Synopsis: Instead of dying, you are sent 13 years in the past, but this isn't your face. "Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"
Part two: Rewound Infinitely
Word Count: 18.1k
(Warnings: slight yandere, death, murder, inaccurate Tokyo geography, blood, violence, mild gore, obsession, unhealthy relationships, child abuse/neglect, time looping(?), fem!reader) Ageless blogs that try to follow me will be blocked
First, you saw a monster.
It was big and horrible—nasty teeth. You heard screaming. People. Running as fast as they could away from the creatures. Pain.
And then, you saw a bright, clear sky.
The sun was blaring down at you. It was so hot. Wasn't it December? How was the sun out at night?
"Hey, you good?"
A girl is looking at you. Short brown hair. A high schooler, judging by the uniform. How is she wearing all black when the weather is so hot?
When you don't respond, her eyes squint.
"Suguru, are you okay?"
That's not your name; your mouth moves faster than your brain.
"I-I'm fine." That wasn't your voice. It was deeper. More masculine. What the fuck happened to your voice?
The girl gives you another strange look but you're too busy freaking out over your new voice. Your hands are different too. A completely different skin tone, larger.
And then you're fumbling with your pockets, clothes you know you didn't buy. The girl is calling for you again but you're too busy pulling out a fucking flip-phone and looking into the black screen, the only thing you have for a mirror.
Purple eyes stare back. These aren't your eyes. This isn't your nose. This isn't your hair. This isn't your face. You blink. He does too. You open your mouth. So does he. You pinch your cheek. In the reflection, he winces.
Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone.
ⴵ
Ten minutes later, you conclude that your name is Geto Suguru, you are a 16-year-old boy, the year is 2006, and you attend a religious academy.
"You're finally acting normally again." The girl-newly discovered as Ieiri- says. "No more weirdness."
You don't blame her, considering you grabbed her by the shoulders, asking ridiculous questions like: what year is it, who am I, why am I here, who are you, am I dead, is this Hell, etc. For a teenage girl, she took your outburst well.
"Sorry," you say and by now you've gotten used to your voice, "it must have been the stress from studying."
She just hums, continuing to walk beside you. Though, Ieiri had a point. You were definitely calmer, and it was mostly because you figured it out.
You were dreaming.
You were lucid dreaming, to be more precise. Your brain was conjuring up a weird setting and you just happened to be placed in another person's body. You heard about this happening before. You were just so freaked out because this was the first time anything like this had happened to you.
An impulsive part of you wants to tell Ieiri that this is just a dream, but you've heard weird things happen after a lucid dreamer tries to break the illusion. It's best if you just let it just play out and see where this goes.
“Excited?”
“Hm?” You ask. And Shoko rolls her eyes.
“For the mission you have this evening. Special grade. Sounds scary.” She says, her sarcasm evident.
Mission? Special grade? You don’t know what those words mean but it sounds like a school field trip. Shoko takes your hesitance as something else.
“Ah,” she says, “so you forgot.”
“I didn’t.” You reply on instinct.
“I expected this from Satoru, not you. You should stop hanging out with him, he’s starting to rub off on you.”
You give a sheepish laugh, and it’s enough to quell her questions.
She leads you into the school, all through the winding halls and through an office door. You couldn’t be more grateful, it’s not like you would have known where to go. It’s a teachers room. Two people are already inside.
“Wait, for once, I’m early?” The boy with sunglasses asks, voice dripping with amusement. He’s leaning dangerously on a chair. You stare at him. You’ve never seen someone with white hair before. It can’t be real.
“He forgot.” Shoko pipes up and the boy cackles.
“That’s hilarious. I’m starting to rub off on you.” Ah, this must be Satoru.
You give a nervous smile. “Haha, yeah.”
The boy stops rocking in the chair. Three pairs of eyes look at you. Your uniform feels itchy.
“Gojo, stop making such a ruckus.” The man, presumably his teacher, gruffs. "You two got the briefing yesterday. Do your job and for the last time do not leave your assistant manager behind again."
Gojo groans, and you delve into more confusion. Before you can say anything, the kid is hopping out of his seat before lazily striding out the door. Shoko and the teacher look at you expectantly.
Oh, you were supposed to follow him.
Not wanting to make a scene, you catch up to Gojo. He's tall, his footsteps are long and wide. But you're tall now too, so it's easy to keep up with him. This new body of yours has a lot of pros.
"Yaga's so annoying," Gojo suddenly says, "constantly nagging us like that. It's not our fault the assistants can't keep up."
What should you say? You clear your throat.
"He just wants what's best for us."
Wrong answer.
"Where'd that come from?" He snorts. How charming. "I know you agree with me. You're just tryna' act like the nicer one, again. It's starting to get a little old."
Is that how 16 year-olds talk? Rude, but also strangely off-putting, like he can see straight through you. Or more accurately, he can see straight through Suguru. How close are these two, anyway?
Why did any of these questions even matter? This is a dream! You need to wake up already.
On the campus grounds, a sleek black car waits outside for you two. Along with a miffed man in a black suit. This must be a very rich school for a field trip to have a chauffeur. Where were you two going again?
Gojo hops in the back, taking one of the window seats. You take the other. In your own body, you would've fit nicely. But Suguru's legs are long, and the spacious car feels cramped. You should've taken the passenger seat. How do tall people live like this?
The ride is quiet. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Satoru type away on his flip phone. A moment later, yours beeps. You still have no idea how to use Suguru's phone or his password, so you ignore his message. Satoru groans.
Quickly, you learn that Satoru has a very low attention span. When looking out the window gets boring, he bugs the chauffeur. When the chauffeur ignores him, he starts bugging you.
"Hey heyyyy," Satoru says, "when this is all over, we should go to that new ice cream place. Like you said, we should."
You look at him. "Uh, sure." You say.
"And you should pay for it, 'cuz you said you owed me last time."
Fine, whatever. "Sure thing."
He grins. You can't see his glasses, and it makes his smile even more unnerving. This kid.
This doesn't feel like a normal field trip at all. Why did you stop in front of some rackety house that looked as though it were about to collapse? You turn back to the only adult in the vicinity, but he's out too. He takes out a lighter and a cigarette. In front of impressionable children, too. Wonderful.
"I'll wait out here." He says, though his tone is uncaring. "Since we're out in the country, there's no need for a veil. Do your best."
Veil? What? Gojo's already going off again and you've already decided to be his chaperone, so you follow. You reluctantly trail behind him. Feet crunch the leaves. The house grows bleaker and bleaker.
"Okay, I have a plan!" Gojo exclaims when he gets through the squeaky door. He's so loud, can't he be quieter? "I check upstairs and you check the ground floor and the basement. Got it?"
Check the house? Were he and Suguru electricians in training or something? That still wouldn't explain why a grown man decided to drop off two teenagers in front of a creepy mansion. And why in God's name did Gojo want to split up?
"I-I don't think that's a good idea," you say, "shouldn't we try to stick together?" Or, better yet, leave.
He clicks his tongue. "Ugh, you're so lame. Not like Suguru at all."
Wait, what did he say? You're about to call out to him when he climbs up the stairs, disappearing from view. Unbelievable.
This kid was starting to get on your nerves. Enough, you were leaving. You could have a nice dream where you met and fell in love with Zendaya, not babysitting some teenager, whilst possessing another person's body. You were going to wait outside with the man and hope your dream finally came to an end.
Except, you couldn't go outside. The door was gone.
It-it was right behind you, right? The entrance was right behind you. You couldn't have gotten turned around so quickly? What the hell happened? Or maybe you had gotten turned around? Considering how distracting that Gojo kid was, you might not have realized it.
You look around the house. Looks like it'd been abandoned for a while. There's dirt on the shelves. Chairs were toppled over and left to rot. The wooden floorboards dangerously creaked beneath you. Just what had happened here?
There's no patio door. No door leading to the outside. At the same time, you hadn't explored everything yet. Each door led to a room. The only door that didn't, led to a basement. And no, you weren't going down there.
When you got back to where you started, you noticed something had changed.
There was a person. Seated right at the base of the stairs?
Gojo? Was he done with urban exploring? Maybe he knew the way out. He stands up, reaching to his full height, then higher, then higher.
Gojo was tall, but this thing was taller. Gojo was human. This thing wasn't.
What the fuck you can only mouth because your voice is stuck in your throat when it takes a shaky step towards you. It's a black husk of a figure, too skinny but too tall and twitching fingers. You don't know how you could've mistaken this for the kid.
Another step. You're running, back into the house, leaping over the fallen shelves and creaky floorboards. It gives chase, and you can hear it groan behind you. It's deep and rumbly and terrifying. It just motivates you to go faster.
It's slower than you. That's good, but it seems to realize this. You can barely celebrate your advantage before something heavy is smashed into your back, sending you toppling to the floor. You and wooden chair crash on the ground.
It hurts.
Everything hurts.
Dreams aren't supposed to hurt. Because this wasn't a dream.
This was real. You were stuck in the year 2006, stuck in another person's body, about to get mauled by a monster.
You were going to die.
You aren't even fighting anymore. How pathetic is that? The shock numbs your body as the thing grows closer and closer, all you can do is reach your hands up, protecting your face.
And then the creature explodes.
An implosion. It's skin and bones twist in a way no one should. There's a shriek, something wrong and high and inhuman before it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place.
After all that, he's still smiling. Like the cat that just caught the mouse.
"I guess we're not pretending anymore, are we?" Gojo asks, stretching his arms. "That's good. That game was starting to get a little boring, anyways. Now, then."
He folds his glasses, tucking it on his uniform. Blue, his eyes are. As blue as a clear sky.
"Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you, and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"
ⴵ
Contrary to your belief, Gojo Satoru is a good listener.
There's never an interruption. Not even once. Every once in a while, he nods, a hand on his chin. It's probably because he can't interrupt. You just keep going on and on. Word vomit.
He only speaks when you pause to catch your breath. "So you are from the year 2017, and you went back in time to body-snatch someone. I had a feeling your technique had something to do with possession."
You look at him warily. "Wait, you knew this entire time?"
You two hadn't moved from your earlier spot. You were still sprawled on the floor, still feeling the adrenaline surge through you. Gojo had transitioned to squatting on the floor. He scratches his neck, still so casual.
"I have good eyes. Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Anyway, you seem pretty harmless, and as annoying as it is not having Suguru around, I doubt killing you would do any good." Why is he being so nonchalant about murder? Is this kid really sixteen?
"I think we gotta' just wait around until your technique reactivates." Gojo whistles. "2017. That's like a decade away. I wonder what happened for your technique to show up."
You blink, trying to remember the date.
"It was Christmas Eve..." You glance at him. "And then I was here."
He thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I got nothing." Of course.
He sighs, before sprawling on the dirty floor, belly up. You grimace at his antics but choose to keep your mouth shut.
He doesn't seem very worried. At the most, he looks mildly inconvenienced. Why isn't he worried about his friend?
When you ask him, he just snorts.
"Sorry, but you're not that scary. Besides, I don't have to worry about Suguru. He's strong."
Well, that's nice to know, but one other thing still bothers you.
"You speak so casually to me," you mutter, "You know I'm older than you, right? I'm 22."
He laughs. "22? Damn. You're old, man."
"That isn't old!" You argue. "You have no concept of age since you're just a teenager." And why did he assume you were a man? Oh right, you were trapped in a teenage boy’s body. Of course.
"I mean, technically, I'm older than you, right?" Gojo ponders with a grin. "If you're 22 in 2017, that makes you what—11 in 2006?"
You say nothing because you have a feeling that if you continue to argue with him, he'll just drag you down to his insanity.
"Technique, you've said that a couple of times." You look at him. "That's what you call your 'powers', right? Does Geto have one too?"
"Yeah," Gojo says, "but you can't use it. You have zero cursed energy. Honestly, it's at the same level as a plant. A bit lower than regular humans. It's a little impressive, actually." For one second, could he stop being so condescending?
"What's his technique?" You ignore his comments. "Could it be related to how I got here?"
He gives you a look over. "I doubt that, but Suguru's technique is curse manipulation. Uh, you remember that thing you saw earlier." You nod. "Yeah, he can control and absorb them."
He sounds pretty awesome. You look at your hands. Not your hands. Geto's hands. They're paler than yours, and a lot longer. This isn't your body. Your soul can feel it. You can feel the guilt too.
'I'd give it back if I could,' you think, 'I just don't know how.'
Gojo's getting up. He stretches. He was lying on the ground but you can't see a speck of dirt on his uniform.
"Okay, then. No use mopping around." He grins down at you. "Maybe Yaga can do something about you. Let's get you back to jujutsu tech."
You blink up at him. His hand is outstretched, reaching out to you. He's still grinning that insufferable grin but his eyes have slightly melted.
"Okay." You say, barely touching his fingertips. "Let's-"
And then Gojo's gone. And then, you're standing. And then it's cold.
You're wearing a coat; weren't you wearing a uniform before? There's no clear sky. It's nearly dusk.
You were standing on the sidewalk, where people bustled all around you. You fumble through your jackets, putting out a phone. An actual iphone. You flick on the screen.
December 24th, 2017, 7:06.
Holy shit, you were back.
Was it because you touched Gojo? That makes no sense, but how could you explain anything else that happened so far? God. You rake a hand through your hair. Your hand. Your hair. You can't believe how much you missed yourself. It felt so good to be back.
Your mind is spinning, you had no idea what the fuck just happened.
For now, you just wanted to turn your mind off and grab a drink.
You know there was a bar not too far from your location. Along the way, you pass by the bustling town. There's a couple walking side by side, giggling over something you couldn't hear. Right, it's the 24th. You remember your empty bed with no one to share it with, and you cement your desire to drown yourself in alcohol today.
Your self-pitying session is almost how you nearly miss him. His shoulder brushes past you. You're about to apologize when you hear his voice. It's familiar.
It used to be your voice.
It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. His broad back is the only thing you see, you're almost afraid to reach out to him.
"Suguru...?"
He halts in his tracks. When he turns around, it's like looking into a fractured past. He looks older, no longer a youthful teenager. You should have paid more attention to his eyes, how scrutinizing they were, how condescending his fake smile was. All that you could think of was that it was actually him.
"Do I know you?" He tilts his head. "Apologies, but my girls and I are quite busy."
You don't notice the two young ladies beside him until Geto points them out. Teenagers, maybe just around the age when you first met him. He was a father now.
You're so swept up by the emotions that you barely notice they've continued walking. You stumble behind, ducking behind the alleyway they went into.
"Wait! Geto!" You call. "Please! We need to talk!" You still needed your answers. You didn't know care how desperate you came off as.
In hindsight, you should have noticed that they looked more annoyed than worried about a stranger chasing them across the street.
The one with the ponytail scoffs. "This one talks an awful lot. How annoying."
