#and i was like ah shit i know why they doing now
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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?"
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)
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. She's peering down at you, wearing a high-school 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 freezes like you've shot him. 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.
I 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. Just one thing and if you go back and fixed it, everything would be okay. You forgive Suguru—
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 a wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."
"Really?" Satoru shivers. "So like possession? How scary! "
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.)
#yandere#yandere jjk#yandere gojo satoru#x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#time travel fix it#a crumbling storyline#platonic haibara x reader#dark content#f!reader#or reader uses she/her pronouns#implied romance#tw:blood/violence#tw: child abuse#unrequited feelings#spoilers: for the record greeny doesn't hold feelings for satoru he was 16-19 when they met
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< Old bully, New boss >
The past is in the past, and after high school, you set your mind only on the future.
High school can be so cruel, kids can be so cruel.
As an adult, you knew there was nothing wrong with being a little overweight or being a bit weird, just being yourself is okay. But your teen years were awful. You were being picked on by bigger, older, masculine kids. Nobody showed real interest in you. You had a good friend or two, but that was about it. Not to mention you had no young love at all. To this day, you're thanking the universe for the fact those bullies didn’t know about your bedwetting problem. You knew that if high school was rough, it could be much worse.
In college, you decided to make a change. To become fitter, healthier, stronger, physically and mentally. The past is the past, and you have the whole future ahead of you. In time, you fell in love with sports and decided to take a break from studying and take a course to become a personal trainer.
Your hometown is long away, this is the new you.
Not the little bedwetter weirdo kid, but a large-ass fit-looking man.
You felt that when you sent your resume to the local gyms.
After a day, a well-known gym called you back and booked you an interview with the owner for the next day. You were so excited that you picked out the best outfit you could think of. Sporty, but classy and serious. Showing your worked-hard body, but not overly revealing. You had to make it just right.
Walking into the gym, you were a bit overwhelmed by how pristine and well-maintained it was, probably for the rich and famous. A receptionist greeted you and led you to the owner’s office where she knocked and opened the door for you to get in.
A huge man stood up and greeted you.
By the looks of it, he was doing steroids, but you weren’t completely sure about it. Not to mention he was very good-looking and got you a bit nervous just for it.
There was something familiar about him.
“Nice to meet you Mark, the manager here told me it’s your name. Sorry but I still didn’t go through your resume, he just said we need to call you in, and we did.” He said and gestured to the chair next to you.
”Thank you, I’m honored by the thought of working here. Not only it is one of the best gyms in the area, but I feel like there are so many potential opportunities to develop my future clients, and myself.” You said, still trying in your mind to figure out why he was so familiar.
”That’s great! I like your attitude! So my name is Will,” his name was Will.
Fuck! That was Will! One of your high school bullies!
Shit he had changed so much. He surely took steroids, he wasn’t that big at all. But look at him now, he’s massive, bigger than you. Plus, he owns this place, and he is more successful than you. He is the owner, the boss, the interviewer, the one in control.
”Now let me check your resume real quick, for formality and all,” he winked and took a look.
”Wait, Mark Spencer? Shit, I knew I recognized you, from high school! Well, most of the time you were facing me while I gave you good wedgies. Ha!” he laughed and gave the table a loud knock.
It made you flinch a little, while your mind raced to the whole humiliating things Will and his friends did to you in high school.
”Bla bla bla, you’re hired! My manager said we should hire you and I trust him completely. Congratulations! Now for the real question -“ suddenly something changed in his behavior.
”Is it true you were wetting your pants and wearing diapers to bed? It was a rumor that went around just after we graduated so we couldn’t pick on you, but you are lucky because kids can be cruel with this kind of information! Ah, Mark the bed wetter! In my gym!” Will talked and laughed, while you sat there, blushing red from embarrassment.
“Well, that job is your pampers, you want it?” He asked and waited for your reply.
“Yes, yes thank you Will” You answered, trembling a bit.
”Off you go then, my manager will contact you. But I have only one demand for now.” He said and waved for you to come closer, and you did.
”The equipment here is very expensive and I can’t have big babies wetting it. So either you control yourself or we can help you with buying adult diapers for you to wear around here as a uniform! Ha!” He couldn’t help but laugh right in front of your face.
”Go go” he waved you off, still laughing.
You turned around, degraded, humiliated, holding your crotch while running for the nearest bathroom to release your full and erupting bladder.
------------------------------------
Our past, complicated as it is, makes us who we are today.
It forms our dislikes, but also our likes and desires.
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Hey Easy could you do just all the mercs (or just who you would like to pick) with a reader that is almost always happy and go lucky showing actual sadness for once of course if you don’t want to that’s fine
Thanks for reading this even if not :)!
Offense and Defense x Cheerful Reader Showing Sadness
Now I'm not sure if you meant it as "they've been hiding it" or "they just got a little sad", but I'm going with the second one! Also, thanks for being my first ask! Sorry it took so long, Cali is super hot rn!!!!!
CW: None I don't think.
Scout
You and him probably go together like peanut butter and grape jelly. You always have something to say, or you always laugh at his remarks. At the very least, you always give him a smile.
He busts your chops!! Which is, unfortunately, how he finds out you are upset.
"WOW, that match sucked. You gotta stop suckin' out there so much. Practically bringin' down the score by, like, a gazillion points." He chuckles, turns to you, and sees the absolute destroyed expression on your face.
Aweeoohhhh shit.
"Hey man, I didn't mean that. Don't make that face at me! Look, uh, what's wrong? Why're you all down an' crap??" NGL he's not very good at this.
If you decide to tell him what ails you, he immediately starts trying to hype you up.
"Psh, naw. No way. Somebody like you? Gettin' upset over somethin' small like that? Not a chance. You're freakin' awesome. How's somethin' stupid like that got you worked up? Naaahh."
While he might suck at comfort, he is your hype king!!
If you decide to not tell him, he just sighs and slings an arm around your shoulder.
"Ah, well, whateva it was, it's probably stupid anyways. Let's go get a burger or somethin'."
To be honest, He's always gonna end up taking you for food.
Soldier
As much as it doesn't look like it, Soldier loves and needs routine. And while the mercs are chaotic, they're an organized chaos. Somewhat. And that applies to you as well. You're smiley nature is one of the solid vertebrae that makes up the backbone of Soldier's usual day. So when you're NOT that, well...
He gets a little antsy. And by little, I mean majorly. And by ansty, I mean freaked.
He's on like donkey kong! He spares no time trying to figure out why you aren't you! Are you a spy? A commie sent to infiltrate their base that looks just like you?
Of course, his first suspicion was that it was due to the absolute STATE of America.
With a hand on your shoulder, he shakes you, nodding in solidarity.
"I get it, private. I, too, am brought down by the thought of our great nation SUFFERING like this... BUT WE WILL SAVE HER!!! WE WILL TEAR THOSE NON-RED BLOODED NON-AMERICANS A-"
At this point I would assume you get him to stop, or cover his mouth at the very least.
You either explain to him what's wrong, or just tell him that it is DEFINITELY not America related. (although, maybe it is? Who knows.)
It's a coin toss on whether he understands or not. Actually rephrase that. It's a coin toss on whether or not he's in the right mindset to listen, then it's ANOTHER coin toss if he'll understand.
Whatever the case is, he'll still be at least a little sympathetic.
Whether it be bone-crushing hugs, or grabbing you by the hand and rocket-jumping to lift your spirits (ah, ah, ah?)
Pyro
SO. I got stumped on this one ahaaaaa. I had time to think about it though.
I think Pyro doesn't really see in Pyrovision, as shown in the comics. It's just, you know. A way of getting through the day. It probably took him time to figure what to disguise as what. What I mean is, it took work to convince his mind to lie to him. Except for fire. Fire is just pretty to him like that.
So you being a generally already happy person saved him that work! Because of that, there is probably no Pyrovision you.
And when he sees you down in the dumps, BOY does that throw him off. He goes through 20 different emotions in 2 seconds!
Finally, he approaches you after dinner, grabbing at your arm and hands, shaking them. He mumbles at you, which you.. can't understand.
You get what he's trying to say though, and whether you tell him or not, it makes no difference.
He's gonna drag you everywhere! He wants to fix your problem, and he's gonna do it anyway he can. Just be patient though, because his way may include fire, fire, and more fire.
Engineer
Man oh man does he love how you brighten up a room!
You just being around gives him motivation to keep on keeping!
Also you inflate his ego by 100000x
With that being said I don't think he would be surprised if he found you upset at some point.
You are a human, and at some point, you'll get sad!
Doesn't mean he tries any less harder to make you smile again.
He's very subtle with it. Almost annoyingly. Maybe a bit patronizing too.
Although he'll just impatient eventually and out-right ask you what's wrong.
"Now listen here, y'gotta stop all this wallowing! What's got you all bunched like that?"
If you tell him, he'll wrap an arm around your shoulder, and lay on some ol' southern wisdom, before dragging you off to wack somethings with a wrench.
If you don't, he'll try to give you space, but just know he'll study you like a creature.
"Are y'sure yer fine?" "Engineer." "I'm just askin', I'm just askin'!"
Demoman
A shining star in his alcoholic bends, barely lucid days, and murky depressed nights.
You are always there to guide him through dark times with a beaming smile and a shoulder to lean on.
He also finds himself losing words when talking about chemistry, just because you have that soft little smile on your face.
Just like Engineer, he's not surprised when you walk around the place like someone kicked your puppy.
He's not a fool.
With a gentle hand on yours, he'll furrow his brows and ask you if you're alright.
"Ye ken, a'm 'ere tae listen if yer feelin' lik' talking."
He'll offer advice and lots of comfort if you need it.
If you'd rather keep it to yourself, that's fine as well.
He'll still sit by you, keeping you company.
Whether it be a big problem or small, he knows about unhealthy coping mechanisms, and would rather be by your side then leave you to your thoughts.
Heavy
Thinking about your positivity on the battlefield gives him strength and hope. So while he doesn't show it as much, he loves how enthusiastic you can be.
That being said, if you're sad, he's even sadder. Not a lot of people get how emotional this man is.
His first thought is that you might be disappointed by something, so he does what he can to figure it out.
If its not that, then he basically pokes and prods until he finally gets to the point where he thinks it's socially acceptable to ask.
"Vhat ees wrong? you walk aroahnd, all sad. Talk to me."
He will sit down and listen if you decide to tell him, before taking your hand as lightly as possible and telling you it will all be okay.
He mmmmmight argue with you for a bit if you don't want to tell him, but he'll get the message at some point.
He offers to show you something instead, to take your mind off of it.
He'll take you to the rusty tin roof of the base, pointing at the dark sky.
You two will exchange stories about the stars for the rest of the night.
#tf2#team fortress 2#tf2 x reader#team fortress 2 x reader#scout x reader#soldier x reader#pyro x reader#engineer x reader#demoman x reader#heavy x reader
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RED MOON.
“The moon is red,” you observed. Charles, who stood beside you on the balcony, followed your gaze, tipping his chin towards the sky. The air is hushed, echoing only the distant sounds of night time Monaco. He made a small hum of agreement, nodding.
Tonight, the moon glowed a beautiful red. The kind of red that just bled through the darkness—cold, unforgiving, and nearly frightening—and for a moment, you thought violence had never looked so pretty.
“It's quite beautiful," Charles said. There was a beat of silence before he added, quite cheekily as well, with a matching cheeky grin and all. “Like you.”
You rolled your eyes, though not unkindly, and shook your head at him. This boy. This wonder boy. He had the tendency to say stupid things with that stupid mouth of his which causes your stupid heart to do stupid things. Like flutter. It was not supposed to do that. Especially when it’s around Charles Leclerc, the boy who had lived next door since forever. But then again, it also made perfect sense for your heart to do those stupid things because this was Charles Leclerc. He could have the world kneeling on his feet.
“How many girls have you called beautiful this week?” you smiled teasingly, elbowing him on his side.
“Only one,” Charles grinned, playfully dodging the sharp jab of your bony elbows. “And it’s you.”
“Am I really supposed to believe that, Charlie?” the edges of your lips curled upwards into an unconvinced smile. “Come on, Charlie. Where's your game?”
“You know that you’re the only girl I’ve liked since high school,” he grinned and for a second, you saw a glimpse of his high school self. The boy who had walked home with you after school on the rare days he decided to attend his classes instead of karting practice. The same boy who saved his pocket money so he could buy ice cream with you on the weekends because he was too shy to ask his mother for money. The same boy who had been your best friend and later the man who stole your heart at eighteen and hasn't returned it since. His smile never changed. A smile that possessed the warmth of a campfire that made the sun envious. “I still don't know why you rejected me so many times, by the way.”
You resisted the urge to snort out loud, shaking your head.
He’s been asking you twice a year since you were both seventeen. And you always, always said no. You wondered when the hell would Charles get tired of asking but it looked like he never did. Will that time even come? You were both twenty-six now. That's nine years of asking. He had asked you eighteen times already. Nineteen, counting this moment. “Maybe we simply didn't have the time.”
“We always have time.”
“Do we really?” you question, a single brow arching. “With you traveling around the world while I’m managing my gallery in Santander, time is not one of the luxuries we get to experience a lot. You most especially.”
“Long distance relationships exist,” Charles pointed out. “There’s another racer on the grid who lives here in Monaco while his girlfriend is in the US. And they're doing well. We can do that, too.”
You wanted to laugh. Charles sounded genuine, too genuine for your liking that it was almost heartbreaking.
“And I always go back home here anyway. And you do, too. After my race, I’ll just fly here and be with you. If not here then I can visit you in Spain. Carlos has been helping me brush up my Spanish.”
Trust Charles to find a way. He'd always been the persistent one out of the two of you. Always, without fail.
“Maybe I just don't want to date my friends,” you pulled out another excuse yet again. You have a pocket full of excuses. Charles definitely heard at least seventy-percent of them. If not all of them already.
“Ah, that little rule of yours. I will never understand.”
“I swore it when I was thirteen. I didn't want to date my friends,” you admitted. “Because once you’ve crossed that line and shit happens in the future, you can never return to just being friends again. And I don't want to lose my friends that way.”
Charles’ eyes softened.
“If I win, go on a date with me,” he said. “Can you promise me?”
“What on Earth?” you looked at him as if he had grown another head.
“Come on,” he clasped your wrist, his touch gentle as the evening breeze that fanned your face and caused your loose fringes to dance lightly. “What are you going to lose? It's not like I’d win. Remember the Monaco curse?”
You shook your head, chuckling.
“I think you’d win.”
“I think I won't.”
“I think you would,” your tone bled with sincerity and honesty that it even surprised you. Charles paused and glanced at you, his wide eyes boring straight into your soul, as if your statement, as if the fact that you believed in him was the most surprising thing in the world. It shouldn't be, because you would always have faith in Charles and in what he could do. He was Monaco’s wonder boy. He was always destined for greatness.
Your eyes glanced up at the moon again. You just had a feeling that the world was on Charles’ side this weekend. That the stars aligned just for him. It was red. Red was his color. It was his time. You felt it resonate deep in your bones.
“I think I won't,” Charles said softly and it was kind of saddening how he thought he didn't have what it took to win his home race. That dreadful Monaco curse got into his head. “So just swear it, okay? You’ll lose nothing.”
You gave him a long look.
“Will you bring flowers, too?”
“White roses, like always.” Your favorite flower, he didn't say but you knew that that was the main reason why he chose those flowers over anything else in the world. “Seven of them because that's your favorite number.”
You chuckled. This man never failed to be thoughtful and sweet. It came to no surprise that you fell for him, too. How could you not?
“I think I’d like it red this time,” you smiled. The red moon made you feel like taking a risk tonight. You’d take a risk for a love that should have faded with your childhood. A love that remained as you and Charles transformed into different people as adulthood had forced you to undergo such changes. A love that would always be there so long as you and Charles remained on each other’s orbit.
