefield on Shimada Kai's back.

On April 29, Hijikata arrived near Aizu-Wakamatsu and stayed at Shimizuya Inn, which had hot springs, to recover from his wound.

He learned about Kondo's death while he was there and built a tombstone for him at the nearby Tenneiji temple.

On July 1, he left to visit his men.

A month later, he went back to the battlefield to fight the Battle of Aizu.

(source)

July 19 - *sobs* we lose him. So he’s at the house alone and suffering from end of March to July? 4 months. And in those four months, he did visit Kondo’s wife Tsune and daughter Tama at Joganji Temple in Nakano

He died on July 19 (Western calendar). He might have been lonely without his loved ones, but I don't think he was alone since Uekiya’s rice cooker was taking care of him and he probably saw other doctors after Matsumoto left.

He visited Kondo’s wife and daughter at Joganji Temple, but I don't think there would be any records where we could find the date since he was in hiding and trying to keep his movements secret.

According to the quote from this article from "Shinsengumi Imon" (新選組遺聞) by Shimozawa Kan:

Isami's family, his wife Tsune and his mother-in-law Keiko (瓊子), moved out of their house in Ushigome shortly after Isami left for Koshu and moved to the outskirts of Edo. They rented room at a temple called Joganji in Nomurahongo.

In the Shinsengumi's financial records, there's a withdrawal on February 28 (lunar) for the house in Ushigome where Kondo’s wife and child lived, which might be related to the move.

So Okita probably visited them in Joganji some time between March and July.

This article (from the "Joganji Records" (成願寺誌)) describes what his final days were like:

Edo was already crawling with government troops with Imperial Brocades, but Uekiya, where Souji was staying, was a safe haven in Ikejiribashi, a very lonely place at the time, where the sound of watermills over the river echoed and there was hardly anyone to be seen at night. Although safe, it must have been too lonely for the young Souji. Sometimes he would go by palanquin to Joganji temple, about a ri away [a 1 hour walk]. He would stay there for days and days. He had an incurable disease, and he probably knew better than anyone else that his death was approaching. Unable to endure the loneliness and desolation, he would come to the temple and soak in the warmth of the unchanging affection of the mother and child, and how comforted he was by that.

Let me know if there's anything I didn't cover or if you have any more questions.

I would really like to read the fic you wrote, if you don't mind sharing it - nvm, found it :)