Geto sighs. He leaves his daughters, finally standing in front of you. This is what you wanted, right? A chance to talk to him.
Still, you can't help but feel wrongness within you. His smile is off.
"Most monkeys are just that, unfortunately." You don't move. You can't. Not when he places a hand on your skull. "I suppose it'd be humane to put this one out of its misery."
Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die.
ⴵ
Again. You died again.
This is the second time Geto has killed you. Fuck, you should've realized.
"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks.
He and Suguru were sitting outside in the grass. Satoru's holding up a few playing cards. You look at Suguru's hands and find yourself doing the same.
Not again.
"What year is it?" You ask warily. "And what did you just call me?"
Gojo grins with teeth. You remember he compared you to a plant before, didn't he? He's so clever with nicknames; someone should give him an award.
"Welcome back to 2006!" Gojo beams. "It's only been a couple of days since you left. And why are you so grumpy? I'm the one who just lost a player."
You weren't grumpy, you were pissed. You figured out what's been going on with you, and it's all because of the asshole you're possessing right now.
The look on his face when he killed you. Like you were nothing more than an animal. A monkey. Now, you feel a lot less guilty about possessing his body.
At least you figured out two things. You know how your technique works. Whenever someone kills you, you are sent back in time to take over their body. But you can go back whenever you touch Gojo, or perhaps just another sorcerer.
Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories.
It didn't happen the first time you died. It must have been because the kill wasn't direct (from Getos curse, rather than himself), but milliseconds after Geto split your skull in two, your brain was overwhelmed by his past, his present, as well as his future.
Geto was set to die on December 24th, 2017. At the hands of his best friend, Gojo Satoru.
Fuck him. Let the bastard die. You didn't give a shit.
You reach over to touch Gojo's arm, ready to leave. He pulls back with a snicker. Ugh, the brat must've figured out your technique, too.
"Stop messing around." You tell him. "I need to go back to my timeline."
"Sure, sure," he says as though speaking to a time traveler is just another Tuesday. "But first, finish the game with me."
"No." You tell him before leaning out even further. He isn't moving away anymore, but you still can't reach him. Fuck, he must've activated his technique.
Despite your annoyance, you decide to keep the future away from Gojo's ears. He doesn't need to know that he'll be the one to kill Suguru. He shouldn't. Not at his age. He's just a kid.
"Just one game! I promise!" He pleads. "Then I'll let you go. Suguru never lets me beat him, I want an easy opponent to boost my ego."
You roll your eyes, but you settle down, picking up the cards. You already know the rules; you have Geto's memories, after all.
It's silent, save for Gojo's humming. When you place down your King of hearts, you ask:
"Hey, is my cursed energy different at all?" You ask.
"Not really." He squints. "Wait, it has grown a little. Aw, Greeny sprouted!"
So, every time you die, your cursed energy increases. That, or your cursed energy, increases every time you time travel. It doesn't matter either way. Does this mean you can use Geto's technique now? It couldn't hurt to try, right?
There's a demon-no, they're called curses you know that now- floating beside you, just a little ways away. Small. Barely fourth grade. You stick your hand out, calling out Geto's power. There's a pull, a rush of energy.
A blue ball drops into your hand.
"Holy shit." Gojo leans forward. "So you can use his techniques." Surprisingly, there's no wariness in his voice. Just awe.
"Yeah." You breathe before glancing up at him. "Shouldn't you be focused on your cards?"
He shrugs, tossing the cards away. "What cards?"
You sigh before staring at the ball. Well, you captured the curse. All that's left to do is swallow it, right? You can do that. You open your mouth. Gojo is still staring. You scowl.
"Look away."
He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen you do this before. Well, not you, the guy that you bodysnatched."
Ass, you keep that in your head as you hold your breath. You swallow the ball down.
Instantly, you choke.
It's horrible. Like a rotten carcass on the highway, oozing blood and oil and pus. You start dry-heaving, suffocating, spit dribbles down your chin. Nothing comes out. You've already absorbed it. The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. Like swallowing a rag that was used to wipe up vomit and shit. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested.
"Is it really that bad?" Gojo observes you. "That guy swallows them down, no problem."
Because Suguru was used to this taste. He was used to the responsibility. The hoarding mass of distraught absorbing a curse comes with. It was a disgusting art. Something he'd perfected to mask for years. Until he couldn't take it anymore.
Fuck, you might have lost your mind, too, if you kept having to eat this. To protect people who were happy you failed.
You snapped out of it. Suguru's memories were affecting your own. That's probably a sign that you need to get out of here. No way would you be sympathizing with someone so monstrous.
"Hopefully, I never do that again." You slowly recover, wiping your spit away with your hand. You lean back on your hands, exhausted.
"Something I've always wondered." You call out to Gojo. "What did Suguru ever think about someone possessing his body."
Gojo laughed. "Funny thing. He never knew."
"What?" You look at him. "No gaps in his memory? Nothing?"
"Nope," Gojo said, "he remembered what happened in the house, but he thinks he did everything. And then he said something weird."
You perk up at that. "What did he say?"
Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs.
"I forgot." Typical.
You pinch your nose bridge. "So, did you tell anyone else about...this?" You gesture to yourself.
"Wait, you're supposed to be a secret?" You look at him in alarm. "In my defense, I didn't know, but I haven't gotten the chance to tell anyone. After the mission, Suguru and I went to the arcade, and then I kinda' forgot about it."
Well, at least Gojo's arrogance works in your favor sometimes. You can't let anyone know, especially anyone connected to the higher-ups. From Geto's memories, you know they don't like anything new. It's best to stay under their radar.
"Good, well, from now on, we're keeping it a secret. Got it?"
"What are you two keeping a secret?" A new voice pops up. You jump.
You know him—at least from Geto's memories. Haibara beams at you. He looks so alive in the sunlight, smiling and with bright eyes.
He'll be dead within a year or so.
Gojo takes advantage of your shock. "The bodysnatcher wants me to promise that I won't tell anyone that a curse-user is possessing Suguru's body."
"What the hell? You just promised that you wouldn't tell anyone!"
"Uh, technically, I didn't promise anything yet." Gojo retaliates. "But okay, fiiiiine. I won't tell anyone....except for Haibara." You groan.
"What's going on?" Haibara's smile fades. "Wait, Gojo, is this not Geto? Is this person actually a curse-user!?"
"I'm not a curse-user." You correct. "I'm not a sorcerer either, for the record."
"You just used a curse technique to travel back in time to take over someone's body." Gojo enunciates. "Sounds like a sorcerer to me."
"Wait, you're a time-traveler, Mr. Not-Geto?" Haibara asks and you are genuinely impressed he's able to keep up.
"The name’s Greeny, Haibara." Gojo supplements. Haibara nods, still a bit unsure.
"So...do we fight Greeny?"
"It's not my name." You get ignored.
"Nah, it's all good. Greeny's harmless. Just a weakling, don’t worry about it." Rude, but you don’t think you’d want Gojo to take you as much of a threat, not after knowing what he can do.
"Oh, okay!" Haibara instantly relaxes. The kid's really trusting, huh?
"Okay, fine, but no one else can know, got it, Gojo?" This promise doesn't matter. It's not like you're planning on returning to the past anytime soon. As soon as you return to the present, you are leaving Tokyo and escaping the night parade of 100 demons. Fuck that. You don't want to die again.
He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."
He's so insufferable. You don't know who's worse: the genocidal maniac or this brat.
"Give me your hand. I want to go home."
Haibara looks confused. "Wait, why does Greeny need your hand?"
"It's how the curse technique works," Gojo explains. "Greeny gets sent back in time, and then my true-love's touch sends him careening forward into the future." You frown at his comment, but he turns to you before you can say anything.
"Which reminds me, Greeny: ever figure out how your technique works?"
No way are you telling a kid that their best friend killed you....twice. Instead, you just shrug.
"Haven't figured it out yet."
Gojo stares at you. "Huh." He responds. "Well, if you ever figure it out, lemme' know."
Sure you will. You hold up your hand. Gojo, finally holds his own up. Out of the corner of your eye, Haibara waves. And then you're back in your own body, on December 24th, 2017, 7:06 pm.
You waste no time. You push at the crowd, squeezing through the hoards of people. You need to get out. You need to leave before the death parade starts, before you're trapped in that terrifying cycle of death again.
You need to leave.
Exorcised. Ingested.
No no no. Shut up. This wasn't you. This was Geto's memories.
Exorcised. Ingested.
You need to leave.
Exorcised. Ingested.
You need to survive.
The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows.
You stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. People glare, cursing as they move around you. They don't know this place will be a bloodbath in a matter of minutes. They'd all die. But you could stop it.
If only if you hadn't accessed Geto's memories. If only if you hadn't eaten that damn curse. If only if you hadn't sympathized with a murderer. Maybe you'd have the courage to escape your future.
But you'd felt that taste. Horrible. If you eat enough, you could go insane. If you were lonely enough, that would do it too.
The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. No one except for you.
At 8:06 the screams start. The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.
ⴵ
For once, when you open your eyes, Gojo isn’t there with you.
You’re still on the campus of Jujutsu tech. Suguru was just about to grab his soda from the vending machine. You finish his job. The can feels cold. It feels refreshing on your tongue. It’s a momentary distraction to the fact that you have no clue what you’re doing.
You understand your cursed technique, but you still struggle with the application. Fuck, what did you do? You were utterly fucked. You’re playing a dangerous game. If you died- if Geto died- here, what would even happen?
The worst part is that you can’t even think of the hypothetical because there’s no other choice. You needed to do this. To not only save the people in Tokyo from the Night Parade, but to also save Geto Suguru. The man who has killed you three times now.
Geto’s dissent starts to worsen at Riko Amanai’s death. If you could prevent that from happening, you could probably change history. But Geto’s true fracture begins with the curses themselves. They were rotting him from the inside.
You grimace, but you have to do it. You have to eat every single curse that Geto couldn’t swallow down himself.
One was coming up. In less than an hour, Yaga will call you and Gojo for a mission. It’ll be a special-grade grave-type curse. Dispatching it will be simple, but Geto would be the one to exorcise it, ingesting the screams of all that the curse devoured. You needed to prepare yourself for that.
Maybe you should save some of this soda to wash the taste off later.
“Geto!” Someone cheers, you jump, but Haibara’s already poking his head around the wall. He grins.
“Hey! Oh, you’re not Geto, aren’t you?” He tilts his head. “Greeny?”
“Keep your voice down,” you whisper, “wait, you can recognize me?”
He nods, after checking to make sure no one’s around, he says, “yeah, your eyes are different? It’s hard to explain.” He tells you.
Huh. Interesting.
“You’ve been gone a while.” Haibara beams. “It’s been a few weeks. I’m glad you’re back, Gojo was starting to get cranky.”
It’s probably because he had no one to mess with. Poor him. He has all your sympathies. Ass.
“I’m glad to return as his punching back.” You mutter.
Haibara shyly shuffles his feet.
“So, are you really from the future?” He asks. “Was Gojo telling the truth?”
You nod. “Haibara, you haven’t told anyone, right?”
“Of course not!” He instantly says. “Not a soul. Not even Nanami, and I tell him everything! Your secret’s safe with me.”
“And Gojo, too! I know he doesn’t look very trustworthy, but me and him have kept it under wraps.”
Reluctantly, you can’t help but agree with the kid. Gojo is annoying, but so far, he hasn’t done anything super harmful.
“So anyway, Greeny.” He clears his throat. “Considering you’re from the future and all. Would you mind telling me what my future will be like?”
You blink at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. “Nothing much! I just wanna know what I’ll be doing in 2017. Will I finally be a grade 1 sorcerer?”
You think of Geto’s final memories of Haibara. A child burying another child.
“Sorry,” you lie through your teeth, “but I didn’t know you in my future. Again, I’m not really a sorcerer.”
Haibara nods, disappointed but still very excitable. He asks you about other things about the future, and you try to answer to the best of your ability, but you can’t shake off his dead glass eyes, staring at you from the morgue.
“Another thing, we should have a code word.” Haibara exclaims.
You blink. “A code word?”
“If we ever meet in the future,” he explains, “y’know, in 'Groundhog’s day', he has to keep explaining what’s happening repeatedly? In order to prevent that, we should have a secret word between eachother so I instantly know who you are.”
Not the same exact situation, but it sounds like exactly something a child would come up with. You indulge him anyway.
“Okay, what did you have in mind?”
“Well, it can’t be anything too crazy, or we might attract unwanted attention.” Haibara puts a hand on his chin in serious thought. You smile.
“Got it! If you ever see me, just yell ‘brocolli head’ really really loudly. Then I’ll know.” Haibara chirps.
“Wait, why broccoli head?”
“Because broccoli heads are green!” Haibara chirps happily.
You’re starting to learn it’s best not to question his logic.
You nod, very amused. “Sure thing, Haibara.”
Someone calls out his name. He jumps before he waves to you. You watch as he joins with Nanami. They talk about something you can’t hear. Haibara laughs and you decide it would be a shame if his laugh was lost to death.
Gojo finds you eventually. You can’t hide from him forever. You were walking into the school when he caught up with you. He’d ran there. His breath was slightly ragged.
“Greeny, couldn’t get enough last time, huh?” You shoot him a look.
“What are you talking about? Doesn’t matter, we need to go, the missions coming up.”
Gojo’s smile dips ever so slightly. “How’d you know about that?”
It’s probably not a good idea to tell the guy's best friend that you’re possessing that you’ve unlocked his memories.
“Haibara told me.”
“Ah,” He replies, “let’s go then.”
The car ride is different this time around. Less tension. You aren’t as confused. Gojo is seated quietly beside you, watching the scenery go by. The assistant is too preoccupied with belting the radio to notice Gojo's words.
“Figured it out yet?” He asks. “Your technique.”
He's persistent about that answer, isn't he? You're sure the only reason Gojo cooperates with you is because he thinks you're inhabiting Suguru's on accident. How would he react if he knew you were doing it intentionally? It's best not to get on the strongests’ bad side.
“Oh, not really, but I think it’s random. I can’t seem to find a set pattern. Maybe Suguru calls out to me, somehow?”
“Maybe.” Gojo replies. His time is flat. Anxiety flips through your stomach.
“You’re different this time around,” Gojo says.
“Am I?” You ask. “I guess I’m just more determined today.”
He gives you a look over. "Oh yeah? What for?"
"The curse. I'll exorcise it, today."
You don't know how you wanted Gojo to react to that, but you're still disappointed when he turns back to the window.
"Do whatever, Greeny."
In the end, you do swallow the curse. You manage to hold your gags in this time.
It's worse than before. It makes sense. This curse was first-grade. Stronger. In terms of taste, it was like curdled blood and mold. You were so grateful for that soda.