You nudged his shoulder with yours, “But only when you win, alright?”
“Don't worry. I won't win because of the Monaco curse.” It was a lame attempt for an assurance, especially when he currently looked like he was ready to kneel down every deity in the world and offer his devotion just to let him have this one chance. Charles looked like he was ready to become a curse breaker.
“I’m always right though. You think a made-up curse would prove me otherwise?” you challenged.
“Can you promise?” He tilted his head a bit to the right and jutted his bottom lip outwards. “Please?”
Really. How could you say no to that? You weren't God’s strongest soldier. There was a small pause before you said: “I promise.”
Charles’ smile had never looked sweeter. The red moon bore witness to everything.
And on Sunday, you were right. Because you were always right.
Charles was glowing when he was jogging up to you, red roses in hand. He was damp with sweat and champagne and high on ecstasy and adrenaline. Victory suited Charles.
He stopped in front of you and you tipped your chin up, giving him a knowing grin.
“You're right." Those two words made you chuckle. He sounded a little too breathless, the words coming out airy, and his chest was rising and falling swiftly as if he ran a whole marathon.
“I told you,” you stretched an open palm towards him in silent demand. “So, how about we meet each other in that Italian restaurant I’ve been dying to go to tonight?”
Charles chuckled and handed you the bouquet of seven red roses, just as you had requested, “Are you asking me out on a date?”
“I promised that I’d give it a chance, didn't I?” you grinned. All teeth and gums. Your eyes turned into tiny crescent moons.
The world was telling the two of you that it was time.
ENDING NOTE: I don't know what I'm writing about at this point.
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#cl16#cl16 x reader#fanfic#formula one#charles leclerc x you#cl16 x you#ferrari#sunsetmoonstreet fics
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Rewatch Thoughts: Rogue
I wish the ep started with 15 and Ruby showing up and seeing everyone dancing and being excited, kinda like Donna and 10 Unicorn and the Wasp vibes, rather than them already being in there idk
It’s a very difficult cheese lmao I like that little scene a lot
The fact Ruby sees Susan Twist yet again and doesn’t mention it to the Doctor at any point. They had other shit going on tbf nvm
‘Faster mover’ lmao. I like the Doctor’s vibe when he says that. Like he’s actually a bit shook by the fast moving. It’s more Doctor-y than the overt flirting in the rest of the ep.
Why would Rogue think that the Doctor was a Chulder when he’s been speaking like he’s from the future or whatever. If he WAS a Chulder don’t you think he would be playing pretend as a person from 1813. Not talking about the fuckin stars
Genuinely don’t see how ppl have said they’ve seen a gay vibe between Ruby and Emily. ur waffling sorry
I’m choosing to believe 15 doesn’t like being called Doc bc it makes him think of Graham and that makes him sad but tbh I do think 13 found Graham annoying sometimes so.. Maybe it reminds him of him in a bad way 😭
15 upping the Scottish accent and mocking Rogue’s American accent earlier lol
Shoutout to Kylie Minogue
15 being flustered over the psychic paper. Also 10/10 very Doctor-y
New boss.. So Rogue is the Meep’s co-worker then. I wonder if whenever we meet the Boss they’ll make a reference to a person who ‘worked for them but disappeared’ aka Rogue
All the faces !!!!!
I feel nothing about Richard E Grant being there other than I know I don’t consider him in any part of the Doctor canon of my mind but I hope other ppl have fun arguing about where he should be in the timelines
The way Ruby awkwardly said ‘ah.. right’ after Emily told her who she wanted to marry made me think of Charlotte Ritchie in BBC Ghosts
15 singing before entering the TARDIS was a bit cringe
Rogue kinda is Jack just less whore-y and more romantic yknow
15’s solution to not killing the bird ppl being to send them to a barren dimension is sooooo funny like king you realise why that’s actually worse than killing right😭Unless we’re supposed to assume they can survive fine in this barren dimension? But the Doctor clearly sees it as a punishment when he thinks they’ve killed Ruby so presumably not
Rogue is very pretty I fear
I like that Rogue uses ‘they’ to refer to the person he lost idk why
‘I know the word OK’, Emily is so funny
The proposal making 15 actually freak out a bit and forget he’s acting lmfao
The Chulder’s actually using the word cosplay makes me cringe a bit. I think it would've been better if ‘cosplay’ was just the word the Doctor uses to explain what they do
On first watch it was literally right as Ruby told Emily that she was from the future that I realised Emily was one of them
Ruby not actually getting got is cool but like that scene literally shows the lightning and we hear her screaming but then in the flashback to what actually happened neither of those things happen so them putting it in the initial scene feels like a shit/lazy way of trying to hide the fact it was gonna be revealed that she was pretending all along when they coulda made it so that we the audience know she’s fine bc we don’t see the telltale Chulder bodyswap signs but the Doctor thinks she’s dead. Very strange imo
Been obsessed with the way the Duchess shouts ‘the wedding’ since I first saw it in a trailer icl
That scene with Carla feels so out of place and tbh random bc like. This is the second time Ruby has almost died in an ep so surely we shoulda seen that flashback the FIRST time it happened not now
15 loves a cry and idk how I feel about it
Other than the non-Doctor-y flirting I think this is the most Doctor-y 15 has felt to me
Did Rogue really have to replace Ruby? He literally just shoved her off? Surely he coulda just stood at the side of the triangle and pulled her out of it instead? Or are we saying that once it’s prepped for 6 ppl then it won’t leave without 6 on it? Bc I don’t think they make that clear in the episode at all
This episode is sooooo Maxine Alderton in 13’s era coded to me in that it’s an ep where the writing, other than the couple of choices I don’t love, just overall feels much tighter than the rest of the eps in the series have been like I feel like I can tell the difference
I love 15 and Rogue’s dynamic but I really wish 15 was more awkward in his attraction to Rogue. He was far too suggestive and direct imo, it didn’t always feel like the most Doctor-y thing ever. Like he may be 'healed' (whatever that even means) but he's still the DOCTOR
Overall a banger. 4.5/5. I think this is the first ep this season where I’ve rated it a bit higher after rewatch
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okok so sam fluff- Sam is the readers best friend and seb and Abby try to set Sam and the reader up and they end up confessing their feelings for each other and such 🙏🤨💕 idk maybe it's cliche but I like it I think its cuteee
ᴀ/ɴ: Thank you so much for your request, love! I hope you enjoy the story, even though it might be a little cliché! Thank you so much for your time and attention! <3
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x GN!Reader
ᴡᴄ: 1677 words
ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: It's fluff. With a make-out session. But fluff!
☾ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ☽
"We gotta do something about this," Sebastian sighed, rolling his eyes as he rested his chin on the cue. "Definitely. He's useless like this," Abigail murmured to her taller friend.
The two of them were talking about Sam, whose turn it had been for almost ten minutes. However, the blond hadn't even noticed yet, his blue-green eyes trained on someone with a look on his face that could only be described as lovesick.
Seb didn't even have to turn around to know who he was looking at; the farmer, of course. Ever since you had moved in, Sam had been interested in you, desperate to find out more about you and get closer to you.
"Sam."
Sebastian's voice was stern, all rough around the edges with an annoyed undertone. But still, there was no reaction. The black-haired man just couldn't believe it had to come to this. He pulled out his keys from his pocket, leaning over the table and jingling them right in front of Sam's face.
The blond blinked, a confused look flashing over his face as he focused on the keys, then he finally let his eyes flicker to Sebastian.
"Yeah, it's your turn, Samson."
A blush spread on Sam's face, who then quickly nodded at his friend. "Sure! Sorry, was a little distracted by..." His eyes trailed back to the farmer, making Seb roll his eyes; he was quick to shake the keys again. "Jingle jingle...Pay attention, Samson."
The shot Sam placed could have as well never happened, making the dark-haired man hide his face in desperation.
"We really need to do something."
The whole town had figured out by now that you and Sam were pining for one another. Everyone, simply every single one knew, just not you and Sam. Sam had often whined to Sebastian how sure he was that you didn't really like him, that you definitely crushed on someone like Alex or Elliott, men with determination. You, on the other hand, had confided in Sebastian that you KNEW that Sam and Penny were into one another and that it would CRUSH you if he rejected you, so you just didn't try.
Meanwhile, Sebastian tried to get behind how the fuck both Sam and you always figured out when he was outside smoking to tell him about things like this. Things that were so obviously wrong, at that.
Though Sebastian wasn't cruel, which is why he decided to come up with a plan. (Maybe also because he craved a smoke break that wasn't interrupted by two lovesick puppies, but he preferred to think the plan came from the goodness of his heart). The plan was primitive, really, but it had been all Abigail and he had been able to come up with.
Luring you and Sam to his basement had been the easiest task of all - texting them he was in the mood for a round of Solorian Chronices hadn't been hard, after all.
What was hard was getting the two of you to stay in the basement together.
One of you always had to follow him when he got up, either Sam or you was always right by his heel when he got up.
"I'll get some snacks," he said.
"I'll come with!" Sam had chimed, getting up so fast he almost toppled over.
"I'll get my music box from upstairs," Sebastian had tried.
"I'll help you look," you had offered, already on your feet and walking towards the door.
"Ah shit, I forgot to bring in the laundry," he had desperately tried.
"Oh, I'll help you," both of you had said, just to blush and grin awkwardly at each other.
It was infuriating. Cute, he had to admit, but fuck did it piss him off.
Sebastian's fingers were drumming on the table as he watched you exchange sneaky little glances, small smiles, and shy giggles whenever your fingers did as much as brush along the other's. With every minute that passed, Sebastian's need to slam his head against the table and to beg you to just finally kiss and date grew unbearable.
He just had to get out of here.
Suddenly, he had an idea. It was just as stupid as this shit plan in itself was, but fuck, you were literally giving him no choice. When the two of you exchanged yet another set of telling glances, the black-haired man simply jumped to his feet, running to the door and smacking it shut behind him before locking it tight.
"I'll have a smoke break!" He called, already jogging up the steps before anyone could convince him to do something other than inhale a cigarette in peace.
Sam and you stared at the now closed door that had been wide open just mere seconds before in disbelief - and had you actually just heardthe s a key lock it shut?
"What the fuck-" Sam whispered, chuckling awkwardly when your eyes met. "Hah, probably just... you know. Just a stupid prank. Sebastian is stupid sometimes, y'know."
The moment the words had left his mouth he wanted to smack himself. Shit, why did he always sound so stupid?
The chuckle that came from your direction made his eyes slowly flicker toward you.
"Is that so?" You asked, giving Sam a smile that made his heart leap right into his throat. Why was your smile so pretty? It was unfair, really! Made him want to snuggle up to you, hold you close, kiss you. All of it.
"Isso," Sam murmured as he started an attempt to hide his growing smile under the palm of his -admittedly sweaty- hand.
You bit around on your lower lip and Yoba did you look adorable like that, all shy and flustered - just like him. "And why would he want to prank us like this?"
The blond's heart was beating in his throat. How could he not find you endearing? How could he not crave your attention, your presence? How could he not be drawn to you like a moth to light?
A question of even greater importance: how could he let you know all of it?
"I...don't know."
Could Sebastian really want to set you two up like this? No. Only he knew of his little crush, so maybe it really was just a cruel joke on him?
But on the other hand, it had been quite the surprise that Seb had made your characters in the game fall in love and date. Could that have been?-
"I..uh, dunno. Maybe just for fun?"
The two of you sat in silence for a while, staring at the board in front of you. The electricity between the two of you could be felt, but both of you were simply too shy, bordering on dumb, to act on it. Sam's leg was bouncing up and down, snapping the rubber band he had put around his wrist this morning. Why had he put it on again?
He couldn't remember.
When he looked up from his hand, he was met with this gentle smile of yours. The one that made him want to tell you how beautiful you were, how great, how he loved spending time with you-
"Did you call your grandma today?" You asked, nodding at the band around his wrist with your chin.
"I think I am falling in love with you," Sam blurted out in response, having both of you stare at one another like deer in headlights.
His brain was already reeling to find a way to get out of this situation. The tension in the room was unbearable now, and he cursed Seb for both the fact that he had no window in his basement and the fact that he had fucking locked you in this basement, thus coaxing this confession out of him! It was all his fault, really! And now you would forever hate him, avoid him, maybe even change sides whenever you saw hi-
His train of thought was immediately interrupted when he felt a pair of arms around his neck, a head pushed in the crook of it.
"I thought you were into Penny!" You whispered to him, arms tightening around him.
"And I thought you were into Elliott," he murmured, closing his eyes. Having you so close, being wrapped up in your arms, it all felt so...intoxicatingly right. Like all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
Only after several moments of just...being with one another did Sam slowly pull away. "So...you feel similarly?"
"I feel the same!" You laughed, all the shyness out of your voice all of a sudden. The tension that had lingered in the air slowly smoothed into something...comfortable, something comfortable drenched in want.
Sam just couldn't help himself; his lips were against yours the moment the words had left your minds. And yours were so soft, so sweet. He could taste the strawberries you had eaten, the Joja cola. And fuck, he was becoming more and more addicted the longer your lips moved in sync.
His hands had slid under your butt with such ease that it made you giggle against his lips. It was easy to pull you on his lap, and you did anything but mind. Your hands ran through the blond mess of hair as his hands traveled under your shirt just so he could finally feel the softness of your skin. And how good you felt under his fingertips! So... perfect.
The moan against his lips made his head whirr, his cock beginning to strain against the fabric of his ripped jeans. Such a delicious thing you were, and now he had you, on his lap, under his fingers-
"First you don't realize that you wanna fuck each other, and now you are about to fuck in my room? Absolutely not!" A voice bellowed from the door, yet it wasn't all upset. Amusement lingered beneath the sharp tone as Sebastian watched you scatter away from one another.
"Fucking finally, though."
"So...you knew?" Sam asked, all shy and blushing again.
"Who fucking didn't, Samson?"
#sdv#stardew valley#stardew valley fanfic#stardew valley farmer#sdv fanfic#sdv sam#fanfic#sdv sam x reader#fluff#sdv fluff#sdv sam fluff
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'WHY ARE YOU CRAWLING DOWN?'
GAMER!GETO X GN!READER
CONTEXT: Your boyfriend, Suguru has been on his PC game all day long. "One more game, please?", he says after 2 hours. You had enough of waiting. "Why are you crawling down, my love?"
WARNINGS: nsfw, 18+, oral (m!receiving), praising, teasing, kissing
BEFORE YOU READ: There may be small grammar mistakes or typos, so please bare with me!
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. . ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
"Suguru! How long has it been since I told you that dinner is ready? You said one more game!"
You were frustrated. You came home after a long day of work waiting to see your boyfriend, but when you came home he was sitting at his desk playing games with his friends. You don't mind of course, but you even cleaned, did some work & cooked dinner all in the span of 2 hours, and he still hasn't gotten up.
"Baby, please I know, but I'm in the middle of this match, I'll be done after I promise."
Suguru looks at you with those eyes. Those pleading eyes. You roll your eyes and scoff while walking away to the dining room. You still can't believe you came home just to not even be noticed. You were sitting at the dinner table eating the food you cooked for the both of you. You sighed to yourself picking up the food with your fork and placing it in your mouth. After you finished your plate, you got the plate Suguru was supposed to be eating his food from and placed it into a container and put it in the refrigerator.
"Fuck! Dude come on! He was right behind you!"
You hear Suguru yelling at his computer angrily. You quietly walk back into the room where he was. He hadn't noticed that you walked in since his headphones were at max volume and his eyes completely locked onto the screen.
You slowly walk behind him and massage his shoulders, making him jump.
"Oh shit- Ah, fuck baby you scared me. I'm almost done, so-"
You cut him off of his words with a kiss, then quickly pulling away.
"Don't worry, baby. You can keep playing. Don't mind me."