Gojo only watches with a tilted head.
"You're getting better at that."
You give a weak grin.
"Practice makes perfect," you reply, "do you think I'll get strong enough to absorb a special grade soon?"
He doesn't like your question. You can see it in his stiff expression.
"Maybe. Why do you want to swallow up curses, anyway? Last time you were here, you were practically begging to go back."
His response wasn't exactly hostile but far from his usual playful attitude. You knew you'd have to confront this eventually. Despite how nonchalant he acted, it's clear Satrou doesn't enjoy watching someone prance around in his friend's body like this. If he starts to dislike you, it could rupture your entire plan. You need his cooperation, more than anything, to save Suguru.
A little bit of the truth. Just a bit. It can't hurt, can it?
"Curses taste horrible," you say, looking at the ground. You can still taste the remnants of it, "it's the worst thing in the world. I can't even explain how wrong it feels to eat one. I thought...while I'm in his body...I could maybe help Suguru a little. I could ingest the curses in his stead, so that way, he still gets to absorb it." But it'll lessen the trauma it has on his mental state.
You can't see how Gojo feels about that. Those glasses of his cover everything. But you know he's staring at you. The six eyes are taking you apart, observing you whole.
"Did you know Suguru in the future?" He asks.
"I didn't." The man that killed you. The man that will keep killing you. And you'd forgive him each time.
Another beat of silence.
Finally, he just sighs. "You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?"
You give a sheepish laugh.
"That isn't a compliment, by the way. You're just really reckless. And maybe stupid, Greeny." His tone isn't mean.
"My name still isn't Greeny." You tell him.
"Oh yeah, what's your name, then?" He's reverted back to that teasing lilt, and it almost makes you relax if you don't note the curiosity underneath.
So far, you've been lax giving away information regarding the future, but you don't think you should continue that. What if you're too careless and the future changes in a way you didn't intend? A name, personal information, that could be way too dangerous.
"Actually, just call me Greeny. I like that name a lot better."
"You complained about it all the time, though?" Gojo argues.
"It's starting to grow on me." You grin. "Grow? Get it, because you compared me to a plant and-"
"Stop stop, you really are an old man." Gojo groans. You just grin wider. Then, you grimace.
“I can still taste it.” You complain. “I’d kill for a cigarette right now.”
“I caught our assistant manager smoking a while back,” Satoru suggests. “Maybe you could go and beg him for one.”
You toss him a look. “Suguru doesn’t smoke, and I’m not giving a teenager a nicotine addiction.” You have found lighters inside Suguru’s pockets, but you have a feeling it isn’t for his own cravings.
"Hey, could you do me a favor?"
He gives a wordless hum.
"Maybe after this, could you take Suguru out to a cafe'? I can taste the aftertaste of the curse." You shudder. "Just get him something to wash it down."
Also, Suguru couldn't go back to his dorm after this. Suguru dissented because of his fractured relationship with everyone, not just with Satoru. You'd try to bridge the gap between him and his peers as much as you can. You go through Suguru's flip phone, asking Shoko if she wants to join the two.
When you're done with that, you snap the phone closed.
"Okay, I'm done here. You two have fun, okay?" You raise your hand.
Gojo just huffs, amused. "Sure sure. By the way, someone wanted to thank you."
You blink at that. "What?"
He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."
He gives you a high-five, and then you're back in 2017 in your own body.
Temporarily. So far you figured out that you get sent back an hour before the night parade happens. 8:06. Considering you have a couple more minutes to kill before you’re killed, you reach into your pocket for that cigarette you’ve been craving. You pick the first out of the box, cherry burns just out of corner of your eye.
You notice things now. The children giggled to their parents. Old couples gingerly held hands with sweet smiles. You'd save them, but first, you need to save Suguru.
And do really do that, you'd have to save Riko.
Easier said than done. You could go back in time, but you can't really control when to go back in time. It's been random, but your trips are typically two days away from each other. You can work with that.
But in order to get to Riko's death, you'd have to die...a lot. Absorbing curses made Suguru lose his mind, but how well would you fare with dying over and over again?
"Hungry?"
Someone looms over you. A woman. She's pretty, with short hair and bangs. In her hand, she holds a bag of chips.
"The vending machine gave me an extra." She gives a laugh. She kind of sounds like you. "Would you like one?"
"Oh." You take it. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it." She trots off into the crowd. You watch her.
A stranger's act of kindness. She didn't even know what would happen to her soon. You grip the bag, it crinkles in your grasp.
It didn't matter how well you'd fare with dying over and over again. You'd get over it. So many innocent people depended on you. You can't just abandon them like this.
You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right? It's aggravating how accurate he is, honestly.
The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru.
ⴵ
It takes a few cycles to finally reach the day Amanai Riko is assassinated. Whenever you deem yourself too early, you often accompany Gojo on a mission and exorcise a special-grade curse. Your overall plan is working, bit by bit. Each time you return, Suguru's memories swarm you. Each curse he remembers as less painful.
It's why you get worried when you get there a little too late.
"Something wrong?" Riko asks.
You've stopped in the middle of the hallway, and of course, they're looking at you strangely. You know this place. Tengen's barrier is just an elevator ride away. Suguru, Riko, and Miss Kuroi were all almost there.
Fushiguro Toji has already arrived.
In the first timeline, Geto leads the girls all the way down to Tengen's barrier. He puts his trust in Gojo. Of course, he would. They're the strongest. And in the end, Gojo does kill Toji.
But the kill comes too late. Riko still dies, and the fracturing happens.
You thought you'd have more time. If you had arrived a bit earlier, you could have fought with Gojo, and the chances of defeating Toji would have significantly increased.
What do you do?
"What's the matter?" Miss Kuroi asks. She's supposed to die today, too.
"Sorry, ladies." You smile. "But I need to go back for him."
You don't answer their calls, running back up the hallway. The sun's bright, shimmering beautifully in the sky.
It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor.
Gojo's lifeless body is draped across the rubble. It's a horrifying sight. Eyes that were once like the sky are just this empty blue. A dead sea. He isn't breathing. You know, if you touched his wrist, you wouldn't feel a heartbeat.
"Hate to break it to ya', but the Gojo kid's dead." Toji's right behind you. You can feel him grinning.
You know Gojo isn't dead. At least, he won't be dead for a while, but seeing the boy who used to tease you, annoy the shit out of you, laugh at you, be so....it made you freeze. Falter.
You were wasting time.
"Sorceror killer." You say after a minute. You almost can't bring yourself to turn, to look at him. The man who kills Gojo. The man who could've killed Suguru, but chose not to. "You certainly live up to your name."
Toji's grin widens. The only man in the world with zero cursed energy. It'd be awe-inspiring if it weren't so terrifying.
It's funny. You weren't afraid of dying, not anymore. You were afraid of failing. Failing when you were so close, when victory was just a blink away.
"The flyheads." You mention to the swarms of curses all around you. "That's really smart." It gives you an idea or two.
You have Suguru's memories, but they aren't always concrete. You just have snippets. A general idea of what happened within a certain event. It makes sense. Humans can't remember everything.
But regarding the memories of Suguru and Fushiguro, everything is crystal clear. It's almost like you were there when it happened.
It also means that you know Suguru, at this current level, won't be able to defeat Fushiguro.
But Suguru doesn't need to beat the sorcerer killer; he just needs to hold him off.
Currently, Suguru's body contains 368 curses: 3 special grades, 24 grade ones, 33 grade twos, 103 grade threes, and 205 fourth grades.
You release all 368 of them.
In another timeline, these curses would look to you as something to devour. Today, these curses have a new target.
It won't stop Fushiguro. You're not dumb enough to think that. But it should give you time. Hopefully, it'll be enough time.
Your knees hurt when you collapse next to the corpse. Gojo's so beautiful, even when he's dead.
"Gojo." You shake him. Nothing happens. "You need to wake up. Gojo."
Nothing happens. You don't know what caused Gojo to become the strongest, Suguru wasn't there. For once, you are blind to the past.
"Riko needs you. Wake up. You-you need to go and save her and Miss Kuroi."
His body's so cold, and you know he's dead because when you touch his skin, you don't wake up in the present. You push against his body, and he falls limply right back to place. You're sure this sight will haunt you for the rest of your life.
"Satoru." You beg. "It's Greeny. Please, please, please wake up."
Nothing happens.
Everything happens.
The brightest blue you've ever seen. It's heavenly. A glow that warms and chills your skin. It takes a while for you to see again. When you do, Satoru is standing.
Somehow, his eyes are even brighter. You don't think you're looking at a teenage boy anymore.
You're sitting in front of God.
"Greeny." he states, voice flat. "You're late."
You manage to smile.
"Sorry."
You’ve seen Satoru fight before. He’s always calm, body relaxed as he practically floats in the air. Those fights differed from Suguru’s memories—post Satoru’s awakening. There’s always this twinge of desperation. An aftertaste of bloodlust.
But seeing it for yourself is something else entirely. Even with Suguru’s heightened senses, you still can’t follow him. He’s barely a mirage. One milisecond you can see a blue flash, the next you see nothing.
It's barely a fight. Not this time around. Fushiguro is completely unmatched. There's a flash of purple. And then, it's over.
Fushiguro is in shambles. You didn't realize he was human until he started to bleed and shatter. Parentage over labor. It's sobering, in a way.
Satoru's mouth moves. You're too far away to hear anything. They stand there for a few more seconds until Fushiguro slumps. Then, he falls.
You wonder when you got so desensitized to death.
Gojo stands there. You should let him compress, but the clock is ticking. You need to do one more thing before you can let Suguru go.
"You need to go." You say when you're close to him. He doesn't acknowledge you. "Riko's about to enter Tengen's barrier."
He looks at you right then. His eyes. They're so bright, but they're strangely lifeless. Like he can't process you, your words.
"I can see you now," he says, "it was so foggy before, but now, you're crystal clear."
Six eyes look at you. You don't think you're hiding behind Suguru's face anymore.
You clear your throat.
"Gojo." You remind him. "Riko. You need to stop her."
He blinks back into focus, rising from his high.
"Oh," he says after a moment, "right."
You stop him before he can walk any further. You hold out your hand.
"You and Suguru."
For the first time in a while, Gojo hesitates to send you back. You wait a couple seconds longer.
"Yeah," he finally says.
His skin still feels cold.
ⴵ
This death is a lot more painful than the others.
The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die.
You forgive Suguru.
ⴵ
Time skips a lot faster now.
You stand in 2006, four months after the death of Fushiguro Toji. It takes a second for Geto's memories to kick in. What you see makes you nearly cry in relief.
Gojo and Geto made it in time. You can still remember the tears spilling down Riko's cheeks, the smile on her face when Geto asked her if she wanted to go back. They were safe. They were home, with each other.
You did it. You actually managed to pull it off.
But you can't celebrate, not yet. From what you can gather from Suguru's memories, Geto defects after four years. You've just held off the eventual.
It's nearly the middle of December. The air feels a bit chillier. You stay on that bench where Suguru once occupied. He was finishing his lunch. Usually, he'd eat with Satoru, but Satoru wasn't on campus these days.
Right, you weren't finished with your work, yet. There was still one other issue. Suguru went on missions alone these days. Swallowing curses, letting them fester and rot in his body. It's isolating and grueling work. You might have been able to help him with the absorption, but your aide won't be enough to prevent his eventual downfall.
You'll have to deal with his natural isolation. To do that, Suguru will have to make friends with people who aren't Satoru.
Suguru does have friends, but he's the closest to Satoru. Considering Satoru is getting busier each passing day, Suguru needs to broaden his horizons a bit.
It's a good thing this school is filled with such colorful characters.
Haibara and Nanami were sitting in the back of the school. From Geto's memories, their dynamic was interesting. Haibara was definitely more outgoing than the two, but Nanami seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. They looked out for each other, in that way.
Ah, Shoko was there, too. You haven't seen her since your first day. Her hair's grown longer. It lightly brushes her shoulders now. The cigarette in her hand burns a cherry red.
Your reaction is rooted in Suguru's instinct than anything on your part. You reach out, taking the cigarette and stomping on the embers.
"You shouldn't smoke in front of kids." You tell her, hoping she didn't read too much into your action.
Shoko scoffs, but to your satisfaction, she doesn't take out another one.
"We're just one year below you." Nanami retaliates, but he looks more at ease now that the cigarette's out.
"Did you finish lunch already, Geto?" Haibara asks kindly, then he takes a closer look. "Greeny?"
You suck air through your teeth, giving Haibara a scathing look. Instead of looking exasperated, Nanami looks confused.
"What's Greeny?" Nanami asks, and Haibara weakly laughs.
"It's-uh-my new nickname for the tree that's growing over there!" He wildly points to something just behind you. "'Cuz it's so...green!"
"Of course." You note the hint of affection laced within his tone.
"When'd you get back?" Haibara recovers with eagerness.
"Recently." You grin. "Nice to see you again."
"You saw him this morning," Nanami interjects, and you shrug. When he frowns, you know you pulled off a perfect Suguru impression.
Suguru melds into the conversation perfectly. Haibara says something funny, Shoko and Suguru agree, Nanami disagrees. It's a lovely little cycle that ends when Nanami grumbles and picks himself up to go. Shoko starts to follow suit when you stop her.
"Your hair's nice." You tell her.
She hums, grabbing a strand to study it. You can see hints of dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She looked livelier when you first met her. Curses have been popping up left and right since Fushiguro's death. Everyone is overworked, but Shoko looks like she's getting the brunt of it. She's one of the only people who can use RCT on others, and there aren't many healers on her level. All of the strongests share one thing in common it seems.
"Pretty soon, it'll be longer than yours," Shoko replies. You smile in response.
"Where are you going?" You ask.
"Dorm," she replies, "I'm behind on paperwork."
You had a feeling she always was. You gave a look of sympathy, but misery loves company.
"I have some work too," You 'remember' the piles of papers lodged on Suguru's desk, "Maybe we can do it together later. The cafe right next to campus? It'll be my treat."
She looks at Suguru. Her eyes are a pretty color.
"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then."
You feel your heart thump twice in your chest and decide that your work here is done.
Haibara stares at Shoko's disappearing back. The forehead flick comes from both you and Suguru.
"That hurt." Haibara whines.
Good, you inwardly think.
"Sorry." You tell him. He rubs his head, and you wonder if this is how kicking a puppy feels like.
Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly.
"You've been gone for a while." Haibara tilts his head. "What happened?"
You can't exactly control your technique, it's more like it has a mind of its own, placing you exactly where you need to be placed. Instead of answering, you sigh, leaning against the wall.
"Timeline gimmicks." You tell him tiredly. "It's hard to explain." He frowns, but he takes it as an answer.
"Do you know when Gojo's coming back?" You ask. "I think it's time for me to go back again."