You said looking at him with a grin as you continue you slowly massage his shoulders. He looked confused on how calm you were now when not too long ago you looked like your head was going to explode, but he didn't think more of it.
As he's playing his game, you slowly start to move your hands down his chest, leaning your head down towards his neck. You start to kiss down his neck and he jumps from the feeling of you on his skin.
"Ah- B-Baby? What are you doing?"
You giggle at his reaction. He was always so sensitive to touch. Your touch.
"Haha, nothing baby. Don't mind me, just keep doing what you're doing."
You say as you caress his face kissing his cheek. Your other hand still on his chest rubbing it. Suguru tries his best to not pay any mind to what you're doing and focuses on his game.
You pull your lips and hands away from Suguru and roll his chair back slightly, crawling down under his desk.
"M-My love? Why are you crawling down?"
Suguru's face has turned into a light red color looking down at you. Suddenly he hears his teammate call for him and he quickly fixes his focus on the game again.
You smirk to yourself. You open his legs slowly and start to rub your hands on his inner thighs, looking up at him. His body twitches slightly from your touch.
"H-Hey guys, I'll be muted for a second.."
Suguru quickly mutes his mic and looks down at you.
"My love, w-what are you doing? Look, I'm sorry about not paying attention to you, but mm-"
His words were cut off by you rubbing his clothed cock with your hand. Suguru was trying his best to suppress any noise from coming out of his mouth.
"Are you sure, baby? I can stop if you want.."
Suguru looks down at you, contemplating on letting you continue your evil plan. He sighs and grabs your chin to look up at him. His dark eyes staring into yours.
"Fine. Make it quick, baby... Don't tease me either.."
You nod your head grinning at him. He lets go of your face and you move your hand towards the zipper of his pants, moving the zipper down slowly. You hear Suguru un-mute his mic.
"Hey guys, sorry I'm back. Where is the last guy at?"
Suguru was now focused on his game again giving you ideas to try and make him lose his mind. After pulling the zipper down you spot his bulge from his underwear. You want to make this whole situation last a little longer. You start to lick his bulge through his underwear, circling your tongue around his tip leaking with precum.
"Oh shit behind y-you.. mm..hah.. S-Sorry guys, something was in my t-throat.."
You start the massage his inner thighs as you continue. You tease his tip through the fabric blocking your mouth from his cock. Suguru looks down at you clenching his teeth trying to suppress a whine. Your touch was too much for him to handle.
You pull away from his crotch removing his underwear to reveal his cock. Your warm breath hitting it sent shivers down his spine as he bit his lip. You grab his cock and move it towards your tongue, slapping his tip on it. You swirl your tongue around his cock going up and down. He begins to twitch in his seat, trying so so hard to focus on his game.
"Mm..hah.. O-One more guy left..f-fuck.."
Suguru squeezes his eyes shut. God you felt so good. The way your tongue put him under what felt like a spell made him go crazy. You started to move your head up and down taking him fully in your mouth as you used your tongue.
"F-Fuck... Sorry guys. We lost that game because of me..mm I'll be getting o-off now, see ya-"
Suguru quickly left the voice call with his friends and pulled your head up making you look at him.
"Listen. You have some real guts doing that, ya know? I told you not to tease me. Did you want them to hear? You want to mess around, baby?"
Suguru was staring deeply into your eyes with a stern look grabbing your head with his hand pushing you down on his wet cock. You felt your eyes roll back as he forcefully pushed your head down. Fuck. He felt so big. Your throat was filled with his cock yet you wanted more of him. His taste.
"Yeah...Just like that... Fuck..mmm.."
You started to moan from how deep you were taking him. Suguru guided your head, bopping it up and down on his length. He ran this fingers through your hair slightly pulling it as you took him whole.
"Mmm!- Hah-"
All the noises you could make were pants and moans. You could barely breathe as his cock filling your mouth completely. You felt him twitch in your mouth as he moved your head faster and faster. He was close.
"F-Fuck- I'm c-close baby.. Keep going.. Keep using that beautiful mouth of yours... G-God you're so perfect.."
Suguru was blabbering his mouth away as you continued to take him. You then felt a shot of warm, thick, sweet substance shoot in your throat as Suguru moaned.
"Ah- F-Fuck- Baby- Take it all, fucking take it all.. mmmh"
You swallowed all of his load. You pull back panting looking up at him. He looked down at you smirking leaning down to kiss your lips. He pulls you up on his lap kissing your neck and rubbing your heat through your pants.
"Ah- Sugu... M-More.. Please.."
Suguru pulls away from his neck now kissing your jawline. He ran his fingers through your hair pulling your face down to look at him in the eyes.
"Is this what you wanted, baby? This is just the beginning..."
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#anime#jjk#geto suguru#jjk geto#jjk x reader#jujutsu geto#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto smut#getou suguru x reader#jjk suguru#suguru geto smut#manga#smut
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Why I think Ted is the real villain of the Lorax:
Ted is basically the protagonist right? Yeah I hate him. First he is a simp, and no one likes simps except maybe other simps. Even then if you were a simp, would you like Ted?? First of all look at that haircut. It's really giving 2009 emo Justin Bieber and I hate Justin Bieber. And what is that outfit?? If you walked that streets in that outfit I would laugh. Now this kid is 12 right? He is over here simping over Taylor Swift who is supposedly 14. If I was 14 and some 12 year old simped over me I would reject him immediately before he even asks. Like do any of y'all wake up in the morning and think "I'LL FLY MY TOY IN TAYLOR SWIFT'S YARD TODAY"? I don't!!! He claims she is a woman in high school. If Taylor Swift is a woman then that makes me an old lady. That whole dream sequence is a menace to society. What kind of high schooler would kiss a guy drinking and Milkshake waster?? Like bruh that was a perfectly good Milkshake you threw you devil. We don't waste food. Speaking of food, dude really kissed a cereal box like who does that? The Onceler is a fool. My guy really believed Ted cared about trees lmao. He only wanted a tree to be a simp for Taylor Swift who likes trees. What if Taylor Swift wanted to destroy society? Ted would destroy society. That simp doesn't give a shit about fixing society. His mom is the savior, an angel, the best character of this movie. She stopped the Taylor Swift x Simp kiss and spared my eyes. Ily Ted's mom. You know what I don't love? First of all, tree hating simp taking all the credit for saving society. No the fuck you didn't, you were being a pathetic simp. Nature is beautiful and obviously you don't appreciate it, food waster. And then comes the worst scene of cinematic history. Why tf did you kiss the simp Taylor Swift?? You're better than this!! This is prove you're indeed not a woman in high school. Look at that guy, i wouldn't have kissed him. What he deserves is to be sad, emo and lonely for the rest of his life like the Onceler. This is why Ted is the true villian of The Lorax. Thank you.
-🦊
Ah, yes. The real total drama takes experience.
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19-year-old sunjae gets hit on by a girl at an amusement park | soljae established relationship
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Watching Sol run to the ferris wheel to secure a spot in the queue, Sunjae finds another silly grin rolling up his face. It's hard not to around his girlfriend. Just the thought her makes him all giddy.
Turning on his heel, he walks to the churro stand to get them their snack. Sunjae likes them with a chocolate drizzle, while Sol prefers the classic type with white sugar. A part of him - the part that In-hyuk finds embarrassing - wants to feed her, but he doesn't know how to casually start doing that.
Sunjae is nineteen. There's a lot he doesn't know.
The line isn't too bad, so he's sure he'll make it to Sol just in time for their ride on the ferris wheel. He makes it a game how many seconds he can go without glancing over at the queue. It's useless anyway - she's so small that he can't see her.
After a minute or so, he's finally able to put in their order. Waiting a bit on the side of the churro track, he checks his watch again. He doesn't want to leave Sol alone for too long…
A hand taps his back.
Perching upright, he turns around with a bright smile. Sol! Did she step out of line because she missed him more than he did? (That's impossible, he thinks.)
But then he looks down and the smile drops in an instant. It's not Sol. It's some other girl.
The girl smiles, unaware of Sunjae's disappointment. "Hi. I'm sorry if this is weird, but you're really attractive. Can I get your number?" Glancing at her left hand, he sees an empty contact screen on her phone.
Sunjae is speechless. Him? Why does she want his number? She doesn't even know him. That's sort of dangerous on her end, right?
Sunjae blinks. "Um- uh- wha-"
Tilting her head, her smile widens. "Did I make you shy?"
That snaps him out of it. "No!" he shouts, far too loud. "No! And no, I have a girlfriend! I-" Without another word, he runs off to the ferris wheel, promptly forgetting about the churros he already paid for.
Weaving through the masses, he finds Sol again who's almost at the front of the line. She's not getting bothered by anyone… unlike him just now.
"Sol-ah," he calls out, dramatic.
She looks up in surprise and then looks down at his hands. "Where's the-"
"Sol-ah!" He leans down to be at her height. "I was approached."
"Approached?"
"By a girl!"
Sol blinks. Not even his often-jealous girlfriend is fazed. "But Sunjae-ah, where are the churros? Did the girl steal them?"
"What?" And then it clicks for him. Sunjae looks at his hands and, belatedly, understands that he did indeed leave the churro stand in fear of the girl without grabbing their food. Shit.
Sol sighs fondly, hooking her arm with his. "Oh, Sunjae-ah, you're such a scaredy-cat sometimes."
"I'm not!" he yells.
She giggled. "Sure you're not. Let's get churros together next time. I'll protect you!"
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that's me saying that I see you.
— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (part of a series)
— summary: after a hectic few days of bouncing back & forth from this man to that one, you & billy reunite at your house in hawkins.
— tags: spending a night with travis. spending a day/night with scott. having dinner with rhett. having an actual convo with joe. billy is a safe place in an unsafe world.
— tw: sex, abortion, implied statutory rape, grooming, smoking, drinking, infidelity, assault
— word count: 15,900
— a/n: ik i created all the ocs, but god do they all deserve to fuckin' DIE; they're the WORST.
i couldn't understand why, with this chapter—until the end of it, that is—i'm like...not happy while reading it. i don't think it's the quality, but rather that i (hopefully) managed to get the reader's unhappiness through, as well as the fact that she's obviously a different person when she's alone or with billy. just...better off.
— tag list: @stoneyweezin @ganjas-shit
“Ah, God,” Travis mutters into your ear, burying his face in your neck, cupping the back of your head as he continues to ease in and out of you.
You gently run your fingers through his hair, wrapping your legs around the backs of his.
He’d been at it for awhile tonight. You glance to the digital clock on the chest of drawers in the left corner of the room and see that you’ve now been in bed for twenty-three minutes.
You’ve spent longer amounts of time having sex, but the first two times with him hadn’t taken quite this long. Then again, you’d considered the reasoning to be excitement for him.
The excitement of cheating, sure—and right in the bed he shares with his fiancée, at that. But also the excitement of being over thirty and getting to fuck a seventeen-year-old again.
You think that’s partly the appeal to most of them: they get to feel young again. Get to think that they ‘still have it’ even after growing old, or, at the very least, older. That, if they can still get a teenage girl wet…well, they can conquer the whole damn world, then.
At least he seemed to be taking his time, instead of just rutting away inside of you like Joe preferred to do.
He begins to kiss along your neck, then your jaw, your chin, until his lips come to hover over your own and you jerk your head in the opposite direction. He then kisses your cheek a few times, then your forehead, even the tip of your nose, so you giggle and he smiles, twining his strong fingers in your hair.
And then he tries it again and you jerk your head back and he kisses your breasts. He was starting to get on your nerves with that.
He knew the damn rules.
You sigh as he takes a nipple in his mouth, then licks, kissing his way back up, up, up, and you’re finally forced to say something as he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Stop it.”
He groans, ramming into you a little harder then.
You lift your hips to meet him and his own jerk in response as you squeeze around him.
He lies his cheek on your breasts, you curled around him, under his frame, and he picks up speed. You sigh, moaning his name, gasping, and then he begins to grunt quietly and you know he’s finally close.
You wrap one arm around his broad shoulders, the other cupping the back of his head and you don’t see it, but he closes his eyes as he holds you to him.
And when he finally climaxes, he lifts his head and crushes his lips to yours.
You panic, doing the only thing you can think of, and shove him off of you as hard as you can until he slips out of you, just as he’s finished filling his condom.
He stumbles back from the bed, bumping into the wall and you cover yourself with a sheet.
“You can’t do that. You know that. You-”
He groans, rolling his eyes as he leaves the room, cutting your speech short. A moment later, you hear a door slam, the toilet flush, and then water running.
You sit there, your heart hammering, feeling like you just cheated on Scott. He knew about you having sex with other men, understood it was a part of things. He didn’t mind. But kissing…even he had agreed that, yes, it could make things…more. He didn’t want you doing it if it could be avoided. And so you did—avoid it. So long as it made him happy, you would do anything he said.
Finally, he returns. You watch as he pulls on his briefs again before leaning back against the dresser in front of the foot of the bed.
“So, I can fuck you, but I can’t kiss you. Make that make sense to me.”
“You can kiss me anywhere you want. Just not on the lips. That’s my only rule. The only thing I ask of all of you.”
He grins without humor, shaking his head, glancing away from you and then back. “Not all of us.”
You remain quiet and just stare at him, now feeling irritated.
“Why the hell is he so different for you? Explain it, please.”
You cross your legs under the sheet. You don’t feel like arguing, but you know he isn’t going to just let this go. “Why do you need to kiss me on the lips?”
He’s quiet for a moment. He grips the dresser behind him, looking at you from under his lashes. “It’s just…intimacy is important to me when I’m having sex with someone, alright? If…if I don’t feel close to them…” He sighs, reaching up, rubbing his hands down his face before crossing his arms again. “It makes it harder for me to…perform.”
You consider how you want to respond for a moment. “You don’t find having sex to be inherently intimate?”
He raises a brow. “Do you?”
And now you were between a rock and a hard place. If you said no, he’d get his precious feelings hurt. If you said yes, you’d be lying. Not that you had a problem with that. But it would also serve to lead him on.
Honestly, the fact that there was a chance of ‘leading him on’ in general is already a problem. Especially this early. It’s supposed to be just sex. Period. You fear that he’s already beginning to feel something he shouldn’t.
If he wants love—he has a fiancée. That’s her problem to deal with.
You groan in frustration, flopping back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You don’t bother pulling the sheet up with you. Maybe the sight of your naked cleavage will get him to shut up about it.
He chuckles and you can feel the tension in the room loosen. He pads back over to the bed, lying down beside you. He presses his chest against the side of your body, pulling a pillow to him to lie his head on, his other hand coming to slide along your stomach, settling against your left hip. “I’m sorry. I just…I got lost in it. If you had any idea what it’s like to have sex with you, I think you’d understand.”
You roll your head to the side, looking at him. “The others don’t have that problem.”
“Others as in Joe, and Scott—who you do let kiss you. Because, from what I can tell, nothing is going on between you and Rhett, other than him staring at you all the time.”
You shrug. “Rhett just…he felt something more than what was agreed upon. I told you the same thing I told him: if you start to feel something more for me, you have to tell me so this can end before it gets out of control.”
He smirks. “I have a fiancée, baby. You don’t need to worry about me falling for a teenager.”
That you just fucked in her bed, you want to say, but don’t.
“Never did answer.”
You finally turn on your side then. “What?”
“Why Scott is treated differently than the rest of us.”
You blink at him. It’s none of his business why. Opening up and sharing your thoughts and feelings isn’t part of the arrangement. Not that you never did pillow-talk with any of them once the deed was done. You did. But that usually came in the future. He was still new, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of him yet. Especially with him being a cop.
You were still surprised that he’d turned dirty. He seemed…sweet. Gentle. Honest and clean-cut. But if there was one thing you learned over the years, it was to never judge a book by its cover. You can never tell the corruption that lies within someone just by looking at them.
He stares back at you. “So, you going to answer, or just lie there and look pretty?”
You give him a small smile, scooting the least bit closer at the compliment so he can think that you liked it. “He just is.”
“Are you in love with him?”
You shrug. “Maybe.”
He shakes his head, rubbing a thumb against his brow as he turns to lie on his back. “You like this with the rest of ‘em, or just me?”
“What do you mean?” You ask, lying a hand on his chest.
He takes it within his grip. “So…not forthcoming. Like everything is a big secret.”
You’re quiet for a moment. “This was supposed to just be about sex, y’know?”
He nods. “I know. I just…is it really such a bad thing for me to want to get to know you just a little?”
God, he sounds like someone else you know. Turns out they have more than just a similar hair-color in common.
He turns his head to look at you then.
You sigh. “I’ve known him since I was eight. He was my first big crush. My first kiss. My first time.”
“And your first love?”
You wonder why that matters so much to him. Surely after only three times of having sex he isn’t developing feelings…is he?
“Why does it matter? You still get to have me whenever you want.”
“Just surprised that he’s your type, I guess.”
Your brows furrow and you suddenly feel defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He knows he’s about to cross a line. He doesn’t want to admit to jealousy, but he was all but saying he was right now. He and Scott, in the handful of times they’d met so far, had gotten along just fine. He’d been decent and friendly toward him. But the first time the two of you had had sex—before you ever even took your clothes off—you’d told him your rule about kissing. And he’d agreed, if not reluctantly.
That was the one thing he did want to do to you.
And then he’d been over one day at your dad’s place and seen you running to Scott before he ever even got out of his truck. And once he had, you’d jumped up, wrapping yourself around him and crushing your lips to his, the two of you whispering words he couldn’t make out. Smiling and laughing, and you staring down at him adoringly like he was the only man even there.
No one else had seemed to even notice, to care—that he was treated so differently by you; given a privilege no one else got to have—but he had and did. And so he’d grown to resent the guy a little.
He sighs softly. “Just forget it. Forget I said anything.”
You stare at him considering. You don’t want to piss him off. It’s important that you stay in all their good graces, but the way he’s acting… You don’t like it. “Do you not like Scott?”
He should’ve kept his fucking mouth shut. “I like him just fine, baby.”
“Are you jealous?”
Nail. On. The. Fucking. Head. He’d noticed it before—how observant you were. That, unless you were being spoken to, you remained quiet. Simply watching and waiting. This moment is no different, apparently.
He turns his head to look at you. “Just doesn’t seem fair to me.”
You raise a brow. “You have a fiancée?”
You have him there. “Fair enough.”
“Does…she not make you happy?”
He lets go of your hand then, settling his arm beside him.
You soften your tone. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pry. Just…trying to understand. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” A beat of silence, then, “I can head home, if you want?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to go yet. And when you do, I want to give you a ride back there. It’s not safe—you being on the road this late at night.”
You want to insist, but know you’d be wasting your breath. Honestly, you think it turns him on a little: having you in his cruiser, so he can act the protective police officer when you’re with him to try and impress you.
The second time you fucked had been with you in cuffs and him Mirandizing you. Such a cliché, but you’d genuinely enjoyed yourself.
He looks at you again. “Joe is married.”
You glance to his chest, moving your hand higher, until your palm is against the back of his head and your fingers are lightly massaging his scalp. “I guess it’s just different. They’ve been together almost as long as you’ve been alive—over thirty-some-odd-years. I imagine he eventually got bored. But you and Amy aren’t even married yet and…well, I’m here.”
“She makes me happy. She’s a good woman. I just… She doesn’t see every side of me. I don’t let her. Things are different when I’m with you. I don’t have to pretend to be someone else and put on an act. If she knew the shit I’m involved in now… She’d already be gone. But you just…accept me as I am, I guess.”
He can’t say the other part: we have this dirty secret between us that no one else would understand. It’s ours. Yours and mine, baby girl. You see sides of my world that she doesn’t even let me talk about.
“Well, I’ve been around it my whole life. It’s different. Any normal person wouldn’t be okay with it like I am.”
“I know.”
“Can I ask why you do it—why you’re now involved in it?”
He glances to you.
You continue. “You just don’t seem the type, if there is one.”
He smirks, turning back on his side and pulling you in close. “No?”
You shake your head.
“What type do I seem like, then?”
“Good and honest.”
He chuckles. “You’ve got me all wrong then, baby.”
“Oh?”
You feel his erection now pressing against you. “Oh, yeah.”
He grips your hips, turning the both of you until you’re hovering over him. He reaches back to the nightstand, grabbing a condom, and you help roll it onto him before easing him inside of you.
He closes his eyes once he’s submerged between your legs and he firmly grips your hips, bending his legs at the knees.
He moans your name and you begin to rock your hips, positioning your hands overtop of his as you clench around him. His eyes slowly open then, and he grins, and you smile at whatever he’s about to say.
“Plus, she never let me put her in cuffs.”
You shake your head then, quietly giggling.
When you wake, it’s in your own bed.
Travis had driven you home like he’d promised, and had even walked you up to the door, promising it’d never happen again. That he was happy, so long as he got to keep having you in his bed.
So you’d stood on tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and you’d given him a kiss on the cheek and a ‘thank you’ for dropping you at home.
He’d smiled and said it was no problem before leaving. To let him know anytime you needed a ride.
You’d jokingly asked what kind, and he’d placed your hand over his newly-forming erection, ordering you inside before he ‘put you in cuffs again’.
As you go through your normal morning routine of making your bed before tending to yourself in the bathroom, you hear a door slam outside, and, still in your PJs, go to see who has dropped by today.
A wide smile breaks out across your face as you run out the screen door, barefoot through the yard, and throw yourself into Scott’s strong arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as you drown him in kisses.
He just laughs, holding tightly to you, and then you crush your lips against his and notice that he tastes of cigarettes, and you think bacon as well. You wish he hadn’t already eaten breakfast, or you could’ve fed him instead.
You pull away, smiling down at him. “Did you already eat?”
He nods. “Mhm. Benny’s.”
“If you’re still hungry-”
“I’m good, sweetheart. But you can always make me dinner?”
Your smile only grows. “Are you staying all day?”
He shakes his head. “No, only until this afternoon. Was thinking that you could come stay the night, watch me work on the bike, we have dinner, then…y’know. And then tomorrow I can drop you at school and maybe pick you up after?”
You squeal with delight. “Really? Yes, yes!”
He just laughs at your utter excitement as you wrap your arms more tightly around his neck, hugging yourself to him.
He pats your back. “Alright, sweetheart, hop down. I gotta go help your dad in the lab.”
You slide off of him, but continue holding his hand until you’re just outside the shed’s doors and he leans down, cupping your face and kissing you, plunging his tongue into your mouth and you whimper. He pulls away finally with a smirk, and you turn to head back to the house as he goes inside.
After eating breakfast, you spend an annoying amount of time picking out an outfit to wear for the rest of the day, wondering whether Scott will like it. The same goes for an outfit for the following day when he drops you off at school.
You don’t bother with pajamas to any extent. You know you’ll be going to bed naked. And that, if you do want to wear something at some point, it’ll be one of his t-shirts. The thought fills you with warmth; to be clothed in something of his. It always makes you feel so special.
Finally, you settle on a light-blue sundress with small flowers dotted across it that you know he likes—the last time you’d worn it in front of him, it’d not been for long before he had you naked and sprawled out across the bench seat in his truck, your legs spread wide as he teased you with his fingers before lying his body atop yours.
You debate between curling your hair or doing it in French braids—a favorite style of yours during the summer to keep you cool and strands out of your way. You opt for the latter, redoing it time and again until every hair is perfectly placed.
You next choose your accessories carefully. Bracelets of neutral colors, or blue that match the dress, a long necklace, and then a pair of clean socks and sneakers.
You often wonder if he notices all the little details you put so much thought and effort and time into. You wonder if he knows it’s all for his sake. If he appreciates it.
You spend the rest of the morning trying to distract yourself with reading or watching TV—eventually walking around outside, continually glancing to the shed, eager for him to emerge.
As you walk around, tending to the flower bushes around the house—of course planted by you to help spruce the place up a bit, honestly from the house and property alone you’d never guess the sorts of things that go on here; it’s charming and quaint, and you and your dad take fairly good care of it all—you debate whether to tell Scott of what happened last night with Travis.
You don’t want to stir up any trouble, especially this soon with him, but that was precisely why you think you should talk to him about it. Three times you’ve had sex, and it’s only taken three times for him to break your one rule. And the ‘joking’ comment during the second time had seemed even fractionally serious.
You’re not sure what Scott may do. You imagine he’ll start out by having a calm conversation with him. But it’s what will happen next if Travis gets mouthy, or doesn’t want to hear it that makes you uneasy. And with Cyrus—his other cop friend—now being in on things… You’re sure he’d take his side if things got…nasty.
You groan in frustration. All this worry over something so stupid—minuscule—but you feel vindicated in being upset about it. Because you already ask for so little. One thing. And even that clearly seemed to be too much.
You didn’t feel flattered by it. Didn’t somehow feel closer to him after.
You just felt disrespected.
You decide that you’re going to tell Scott once you’re alone. You just pray it doesn’t ruin your perfect day together.
You wrap your arms more tightly around Scott’s muscled bicep, laying your cheek against the crown of his shoulder, his right hand between your thighs while his opposite wrist hangs loosely over the steering wheel of his truck, driving the two of you home—rather, to his home.
Your eyes flutter closed for a moment, smiling softly to yourself as warm air drifts through the cabin through open windows, some country song playing quietly on the radio.
You feel so content like this. Happy. In love.
He’s your whole world, and you’re so lucky to have him; to have been chosen by him time and again. He doesn’t treat other girls like this. Only you.
Only you.
You open your eyes, watching out the windshield as scenery of green summer trees pass by and you sigh, pressing a kiss to Scott’s upper arm, then looking at him.
He merely raises a brow, eyes still trained on the road ahead.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
Your cheeks warm at the special nickname only he gets to call you.
“It’s about Travis.”
He remains silent.
“We…last night we had sex again.”
He nods. “Oh, yeah? How’d that go?”
You shrug. “It was fine. Good. He…kissed me.”
The truck slows then, and he pulls off onto the shoulder, putting it into park before shutting it off and turning to you. “He what?”
You take his hand between both of yours then. “Right when he finished. He tried three times before that, but I kept turning my head. I told him not to. And then he did, so I pushed him off of me.”
“And then what happened?”
“He got upset and left the room. When he came back, he asked why we can have sex, but he can’t do that. I asked why he needed to, and he said intimacy is important to him during so he can…perform. Eventually, he apologized. He said that…”
You look up to Scott from under your lashes then.
“He said what, sweetheart?”
You scoot impossibly closer to him, settling his hand against your inner thigh again, twining your hands around his forearm. “He said that if I had any idea what it’s like to have sex with me, I’d understand. That he got lost in it. And he brought you up a few times.”
He shifts in his seat, pulling his hand away and laying it across the top of the seat behind you. “What about me?”
You lay your palms flat against his bent knee that’s atop the seat. “He wanted to know why you were an exception to my rule. I think… He seemed jealous. And he made this comment the second time that we-”
“What fuckin’ comment?”
You can tell his irritation is beginning to grow. Scott typically had a long fuse, and was fairly laid back, but he’d already disliked the idea of involving cops in the business. He’d been out-voted on the matter, however.
“He pretended like he was joking, but he asked how he could get me all to himself. I think he at least half meant it. Or meant it in general, but pretended like it was a joke, so he could play it off as as much if it ever came up again.”
He studies you for a moment and you lean in toward him just a bit, wanting him to say something.
He turns toward the wheel then, leaning back against the seat, running his hands down his face. “I fuckin’ knew this was a bad idea. If his ass can’t follow a rule that goddamn simple…” He trails off, propping his left elbow up against the open window, gripping his chin in his hand as he looks out of it, thinking.
“When he dropped me off at home, he promised me that it wouldn’t ever happen again.”
He turns his gaze back to you, resting his temple against his fist. “Does he have feelings for you?”
It wasn’t good that he thought as much as well, because it means you hadn’t been paranoid in thinking it yourself. “I’m not sure. He hasn’t told me that he does, but… I mentioned his fiancée last night—asked if he was unhappy—and he said that he loves her, but that he can’t wholly be himself with her like he can with me.”
Scott stares at you for a moment in silence and you get a sinking feeling in your gut. “Are…are you mad at me?” Tears sting your eyes, thinking you’ve upset him in any way.
He shakes his head before reaching out and cupping your cheek. “No, sweetheart. You’re not the one I’m upset with.” He sighs, resting his head back against the seat, closing his eyes, but his brows furrow.
You know he’s thinking.
“He told you it wouldn’t happen again, right?”
“Mhm.”
His eyes slowly open. “Then we’re going to let it go for now. See if he sticks to his word. If he doesn’t—if he kisses you again, or makes anymore comments like the one during your second time together, or lets on in any capacity that he’s starting to fall for you, you need to tell me.”
“Why? What will you do?”
He rolls his head to the side, looking at you, sliding his hand back under your dress and you flush at the feel of his large, callused palm settling over your already-wet panties. “I’ll put a fuckin’ end to it. He was told by Joe first night that you were part of the deal. He understood that we all share you. That no one is going to ever just come along and claim you like that. He wants pussy that belongs solely to him? He can go stick it to his fiancée. Around here, everybody is an equal.”
Except they’re not. And he’s certainly not. Not with you, at least.
You raise a brow at that statement and he smirks. “You know what I mean, sweetheart. He’s starting out on the bottom rung. He needs to either get with it or get out. Not that I’d be sorry to see college boy go.”
He’d told you about that the first time you’d slept together. Honestly, he’d talked a lot that night. So much so, that you’d initially deemed him to be quite the chatterbox. You’d just sat or lied there and listened with a smile and soft touches, his hands exploring your naked body all the while. You’d pretended to be impressed by his stories of his time at college—even curious—and that had seemed to please him.
Joe always joked about getting all the education he needed at the ���School of Hard-Knocks’.
Scott had only made it to eleventh grade before dropping out. But you figured by then, you essentially had all the schooling you really needed, anyway.
Rhett had gone to a technical college after graduating, and works full-time as an electrician. He makes decent wages, but you think the only reason he sticks around is to continue remaining close to you.
Cyrus you had yet to learn about, but you were sure in time you would.
Scott’s brows furrow for a moment again and his eyes glance down and away from you. He clears his throat. “You don’t uh…think you feel anything for him, right? I mean, I get it: he’s the new guy and maybe that’s exciting. And he’s educated. Maybe you all talk about books and shit and-”
You lean over, pressing your lips to his, cupping his stubbled cheek gently in your hand. When you pull away, your lips are hovering just over-top of his. His eyes are closed, so you press your forehead to his. “I’m yours. I always have been since I was eight-years-old. I love you. You don’t need to worry about that changing. Ever.” You pull back then and he looks at you. “I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
He nods.
“It’s just sex. You’re the only one that it means something more with.” You kiss him again.
Once you’ve finished cleaning up Scott’s house—you’d fought over that a couple of times before: how he just lets it go unless you’re there to tend to it, and then it becomes your problem to take care of, but you’d eventually relented, since you understood he worked a lot, and 'woman’s work' wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of priorities—you make him a couple grilled ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch, with a side of chips, and a couple cold beers, then walk it out to him in the garage.
When you get closer, you hear something metal clanging against the ground, then, “Oh, what the fuck?”
You bite back a smirk as you set everything down on a nearby toolbox and watch him for a moment—completely oblivious to your presence—as he reaches around the front of the bike, pulling against something, quietly cursing before letting out a loud, irritated groan. “Motherf-”
“I brought you lunch,” you say sweetly.
He turns his head back to you and you see he has oil smeared across his cheek, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
You walk over to a roll of them and retrieve a couple shop rags, wiping down a bench, before hopping atop it, legs dangling underneath you. “If you need to relax, I can help?”