In previous time travels, you and Haibara tried to see if any physical contact would be enough to send you back. No matter how many times you two high-fived, shook hands, or even held hands. Nothing worked. Only Gojo Satoru could activate your technique. It must have something to do with the amount of cursed energy another person has.
“He should be getting back later this evening.” Haibara muses. “But I’ll be happy to keep you company!”
It's nice to hear him chatter. If you'd let him, he'd go one and one. But you like hearing him talk about his sister. Apparently, she’s also a sorcerer, and his affection for her makes you smile.
"You remind me a lot of her, actually." He tells you. "Even though, y'know, you're a man." It's enough to get a laugh out of you.
“Do you have anyone in your family who can see curses?” Haibaracasks.
“No,” you answer honestly, “at least, not that I can tell. My dad never spoke of curses or strange powers when I was growing up.”
You think he would have said something; after all, you two were too close to have secrets from each other. Your father was a single man, who took to raising you himself after your mother passed away. He often said you had her laugh.
“Maybe you’re one of a kind,” Haibara suggests.
You agree with him.
Gojo finds you before you can find him. He comes up to you with a grin and a wave.
“Hey, long time.”
His sunglasses are tilted down. You can see his eyes. They’ve lost the mania he had in his fight with Fushiguro. You’re relieved at that. You still can’t shake off that strange thing he said to you.
Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.
“You wanna leave so soon? You just got here.”
“I’ve been here for hours,” you tell him, “also, you aren’t very concerned that someone is using your best friend’s body as a puppet.”
“He’s been through worse,” Satoru tells you off with a wave. Some friend.
“Let’s go to the arcade,” he suggests.
“Do that with Suguru.” You tell him. “I’m not hanging out with a high schooler.”
“Right right, my bad. I keep forgetting you’re an old man, Greeny.”
“22 is not old,” you say with exasperation, “didn’t your birthday just pass? You’re just five years away. I’ll see your attitude change, then.”
He grows quiet. You feel like you messed up somewhere.
“How did you know about my birthday?”
Fuck, you keep forgetting about keeping Suguru’s memories a secret. It takes everything within you to just relax.
“Haibara told me,” you say, “blabbermouth. You know him.”
“Oh.” Gojo replies. “Huh.”
You shuffle your feet. Distantly, you wonder what shoe size Suguru wears.
“How did your mission go?”
“Horrible,” he’s instantly back to his usual self, whiny and complaint, “and the curse was so ugly too. It was oozing goo everywhere.”
You frown. “Sounds gross. But you won, right?”
He doesn’t even answer. You secretly admire his sheer confidence. You certainly weren’t that when you were at his age.
“How’s Amanai and Miss Kuroi?” You ask.
“Safe.” He tells you. “The higher-ups weren’t really happy with us after that; pretty sure all these sudden missions are punishments.” He frowns. “But they’re fine. Miss Kuroi officially adopted her, so she’s a Kuroi now, too.”
You smiled. You already knew all that, but it’s nice to hear it.
“You saved them,” he says.
You laugh, “I didn’t do a thing.” You tell him. “You and Suguru did all the heavy lifting. I just caused some property damage.”
“You did.” He replies. “I don’t know how, but things always manage to work out whenever you’re around.”
You don’t like how he phrases that, but you don’t react.
“You think so? Maybe I’m lucky.” It’s supposed to be a joke of some kind. Neither of you laugh.
“You really don’t know us in the future?” He asks.
Maybe you should’ve asked Shoko if you could have a cigarette.
“I really didn't,” you say, “Honest, I—I have no idea what’s happening. I’m just as lost as you. Hopefully, I can figure out how to control my technique, and you won’t have to see me again.”
You never stopped feeling guilty for doing this to Suguru. Controlling him. Forcing him to laugh with his friends, make decisions based on your feelings rather than his. But you’re so close. You promise yourself that once you fix everything, you’ll never cause someone this much pain again. No matter how many times they kill you.
Satoru’s fists tighten. He looks even more upset at your response.
“That’s not what I—” He cuts himself off. You wait. Satoru says nothing more.
“You’re annoying.” He tells you in the end. It’s clean and cut, but it sounds like him. More confident, less wavery. “And stupid too.”
You can’t help but smile.
“Thank you. Am I done entertaining you now? Can I go?” He grumbles, holding up his hand.
“Yeah, sure, Greeny.”
ⴵ
You forgive Suguru.
ⴵ
Something’s wrong.
You can feel it. Something’s wrong.
You look through Geto’s memories. There’s nothing. Everything’s going as it should be. Everything looks perfect. Then, why do you feel so wrong?
Currently, Suguru was finishing excorcising a curse. You absorb it, swallowing down the remnant like it’s a pile of rusted nails but even the disgusting taste isn’t enough to wash away the feeling of dread.
The walls of the hospital was empty. The auxillary managers had already cleared everyone out by the time Suguru had walked in. Maybe it was the silence that added to your stress?
You walk out. Nothing changes. One of the managers comes up to you with a clipboard.
“The curse was exorcised.” Suguru tells them. “It wasn’t first grade, it was special grade. It was still disposed of.”
He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.
“The wrong information again.” He hisses to himself. “If we keep doing this, someone will die. We need more people, we’re way too stretched out.”
Those words are familiar. Hold on.
“Wait, what day is it?” You ask the frazzled-looking manager.
Offhandedly, he responds. He says the date so casually, and yet his mere words feel like a bear trap, tightening on your leg.
No. You should have had more time. Why weren’t you given more time?
Nanami and Haibara have probably already been dispatched. You go through Suguru’s phone, finding Haibara’s contact. It doesn’t go through. Nanami doesn’t pick up either.
You won’t make it in time. Even using Suguru’s curses, you won’t be able to reach them until it’s too late. Suguru’s memory of that day is muddled and dark, but Haibara’s dead corpse laying on the examination table. The pieces of him that Nanami could bring back.
You wouldn’t be fast enough.
He picks up on the second ring.
“...What’s up?”
“It’s Haibara.” You spit the words out as fast as you can. “Satoru, you need to go and get him right now, he isn’t going to make it—”
“—Greeny?” The exhaustion in Gojo’s voice is gone. You can hear something rustle behind him.
“Satoru, listen to me.” You beg. “Haibara and Nanami were just dispatched on a mission, but Yu isn’t going to survive it. It wasn’t a second-grade curse; it was a first grade. Please, you have to go and save him before it kills him.”
It’s silent. It feels like hours have passed when you know it’s just three seconds.
“We’ll talk later, Greeny.” The line clicks.
You’ve lost the trust of the strongest.
ⴵ
The future has changed when you get to campus. Haibara’s status is still alive. Barely. But he’s still there. Shoko’s currently taking care of him.
Nanami remains quiet the entire time since he returned with Haibara’s battered body. The only thing you can think of to offer comfort is to pat his shoulder. He barely even registers it. It’s more for you than for him. You’re self-soothing, taking care of something else, so you don’t have to recognize your own panic.
If Haibara dies, right here, on this day, everything can change. Everything can go back to the way it was in your original timeline. Haibara, with his sunshine, smiles, and bright eyes. His death is so important, and you can’t even think of him right now.
Gojo Satoru knows you’ve been deceiving him.
This is bad. So very bad. If he starts to suspect that you know more than you let on, he might deem you enough of a threat to kill, regardless of whether or not you’re in Suguru’s body. It’s not like that hasn’t stopped him before.
Gojo Satoru is selfless. He’s selfless enough to kill his best friend, if he thinks it will save everyone.
But if Gojo kills Geto here and now, would that really be bad?
You’d lose your path to the past, but the threat to your life would be over. Even if you did die in Suguru’s body, at least the people of Tokyo will be spared the Death Parade. You’ll still get what you want. And it will be much easier than your current plan.
Nanami shuffles behind you and you instantly snap out of it. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you. That same lack of apathy when Fushiguro died in front of you.
It seems like dying over and over again caused you to lose bits of your humanity.
Shoko comes out. Nanami stands up, a tall ball of nervous energy. Shoko removes her mask. Her dark circles have grown even more prominent. She’s only 17.
“He’s still alive.” Nanami sags. “But he isn’t responsive. I’ve done all that I can.”
She looks at Nanami, and then she can’t anymore.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” Nanami rasps, the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, “don’t apologize. It was my fault. I should’ve taken better care of him.”
You swallow. It wasn’t his fault, you wish you could tell him that it was yours.
You wonder what Haibara’s younger sister looked like. A spitting image of him, perhaps. Shorter. Darker hair, bigger eyes. Their smiles would look identical. What would she look like when she’s told her brother died doing the profession he forbade her from doing?
You can’t do that to her. You can’t be the reason she loses her brother the second time.
You’re not sure if a God is even out there. How could there be? What kind of entity would do something like this to you? Still, you sit on that bench, right outside the room where Haibara’s body lay, and you pray for a God.
Gojo’s footsteps stop right in front of you.
It’s hard to get the words out. For a minute, he just stands there.
“Did you exorcise it?” You finally ask.
“Yeah.”
You lift your head up to look at him. Even in his school uniform, he’s regal to look at. Like a warrior of the sun, blessed by the moon, sent to vanquish beasts and monsters.
Now, his blood-soaked sword is pointed at you.
Make it quick. You can only think. Just make it quick.
“Not here.” You say.
Nanami was still shaking. Shoko was right beside him. So you stand, you drag yourself away from Haibara’s fading presence, and Gojo follows behind.
It shouldn’t be this pretty outside. The sun is bright, and the sky is clear. There should be rain. Enough rain to drown the Earth.
“I figured out your technique a while ago, y’know.” You don’t look at him. You can’t. “Dying. Death activates your technique. Each time you die, you’re sent back 12 years in the past.”
You grip the fabric of your uniform until your knuckles turn white. Satoru’s cruel enough to continue.
“But I never got why your soul kept possessing Suguru’s body. It always felt kinda’ random. Unless he was the one who was killing you. Over and over again.”
“Gojo. Stop.” You beg.
“That’s how your CT works. Every time you’re murdered, you go back in time so you can kill them when they’re at their most emotionally vulnerable moment. It’s a pretty powerful technique, all things considered. I might not even stand a chance against it. Assisted suicide, never expected that from you of all people.
But you never do. Each time Suguru kills you, you just come back and try to save him and everyone else your hands can reach. I can’t get why you did that.”
He steps in front of you so you can see him. The God that he is.
“Let’s cut the shit, Greeny. Tell me what future is so bad you’re willing to die over and over again to prevent it.”
The worst outcome you could have ever thought of was standing right in front of you.
Satoru was demanding to know his future.
And...you couldn’t.
You’re taking in a shaky breath. It’s not enough oxygen. The sky was close to crumbling, and you still couldn’t breathe.
“There’s nothing to know.” You try. “There’s nothing, I’m fixing it—”
“—by Suguru killing you, or is this considering killing yourself, now?”
“You don’t understand.” Your voice is cracking, so high-pitched that even Suguru’s vocal cords can’t keep up. “You don’t get it. You can’t.”
“Then help me understand.” His voice is as ragged as yours, he steps closer, you step back. “Tell me why my friend would do something like this to someone.”
It clicks right then. Satoru’s anger isn’t directed at you.
No, it’s directed at Suguru.
It’s even worse than you thought.
“He—he was better than me. He was supposed to be the best out of all of us. I wanna deny it all that I can but—but I can see the proof right here in front of me. And—And I don’t—” His voice breaks too much to continue.
You’re breaking, too. How many times have you been doing this, over and over again? All alone, with no one to support you. To comfort you.
The words are right there, threatening to bubble out. It’d be so easy to tell Satoru everything.
And maybe you would’ve, but then you looked at him.
Despite how disingenuous Satoru acted, you knew he was kind. The kindest person you’ve ever met. He’d sit there and listen, and he’d break every bone in his body to help. That’s just how he was.
Satoru was selfless, he was selfless enough to kill his best friend here and now if it meant he’d save the millions in Tokyo.
You can’t put another burden on the strongest.
You can’t do that to a kid.
“It—it isn’t him.” You manage to spit out. “He isn’t doing it on purpose. It’s not his fault.
It’s the curses. They were too much for him; they overtook his body. Suguru couldn’t control them anymore.”
He says nothing. It’s like you’ve put a spell on Gojo somehow, freezing him in place. Satoru can’t do anything but stare at the talking puppet that’s his best friend.
“He lost so many people.” You continue. “Riko, Miss Kuroi, Haibara. He couldn’t take it. It was too much. His body succumbed to the curses, and they took over Shinjuku. That’s how I keep...”
It’s okay to lie like this, you justify to yourself. Because the Suguru, you know—the one with fake smiles, beady eyes, and a broken expression—isn’t the one that Satoru knows. They’re two completely different people. Years—timelines—apart from each other. They aren’t the same.
Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.
You’d get on your knees if you know that would make a difference. You’d plead and beg and cry if it would get Satoru to drop it. In the end, you can only stare at him.
“All I’m asking is that you trust me.” You whisper. “Believe that I’m making this right. Please, Satoru?”
His eyes. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s gone quiet and dull. The same look he had when he fully awakened his technique. The day he became God.
But he’s not a God. God’s don’t cry.
He leans ever so closely until his head rests on your shoulder. His body shakes.
“You’ll save him, right?” He asks. Gone, is his aura of confidence and resilience. He’s nothing more than a shell. If you feel something stain Suguru’s uniform, you say nothing about it.
You smile anyway.
“I will.” You tell the truth. “I will save him.”
You think of something morbidly funny.
“I’ll die trying.”
His shoulders shake with quiet, genuine laughter, the kind that’s wet and sticks to the top of your mouth.
“That’s fucked up, Greeny.” He whispers.
You hum, reaching up to pat him on the back. It takes another minute before he gathers himself up. His eyes are shiny. Satoru blinks it away.
“Haibara will be okay.” He says with such conviction. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll take care of Suguru, too.”
He doesn’t get it, not yet. He doesn’t understand that Shoko and Satoru and Haibara and Nanami need him. He’ll get it soon, though. You managed to put Suguru on the right path.
For now, it’s all you can do.
“I know you will.”
He scoffs, right then.
“You’re really annoying, you know that? Next time, don’t piss me off like that. Just tell it to me straight.”
Rely on me. Lean on me.
“I’m sorry,” you say and you truly are, “I won’t leave you in the dark from now on. I guess I just forgot that I had a friend in 2006.”
His eyes get a little brighter. “It’s actually 2007—”
“Shut up.” He laughs and it sounds like him again.
You reach out your hand and his grin fades, the tiniest bit. He mirrors you, regardless.
This time, you hesitate.
“You should learn how to be selfish every once in a while.” You tell him. “I won’t fault you if you’re selfish. I don’t think anyone will.
He doesn’t answer that, but his touch is finally warm.
ⴵ
It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.
You forgive Suguru.
ⴵ
It’s today.
You can feel it. You don’t even have to look at the date to know.
The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.
Suguru’s already dressed. You’re currently standing in front of a shotty mirror, watching your reflection.
He looks tired. His smile’s a bit muted. You notice a scar you hadn’t seen before. An unregistered special grade curse, Suguru’s memory gives.
He’s different from when you saw him a year ago, but there’s still a spark in his eye. You cling to that hope, as hard as you can.
You step out of the room. It isn’t Suguru’s. He’d rented accommodations with an older woman and her son for the mission. Their place smelled like home. It made your stomach turn.
She smiles when she sees you coming down stairs. She looks kind; she has the eyes of a mother. You’ll never understand how a person who raised children could do something like this to another.
“Mr. Geto.” She chirps. “I’m so glad you’re awake! Would you like anything to eat?”
“No, I’m fine.” Better get this done sooner than later. “I should be heading back now, anyways.”
Suguru had already absorbed the curse tormenting the village last night. You can feel the sticky aftertaste in your mouth. He should have left the village yesterday, but the people were insistent he stayed one last day as thanks, feeding him all they could.
Now, it’s obvious that it was a way to butter him up for today.
Her smile grows a bit nervous. She shuffles her feet a bit.
“If it isn't too much.” She starts. “The head of our village asked if you could look at something.” Her eyes darken into disgust.
You fight to keep your smile.
“Of course. Please, lead the way.”
It’s worse than you ever could have imagined.
You’ve seen this play out so many times in Suguru’s memories. He reminisces about this moment a lot. Because of that, you knew this scene too, like the back of your hand.
And yet, seeing two children huddled together on the floor. Nothing could prepare you for that.
The village head is saying something. The woman who Suguru roomed with is yelling at the scared kids, but you can’t hear any of that.
Their clothes were dirty and ripped. Their cheeks were hollow, and they looked like they hadn’t eaten for days. Himiko’s eye looks swollen.
The twins.
The first time you saw them, they stepped aside and let Geto kill you. There’s something oddly poetic about you being on the other side.
They tremble as they continue to look at you, flinch whenever that woman raises her voice. They must think Suguru’s here to kill them.
They’re too young to think like that. They’re too young to see the horrors of this world so soon.
It’s a mistake to look towards the end of their cell. Dirty water and dog food.
How could a human do this to them? How could a mother do this to them?
You feel red. It coarses through your blood, your veins, your soul. It feels like there’s lava right underneath your skin. Shuddering, tittering anger.
There’s more than enough fire to burn down an entire village.
‘Suguru,’ you think to your companion, your tormentor, ‘I think I’m starting to get it now.’
You reach for the bars of the cell. The twins shrink away.
“Ah! Mr. Geto, you musn’t get too close to them—”
“I’ll take them.”
“What?” The head of the village asks.
“The children.” You straighten yourself up. “I’ll take them off your hands.”
It’s pointless to do anything to these people. They’re delusional enough to think that they’re in the right. By torturing these children, they’re protecting their own. It’s fear. That’s all it ever was. Even without a curse, it’ll fester on and on until this village is nothing but abandoned homes. There’s no point to punish these people any further.
If you look at the adults a bit too long, you’re afraid of what you’d do, even without Suguru’s interference. Instead, you focus on Himiko and Nanako, looking into their wary gazes. Their hands are so tiny. You could protect them with your own.
When you got out of this backward village, you’d find them something to eat.
ⴵ
You go to Shoko first.
She looks surprised to see the twins. You can’t imagine why. Still, her voice is calm when she speaks to them, setting both of them up in the clinic room. Since you got them into the car, Nanako and Himiko seemed to calm down. Himiko even told you the name of her doll.
A little while later, Yaga comes for a visit. He’s the principal now. Usually, his voice is filled with gruff, but he’s oddly gentle when he speaks to them. Nanako cracks a shy smile.
You can’t escape the ‘we’ll talk later’ look he gives you. Inwardly, you sympathize with Suguru. But a harsh lecture is better than being branded a murderer.
He hasn’t come by, yet. With the twins aided for, you decide to go find him yourself.
Walking through campus feels a little nostalgic. The grounds of the infamous jujutsu technical college are a bright green. It’s summer again. You’ve met so many colorful characters since your time here. You’ve only seen snippets, mere seconds of their lives, and yet it feels like an entire lifetime.
He’s sitting on a bench when you finally see him, nursing a drink. He doesn’t acknowledge you. You have to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, plopping down beside him.
“Hey.” You say first.
“Heard you adopted two kids,” Satoru says, “Never thought Suguru would be a teen mom, but here we are.”
You laugh, light and breathless. The sky is so pretty today.
“I don’t think he’d have it any other way, personally.” You respond.
He reminisces on your words.
“This happened before too?” He asked.
It did. It was a lot less of a happy ending, however.
“Yeah,” you say regardless, “he took good care of them last time. He’ll do the same in this timeline too. I’m sure of it.”
And this time, he’d have help. Shoko, Satoru, his teachers. They’d all be there for him. Suguru’s memories haven’t changed yet, but you know the future you step into will be a different one.
“In any case, I’m glad I got to see jujutsu tech one last time. It’s a beautiful campus.”
“You act like you’re leaving,” Satoru says, uncaring. “You’ll just come back again next month. Or next year.”
You play with your fingers.
“I...won’t be doing that from now on.”
He pauses. Then, he looks at you.
“What?”
You can’t gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t look happy. You find this a bit hard to swallow.
“I fixed the future.” You smile at him. “I finally did it. Suguru won’t break. Himiko and Nanako won’t lose their father. You won’t lose a friend, anymore. There’s no reason for me to keep coming back. You’re all free.”
You phrased the last part as a joke, but Satoru isn’t laughing.
“Wait, you’re leaving? You’re...leaving leaving.”
You nod. “I can’t believe it either.” You still can’t believe you accomplished everything you set out to do. A task that seemed so impossible, now you’re standing on the other side of it.
It wasn’t truly over. Not really, but you were able to get Suguru through the worst of it. Now, you were sure Satoru and Shoko would take up your mantel, pushing Suguru through the finish line. Just like he’ll do to them.
Satoru’s quiet.
“You seem happy.” He notes.
“Well, I did just save everyone, I think I deserve to feel a little good about myself.”
For a moment, you want to ask if it’ll be okay to visit everyone in the future. To see how Shoko and Suguru and Satoru are doing as adults. You stop yourself. Of course, they wouldn’t want to see you. You needed to stop being so greedy.
This, was more than enough.
“Will you at least tell me your name?” Satoru asks.
“You know I can’t do that.” You tell him with a smile.
“Right right.” He laughs, it sounds hollow. “Time travel, bullshit. Makes sense.”
“I’ll miss you.” You tell him.
He straightens himself up.
“I’ll miss you too, old man.” He responds. “You were a lotta’ fun to mess with.”
For once, you aren’t offended by the old man’, comment. If anything, it feels somber.
“Can I ask for some advice?” He suddenly asks. “Y’know what they say, ask the old and wise or whatever.” Okay, now he was starting to push it.
“What is it?”
It’s his turn to shuffle with his fingers.
“What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it?”
You glance at him. He looks earnest. Did something like that even exist for Satoru?
“Something I can’t catch up to?” You ponder out loud. “I guess I’d have to make a big enough ruckus to where it has no choice but to look back.”
He frowns. “That makes no sense. You’re growing senile.”
You laugh. You’ll miss this brat.
You wish you could stay more. You wish you could ask about Haibara, and Shoko, and Nanami, but the clock is ticking.
Suguru’s getting impatient.
“Bye, Satoru.” You reach out your hand.
He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.
“Yeah, Greeny.”
Within a blink, you’re back again in the middle of Shinjuku. December 24th, 7:06 pm.
It’s the same as always. People bustle around you. Children’s laughter. Everything always repeats itself, but you don’t think you can ever get sick of it. You’ll savor this peace for as long as you can.
You reach into your pocket, flicking out a lighter and the first cigarette of the box. You don’t know why you always chose this one. Despite outmaneuvering time itself, perhaps it’s within human nature to follow what’s written stone.
You’ve relived this hour so many times that you can list everything that happens. Down to the exact minute. 7:08- a little girl wearing a red dress walks by. 7:09- a lady with short hair catches your eyes and smiles. 7:14-an old man and woman bicker with each other as they pass you by. 7:21- A little dog sniffs the bench you sit on. 7:34- Two schoolchildren run past you, babbling. 7:45- five construction workers grumble out their grievances. 7:58- a businessman talks loudly on the phone.
You wait. You sit on a bench and wait until 8:06.
Five seconds after 8:06. Twenty seconds after 8:06.
The clock clicks to 8:07.
You were expecting to feel something else. Celebration. Elation. You half-expected to cause a scene and jump for joy right there in the streets of Shinjuku.
None of that comes. There’s just a feeling of relief. A weight presses you down, and you slump in your seat.
It was over.
It was finally over.
How long do you stay like that? Hours? Days? When you feel like you can finally breathe again, it’s only 8:12. Time travel warped your sense of time.
You stand up, stretch, feel your bones crack and pop. In the second timeline, you wanted to get a drink to drown your misery of nearly getting killed by a curse and being alone on December 24th. It felt like a lifetime ago when being single was the worst of your problems.
Honestly, you’d stay celibate for the rest of your life if it meant you wouldn’t have to go through that ever again.
Tomorrow, you’ll decompress and devolve into hysteria over what happened.
Next week, you’ll check yourself into therapy.
Today, you decide to go home and sleep for a couple hundred years.
You must look like a zombie with the way you wobble down the street. Physically, your body is perfectly fine. You’ve suffered no bruises or cuts. Even the numerous times you’ve been killed leaves nothing on your skin.
Mentally, you’re in shambles. The indomitable human spirit within you is snuffed out.
The stairs to your flat is your last enemy that you must vanquish before you can reunite with your adoring bed. You cling onto the railing with dazed eyes. You don’t see the curse until you’re right before it.
Distantly, you wonder how often you’ve passed a curse and didn’t even realize it. It’s almost instinct to reach out with your hand, intent on absorbing it.
Nothing happens. You remember you aren’t Suguru anymore.
It’s a grotesque-looking thing. No eyes, too many hands, a gaping mouth. It turns and looks at you.
Strange. Its’ smile mirrors the one in the abandoned house.
Adrenaline. You feel it coarse through your veins, meld into your bones, explode in your skin. You’re stumbling back, nearly tripping down the steps in your haste to get away.
It screeches. Loud and clear and angry and you can almost feel its teeth chomp on your leg, ripping your muscles and skin to mere tatters.
You’ve died before. You’ve been skinned alive before. You’ve been eaten before. Yet, it all amounts to nothing compared to the fear you feel at the thought of the curse catching you.
It can’t have been nothing more than a third grade. If you were taller, larger, special-grade, you could have killed it immediately. But you weren’t, not anymore, you were at the same level as a plant. Useless. Helpless.
A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.
The streets were quiet. You supposed that meant there’d be fewer casualties. But it didn’t make you feel any better. And even if there were people around, no one would have been able to help you.
Your brain isn’t working as clearly. Fear is the only thing that guides you. You’re reduced to a rat scampering through a maze. Sooner or later, that rodent reaches a dead end.
The alleyway was blocked off. You felt the rough brick wall scrape your hands and even the feeling of your raw skin couldn’t assuage your heart pumping in your throat. When you whirled your head back, it was right there, and you knew you were dead.
Again.
It might kill you, if it’s feeling generous. It might cut your legs off and watch you bleed, if its feeling kind. It might eat you, if it’s a decent curse.
It shouldn’t be happening. You fixed it. You were supposed to have fixed everything. But clearly you didn't. There must have been some piece of the puzzle that you forgot. You need to go back. You need to fix things, but why do you need to why can't he just leave you alone—
You don’t see what happens. One moment, the curse is there. The next it isn’t.
“Those things are so annoying.” The newcomer complains.
No, not new. You know him.
You blink. He grins. It’s kind. A toothy smile that warms.
“You alright?” He asks in sympathy. “Curses are pretty scary, aren’t they? Are you hurt?”
It’s him. You weren’t in 2006. You were in the present, here and now, and he was here with you.
He actually made it.
“Ma’am?” He asks.
It wasn’t intentional. You just blurted it out, the promise you made to him. It was a decade for him. Mere hours for you.
“Um, broccoli head...?” And then you instantly regret it.
Haibara Yu takes a minute, eyes squinting like you just grew a new head.
Then, he gasps.
“Greeny?”
ⴵ
A few minutes later, you’re seated at a restaurant. Haibara has not shut up.
“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again ‘cuz Gojo said you weren’t gonna be around anymore, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”
“—Haibara.” You interrupt. “Please, slow down.”
He stops himself, right when the server comes with drinks. He shoots the waiter a smile, and then he’s back on you.
“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I—I got a little excited. And nervous. It’s just...well, I didn’t expect you to be a girl.”
That might have been your fault. Both Haibara and Gojo kept referring to you as a man, so you decided to roll with it. Earlier, you would have justified it by insisting the less they know about you, the better. Now, you just think you were being petty.
“So, how you’ve been? A whole decade...” You murmur to yourself.
“Fine! But what about you?” Haibara asks, concern etched into his eyes. “Where’d you go?”
Wow, he was actually worried for you. Despite being in Suguru’s body, you didn’t really feel like part of the group Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara were part of. You felt like an outsider, being somewhere you didn’t belong. It's because you were an outsider. Nevertheless, it’s nice to know one person missed you.
“This might be a little hard to believe, but I just came back to 2017 two hours ago.”
Haibara gapes.
“Wait, so to you, that whole thing happened, today?” You nod. He leans back in his chair.
“Holy fuck.” You laugh at his awe.
“Thanks for saving me, by the way.” You change the topic. “From the curse.”
He waves it off. “I was just paying my debt. From what you did for me all those years ago.”
Ah, Gojo must have told him. Oddly enough, Haibara doesn't seem all that perturbed that he shouldn’t exist currently. At the same time, it feels just like Haibara.
He’s different from when he was younger. Taller. The baby fat is gone. His face is more built, just like the rest of his body. His eyes are less round, but they haven’t lost the spark. A few scars here and there, but he’s all in one piece.
You weren’t able to see what he looked like as an adult from Suguru’s memories, he’d never grown up. But now, you can see it for yourself. You can see the active change you made in his life, to his life.
“Haibara—”
“Yu—” He says seriously. “My friends call me Yu.”
A smile twitches on your lips.
“Tell me about everyone.” You scoot your chair closer. “You, Suguru. How is everyone doing?”
He perks up at that, clearly delighted to be talking.