He smirks, shaking his head, turning away for a moment back to the bike, then finally standing and coming over to you, his now-blackened hands resting over his hips and he stomps out his cigarette with his boot. “Sweetheart, if I let you have your way, I’d never get anything done around here.”
You crook your head to the side, looking at him and you spread your legs the least bit wider, desperately wanting him buried between them. You want to make him feel good; want to help him cum. It’d been over two weeks now.
“Your way or my way?”
He turns his back to you, heading over to the sink he’d installed a handful of years ago in the garage, and washes his hands before returning and grabbing a sandwich, taking a bite.
You hold a Budweiser toward him and he takes it as well, setting the sandwich down before positioning the edge of the cap against a table and smacking down on it with his hand, sending it flying.
You smile, kicking your feet, giggling. Impressed. God, he was so…everything about him served to turn you on. Everything.
He takes a long drink before grabbing his sandwich again, taking another bite.
“I cleaned the house, by the way,” you say, tone flat.
He smirks. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He positions himself between your legs, and you wrap your calves around the backs of his thighs. “Maybe I should start paying you.”
You just look at him, biting your lip.
He slides a hand up your thigh. “Any ideas on that?”
You reach forward, going for his belt. “Mhm.”
And then he steps back and you sigh in irritation.
He just chuckles, finishing the rest of his sandwich, downing a third of the bottle.
“What’s wrong with it?” You ask, looking at the bike, then back to him.
He shakes his head. “Shit that ain’t would be a shorter goddamn list.”
He picks up the other sandwich then, taking a bite. Then he glances back to you. “Can I ask you somethin’?”
You smile, nodding. “Anything.”
“The hell happened between you and Joe? Everything was the same as it always is, then two weeks ago, it’s like somethin’ changed. The two of you have a fight?”
You stop swinging your feet then or so much as smiling.
Yes, you’d had a fight. Something you’d never done before with Joe: argue. Not like that. But that day…you weren’t sure you’d ever had a worse one. And you’d needed to take your anger out on something—anything—and he’d been sitting right there in the driver’s seat.
You’d been late. By two weeks. The latest before that had never been more than six days—perhaps a week at most. You’d not wanted to take one, because you didn’t want to see—to know. Because when that little red cross showed up, it became real: you had another life growing inside of you.
You’d sat there with shaking hands, holding it, staring down at it while you cried, breaking out into a cold sweat, bowels turning to water as you realized your life was over.
You couldn’t think straight. Your dad wouldn’t stand for it—wouldn’t allow you to stay under his roof once it was born. Perhaps before.
And then where would you go? Where would you take it? A hospital perhaps. Just leave it out front. Someone would find it and do the right thing. You couldn’t raise it. You didn’t know the first thing about motherhood. Didn’t want to. You didn’t want children. Not now. Not ever. You were not equipped to deal with such a thing.
And the guys—the business—what would happen if they no longer got to…use you like they always had? Would things start to crumble, even minimally? What if you did keep it and one day, once it was older and—if it was a girl—they did to her what they’d done to you? You couldn’t bear the thought of it.
So, you’d gathered yourself as best you could and went to the phone in the kitchen and dialed.
“Hawkins Lumber and-”
“May I please speak to Joseph Moore? Is…is he in?”
“Yeah. Just a second.”
You stood there with sweating hands, and a pounding heart as you waited for him to come to the phone.
“This is Joe.”
“It’s Y/N. I…I need you to come get me.”
He’d let out a frustrated sigh. “Babydoll, I’m at work right now. I can’t just-”
“I’m in trouble.”
The line had gone silent then. “H-hello?”
“What kind of trouble?”
Tears had begun to sting your eyes. “I need you to take me to the clinic.”
You could hear men working in the background.
“Call Scott and-”
“No. It has to be you. I’m begging you, Joe, please. I’ve never asked you for anything. I’ve always been good for—to—you. Please. Please help me.”
“I’m on my way.”
The line had then clicked, only a dial tone to greet you.
It’d been not quite twenty minutes later that his truck had pulled up outside the house, finding you waiting on the front porch, tears streaming down your face, one hand clutching your stomach while the other held the test in your lap.
He’d bothered getting out of the vehicle—coming up to you—and gently taking the pregnancy test from your limp hand.
You’d stared up at him while he stared down at it, a frown on his lips. He’d then pocketed it before jerking his head back in the direction of the truck. “C’mon then.”
He opened the passenger-side door for you, and you’d carefully climbed inside, buckling yourself in.
You’d both stayed silent the entire way there. Not even music played on the radio.
Half of you wanted to tell him to stop; that you’d changed your mind. You couldn’t. Not if it was… But you couldn’t do that. You had no other choice. This was the only one. The only way.
Once he pulled into the parking lot, you’d gone to get out—feeling like everything was moving in slow-motion; as if you were watching yourself from a distance—and then he had turned to look at you.
“Is it mine?”
You’d glared at him then. Unbelievable. “How would I have any ideas whose it is?” You had a pretty good guess, however. And the thought that it was and you were about to get rid of it… You wanted to fucking die.
He’d turned back to the wheel, resting his arm against the glass window. “Go on. I’ll wait here ‘till you’re done.”
Only a handful of minutes later did you come back out.
He’d rolled his window down, about to tell you to get the hell back in there, you were sure, but you’d spoken before he had a chance to.
“I need you to come in and…sign some paperwork. Pretend to be my dad. They won’t…because I’m a minor, they won’t-”
He’d promptly gotten out then, following along behind you.
And you’d stood silently next to him as he pretended to be your father, singing off on your abortion. It only served to make you feel even more sick: it could be his and yet here he stood, pretending to be your parental figure.
But you’d been all the more thankful, then, that he had been the one you’d called. Technically, Travis could’ve passed for your father if he'd had you at sixteen or a couple years older, but he was too new. You couldn’t even fathom asking him to do such a thing.
And Scott… He could never know. Never.
You had been so unbelievably stupid in making yet one more allowance for him: occasionally, if he liked, he could forgo condoms and finish inside of you instead. You were on birth control, anyway. And nothing had happened so far, so surely it would be safe enough, right?
You had been so, so deeply wrong.
You’d just felt closer to him, feeling him filling you, spilling out of you, thanking you for it.
And yet you were about to have it ripped out of you—something the two of you had made together—half you and half of him; a perfect little bundle that you would love with your entire being only because it was his.
If you ever told him, you knew he’d still want you just as much as he does now, but that’s all he would come to see you as going forward every time he looked at you: the mother of his dead child. Some poor, broken girl.
You knew after getting it done, you’d barely be hanging on. But if that’s what became of you in his eyes going forward, you’d have nothing left.
So, you’d lied there on that table, telling them you were sure—silently begging them in your eyes not to take it away from you—and then they’d ripped it apart and sucked it out of you and put it into medical waste. That was what your and his baby was considered: waste.
On the drive back, you’d silently cried, chin trembling, tears continuing to stream from your sore eyes, hands shaking as you looked down at them, wondering what you had just done. How you could’ve ever…
“I’m sorry, babydoll.”
You had filled with rage then at just the sound of his voice.
You’d balled your hands into fists, shaking with anger as you stared out the windshield. “Are you?”
He’d glanced to you. “What?”
“Because I doubt that. Now things can stay as they always have: you getting to fuck me whenever you want, just as you always have since I was fourteen-years-old. Nothing will stand in your way now.”
You’d turned toward him with a sneer. “Y’know what? I hope it was fucking yours. Because, at least that way, I won’t have to feel guilty about it.”
He’d slammed on the breaks so hard you’d lurched forward, your head then slamming back against the seat. He’d turned toward you after throwing the truck into park. “Somethin’ you wanna fuckin’ say to me, girl?”
You’d turned back to him, glaring daggers. If looks could’ve killed, he would’ve already been dead. What a blessing that would’ve been. “I hate you. God, you’re so disgusting. Old enough to…to be my father. What? Can’t get it up for a woman your own age like your wife? Maybe it’s only little kids that do it for you.”
He’d sneered in anger then, wrenching his door open, coming around to your side and doing the same with yours before grabbing you by the upper-arm and yanking you out of the truck. He slammed you back against the door, hand wrapped firmly around your throat, a wild, murderous look in his eyes.
“Do it, you fucking coward. Put hands on me! At least I’ll finally have a way to be rid of you.”
And you would. You hoped. You wanted to believe the others wouldn’t stand for you showing up covered in bruises from someone they’d thought could be trusted.
His eyes flitted between both of yours. Considering. Debating. And then he’d released you, only to shove a finger in your face.
“Only reason you ain’t on your fuckin’ ass right now is because of what you just went through today. This ain’t you. But you mouth off to me again and I won’t hesitate, you understand me? You ain’t too old for me to give you a goddamn whoopin’ again, honey.”
Some part of you wondered if he was getting off on all of this. The thought of hurting you, or, at the very least, putting you over his knee again.
The last time he’d done so—which had also been the last time you’d ever gotten smart with him—had been when you’d been fifteen. He’d done it right in your kitchen. Had demanded you strip down—your bottoms at least—and then he’d bent you over his thigh as he wailed against your backside with his palm. Once he was done, and you were crying so hard you couldn’t breathe, he’d fingered you brutally before shoving himself down your throat and quickly finishing from the excitement—at least exciting for him—of it all.
You could no longer remember what had even gotten him so worked up in the first place. Then again, with a short temper like his, it didn’t typically take much.
He’d stepped back then, gesturing with his hand to the road behind him. “Go on, then. Find your own way home. Get!”
He’d spoken to you like a dog. And like an obedient one that liked to get kicked, you’d acquiesced.
He’d climbed back in the truck then, burning rubber as he sped away.
You had stood there trembling, gingerly reaching up and gently pressing your fingertips against your throat before you began to walk. And walk. Until you came across a small dirt path off the side of the two-lane road.
And then you’d taken it.
You didn’t care that you had no idea where you were heading. All you knew was that the last place you wanted to go was home.
And then you’d come into a clearing of tall grass and seen it. You’d cried tears of joy. You hadn’t even understood why at the time. You never understood why, actually.
And as you walked up those broken steps, into a broken house, you felt for the first time in perhaps your whole life—whole.
No one could get to you here. None of them. It was yours. Here, in this house, you could do and say as you pleased. You could be whoever you wanted to be. You could scream and cry and laugh and dance and rest. You could play pretend. You could read and explore and dream. You could just be you. Even if you no longer knew—if you ever knew—who that was. In this place, perhaps you could figure it out.
And there would be not a single soul to tell you otherwise. To mold you into what they wanted, as yet another part of you broke and died inside.
Come nightfall, you fell asleep on the mattress upstairs. You didn’t care that it was old and stained and smelled somewhat of mildew. This was a safe place in your unsafe world. You could close your eyes here and not be afraid of what awaited you when you opened them once more.
You look at Scott and shrug in response to his question.
He crosses his arms. “Uh-uh. You don’t do that shruggin’ ‘I don’t know’ shit with me. That may fly with the rest of ‘em, but not between us.”
You can’t tell him. Can’t. You need to make up a lie. One he can’t see through. Fuck, fuck, what were you supposed to say?
“He wanted to do it without a condom and I told him no. You know how much he loves that word, especially coming from me. He got angry because he felt like I was talking back and I left, leaving him with a case of blue balls. I told him that that was his wife’s problem.”
He studies you for a moment, then shakes his head, grinning. You nearly breathe a sigh of relief at the sight.
He steps closer to you, sliding his hands up your thighs, gripping your hips and pulling you against him. “Guess he don’t know only one of us gets that privilege, too.”
He presses his lips to your neck and you try to think of a way to tell him—nicely—that you’d ‘changed your mind’ about that.
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull back.
He looks at you.
“I think maybe we should, too. Use protection.”
“You’re on birth control.”
You nod, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s not always effective.”
Please, I can’t go through it a second time. It’ll kill me.
He agrees then. “I know. It was just nice. It felt…different. I don’t just mean the not-using-a-condom part. But coming inside of you. It’s hard to explain, I guess.”
You press your lips to his. “I felt it, too.”
You remain in the garage watching Scott work on the Harley for the rest of the day, occasionally handing him tools, or helping hold or pull or push whatever thing-a-ma-jig he asks you to. You’re just happy to help and be near him. And look at him and listen to his voice and touch him. And just all-around adore him like always.
You truly do love him so much.
Once it begins to grow dark out, you head inside to start preparing dinner: chicken wings—half of them extra-spicy for Scott, just the way he likes them—and french fries, with coleslaw on the side that only has about a week left until it needs to be thrown out.
You hum happily to yourself as you play house with him, imagining this being your everyday life. Him coming home from work while you’ve spent all day cleaning and making dinner for him, maybe you’ll have a kid or two, and the two of you will make love at the end of the night as you fall asleep in his arms, and he finally tells you—after all these years—those three words you’ve waited patiently to hear.
And come morning, you’ll make them all breakfast as they’re off to work and school, and you feel happy and safe without a worry in the world.
Once dinner is through, the two of you having already showered—and you’ve packed any leftovers into a lunch for him with a cute love-note inside—he slips his hands under the t-shirt of his that you’re currently wearing, cupping your breasts in his strong, firm hands as he presses you up against the living room wall.
You moan, your eyes slowly closing as you wrap your arms around his neck, his lips coming to devour your own.
He breaks the kiss for only a moment as he takes off your shirt, leaving you naked before him. He quickly takes off his own clothes—you helping as you pull off his shirt as well, giving you a moment to admire his soft stomach, and the few crudely-drawn tattoos he has that are placed sparsely along his upper arms—a couple on his forearms as well.
He bends down quickly, retrieving a silver wrapper from the pocket of his sweatpants, handing it to you.
Once you’ve gently rolled it onto him, he grabs you by your thighs, lifting you. You wrap your legs around his waist and he sinks inside you.
You throw your head back and call out his name and he places an open-mouthed kiss against your neck. You clench around him, squeezing, and he moans in pleasure right in your ear, so you do it again.
You gasp as he rams his hips against you, sending your back sliding further up the wall and he takes one of your pert breasts in his mouth. You bring your lips back down to his own, so content and happy to be like this with him again.
You’d been so fearful after that you wouldn’t be able to. Wouldn’t feel the same. But you do. The same as you always have. And you’re so grateful, because he deserves this. To have you like this. Deserves you.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, into his back, and he plunges his tongue into your mouth and you suck on it, but only for a moment before his tip teases that place inside you that brings you closer. You pull away, at a loss for breath and he twitches inside, knowing.
So he does it again and again and you curse, holding yourself as close to him as you can possibly manage, the words ‘I love you’ spilling from your lips over and over again as he continues to rock his hips against yours.
You press your lips into his shoulder as you finally fall over the edge, screaming against his hot skin as you rapidly clench around him—your body shaking and trembling—and your eyes roll back in your head at the pure sense of complete sexual pleasure that fills you.
He rams into you, quickly following suit as your tight walls encourage him toward an end, and he groans loudly against your breast as he fills his condom.
He’d jacked off a few times in the last couple of weeks, but he’d waited for sex until he could once again have it with you, so there was a considerable amount of semen to be had.
Once you’ve both calmed, his cheek resting between your breasts as he tries to catch his breath, he slowly lowers you to the floor. He reaches up with both hands, cupping your face as he crushes his lips to yours.
When he pulls away, a wide smile breaks out across your face, your eyes filled with love as you stare up at him adoringly. Your whole world. Him.
You trace idle shapes with your fingertip along his right pectoral, your head resting atop the opposite one, his own fingertips dancing along the bare skin of your back.
“Are you nervous for Friday?” You ask quietly, snuggling against his side.
You can feel him shrug gently. “Not really. Just more-so nervous about all the money the guys will be out if I take a fall. Not that I plan to, but…”
You lift your head, resting your chin atop the back of your hand as you look at him. “I don’t think you will. You’re strong. And you know how to fight.”
You’d only seen him in two fist-fights before, and he’d won both times. The first had been for fun against a friend during a bonfire. They’d taken some dumb bet or other too far, and when it ended, it was with laughter and shared beers and you playing nurse to him.
The second time had been after a football game during your junior year. A few groups had gone out off-roading afterward, including you, Scott, Joe, Rhett, and a couple others.
A senior had started coming onto you, and he’d gotten handsy. Scott had told him calmly to back off—even told him that maybe he’d had too much to drink, so as to try and give him an out from the situation. He’d told Scott to fuck off and had then stuck his tongue down your throat.
Scott had promptly shattered a beer bottle over his head before getting on top of him and beating him bloody.
You’d heard that coming Monday at school that he was in the ICU.
You'd had so much sex with Scott that week that, eventually, you could hardly stand to so much as wash yourself down there it was so sore and raw.
You didn’t regret a second of it.
He smirks, placing an arm behind his head. “What do I get if I win?”
You scoot a little higher. “I dunno. Hm... Anything you want?” You wrap your left leg around his, pressing your heat against his thigh.
He turns his head to the side, fingers coming to play with your hair then. “Maybe I already have that.”
You smile warmly, your young heart skipping a beat. “I love you.”
He smiles back. “You going to be in the front row cheering me on?”
You nod fervently with a soft giggle. “We all will.”
He looks up at the ceiling then. “Too bad college boy didn’t enter. That’s one ass I know I wouldn’t mind beating.”
You raise your brows in interest. “Are you jealous?”
He shrugs. “Just don’t like cops.”
“Well, there’s two of them now.”
He nods. “I met Cyrus the other day after work. We talked over a couple of beers at the bar. If nothing else, he seems more like us. He grew up around here, at least.”
“So, you like him?”
“Better than I do your new boyfriend.”
You glare down at him.
His lip twitches. “I’m sorry. That was… You’re right. Maybe I’m jealous.”
You soften. “Why?”
You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against it before pressing a loving kiss to his other one.
He sighs. “I just… I guess it’s easy for me to pretend that I’m better than him because of the way I grew up. I didn’t have mommy and daddy’s money to rely on like I’m sure he did. I’ve had to work for everything. But I wish I hadn’t. And it makes me feel like some kind of fuckin’…”
He sighs again in frustration. “It makes me feel pathetic to admit that. I’m proud to be the kind of man that works with his hands. That busts his ass day-in and day-out for everything that I have; that I am. It just feels like he’s the kind of guy who’s had everything handed to him from day fuckin’ one. And then…and then he just gets to have you, too. And the comment he made about having you all to himself. Entitled piece of shit. And kissing you. He’s going to learn real fuckin’ quick just who you belong to if he keeps pushing his luck. I ain’t gonna have it.”
You’re quiet for a moment, studying him, thinking. You like how protective he is. And even possessive at times. A lot. “Look at me,” you say quietly, turning his face toward your own.
“I love you, Scott. No one else. Never. I don’t know if it helps, but scholarships paid for his education, along with a couple of grants. Not his parents. And what wasn’t covered, he apparently worked to pay off himself. He actually doesn’t talk about them much. Like, at all. I think… I actually think the two of you would get along really well if you just gave it a chance.”
He shakes his head. “We’re not having a threesome.”
You laugh quietly. “Can you get your mind out of the gutter for five seconds?”
He smirks.
You press a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t ever think you’re lesser-than because of how you grew up. I’ve looked up to you since I was a little girl; worshiped the ground you walk on. I still do. Maybe that’s not saying much, since it’s coming from…me. But I want you to know that you are the man I will choose every time. The man my heart belongs to.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “In bed… What is like between the two of you?”
He’s never asked that before. About any of the others. Never. It simply wasn’t a topic for discussion. For one, maybe it was because the others were like family to him, so he trusted you being in their hands, and simply didn’t think about it because he never felt threatened. For two, it made it easier for you to…do what you do with them. For both of you.
You press a kiss to his temple. “Do you need to know?”
“You answering my question with another question doesn’t exactly make me feel better, sweetheart.” A beat of silence, then, “Is he…better than me?”
Your heart breaks at how unsure of himself he sounds.
“You all have your different preferences. It doesn’t make any one of you better or worse than-”
“But there has to be a favorite of yours when it comes to sex.” He looks at you then.
You gently brush your fingers over his brow. “It shouldn’t even need to be said that it’s you. You know me better than any of them. Especially him, since it’s still so…new between us.”
“Can you please just tell me?”
“Do you really think it’ll make you feel better?”
“The only thing I know is whatever I’m imagining, coupled with you refusing to fuckin’ answer is making me feel ten times worse.”
You sigh softly then. “He’s…gentle with me. It’s like…it almost feels like he’s afraid to so much as squeeze me too hard out of fear that he’ll break me like a doll. Honestly, I just think that’s probably either the way he is in general, or the way he is with Amy—his fiancée. I’m sure it has nothing to do with me.”
He just stares at you, waiting for more. For every detail.
This felt…wrong.
When you’re having sex with any of them… You know they talk about it with each other. But that's different—locker-room talk. It's about how tight or wet you are, or the sounds you make, or how well you suck them off. Not about the intimate details. The things that actually matter, and keep them coming back to you again and again.
Either because they were in the mood, or because they needed to forget whatever they needed to forget for just a little while, or because they just wanted to be touched and held and listened to and cared for.
You truly have so many roles to play.
“Are you tired? I can rub your he-”
“Keep going.”
You shut your mouth, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Would you like it if I told him about how you are in bed?”
“That’s different and you know it.”
“How?”
He sits up, leaning against his forearm then. “Why the hell are you being so goddamn cagey about it? What—don’t tell me you feel something for him, too.”
Your eyes flit between both of his, thinking he can’t possibly be serious about that. “He doesn’t feel anything for me, nor do I toward him. I love you. Period. I can’t believe you would even say that to me. After everything-”
You stop yourself short. His baby. You can’t.
He slides a hand along your waist then. “I’m sorry. It's not that I don't trust you. I just-"
"I don't trust him wholly yet, either." You cup his face in your hands. "I am yours, Scott. That will never change."
He studies you for a moment, then nods. "No, it won't."
He pulls you in close, and you wrap yourself around him, closing your eyes.
The next morning, you wake early and make breakfast for the two of you, readying Scott's lunch for the day as well. You'd considered waking him with a blowjob instead, but preferred cute domestic moments like this over sex.
Dining together doesn't last long, however, when Scott gets a call from work, saying they need him early for a roofing job. So, you gather your things and follow him out to his truck, pressing yourself into his side as he heads in the direction of Hawkins High to drop you off.
Your cheeks flush when you think of yourself getting out of his truck after giving him a kiss and heading inside. Your classmates wouldn't understand.
It makes you feel quite grown-up, really. Being with an older man—loving one. Not like a child, unlike them.
You slide closer to him along the bench-seat, laying your head against his shoulder. You wonder if he ever misses you as much as you do him. If he thinks about you nearly as much.
You hope so.
Once he's pulled into the parking lot, he leaves the truck idling as he turns to you, sliding his hand up your thigh and pressing his lips to yours, fingers tangling in your curled hair.
You sigh against his lips, now wishing you didn't have to go in. Rather, didn't have to get out of the vehicle.
You gasp when two of his fingers begin to massage you over your panties, applying pressure in the perfect spot. He moves his lips to your neck for just a moment, before whispering in your ear "see you later, sweetheart."
You pull away, flushed, your body feeling warm all over. "I love you. Have a good day at work."
You press one last kiss to his lips before getting out, smoothing the skirt of your dress down, and heading inside, knowing he's watching you all the while.
When you leave school for the day, you’re practically skipping with joy into the parking lot… And Scott’s truck is nowhere to be seen. But a black sedan is, with a familiar body leaning against it, watching you. Waiting.
Rhett.
Where was Scott? Had…had he had an accident at work?
Slowly, you make your way to Rhett, staring up at him, waiting for answers.
“He called and let me know he wasn’t going to be able to make it. Guess the job he was put on today is going to run into this evening. He asked if I’d mind running over and picking you up.”
“Oh.” You deflate at that.
He pulls open the passenger side door for you. “Guess it works out. There’s uh…there’s something I need to talk to you about, anyway. Over dinner?”
You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay.”
On the way to Benny’s, rock music played softly on the radio while you and Rhett sat in a somewhat comfortable silence. You worried about what it was, exactly, that he wished to speak to you about.
Something about you? Was he finally going to break his silence on the awkward tension that always enveloped the two of you after your night together a year ago? Was it about the business? About your dad? About one of the guys?
Eventually, you laid your head back against the seat, staring out the window, telling yourself you would find out soon enough.
Once the two of you have ordered at Benny’s—Rhett telling the waitress it would all be one check, to which you’d sweetly thanked him for—he turns to you, clasping his hands atop the table.
You wait patiently for him to speak.
“I already talked to your dad and he’s uh…he understands. He’s good with it. But I wanted this to come from me instead of you finding out from someone else.”
You give him a small smile, encouraging him to go on.
He sighs. “I’m taking a job in Indianapolis. They called me a few days ago and made me an offer. Better pay, better benefits, and the area in general will have more opportunities for me going forward. I already have a place picked out. I just…there’s nothing keeping me here anymore. Honestly, I should’ve left a long time ago. I just…”
He glances up to you.
I was staying here, waiting for you, is the unspoken statement which hangs between the two of you.
“This is what’s best for me. Continuing to deal…it’ll end with me either dead or in jail. There’s no other way about it. I’m not saying one day what I’ve been doing here for all these years won’t come back to eventually bite me in the ass, but I have a way out now. And I have to take it. If I don’t get out…I’ll die in this fuckin’ town.”
Your palms suddenly feel sweaty at the thought of him leaving. Of you never seeing him again. It’s not that you want him to stay somewhere that he has no future—in a place that makes him miserable. You’re genuinely happy for him. You want him to get out, to be safe and content. But the thought of one of them stepping away for good…you feel a small crack forming across a bigger picture.
“I’m really happy for you. And I need you to know that I mean that. I…I’m sorry. If…maybe you feel like I’ve…led you on, or-”
He shakes his head. “You were clear with me from day one about what things would be between us: just sex. But that night… I…”
He sighs, glancing away. “I was already in love with you. I guess I thought that if we slept together, you’d suddenly feel it, too. You were why I stuck around for so long. Maybe I hoped you’d eventually see Scott for what he is and… Be with someone who actually gave a shit about you instead.”
You shift in your seat. That was two times this week others had talked poorly about him. And after he had opened up about being insecure—his fear of losing you—while he was lying next to you in bed… You don’t chew him out for it, however. Not when he was coming to you in confidence about something he’d only told one other person thus far.
You knew you still meant something to him. That, perhaps a part of him would continue to hurt over being rejected, but it’d been over a year now.
“He does. Care about me.”
He considers how to reply for a moment.
“I don’t believe that. I never have. If he did, he wouldn’t look the other way while other men have sex with you. Or wouldn’t be having sex with other women himself. He’d take care of you. Put half the amount of effort into things between the two of you as you do with him. I mean, have you ever heard some of the shit he’s said about you?”
Your hands begin to shake from anger. “We understand how things are when we’re with others. It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re the only ones that mean anything to the other. What…what we have-”
“He’s called you his own personal slut.”
You shut your mouth, and remain silent as the waitress sets your orders down before both of you.
You watch as Rhett begins to eat, while you no longer have an appetite.
He glances up to you. “Turn your stomach? Or you just going to ignore it like you always do when he mistreats you?”
“I don’t… I don’t want to fight. You got good news. We should just...” You sigh. “It’s just locker-room talk between men. It doesn’t mean anything. That’s not what he thinks of me.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never said anything like that about you. Not once. And I’m not even the one you’re in love with.”
Instead of replying, you take a bite of your food instead. “I truly wish you all the best, Rhett. I hope you’re happier. In Indianapolis and with your new job. Your new house. I’m glad for you that you’re getting out. I really mean that.”
He softens. “I didn’t mean to try and turn this into an argument. I’m not angry with you. I just…I see the opportunities I’m going to have and all I can think is…”
If you’d chosen differently, they could be yours, too.
He continues. “You deserve better. Than any of this. Any of them—me. I played a part in it. And I’m sorry for that. For being just one more man to come along and use you for sex. Even if that’s never how I meant that night to come off. It was about so much more than that for me.”
He leans in toward you. “You are so much better than all of this. And I wish to God you could see it. Maybe one day you will. And, Y/N, if you do: leave. And do not ever look back.”
You fight against the tears stinging your eyes. You simply nod in response.
You both finish your meals in silence.
You sleep fitfully that night.
You tell yourself it has nothing to do with what Rhett told you about Scott. That it's instead because you know you'll miss him. That you're perhaps even a bit worried about him—simply hoping such a tremendous life-change works out for the best for him.
Even if it somehow makes you feel stuck; wondering what might've happened had you chosen differently along the way. If you'd be better off.
But you choose not to dwell on things that never will be, and instead close your eyes.
After school the next day, your dad picks you up and waits in his pickup while you go grocery shopping—Tuesday was the usual errand day, and those duties typically fell upon you to perform. Even if you'd rather be somewhere else.
Like an old house in a field of overgrown grass that was waiting for you.
Perhaps someone was inside doing as much as well. You'd forgotten about him while you were with Scott Sunday. You hope he hadn't showed up, only to be disappointed by your absence.
You're sure not—he'd told you he didn't work Sundays. So, surely he wouldn't have wasted his time in going out there.
Once the two of you arrive back at home, you fear your day to be ruined when you spot someone sitting on the front porch waiting for one of you. You pray he's here to speak to your dad.
Joe.
You barely glance to him as you walk around to the bed of the truck, retrieving grocery bags to begin taking inside.
He's busy speaking to your father anyway. So surely he'll leave you be...
Such hope is cut short when he heads around to where you currently stand, taking the bags from you. "I want to talk to you inside, honey."
You grab a couple more bags yourself, silently following him, watching as your dad heads out back, wishing he'd send him away instead.
You're low on energy today, due to lack of sleep, and truly don't care to be near him right now. Perhaps ever again.
When you look at him now, all you see is a reminder of such a terrible day. Perhaps the worst one in your entire life.
You begin to silently put away groceries as he leans back against the kitchen counter with crossed arms. If he's waiting for you to speak the first word—make the 'first move', so to speak—he was going to be waiting a very long time. One thing you were good at was staying silent.
"I wanted to apologize."
Your back stiffens, but only for a moment. You continue with your current task.
"Honey, I'm sorry. Not just for what you went through that day, but for the shit I said, I guess. I know you were just...hurtin' and you wanted someone to take it out on." He pauses. "I know that wasn't you. Wasn't me, neither. You know the temper I got on me, but I should've never left you on the side of the road like that. It was on me to be the one to keep it together that day. I'm just sorry I didn't."
You were grateful things played out as they did. Otherwise, you would've never found that house. It'd been waiting there for you all that time. You and you alone. Such horrible things had finally brought you to it, but you had it to turn to now.
Perhaps someone...
You turn back to him finally, your eyes burning with unshed tears. You just wanted to put it behind you. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Maybe never. And, since he was the only one who knew... He was the only one you had to talk to about it, even reluctantly.
You wrap your arms around yourself. "Do you know what they did to it...? My...baby."
He remains silent.
"They threw it away. Put it into medical waste. That...that's what it was considered to be by them. Trash. I-"
Your chin wobbles and then you begin to cry, covering your face with your hands.
His brows furrow. "Oh, baby-doll."
He steps toward you, but pauses before taking you into his arms.
The first time he'd ever second-guessed the act of him touching you.
You don't stop him, desperate just to be held. By someone. Even him.
And so he does.
And you sob.