“Great! Everyone’s doing great! You should totally come visit the school, sometime. They’d love to see you. Uh, even if they don’t technically know you, but I’m sure they’ll love to meet you!” He rambles, and it’s nice to know he hasn’t changed from his younger self.
“Let’s see, Kento’s teaching the first years. I teach the second years—”
“—You’re a teacher?”
He nods. “We all are! Except for Shoko, but she has her own thing going on. Anyway, Mimiko and Nanako have become second-grade semi-sorcerors. Isn’t that incredible? I’m just a first grade semi-sorceror, and at their young ages too! But Suguru wasn’t surprised, he kept saying his girls were prodigies. Oh! You probably want to know about Suguru too, right?”
You nod. Even if you hadn’t done anything, you don’t think that would have stopped his enthusiasm.
“He’s a teacher too! At least, for right now. Yaga’s been wanting to retire, and there have been talks of Suguru becoming the next principal. Principal Geto has a ring to it, right? Oh, and Shoko is currently planning the wedding. You’ll definitely be invited, of course! She said I could bring a plus-one. Oh, and—”
It goes on like that for hours, you think. Not that you mind. You listen to Yu babble on and on about his friends, his students. He talks about Nanami’s recent baking addiction, Shoko’s new office cat, Suguru’s favorite tea pot. It’s a never-ending surge of information.
Eventually, you catch on to the fact that he’s deliberately leaving someone out.
"Yu?" You interrupt him while he's talking about the prank the fourth year pulled on Nanami. "What about Satoru? What's he up to?"
Maybe you were overthinking things. Haibara likes to talk; perhaps he forgot to exclude someone else's story in his rants. But then, he grimaces. For the first time in this entire conversation, Haibara is reluctant to talk.
"Satoru is..." He winces, and your hands turn into fists.
No. No. You were supposed to save everyone. Why hadn't you saved everyone?
A warm hand grips your own. You'd been shaking.
Yu gives a soft smile, and you remember he's no longer younger than you.
"He's not dead." He assures you, but his smile fades. He straightens himself up, and his hand pulls away.
"Satoru defected from Jujutsu tech. We don't know where he is."
What? You must have misheard him wrong. Satoru wouldn't do that. That's not like him. This is some sick joke.
But there's no teasing grin on Haibara. His face is grave. You hate it more than anything.
"It happened when he was a fourth year. No one really knows what happened. Suguru refuses to say anything about it, but I think he's just as confused as the rest of us. It came outta nowhere."
Yeah, it definitely came out of nowhere. It's so random. Why would Satoru do that? The last time you saw him, he was so happy. He was smiling; he teased you. What happened? It made no sense.
"So, you haven't seen him for nine years?" You ask. "Not even a glimpse?"
Yu shakes his head. "Nothing but his residuals. That's how we know he's still alive."
Nothing computes in your brain. None of it made any sense. You saved Suguru. That was supposed to make everyone happy, including Satoru. Why would he turn around and do this? Defecting made no sense.
"We've actually been tasked to execute him. Since he’s been branded a curse user, all four of us. " Yu laughs with no humor. "Isn't that insane? I don't think any one of us could even fathom doing that, even if it were possible."
It wasn't possible. Gojo was the strongest. Nothing could go toe to toe with him. Once he put his mind to something, no one could stop him.
But maybe you could.
You're shutting that idea down immediately. You were done. You were done with dying and time-travel and strange powers. You wanted it all to be over. It'd be so easy to thank Haibara for the nice meal, to go home and sleep this entire day off. Satoru dug his own grave, he can go lay in it. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions. You wouldn’t. You can’t do that another time.
You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?
You hate that brat so much.
You close your eyes. Take in a breath. Then, you open them.
"Haibara?" You ask. "Did Gojo tell you how my technique worked?"
He shakes his head. You grimace because convincing him might take a while.
"Okay, well, I'll need you to do a tiny favor for me."
ⴵ
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.”
You’d caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yu’s body was less athletic than Suguru’s. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.
It doesn’t weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass you’ve ever met.
“Shut up.” You snap. “Just answer the question.”
“We haven’t seen each other for a year and that’s how you react?” Satoru ignores you. “That’s mean, Greeny. How ‘bout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.”
“Satoru.” You beg, “Why are you doing this? What’s the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?”
That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.
“You didn’t have to come back, y’know.” He murmurs quietly. “You could’ve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyone’s happy with their life. 4 outta’ five. That’s a passing grade.”
For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.
“I could never leave you behind like that.” You say the truth just as quietly. “I’ll die a thousand more deaths than do that.”
He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.
“Yeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gotta’ play hero.” He gives a bitter laugh. “That’s why I defected.”
You stare at him. He’s a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You aren’t equal to him anymore in this body, now you’re starting to think you never were.
“Satoru.” You start because what he’s saying can’t be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. “Did—did you leave—did you leave everyone for a decade just so I’d come back? Why would you do that to yourself?”
He doesn’t say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.
“It’s your fault,” Satoru says like it’s instinct to blame you for his actions, “this was your idea.”
What’s he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.
What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it? So that’s what he meant. You were an idiot.
“That’s not fair, Satoru,” you say regardless, “I—I never—I couldn’t expect you’d do this.”
“What choice did I fucking have, Greeny?” There’s rapid steps and he’s in front of you, desperate and wild. “You—you just left me here. You left me alone and I couldn’t even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! How’s that fair?”
It’s true. It’s all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguru’s happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?
You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.
Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoru’s selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.
But he’s selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.
Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldn’t fault him. What a liar you are.
You forgive Satoru.
“I’m sorry.” Haibara’s voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. “I’m sorry Satoru. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”
It’s hard to wrap him in a hug. The brat’s too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, he’s keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you don’t comment on it.
It’s why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.
“I can’t give you my name.” You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesn’t look at you.
“Yeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshit—”
“For now.” You add. “I can’t do that for now.”
Three pairs of eyes look at you. You’re not hiding behind Haibara anymore. You’re not trying to.
“December 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.” You look at him. “Can you wait until then?”
For you, it’d only be an hour. For Satoru, it’d be a decade.
You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; you’d let him.
“If you don’t show up, I’ll turn evil.” You laugh. His grin widens and he’s back again. “I’m serious. I’ll take over the world. I’ll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.”
“You’re such a brat.” There’s no hostility in your tone. “I will. I promise.”
‘I’ll save you,’ You promise in your head because he’s too prideful to hear it.
“Is it still possible for you to go back?” You ask, the wariness present again. “The higher ups haven’t taken any action against you, right?”
He shakes his head.
“I think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.” He shrugs. “They’ll decide it’s teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.”
You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.
When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how they’ll feel on your own.
“See ya’ later, Greeny.”
A blink. Satoru’s gone. Your hand is empty, and you’re standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.
ⴵ
December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.
Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.
It’s already 7:12 when you’re desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you it’ll cost extra because Sumida City isn’t part of his route, you’re more than happy to fork over the money.
It’s already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. It’s crowded. Fuck, it’s December 24th, of course people would be out and about.
At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.
It’s closed.
Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.
Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? You’re only human. Surely he’d understand if you couldn’t make it because the entire building was shut down.
Or wait. Was this Satoru’s doing?
You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.
Let it be known that you’ve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.
With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasn’t joking a decade ago.
The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint he’s paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like you’re a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, he’s still managed to rig it.
You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.
It’s empty. You’ve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?
Out the corner of your eye, there’s a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, there’s another one.
You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you don’t know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. You’re pushing it down.
You follow the post-its until there’s one placed right on top of a door.
Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?
But it’s already 8:03; you’re far too deep to complain.
A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, it’ll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.
It’s different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isn’t all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. It’s slower, too.
That’s bad, because now you’re starting to think.
That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. You’re anxious. It’s strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.
If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesn’t get angry?
What if—what if he’s disappointed by you?
Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.
But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.
Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.
Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, it’s protected by your own. You’d steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.
It’s windy up here. That’s the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they don’t dry out so quickly. It’s colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.
But the view. Oh, what a view.
The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. She’s gorgeous like she’s picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.
It’s 8:09. Satoru was late.
Or maybe he just wasn’t planning to show up.
You lean away from the railing. It’s just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.
And then, you can feel hands.
Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. They’re familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.
His laugh tickles your ear, and you aren’t so cold anymore.
“Caught ya, Greeny.”
(“Did something happen to you, back there in the house?”
"Hm?" Suguru asked.
They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.
"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."
Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."
'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'
They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.
"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."
"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."
So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-
"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."
"Nice?" Satoru echoes.
"Yeah."
And then it's quiet again.)
Part two: Rewound Infinitely
He just looked you up and down and then turned his head back to the TV
blinking slowly you grab a pillow and slam it right in his face
“OW! WHAT THE FUCK?” he yells in shock while you go for another hit
“Are you KIDDING ME!? You knock me up and all you do is go back to the TV!!!! I should KILL YOU!” You roar
His eyes widen as he thought you were messing with him, but you weren't
“Oh….holy fuck….i thought you were joking.” He gasps covering his mouth in shock
“jOKING? i FUCKING WISH!” You snarl and slam the pillow into his face yet again
“Dammit Y/N, stop hitting me okay. I got it…you’re…….pregnant with my..our child.” He whispers
But that stupid smile breaks across his face which has you calming down
“We’re having a baby.” He whispers and moves hugging your stomach
“Hi little bean….i hope you get mommy’s looks.” He whispers and laughs happily
Utter disgust not at you or anything but at the fact he was the one to get someone pregnant before Atsumu
“Are you sure? Maybe you slept with Atsumu.” He says and you don’t even think twice
you slap the shit out of him
“What? I’m serious, it couldn’t have been me, no way I knock someone up before Atsumu!” He huffs and starts dialing his brothers number
“Osamu…I’m pregnant with your damn baby and you’re more worried about the fact you fucked up before Atsumu?” You ask
Osamu freezes and finally takes in your appearance
you were a wreck, hair messy and eyes swollen ad red from crying
“oh…baby I’m…god i’m sorry.” he whispers and moves hugging you
you didn’t care if you were being ridiculous but you started to cry all over again
“We’ll figure this alright, and whatever you choose to do I’ll support you a 100%. Don’t feel pressured into having the baby it’s your choose okay.” he whispers into your hair and holds you while you cry
This mfer was ecstatic
He was smiling so damn hard you thought his cheeks were going to fall off
“Really? I’m going to be a daddy? I mean I already am, but now an official one?” he asks laughing loudly
You grumble and move grabbing the ultrasound and handing it too him and he freezes
not one, but two tiny blobs labeled baby A and Baby B
“twins?” he asks and looks up at you while you swallow your worry ad nod
he stares at the ultrasound and then you notice small wet spots on it
“Kuroo?” You ask touching his face and making him look up
tears laced his eye which has you swallow thickly and move pulling him into a hug
“Thank you…thank you…thank you.” He sobs softly as he was finally getting what he’s always wanted
A family
now that you’re both home from college and under the same roof, it’s hard to keep to yourselves. which is precisely how you end up quite literally stumbling upon one of your stepbrothers most well-hidden secrets.
an authors note: big, big thank you to real life angel @shinsurou for beta reading this for me— enjoy!
content warning: 18+ taboo content including stepbro!omi, camboy!omi, pseudo/step incest, use of nii-san, a little voyeursim, blackmail attempt, choking, manhandling, live sex/sex on camera, mean!omi, face fucking, dash of size kink, crying, humiliation, condescension, creampie.
“Omi…” You call out, practically skipping down the hall towards his room, “Nii-san?”
The two of you are used to being left alone. Between the busy work schedule your parents have and the fancy dinners, galas, or whatever they’re often obligated to attend, you’re stuck with one another. It’s always been like that. So trips home between semesters are never anything extraordinary.
You’re bored. When boredom calls, it’s time to lift the veil and force yourself to interact with your stepbrother. It’s just— now you wish you hadn’t.
Keep reading
Gojo Satoru x Reader
3041 words, most of which aren’t SFW
When he came home, you welcomed him with a perfect balance of tranquility and excitement.
“Dinner’s on the cooker.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his hands settled on your hips. Gojo kissed you with awe and relief, finally home, and when he tried to deepen it you pulled away. “I drew you a bath, so everything should be ready by the time you’re out.”
Not lingering on the interrupted kiss, he pressed another to your forehead and cooed: “Did I tell you I love you?”
He did this morning, under the covers, over breakfast, at the front door, on the phone — and before, and after, and sempiternally. Even then, you answered: “Not enough,” and you weren’t lying.
“I must’ve been a bodhisattva in my last life to deserve you.” Tightening his grip, he twirled you aloft and lowered you on the very tip of your toes so you couldn’t stand without anchoring yourself to him.
“All right, oh enlightened one.” You kissed him a final time before tearing him off. “Get your stinky uniform in the wash and your ass in the bath. You’re tracking blood everywhere.”
Keep reading
Menhera isn’t “scars make me cute.”
Menhera isn’t “wounds are aesthetic.”
It’s more “I can be cute, even if I have scars.”
It’s more “I can cute, even if I’m emotionally damaged.”
Please stop romanticizing self harm and mental illness! That isn’t what menhera is about and a lot of people still get it confused. Menhera is about internal struggle.
If you think a post on my blog might be leaning towards romanticizing harm or illness please inform me and I’ll take it down
wakatoshi smiling.. reblog for good luck (clear skin, good grades, financial luck etc)
for my very dearest best friend (wife) @iwaasfairy i'm sorry it's super late, but august and april both start with 'a' which basically means they're the same month <33 iwaizumi hajime x female reader w.c 4.4k tw: yandere themes, non-con, drugged reader, blood/gore, murder, incest, sorta smut (nsfw)
M I N E
It’s funny in a way. Amidst the wreckage, the blood, what was left of your friends and the cooling puddle of cum splattered across your naked stomach, four letters carved into your bedroom wall seemed almost… harmless. Or at least the easiest to digest. Fixate on.
The detective asked about your ex partners, the dates you’d been on recently, whether or not you’d noticed anyone in your day-to-day paying you too much attention, if anyone made you feel uncomfortable, or said anything that seemed out of place.
But your exes don’t care enough to kill, and the two dates you’ve been on in the last six months never bothered to text you back. No one’s left weird, unsettling gifts, or stared too long in line at the coffee shop. There’s nothing. No precursor or warning, no giant red flag waving in front of you.
Mine.
Hovering on the edge of numbness, blind hysteria just out of reach, you stare at the beige walls of the hotel room they’d put you up in, the angry gouges flickering in and out of existence with every blink.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Kaori was the one obsessed with all the true crime stuff. She’d be the first to tell you psychopaths and nutjobs – they don’t jump straight into drugging and triple homicide. There’s a pattern of behaviour. Escalation.
Something you missed.
Then again, considering it’s her blood still caked under your fingernails, there’s a strong possibility she wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic about the whole thing to begin with.