"It wasn't that. Honey, you know what it was to you. And it'll always be with you. You may not believe me, but I understand. Loretta and I...we tried ourselves. For a long time. I never much cared one way or the other whether she conceived, but it mattered to her. So I did it for her. And every time she miscarried..." He sighs. "Her pain was my pain. And there was nothin' I could do to stop it or make it go away. I thought her grief would never end. But it did. It'll always be with her. Just one day...it was less than it once was."
He'd never been so open with you before. Honest. Kind, even.
Why couldn't he be like this all the time? Why couldn't they all.
You pull away, looking up at him, your cheeks wet with tears.
"Maybe if you told Scott, he could help you carry it."
You shake your head. "He can never know. Promise me."
It takes him but only a moment to nod. "No matter what happens between us—if we ever fight like that again—I'll take it to my grave. You have my word. It ain't mine to tell."
He reaches into his pocket. "I...thought maybe... Maybe you'd want it?"
He hands you the pregnancy test from that day and a sob escapes your lips as you take it from him, clutching it to your chest. All you had left of her. It felt like a girl to you. You didn't know why. It was just a feeling.
"Thank you."
He nods.
Wednesday, you return to the house and find it empty. No sign of Billy anywhere. After the last few days, you feel fine with that. Being alone for awhile, you feel, is what you need. No men. Just you.
You find an old straw broom in a closet downstairs, so you sweep every inch of floor throughout the house, gathering dirt, chunks of wood, shards of glass, and lots of dust bunnies. You wish you had a mop to finish the job with, but at least it's better than when you started.
You then move the cushion-less couch into a corner of the living room, placing the coffee table in front of it, before heading upstairs and going through the room that's full of old furniture.
You wonder why someone would just leave it all here when they clearly took everything else with them, but decide it doesn't truly matter, because it's now yours.
You arrange a table and a couple mismatched chairs to try and give the room a semblance of a sitting room. You then push a desk toward the room Billy had broken the lock on, placing it before the window.
You move an armoire into the bedroom with the old mattress, and when you pull open the drawers, all you find inside is a set of nesting dolls, which makes you smile.
You pop the largest one open, placing all of them carefully atop the windowsill, facing toward the outside. You know they may look silly, but you like them. They're like a little family.
They'll always be here to greet you when you come, and watch as you go now; making you feel just the least bit less lonely.
You make your way back downstairs, grabbing the broom and sweeping the front porch, then heading toward the rear one and doing the same.
The list was endless of the things you'd like to do to turn this house into a home, but that would cost far more money than you had. Plus, you weren't exactly handy.
But it was nice to dream.
Once you've practically sweated through your clothes, you head down the back porch, past the apple trees and through the tall grass to a clearing down a bank with a large swimming hole.
You strip down, diving in head-first and then lying on your back, floating as you close your eyes, the sun warming you. You smile softly to yourself. Only here and at the house can you lie your worries down for even a moment. There's security in it: knowing that, apart from Billy, no one would ever know where to find you. You could stay here forever if you chose.
Maybe you would live off of apples and fresh air, sleeping on the mattress upstairs, or in the summer grass.
And no one would touch you ever again.
You would never have to pretend to be okay if you weren't, while you were slowly dying inside. You would be forever away from drugs and corruption and human evil. You would be where things are pure and good and happy. Nature would become your home and safe-haven. Forever.
You open your eyes, diving down, blowing bubble as you go, then emerging and splashing around in the water and laughing.
You truly never wanted to leave.
On Thursday, Billy comes. He finds you in the sitting room you'd designed, reading silently.
You'd wished to have found a tea-set to place in the middle of the table, thinking it would've given the room a more charming feel, but even after checking in the kitchen, all you'd found was an old can of Spam that you'd emptied outback, thinking perhaps an animal would be interested in it for dinner.
You look up to him and watch as he leans against the doorway with his arms crossed and a gentle smile on his lips. "Thought you'd never come back."
You set your book down atop the table, wondering what day he'd been here. Monday? Tuesday?
"When did you come?"
He shrugs. "Checked in Sunday. Just incase. And Monday."
He doesn't tell you how he'd also come Tuesday.
You feel guilty for having left him waiting, and you're not even sure why. You had a busy life sometimes. You couldn't be here every day. Even if that's what you wanted.
"I came yesterday," you say, resting your arms atop the table.
"I noticed. Place looks a lot cleaner than it did the other day. You did a good job."
You smile, thinking of your little dolls. "Do...do you want to see something?"
He raises a brow. "Well, whatever it is, you have to show me now."
You stand, brushing against him as you head toward the room up the hall with the mattress, and pick up the largest doll from the windowsill, turning back to Billy, blushing.
"Aren't they neat?"
He steps over to you, gently taking it from your hands, looking it over.
You expect he'll mock you for playing with dolls at your age.
"They are. They're in pretty good condition, too. Where'd you find these?"
You blink up at him at the unexpected reaction. You point to the armoire. "It's empty. They were the only thing in it."
He nods, carefully setting the doll back where it goes. "They're like a little family, huh?"
You smile. "I thought that, too."
You lean back against the wall, then. "Sorry if I left you waiting. But I did only say 'maybe' to Sunday."
He leans against the opposite wall. "I know. Mind if I ask where you were? Not that it's any of my business."
You shrug. "Sunday I was...with a friend." You flush. "His name is Scott. Monday I got picked up after school. And then Tuesday is my errand day."
He nods. "I got some overtime yesterday. It's why I didn't show. Is Scott in your grade?"
You snort. "No."
He raises a brow. "Older or younger?"
"Older."
"You're a senior, though, right?"
You nod. "Mhm."
He crosses his arms then. "Can I ask how old he is?"
You shrug.
"Older than me?"
You just stare at him. "Maybe."
"Twenty-five?"
You raise a brow.
"Twenty-eight?"
Your eyes stay trained on his.
"Thirty?"
"Getting warmer," you reply.
"Thirty-two?"
You jerk your head upwards.
"Thirty-three?"
You shrug, smiling. You truly liked how much older Scott was. He knew so much because of it. You were so lucky to have a worldly man like him.
Billy doesn't return your happiness at the knowledge, however. Instead, he frowns. "You're seventeen."
"I'll be eighteen soon. What about it?" You cock your head to the side.
"How long have you been with him?"
You shrug again.
He's silent for a moment. "How did you meet?"
"Mutual friends."
He wonders what the hell kind of friends you have that would be hanging out with someone thirteen years your senior.
You giggle then, feeling giddy just by talking and thinking about him. "I love him."
His heart sinks just a little. "Have you told him that?"
You nod happily. "Yup."
"And has he ever bothered to tell you the same in return?"
You don't answer. He will one day. When he's ready. You can wait. You have been for years already, so what's a few more? As long as you're together, you're beyond happy.
He pushes off the wall. "Is he involved in your dad's business?"
You shrug; you'll always protect him.
"That's how you met." He shakes his head, then looks back to you. "He doesn't love you."
Your smile disappears. "You don't know him," you reply flatly, defensively.
"Doubt that I need to to know that much."
"He was my first kiss. And my first time. It's true love. You just don't get it because you've never met him. No one understands him like I do."
He can't believe just how...brainwashed you sound. But he gets it, he supposes. Growing up the way you have...he can only imagine the age he first began taking advantage of you. Began grooming you.
Latching onto this Scott person is understandable, because you don't seem to really have anyone else. He assumes. If you had a plethora of friends, you wouldn't be here. Then again, neither would he.
"I almost did the same at your age. There was this...older woman. Old enough to be my mother. I was the one who had to eventually say no before things went too far. She..." He shakes his head. "She was the adult. She had two kids. One of which was the same age as me. She was the one that was supposed to have know better. And she did. She just didn't care. She was bored with her life; her marriage, and she was willing to use me as a tool to alleviate that. It wasn't about me. It was about her."
He takes another step toward you. "It isn't love for him. I can promise you that. It's about one thing. Just—can you answer a few questions for me?"
You stare, refusing to speak anymore about the love of your life. If he keeps running his mouth...you won't leave. This is your place. You'll just have to make him aware of just how unwelcome he now is.
"If you ever told him no when it came to sex, what would happen? I'm assuming that's where your real value lies with him."
He takes another step toward you. "I think I can safely assume that he's never said it back: that he loves you. Does he tell you how beautiful you are, then? How intelligent? Does he see how passionate you are about learning and exploring? Does he see how desperate you are to have a safe and happy home? Has he ever offered to give you that? Because you deserve it."
He's standing in front of you now.
"Has he promised you a future? One that you want—one that isn't all about him? Does he encourage you to pursue your passions? Does he make you feel safe? Can you bare your soul to him? Or are you forced to be someone else, out of fear of losing him if you dare to be your true self for just one moment?"
You go to step past him, but he blocks your path, holding up his hands. "Just...one more question, please."
You stare up at him, fighting against the lump in your throat. You tell yourself your eyes are only stinging because...you can't even make up an excuse. Can't blame it on dirt and dust. You'd cleaned the place up considerably yesterday.
"Have you told him about this place? Brought him here and shared it with him?"
Your chin wobbles.
He reaches up, cupping your cheek and brushing a tear away as it slips down your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I don't doubt that you think it's love. But I can promise you that's not what he feels. And you deserve so much better than that."
"He'll...he'll say it one day. I just have to wait. I'm fine with that."
His brows furrow. Whoever he was—he already fucking despised him.
"How long have you already given him? How many years have you wasted, waiting for someone who's more than happy to keep you on a chain that he pulls only when he finally wants something?"
You turn your face away from him, sniffling, trying to gather yourself. Scott loves you. You know it. He'd shown it to you before by... Well... He'd... You scour your memories, looking for an undeniable sign of it—his affection that was reserved only for you.
"What's wrong? See him a bit more clearly now?"
First Travis, then Rhett, and now him. Why was everyone out to get him?
You look up to him. "Maybe we're both broken people. Maybe he doesn't know how to...to always show it—his love. But...our pieces fit perfectly together. No one else will ever understand me the way he does."
"Maybe because you don't give them a chance to, because you're convinced he's all there is for you. Maybe you think he's the best you can do for yourself. Maybe you, somewhere along the way, settled."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore."
You step past him then, heading down to the swing on the backporch. You need to go outside. It's too...claustrophobic in there.
Billy follows you out, leaning against the banister that thankfully hasn't rotted away yet. "Do you want me to leave?"
You sit, drawing one of your knees up to your chest and you shrug.
He sighs. "I'm not...trying to lecture you. I understand that we still hardly know one another. I just...wish there'd been someone I could've talked to at seventeen. Someone who gave a shit. I just want you to know that I do."
You look up at him.
"I didn't mean to piss you off or-"
"You didn't," you mumble against your knee. "Ok, you did. I just...don't want to hear that stuff right now. He's not some villain. He's had a hard life. It's difficult for him to open up."
"And you haven't? Does he make your life easier, or do you only make his as much?"
You think of how you cook and clean for him and give him sex whenever he wants it and listen to his worries and thoughts... And sometimes he picks you up from school or drops you off after spending the night together, how you like when he calls you sweetheart. Surely there's more than that, right? You're just not thinking clearly right now. Maybe you're just tired.
You shrug.
Billy finally sits next to you, swinging the two of you.
You don't know why you want to tell him this—you'd promised yourself that, besides Joe, no one else would ever know. But he just seems so...there's something about him that makes you want to let it all out. Plus, who would he have to tell?
Maybe it's not really him. It's just this place.
You sigh. Every time you're with him, you say more to him in an hour than you do to almost anyone else in a week.
"I had an abortion."
His head jerks in your direction.
"It was a little over two weeks ago. It was the same day I found this place. I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't. I think...it was Scott's. Only one other person knows. Joe. He's the one who took me. We got into this big fight after. I told him I hoped it was his. Then I wouldn't have to feel guilty."
Your lip trembles. "I think maybe I'm a bad person," you whisper.
He turns toward you, resting his arm behind you on the back of the swing. "Because of the abortion?" He asks softly.
You shrug. "I've done bad things with bad men. A lot of them. I've been with so many it would probably make even you blush. I don't remember all their names. Their faces. I don't think I want to."
"Why were you with them?"
You shrug again. "I don't really have a choice. It's just...my part in things. They pass me around between them. I always say they take care of me and I take care of them, but I don't...really get anything out of it."
"When you're having sex with them, do you want to be?"
You don't answer in any form.
"Does Scott know about them? Or is he just another one of them?"
You continue your vow of silence.
"Joe—how old is he?"
If he thought thirty-three was too old for you...
"Fifty-one."
He balks, left speechless.
"Scott took my virginity at fourteen. Joe was the second man I ever..." You trail off.
"Why didn't you go to the police? You know that's statutory-"
"What makes you think they're not a part of it?" You look at him. "I'm sleeping with a cop in his thirties right now. His name is Travis; he's engaged, too. He has a friend—Cyrus. I imagine I'll be taking him to bed next."
He can't believe the way you talk about it. Like it's just a fact of life. As if it's just some unavoidable thing for you that's not optionable. "I-"
He has no idea what to fucking say.
You look to him with an empty expression. "Do you see me for what I am now?"
He leans toward you. "I see a girl who has been taken advantage of and abused at every turn by adults she was supposed to have been able to trust."
You roll your eyes. "It's not a big deal. It's just sex. It doesn't mean anything."
How could you go from clearly being upset about it to swinging in the opposite direction and pretending like you don't actually care? Perhaps he's hit a wall, or you've simply reached your limit for the day of sharing personal matters.
You continue. "Maybe sometimes I enjoy it. I do with Scott. Travis isn't bad in bed. He's nice to me. Joe is just..." You roll your eyes again. "As long as he has his cock in my mouth, he's happy. He's not hard to please. I just have to make sure not to piss him off. And Rhett is leaving soon, anyway. Not like we did it more than just that one time. And all the others are gone now. Or, they don't come around anymore. I guess they moved on with their lives."
He wonders if every one of them were—are—adults. He doesn't even bother with asking why your dad lets them get away with it. The man makes meth. That alone tells him all he needs to know about his character.
You rest your cheek atop your bent knee. "Are you going to the fight tomorrow?"
He doesn't really want to change the subject, but he won't push it if you no longer feel comfortable discussing it.
"Me and a friend of mine. You?"
You blink at him for a moment. "Do you remember how I told you before that...those people I'm 'nice' to—if you saw me with them, you wouldn't recognize me?"
Now he knows what you'd meant. Or, rather, who. To an extent.
He nods.
"I'll be with them tomorrow. Scott is fighting. I just...I need you to promise me that if you see me there, you'll pretend like we don't know one another."
"Why?"
"These boys do not play nice with outsiders. Especially when they think another man is coming after something they believe belongs to them; that they're entitled to. And you'd be sorely outnumbered, anyway. I'm sure one of them will be packing. It wouldn't surprise me, at least. And once they start drinking..." You trail off, shaking your head. Joe was always an obnoxious drunk.
"So I can't even say hi to you?" He asks with a raised brow.
You lean back then, lying your cheek on his outstretched arm. "The last time another guy dared to so much as touch me in front of them, Scott put him in the ICU."
He worries about what they would do to you if you ever stepped over some imaginary line they've drawn.
You sigh. "Tomorrow, I'm going to be a completely different person when I'm with them. You won't like it. Just...remember this. If we do spot each other, even when I'm looking at you like you're a stranger, know that's me saying 'hi', and that I can't wait to come back here to see you again. Okay?"
He rests his head against his upper arm, pressing his forehead to yours, cupping your cheek in his other hand and your eyes flutter closed. "And when I look back at you, that's me saying that I see you. For exactly who you are. Even if they don't. That you're not alone."
You smile softly.
He presses a kiss to your forehead and you scoot the least bit closer to him, your eyes slowly opening.
"Why're you so nice to me?"
He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. "I have no reason not to be. You deserve some kindness in the harsh fucking world you've been forced to live in. Even if it is coming from a washed-up mechanic," he states with a grin.
You shake your head, pressing yourself against his side—his chest. "That's not you. I see you, too."
He rests his cheek atop your head. "Maybe you do."
#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x you
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the producers while watching/staging the double ultimatum between our old li and the newcomers:
#too hot to handle the game#ththg#thth henri#thth mc#the devil works hard but reality tv producers work harder#they really said we are in our bag this seasonnnnn#im just imagining a producer with a headset coordinating everything to make it so henri happens to be on the patio when mc is walking back-#I just know they saw Diego walking by and told him what henri was doing and went now go in there and do the same#from the beach with candace and having diego walk in#i know things in reality tv shows are staged to an extent but this scene was TOO much TOO funny#like when henri have the ultimatum at first i was like uh yea i've been saying I choose you and then diego came out of freaking nowhere---#and i was like ah shit i know why they doing now
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Ride 774: Kiji, coming!!
Pag 1
1: Welcome, to the Emperor's throne!!
My aim is the double crown!!
Pag 2
4: Ahhh... you're fast, the two of you
I thought I could catch you for sure at 2km left
Pag 3
1: But it took me until “1km left”, yon!!
Pag 4
3: Ah!?
He
4: caught up!? Who....
Pag 5
1: who the hell are you!?
2: The two people in the lead are taking the curve and passing the sign that says that there's 1km left until the sprint line.....
Pag 6
1: No, it's three people!!
Three people passed the “1km left” sign!!
2: There's more people!? Since when!?
Wasn't it two people!?
What happened!? Who's that? That jersey-
At the last curve, suddenly-
3: It's not “who are you”....!!
Dammit!! I know!! This guy!!
Pag 7
1: There's one more person who we need to pay special attention to
2: Gunma Ryousei's third year, Kiji Kyuui
3: Ohh, Kiji? Who's that
Oi, I already told you about this in advance, Manami!! Come on, at the sea
Is that so?
4: What's your data about him?
5: There's basically no record of him in road racing
6: He's an..... “assassin” from the MTB world, huh
7: Is he aiming for the goal?
8: Yeah.... the goal...
That's right....
We should be glad
Pag 8
1: That he's only aiming for the goal
2: Hayaaaa!!
3: Dammit!! The first result.... so you're aiming for the sprint too!?
4: Since they said you were aiming for the goal I thought you were a climber like Manami!!
Pag 9
1: Let's speed up, Orange!! He'll catch up!!
2: I've seen it before!! This guy's jersey
3: That day.... he appeared suddenly on that bike with the thick tires
Pag 10
1: It's the guy who chased Onoda-san and the Hakogaku guy with the bouncy hair!!
2: Before that, Onoda-san said they were friends and that he's “strong”!!
3: He's coming to catch up to
4: mine and San-na's battle
Pag 11
1: He really is strong!!
Let's switch, I'll pull!!
Pag 12
1: Orange!!
3: They're in tune
You have amazing judgment and explosive power!!
4: When I caught up at the last curve
5: Even though they could have also accepted me and made me join them
Without making eye contact or calling out to each other, in an instant at the same time they made the decision
6: that they would “cooperate” to leave me behind!! Yon!!
You're really....
Pag 13
4: What's that
He's lowering his stance and pushing on the handles like he's about to dance....!!
5: Hayaaaa
Pag 14
1: You're really close friends!!
Pag 15
4: He lined up to us in one go!?
Pag 16
1: This guy!! Was it an optical illusion? Just now, I saw something like a cloud of dust behind me
2: Takadajou told us this
Be careful
3: I've been told that the power that a MTB rider can produce in a short time
4: is 1.5 times that of a road racing cyclist
5: This guy can match this top speed!?
8: Ah!?
9: Huh!?
Pag 17
2: In between!?
He came in between!?
Ah!?
3: You bastard, usually when one catches up he joins in the back
Pag 18
1: It's road racing theory!!
4: This guy doesn't know the theory?
5: 800m left until the sprint line!!
6: 1
Pag 19
1: 2
What's this- San-na, did this guy suddenly started counting
2: What's this
The sign for an attack?
3: 3
Pag 20
2: Alright, I recovered
5: Well then, I'll go
Pag 21
1: Ahead, yon
2: So it really was a sign for attacking!!
Who's that guy!!
#yowamushi pedal#yowapeda#yowamushi pedal translations#yowapeda manga#yowamushi pedal manga#yowamushi pedal spoilers#ride 774#and we're back finallyyyy#i hope watanabe is alright and last week's break wasnt because of health problems :/#anyway!! of i loved this chapter SO MUCH#Kiji Kyuui you cheeky bastard i love you#he arrives he crushes kabu and bashi's race-date he boasts and brags#and then he's like okay bye now you losers keep doing what you were doing imma go ahead#ANNOYING AF I LOVE HIM#hes annoying without even realizing it lmao i bet he doesnt realize it#'you must be so close!!" oh please they were having a moment and you interrupted them!!#btw it's so fckn funny to me that kabu and bashi simply decided to pair up against kiji lmao they got one look at him and were like#'nope we dont like this guy' afsgdasfd#im so sorry for them but also that was funny af#also i love bashi thinking 'this is basic road racing theory!! ah wait this guy probably doesnt know shit about theory ;A;'#kiji has no idea how road racing works and thats why hes so strong#he just does whatever he wants
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yknow i was a little miffed when yoimiya got her second story quest but i can't even be mad that cyno's getting his. he's been around since manga days he deserves it
#personal stuff#delete later#like good for him. also who is that. i know a playable design when i see one#like we are FINALLY GETTING PERMANENT HERMANUBIS LORE.#ARLECCHINOOO. OH MY GODDD#I CANNOT BELIEVE SCYTHE ARLE REAL. i avoided looking at leaks for so long and her animations are SO nice wtf#her WING???#OH MY GODDD??? SHE'S THE NEW WEEKLY BOSS???#SHE LOOKS SO FUCKING COOL. HER WINGS#HEY WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. FURINA OR NEUVILLETTE STORY QUEST 2 WHERE?#are they pushing stuff back. no dain quest last patch no archon or equivalent quest this patch :(#yes i am soo excited to see her lines about the other harbingers#still biting the bars of my cage why are there so many black white and red hyv characters coming out at the same time#STILL CANNOT BELIEVE WE'RE GOING TO REMURIA. RIPS AND TEARS#OH SHIT IT'S RELATED TO PETRICHOR. WE'RE GETTING THAT TOO.#wtf kitty event was foreshadowing. new talking cat#so we're not getting dornman port... :(#oh hey cool dvorak is coming back#new horn instrument!! it looks neat#ah. windtrace :/ i'm not one for co-op events i was hoping fr something else. good for you guys though#NATLAN CRUMBS WOOO#okay. overall looks like a neat update i'm looking forward to petrichor a lot. PLEASE say gourmet supremos. PLEASE.#i've been waiting so long to see them please let them come back...#also arlecchino looks cool as hell.#a little disappointed that no furina or neuvillette or dain quest but what can you do.#maybe we'll get a dain one next patch since we're getting remuria now? probably not but i can dream#checked the voice actors list under the trailer. oh hey we're seeing childe again
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if you’re in the rise fandom and see this:
go read “all the ashes in my wake” by @crows-murder right now.
(yes, that is an order, and yes, pun intended.)
this post serves as a fic rec, but mainly to let me gush about how much i love this fic without filling up the author’s inbox with a small dissertation (/joking).
for the fic rec part:
leo. cursed. ella enchanted type cursed.
if you have any interest at all in absolutely phenomenal angst, clever writing with a style that’s easy to follow and smooth as butter, on-point characterization and dynamics, and basically anything you could ever ask for of a rise fic,
go. read. this. fic. right. now.
(that said, i am now going to ramble about my specific thoughts concerning the fic and it’s plot, so. possible spoilers beyond this point?)
there have been a growing number of fics in this “sub-genre” of the rise fandom involving a character (generally leo) getting cursed, and then facing off against angsty odds that make you go, “oh. oh, shit.” (/positive)
these curses also tend to involve the phases of the moon in some way, which i think is a very fun and interesting trend
i’ve enjoyed all of the fics that i’ve read which fit into this, but this particular fic may be my favorite yet
it follows a simple formula, neatly tying the a plot (the curse stuff) and the b plot (leo’s conflict with leadership and the strain it’s putting on his relationships) into a neat little bow.
while the idea of leo getting “ella enchanted” is fun on its own, it’s doubly important to the plot and the characterization, as it forces him to have to fix one problem to address the other.
in the first chapter, the author constructs the roots to this, by contrasting leo’s wily, independent nature against the inevitable conflict that will stifle his attempts to act on it.
watching him brush his brothers off, make his own choices and go off on his own, builds this wonderful sense of tension. it hooks you — what’s going to happen when that string is cut?
it plays perfectly into the underlying conflict. leo needs to find a way to overcome his fears of leading the team, or else the rift between him and his team will only continue to widen.
so what does the narrative do? it forces him into a position where he is no longer gets to choose.
this incapacitation is a powerful tool, not only because of the external force of the curse, but also that it plays off of the weaknesses of his character.
this isn’t something that he can just handwave, or take care of on his own. it’s a situation where he needs to ask for help.
but this is leo we’re talking about. of course he isn’t going to go to his brothers about this, or even tell them! but by hiding it and trying to fix it himself, he ends up caught in a deadlock of his own making.
and since it doesn’t look like he’s going to get over himself very soon, it seems more likely that he’ll end up cornered in a very sticky situation indeed (something which i am very much looking forward to seeing, if that is the plan).
it’s genius! to fix his problems with the curse, he has to address his issues with his family first.
my attempts to sound smarter than i actually am aside (/lighthearted), i am so glad this fic is addressing the conflict between raph and leo. not only that, but in a way that feels true to their characters.
unlike other iterations of the tmnt, the roles here are reversed. it’s not the stolid abs responsible leader pitted against the broody loner who wants to be leader, but isn’t the right fit.
it’s rise!raph, who cares about his little brother and wants to support him, and rise!leo who, on some level, doubts his own ability in this new role on the team — to be anything more than “the face man.”
it’s not often where you come across a fic where the a plot and the b plot are equally engaging, but this is one of those rare cases where everything just works. it’s like i’m witnessing the first steps of some great machine, meticulously crafted, a hundred disparate parts working in tandem.
in the third chapter, the angst just works. the pay-off there feels so real, because you get it. you relate to this character. when raph is there, waiting up for him, you know shit’s about to go down. you can feel it.
if the necklace (and therefore the curse) acted as both a narrative device and catalyst, leo’s swords represent the other side of that: the last bit of freedom he has left in this godawful situation.
they’re the last bit of freedom, his only hope of escape. raph taking them (or, rather, leo being compelled to surrender them) has just glorious undertones in the narrative as a whole.
if you were to consider the katanas a representation of leo’s autonomy, it makes sense why him being forced to give them up hits that much harder.
not only is it a tense situation, where leo is fighting back but ultimately unable to overcome the curse, it cements this underlying feeling of helplessness the author has been seeding since the chapter previous.
now that we’re here, with both the a plot and b plot coming into direct confrontation with what leo wants, we recognize that leo cannot continue how he is.
sure, he’ll keep on fighting it (abs i am very much looking forward to seeing how that goes), but this is the point where we know, there is no escaping.
leo is now truly stuck. without his katanas, fubdibg the necklace to break the curse on his own is basically impossible.
and he recognizes this.
leo’s characterization throughout this fic has been some of the best in the business. he’s smart, witty, independent, calculating — probably one of, if not the best true-to-character representations of rise!leo thats i’ve seen so far.
(absolutely phenomenal job there, i cannot stress this point enough.)
in fact, all of the characters in this fic are so well-written? i’m already seeing roots for character development within casey sr. (which i am so here for, oh my gods you don’t even know), and you can’t help but be invested in all of these relationships
we’re constantly being reminded of the emotional conflict, how much of a strain it’s putting on the relationships, not just between raph and leo, but between all of them.
leo sees this, understands something has to change, but feels paralyzed by what that could mean. for him, and his family.
not to beat the metaphorical dead horse, but that scene after leo surrenders his katanas abs flees back to his room? damn. i felt that on a visceral level.
being so tired, so miserable, so helpless, when a part of you knows you’re being irrational, but having your own pride and fear get in the way of that?
not to project all over these characters or whatever, but fuck. it feels like this was written to call out me, specifically (/j /lh)
and urgh! the detail work in this is incredible!
maybe i’m just a slut for somewhat contrived narratives, and definitely contrived foreshadowing, but the way it’s done in this fic comes off as so clean and organized.
it’s like... weaving threads in a tapestry. you can see where the connect, though you’re not quite sure where they’re going, until you can step back abs look at the picture as a whole.
it genuinely feels masterful in some places, like, mother of god, leave some talent for the rest of us!! (/lighthearted)
i could probably keep talking about this forever, but i do have other responsibilities i should be taking care of, and i kind of want to reread the three chapters that are out (as of writing this) again.
who knows, maybe i’ll revisit this in the future, when i have a better basis and understanding of the underlying themes here.
for now, dear author (if you are, for some reason, reading this),i hope you don’t mind my pretentious and meandering thoughts and/or assumptions. you’ll probably see me again, gushing in your comment sections. yours is just the kind of fic that deserves to be gushed about.
#i wrote this all in about an hour with minimal edits#so that’s why it’s all over the place#hopefully it is still comprehensible lmao#i’m not kidding when i say i saw this fic abs it’s summary and literally *gasped* like??? holy shit!!#i put off reading it for when i had a little bit of time but i see now that was a mistake this fic deserves to be read#also i know i don’t usually do this kind of stuff (and should probably be focusing on my own writing whoops)#but i think it would be a crime to not rec this fic bc. i mean. what else can i say?#well a lot but i am physically stopping myself from going on about it and my personal theories about where this could go#if the author does see this: hi you are so cool wtf#why have i not read your stuff before.#ah well there’s always time to make up for it now#rottmnt#rottmnt analysis#idk if i can even technically classify it as that bc it’s like... fic analysis?#what level of turtle brainrot am i on again? /joking#rottmnt fan fiction#rottmnt fics#rottmnt fic recs#rottmmt fic rec#i probably got a ton of this wrong seeing as this is only the third chapter but like. i love this shit. let me live /lh /j
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i got a vision of hellebore impressing mhin by changing their car's tire
#kaiho taught him how to change tires and this whole time hellebore thought#“in this economy i'm never even gonna get a car why do i need to know this”#but in this wonderful roadtrip with mhin they step out the rented car and go “ah shit the tire broke :/”#and hellebore thought “MY TIME TO SHINE”#hellebore never looked as attractive as they were knees on the scorching road sweating like a pig changing that tire#meanwhile he's actually having the worst time of her life but whatever. at least mhin thinks they're cool now. she believes
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#holy shit i hate the fb groups so much#like do NOT tell people dont speculate as if its something bad#we're left with nothing but speculation#you wake up one day and they tell you good morning btw this person is gone anyway bye#and youre just supposed to say ah ok i see thay sucks#??#obviously the friends and family sre a priority and its way too early to tell the fans anything#but i hava the right to wonder why and how and like. why#it's a natural response to seek closure#and you have a bunch of people who are like oooohhh you can't speculate thats baaaad if friends and family want to share at some point they#will#like shut up dude#i dont claim we have a right to know about what happened because we really dont and this is truly up to the people close to him#and in the end if they want they can also lie#but we do have the right to wonder why something like this happened so suddenly wnd out of nowhere#ranting because i hate it when people tell you it's unethical to ask questions about something even if its just thinking out loud#as an emotional response#like how the fuck do you guys think I'll process this#with this dry and vague announcement#if it works for you great but for me it doesnt really#i know because its been 3h now and im still waiting for them to maybe say something more about it#logically its not going to happen so soon but still
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