You need a shower, a proper one – not the glorified sponging off they’d given you at the hospital. Enough to get you out the door, not nearly enough to scrub away the grime and rid yourself of what he did to you–
The others had it worse. You survived. He barely touched you.
Mine.
The thought of scalding water, of scrubbing yourself raw does hold a certain appeal, yet hunched over atop starched white sheets, those same bloody fingernails sink into the flesh of your arms instead, grounding you in the tiny bite of pain.
Minutes tick past and you don’t so much as twitch. Not until a sharp knock sounds at the door and a gruff voice calls out your name.
You wait half a beat, but when nothing more is forthcoming, you slowly edge yourself off the bed, making your way to the door. Through the peephole you spy a dark haired officer, different to the one who’d dropped you off, staring back at you.
They did tell you there’d be an officer with you the whole time, at least for the next twenty four hours.
“Miss?” he calls again, and you distantly realise that while your hand is poised over the deadlock, you haven’t moved to undo it.
Squeezing your eyes shut, your forehead meeting the wooden door with a muted thud, you curse that stupid, tremulous fluttering in your chest. They’re here for you, protecting you. You’re safe.
Open the damn door.
“Y-yeah?”
Coward.
“Brought some food for you. Dinner.” There’s a rustling on the other side, and you raise your head to peer back through the glass in time to see him lift up a paper carry bag to the peephole. The idea of eating anything right now has your stomach roiling in protest. “Nothing fancy, but it’s good, I swear,” he says. Then, gentler, like he’s talking down a spooked animal, adds, “You need to eat.”
Still, you hesitate. All you need to do is open the door, grab the food and then at least it’s there if you want it later. Easy.
Too quick, too jerky to be natural, you twist at the handle and yank the door open a scant few inches, enough for you to reach out an arm expectantly for the food. “Thank you,” you pre-empt, because hungry or not, you’re not completely without manners.
The officer lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no. I’m not taking heat from the Cap when the guys on the next shift find you passed out ‘cause you haven’t eaten anything,” he scoffs. “C’mon, we can talk while you eat.” Not a suggestion – you barely have time to stumble back before he’s pushing his way inside and kicking the door closed behind him. The second he takes to flick the lock somehow simultaneously eases the knots in your stomach and sends your heartrate ratcheting.
It’s halfway to a miracle that you’re still standing at all.
“Eat,” he tells you, his deep voice brooking no disagreement as he shoves the bag of food your way and grabs the lone chair in the room, dragging it closer to the edge of the bed and settling himself down. Clearly he has no intention of going anywhere until he’s satisfied you’ve eaten your fill.
With little else for it, you do as you’re told, reaching into the bag to find steamed buns at your fingertips, still warm as you pry open the wrapper– and wince. The familiar scent of pork, ginger and chives wafts through the air, unwittingly digging at old wounds.
Suddenly you’re a kid again, strolling down the hill with your family, one hand tucked safely within your brother’s, the other grasping a steaming hot bun. You’re happy and whole and so, so young–
“Something wrong? You don’t like meat buns?”
Not the time. Ignoring the bitter ache the memory conjures, you’re quick to shake your head, “No. No, thank you. It’s great.” You doubt he buys it, but then again you also doubt he cares so long as you get something in your stomach.
One bite, chew, swallow. Another, chew, swallow – mechanical until it isn’t. The first bun disappears and you reach for the second.
“How’s your head?” he asks.
You swallow down another mouthful. “Fuzzy. Sore. I still can’t remember anything,” you admit, in case that’s where this line of questioning is going. Nothing beyond waking up in your bed covered in blood and a stranger’s cum at any rate.
The blood work they did at the hospital confirmed you were drugged along with the others, the detective mentioning the near-empty bottle of wine they’d found, which they were in the process of testing too. He’d also pointed out the lack of evidence indicating any kind of forced entry, which paired with the former is something you’ve been trying not to dwell on.
The officer gives a considering nod, “That’s to be expected, don’t worry about it. I still think it’s worth asking a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it?” Again, it’s phrased like a question, but already he’s pulling out a voice recorder, setting down on the mattress between you.
“Um, sure. Yeah,” you croak.
A small smile, “Good.” He leans forward to switch on the recorder. “We’ll start with the other victims – your friends. Tell me about them.”
“Kaori, she’s– she was my best friend. We worked at the same grocer when I first moved out of my parents’ place, when I got a job here she made the decision to move with me. That was about six months ago.”
“And the other two?”
“Her brother Koji and another friend of ours Takashi. They came up to visit; Kaori’s been back once or twice since we left, but I hadn’t seen them–” tears blur at your vision and your voice just… gives out.
They’re gone.
You drag a shuddering breath in and it hurts.
Blindly, your hand reaches across the bed, blood tipped fingers sprawling over pristine white, and when they meet warmth – an open palm outstretched – you seize it and cling on with everything you have. You’ll unravel if you don’t.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you chant, each syllable shakier than the last.
He dips his chin, just barely, and squeezes your hand, “You invited them?”
A wordless, wide eyed nod.
“You were close.” Not a question. He sounds like he’s mulling over the thought, though his expression is inscrutable. “Were you involved with any of them?”
This time, there’s the slightest hesitation before you shake your head. The officer frowns, “I need the truth. Your friends were attacked for a reason. Lying to me won’t help bring their families peace.”
The blood drains from your face, your heart lurching on a sickening thud.
Your fault.
Instinctively, you yank back your hand, or try to at least, but his grip tightens – enough to keep you from drawing away, not enough to hurt. Though neither his tone nor his expression hold any condemnation, it doesn’t change the truth of the matter.
You didn’t drug them or pick up the knife and swing. You didn’t invite this psycho into your life, but the fact remains that they’re dead because of you.
“I– it wasn’t like that. We weren’t… I didn’t–”
MINE.
Tears threaten to spill and your bottom lip trembles.
For a long, drawn out moment, he simply stares. There’s a twitch at his jaw and he sighs – more of a grunt, really – leaning back and pulling his hand from yours to rake through his dark hair.
(Stupid, you think, how some part of you mourns the loss.)
“Okay, alright. Fine. We’ll come back to that,” he concedes. “What about other friends? Coworkers you were close with?”
“No, I– I already told the detective I wasn’t seeing anyone.”
An irritated flash darkens his gaze. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking them.” And you must make a truly pathetic picture then, flinching like a kicked puppy, because he lets out another huff, closing his eyes for a beat and visibly working to soften the harsh lines of his expression. “Shit, okay– I’m sorry. It’s been a long day for us both,” he makes an odd noise, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, the sound entirely devoid of humour. “The guy who did this, he either already knows about the people precious to you, or he’s gonna do his damn best to find out, and if he thinks they’re threats, he’ll hurt them, or worse – he’ll use them to hurt you. I need you to tell me everything.”
And so, feeling the exhaustion of the day creeping over you, you do.
You tell him about the small group from work you occasionally go out for Friday drinks with, your old friends from uni, right down to the neighbour two floors below, who’d seen you hauling boxes the day you’d moved in and immediately offered to help. When you’d christened the kitchen baking you’d made sure to bring him some, and just last week you’d had tea with him and his grandma.
“What about school? Anyone you still keep in contact with?”
You try for a laugh but it sounds all wrong. “I wasn’t exactly popular back then,”
His eyes narrow. They flit across your face like he’s searching for… something. You feel like a bug, pinned in place, squirming and uncomfortable, your face too hot.
“Bullied?” he probes.
Another nod.
“How ‘bout family?”
Your mouth dries.
“My parents… I haven’t spoken to them in months. We don’t really get along.” The last conversation you’d had with them, if you could call it as much, lasted all of five minutes. Dry pleasantries and thinly veiled criticisms, wrapped up in yet another pointed reminder that things didn’t have to be this way – you were the one adamant on shutting them out.
You doubt it’d raise a single eyebrow between them if you went the same again without contact.
“Siblings?”
Another tear slips from your lashes and you swallow against the tight lump in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels oppressive, you’re too bare, too vulnerable, you don’t want to talk about this, so you shift your line of sight to the paper delivery bag, half crumpled now, and let your fingernails sink into the skin of your palms.
Still, the words don’t come straight away, and when they do, they’re strained. Choked. Painted so thick is grief that you wonder if he understands them at all.
“No. I uh, I had a brother– a twin brother. He died.”
You don’t talk about your brother, ever.
Kaori knew the bare bones of it. Koji and Takashi too – you had a twin brother, he died, and it fucked you up. Without ever uttering a word, they’d known not to press, that the wounds left behind weren’t quite as healed as the scar tissue led to believe.
“How old were you?”
Seven, when you lost him. Twelve, when the letters stopped coming.
“Fourteen,” you whisper, curling in on yourself. “He was sick.”
Stop asking, stop talking, stop, stop, stop.
When you risk a look in the officer’s direction, his features are hewn granite, eyes set in a hard, angry glare that steals the very breath from your lungs. “Yeah?” he grunts, rising to his feet. “You stopped writing long before that.”
There’s just enough time for understanding to crash over you, for your lips to part, a feather light gasp of “Hajime?” to slip out before you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned to the mattress above your head, the officer– a ghost– Hajime looming over you.
“What did I fucking tell you?”
—
‘Sweetie, make sure you hold your brother’s hand.’
They’d meant when you were walking home from the bus stop, or crossing the road. When there was a buddy system so no one got separated or left behind.
Hajime was always holding your hand. Not because your parents told him to, but because that’s how it was supposed to be. You were twins, he’d been born first (by all of six minutes) and you had followed. You were always following Hajime, and he was always going to look after you.
Until he gets put into the Otter class with Mr Inagaki, and you go into Dugong with Miss Ino.
Hajime’s nothing short of enraged. He throws chairs and yells and tries to kick the Principal, but it doesn’t change anything.
It would be good for you, they said, to have a chance to make other friends. ‘You can’t keep using your brother as a crutch, honey,’ your mother gently admonishes.
Hajime scowls at that. Later, when it’s just the two of you hiding away in his room, he tells you she’s an idiot and a liar. ‘You don’t need anyone else. You have me.’
You knew that. You’d always have Hajime, but the other kids in your class weren’t as awful as he made them sound. Some of them were actually kind of cool, and they liked you, too.
For a while, you began to believe you could have both; Hajime and your new friends.
Until one day you’re waiting for him at lunch when a boy from your class tugs on your braids and with a wide, toothy grin, loudly proclaims to the whole playground that even though you were a girl, and girls have cooties, it’d probably be okay if you wanted to be his girlfriend.
You didn’t see Hajime coming up behind you. You’ve no idea where he found the scissors. The only warning either of you get is a sudden, splitting roar before he’s throwing himself at the smaller boy, tackling him to the ground.
‘She’s MINE!’
Silver glints, flashing in the sunlight, and a high pitched shriek rips through the playground as he brings the scissors down on the poor, struggling boy.
With a viciousness you’d never known of your brother, he swings again and again. It’s chaos. The other kids scatter and the teachers run to intervene. Hajime, spitting and snarling, red in the face and half-feral, doesn’t stop for them.
He stops for you.
At the sound of a sharp little gasp, a line of red slashed along your forearm, Hajime stops dead, wide, horrified eyes fixed on yours.
—
‘Sweetie, what have I told you about snooping? I raised you better than that.’
‘But they’re addressed to me. Hajime wrote to me.’
‘Your brother’s not well, those letters– they’ll only upset you. I don’t want you reading them.’
‘… He says he misses me.’
‘I know, but he’s where he belongs, getting help. You want that for him, don’t you? To get the help he needs?’
‘I want to write back to him.’
—
There’s another letter waiting for you when you get home from school.
You hang your backpack near the door, still damp from being tossed in the pool, and eye the opened envelope sitting by your father. He doesn’t look up from his laptop when you reach for it, doesn’t lift a finger to stop you. Nevertheless, the displeasure radiates from him clear as day.
“You shouldn’t encourage him. He’s not well.”
You’d scoff if it wouldn’t get you in trouble. Nothing you said could ever be taken as ‘encouragement’, and you’re under no illusions about who and what your brother is.
The violence terrifies you. Sometimes he says things in the letters he writes that make your stomach all twisty and your palms sweat, but Hajime could be a monster, and you think you’d love him anyway. You wouldn’t have a choice.
So you pluck at the envelope and tuck it close, making your way to your room without another glance at either of your parents. Sitting cross legged atop your bed, you eagerly scan the contents;
He hates the new therapist. They had a movie night planned, but some asshole started a fight and the whole thing got cancelled. The food’s still shit. He’s fed up and pissed off, whether he behaves or not, they won’t let him out and they won’t give him what he wants, so what’s the point in pretending?
The both of you turn twelve in ten days time – you owe it to him to come spend it together.
—
‘Maybe it’s for the best, sweetheart.’
Dismissive. She’s always dismissive. Your hands curl in response, tightening before you force yourself to flex them out and bite your tongue. It’s not worth the fight. Neither one of them actually care, and nothing you say will ever change that.
He’s angry at you. Or hurt. Both, probably.
They wouldn’t let you visit. You’d begged – cried, even – and it hadn’t swayed them. The rules are that you aren’t allowed to go and see Hajime and you aren’t allowed to talk to him on the phone. The letters are the only communication you have, and when your twelfth birthday comes and goes, those stop too.
You’ve sent four letters since, no response.
He’s shut you out entirely and while you can’t blame him for it, it’s painful.
You’ve always had Hajime, through everything. Him shutting you out feels like losing a limb–
No, it’s more than that. It’s like slowly losing some vital function inside of you. Like your lungs are shutting down and you can’t breathe properly and your heart isn’t pumping the way it should. You feel guilty and horrible and at least twice, you debate trying to find a way to sneak out and make the two hour journey on your own, just so you can see him.
It’s a stupid idea, they wouldn’t even let you through the front door, but it’s the only idea you have and so you cling to it.
You keep writing to him– panicked. Desperate. Begging his forgiveness.
He never writes back.
—
They sit you down at breakfast three months after your fourteenth birthday and tell you Hajime’s gone.
There was another fight, someone pushed him–
You don’t want to hear the details. They don’t matter and your ears are ringing too loud to make sense of them anyway.
Hajime is gone.
The cord between you was stretched and fraying already. He hadn’t written in over two years and probably hated you towards the end but he– he was–
Yours. A part of you.
Gone.
And your mother’s asking about the English test you have second period.
—
“What. Did. I. Say?” Each word is slowly enunciated, a quiet growl that drags an unwilling shiver down your spine.
He smells of wood – of cedar, spice and musk, the notes melding, coiling with the dizzying body heat, the solid weight of him, bracing himself above you.
His lips are mere inches from yours.
Not dead.
Here.
There’s a thousand thoughts racing through your head, connections that light up, clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle, painting a deeply unsettling picture – all of which are drowned out by the revelation that Hajime is here.
You burst into tears–
and Hajime – your brother, very much alive and glaring at you from above – surges down to swallow them in a vicious kiss.
The moment your lips touch, all the tension in his body just… bleeds out. Hajime groans, low and heated, his hips rocking, grinding along your stomach, and if you weren’t too preoccupied short circuiting, dangling on the precipice of a panic attack, you’d feel the twitch of his mouth, curling into a small but no less satisfied smirk.
He relaxes, like he’s coming home rather than returning from the dead to land the killing blow.
“Mine,” he answers his own question, breath heavy and ragged as his teeth nip at your jaw. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”
The scratches on the wall. Kaori and Koji and Takashi, asleep in a sea of red. The viscous mess spilled over your belly. Your mother’s hushed voice, carrying down the hallway, ‘– only a phase. The books all say he’ll grow out of it before long.’
She hadn’t sounded convinced.
You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to block it all out as more tears spill into your hairline. Hajime won’t let you. He groans your name into the shell of your ear and licks at the tears as they fall. “Don’t,” he warns, fingers pressing tightly around your wrists ‘til they shoot back open with a gasp, “don’t you dare check out.”
When he rucks up your shirt to find you sans bra and a warm palm slides up to grope the soft, supple skin, a fresh burst of panic spurs you into action. Pinned under his weight as you are, you can’t move, and the idea of trying to physically fight him off is as laughable as it is terrifying – but when you were younger, you were the one – the only one – who could coax Hajime back from the edge, your hand in his.
Until he leapt from it entirely, and they took him away.
“H-Hajime?” A trembling, hiccuping whimper, thick with tears.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause – shuffling down your body to mouth at them instead – but hooded, simmering pools of green flick back up to your face, a hum of acknowledgement rumbling in his chest as he nips and sucks pretty, burgundy blooms across your breasts.
“I-if you ever loved me, even a little… Please, Haji– don’t hurt me like this–” you choke on another sob, pathetic mess that you are.
Hajime goes preternaturally still, eyes boring into you.
You stare right back, fighting the urge to cower and flinch, to turn your cheek and stare at the discarded dumpling wrappers, letting him take what he wants. Praying that he won’t hurt you too badly if you give it to him without a fight.
Because it will hurt, you think. It’ll break you entirely.
(Are you not already broken?)
When his head drops, you can’t help it – the sharp, terrified hitch in your breath – but his lips meet your forehead, then each cheek, before finally they brush over your lips with a tenderness he has no right to. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he vows, cradling the side of your jaw, “I won’t hurt you, ever.”
But that’s a lie, too.
“I love you more than anything.”
He kisses you again, soft and sweet and gentle, as if those promises weren’t sewn from violence and legitimised in blood. As if he isn’t breaking your heart with every sweep of his tongue, plundering your mouth.
There’s no fight in you left when he reaches for the waistband of your sweats and slowly starts easing them down. You don’t claw and shove when the hold on your wrists loosens and then disappears entirely, both hands needed to strip away his clothes.
The sound of his belt buckle clinking, the soft hiss of a zipper, they wash over you, white noise lost to the pounding in your ears.
But you don’t look away.
He strokes his cock – long and thick and flushed to the tip – crawling up the mattress to kneel between your legs like a supplicant before an altar of the divine.
Devotion demands sacrifice.
“It killed me,” he starts, dragging the mushroom head along the slit of your pussy. He frowns a little, leans back and spits – a fat glob of saliva landing dead centre, adding to the mess his weeping cock’s already made. “When the letters stopped coming. I was angry, so fucking angry, all the time. I’d lash out and they’d put me in another cage, and I’d do it again, and again. They tried convincing me you’d moved on,” his eyes flash darkly, “which was bullshit. They’d have to carve me out of you with a knife.”
What shocks you isn’t the violent imagery, but the truth of it settling into your bones, inescapable and undeniable; you’ll always love your brother, even if that very love destroys you.
“I didn’t–”
The first thrust rips a strangled yelp from your throat.
He’s too big, you’re not prepared to take him – and Hajime doesn’t care. His head tips back, shuddering out a breathy laugh.
There’s no pause, no period of grace, seated deep inside of you, the walls of your pussy hugging him tight, Hajime won’t allow you a second to catch your breath and wait for the burning sting to abate. His hips draw back until only the throbbing head of his cock remains inside, and, upon grabbing a leg to hitch over his shoulder, uses it as leverage to punch forward, stuffing your tight little cunt to the brim.
The pace he sets is brutal from the outset. Bruising. He licks at your tears between kisses and moans when you clench and shudder around him. “Never again,” he pants into your ear. “I’ll kill them all if you leave. Every last fucking one. You’re mine. Mine.”
And you’d think it cruel, a punishment, if not for the way those green eyes burn.
When his fingers twine with yours, pressing you down into the mattress, holding you there, you wonder if this was always an inevitability.
Hajime led and you followed, hand in bloody hand.
He’d never allow anything less.
needy! bokuto + but still very much dom! bokuto + bokuto uses your panties to get off + male masturbation + f! reader
he knows you’ll be back soon, knows that in a couple minutes you’ll walk through the door and he’ll be able to touch you, hold you while he takes you; wants to bury his cock inside the moment you’ve stepped through the door, not needing to prep you- wants to take you dry and watch your eyes roll to the back of your head, shaking and whimpering for him to slow down before slumping down in a nice and plaint-
fuck.
bokuto runs a hand through his hair, pushing the silver and darkened strands to settle off his face, sighing at the way he let his thoughts wander.
with a pitiful look he glances down, sees his cock strain against his sweats, tilting to the left, jumping with every thought of you flickering through his mind.
he knows you’ll be back soon... but he can’t wait.
with heavy steps, he pads into your shared room, heartbeat quickening when he sees your drawer- partially opened, letting him see the various colors in panties you like wearing.
he’s quick to single out the pair he knows will get him off the fastest...
they’re pink and frilly, laced and pretty.
bokuto holds them inside a clenched fist- turning around, sitting himself on the bed, heart pounding so hard he can see it in his vision as he looks down at the crumpled material.
it’s quick, the way he hooks his thumb under the wasiteband and brings his cock out- rigid in his movements; he hasn’t done this in so long, and why would he went he has you?
there’s a note of urgency because he knows you’ll be here soon anyways- maybe this was just an excuse to make a mess agasint the pretty lace he loves seeing you in, and as he pumps his cock in hard tugs- hissing at the roughness, it might be true.
bokuto whines, tilts his reddened face back- looking at the ceiling while the sound of his palm slapping heavily against his pelvis rings out loudly into the room, see’s stars and sees you. his imagination pulling scenes of shared moments like the weight of you above him while you ride him, dripping down his cock, or how you wheeze out his name, high and whiny when he folds your body down into a press-
“f-fuck! fuck!” koutarou exclaims, the memory has his dick throb, pulling his balls tight, pitching forward in order to stave off the orgasm. the hand still clutching your panties meets the hand furiously fucking himself, swiping the precum dribbling down with the pink. he watches with wide eyes at how nice the color looks darkening at the translucent pre.
its natural, the order in which it all plays out, not thinking as he wraps your panties around his thick cock, red, angry head peaking at the top and another whine leaves him between the lips caught in between his teeth.
there’s something he really likes about how the thin piece looks stretched around and around him- he didnt even know what was transpiring inside his mind while he gave the first tentative drag, lips popping open in a whimper.
he wants you so badly, tummy swirling at the pain- but this will do, this will surely do.
the pretty fabric now snuggly between his hand and dick helps him speed up, imagining hes simply pulled them to the side- sliding in and out of your swollen and oh so prettty cunt. he can almost hear the familiar sound of squelching and your smell, so good when aroused and cuming around him.
he cant seem to tether down one single scenario, but ultimately the memory of him trapping you under him, arms wrapped ‘round your body as he furiously jackhammers his hips up into your jolting body, held straight by only him is what does bokuto in. the dependency and trust you give him makes the big man nearly cry- cry like you do when he splits your pussy open.
hes too excited and high strung, big broad shoulders tipping forward, curling in on himself as he sees his muscled thighs jump. theres harsh swelling before he cums, hastily bringing your panties up and over the crown of his cock, covering his spurting slit. koutarou traps all the cum, sweating as even then its too much and begins seeping from the fabric and his fingers.
“g-god! shit- y/n!”
lust addled brain only knows you, only craves you while he keenly calls out. sucking in a breath while he releases his cock, letting it fall raw and used, slung against his thigh.
bokuto watches while he slowly opens his hand, the image of the pink panties covered in thick, white globs of his semen is one he will commit to memory.
but, there’s not enough time for koutarou to revel in the sight- ears perk up as the front door opens.
once again, with quick movements he makes his way to you, smiling at the wide eyed look you give him, taking in the red and clearly used cock hanging between his thick thighs.
“fuck- youre here... couldn’t wait... and now i need you.” is all bokuto says, wrapping strong arms around you- dumb rough and big fingers quickly stuffing your own soiled panties (still hot and sticky and wet) inside your mouth to silence any questions, letting you know like you couldn’t taste his cum slowly dribbling down onto your tongue- turning you around and tugging your bottoms down.
the memory of you and how you look right now, shaking in attempt to place your cute hands against the door- lips smeared in the mess of cum from your panties, sucking in a breath from your nose as he slides his soft cock inside- would and could never compare.
he wants to recreate the image that brought him to the end, the end which was slowly dribbling down your mouth because there was just that much, and with those strong brutish arms of his, he curls them around your body, furiously humping from behind- forcing his cock to harden inside your cunt, so warm and steadily creating that slick he loves so much.
“‘m sorry- came all over your panties-“ he moves an arm to tap a finger agaisnt your stuffed mout, touching the pink hanging out before returning his arm, “cause i wanted you... you want me too, right?” bokuto questions, knowing the answer as you push back, eagerly wanting more.
“but now i have you, nd i’m gunna stuff you like you deserve.”
hi !! i loved your post about suna etc etc and their s/o likes getting teased and pretends to be offended ... can you do the same for kuroo, oikawa, and bokuto please ?? :) thank you !!
spent a good minute thinking about the repercussions for jokingly ignoring kuroo 😗
oh also, I don’t know if you wanted the teasing to still be about their height like the last prompt, so I decided to switch it up (bc idk how to tease short people) apologies if that’s not what you wanted though :(
feat. Kuroo, Oikawa, Bokuto
Kuroo
Kuroo has an enormous amount of pride catered towards how smart he is- this is a FACT
honestly, you’re grateful for him because he’s always there if you need help with a subject
plus that means you two have plenty of study dates!! a win-win
anyways it’s towards the end of your first class, and the teacher was passing back a test. after grabbing yours, you head over to where Kuroo and Yaku sat
“Tetsurou~!! Are you free this weekend??” you give him puppy-dog eyes, hoping he says yes
he jokingly rolls his eyes at you and teases, “hmm? oh did you fail your test? do you need tutoring? you know babe, you’d do really well if you spent more time listening in class than you do sleeping”
you pause at his words- no that’s not why you’re there. to be fair, in the last week, you have pestered him to help you with this particularly tricky math lesson. and the teacher did just hand back tests, so it makes sense why he asked that
you weren’t upset at his assumption, but you decided it would be quite funny if you pretended you were
your smile soon turned into a small pout and you furrowed your brows, “... never mind”
before Kuroo could tell you he was just joking, you’re already heading back to your seat for your next class
throughout the day you pretend like he doesn’t exist. when you spot him walking towards you, you quickly try to make yourself look busy by talking to a teacher or another student
and props to you for being a really great actor, because after many attempts, Kuroo picks up on how you’re actively ignoring him
so during lunch, he sends Kenma over to investigate
he heads to your classroom, which is where you’ve chosen to eat in order to ignore your boyfriend. he was surprised to see you scrolling on your phone and laughing, since he expected you to be moping around
you look up and smile at the setter, and you hold out your lunch
“Kenma!! oh hey do you want to try some of my lunch? I cooked it myself!!”
but Kenma cuts straight to the point, “you look rather happy for someone who’s supposed to be upset with their boyfriend... are you actually mad at Kuroo?”
your eyes dart to the door and you mouth to him, “is he in the hall?”
Kenma shakes his head, but you’re too skeptical so you go up to check yourself. the coast is clear
“don’t be dumb Kenma, I’m not actually upset at him. but he did tease me today and that was kind of rude of him. so let’s just say I’m teaching him a lesson!!” you try to rationalize your actions
Kenma shakes his head, “whatever- as long as it’s nothing serious” and he walks out of the room. he’s sensible enough to know not to say a word, so you continue to enjoy your lunch
when Kenma reports back to Kuroo, he thinks about what to say so that he wouldn’t be lying to his best friend, but also not betray your trust
“she said something about being dumb and lessons- I don’t know”
Kuroo comes to the conclusion that his comments earlier, in combination with your test score, made you lose confidence in yourself and doubt your intelligence.
failing a test is always a shitty feeling, but Kuroo hates thinking that his words just made you feel even worse
he knew he had to make amends as soon as possible, so he gave his remains lunch to Yaku and left to go find you
while walking to class, Kuroo is fortunate enough to run into you in front of the teachers lounge
before you could scurry away, Kuroo catches your arm and pulls you back towards him
trying your best not to laugh, you turn back and look at him with blank eyes
“did you need something, Kuroo?”
he frowns when he hears you use his last name, and the first thing he does is pull you in for a hug
“I’m sorry about the comment I made about your grades this morning. it was a dumb joke, and I don’t want you to ever think you’re not smart- because you are smart. doesn’t matter how you did on that test, okay?”
you pull away from his hug a bit to look at his face, he looks so apologetic that you almost feel bad for tricking him
“Tets-” you’re interrupted by the teachers lounge door opening
Out exits your math teacher and upon sight, the two of you immediately separate
“oh, there are my two star students! I know this last test was particularly devilish, but you guys did great!!” he beamed at you two, and you could see the confusion forming on Kuroo’s face
“especially you, Miss Y/n! you should be proud- after all you were the only student to get a perfect score!!” and with that announcement, your math teacher walked away
as soon as he was out of sight, Kuroo lifted you up and over his shoulder
“wha- hey BABE PUT ME DOWN” you thrash your legs around, but it’s no use
“not until you apologize for deceiving me like that” he says, acting nonchalant as he passes by confused students
“okay but you were the one making unnecessary jokes in the first place. psSHH how could you think I failed that test when I had the best tutor in the world?”
Kuroo smiles at that comment, but still doesn’t let you down
at the other end of the hallway, Kenma sees the two of you and sighs, “I hate it here” before walking away
Oikawa
you were definitely used to seeing girls flock around your boyfriend
and it didn’t instill any sort of insecurity- although admittedly it did get annoying because it did feel odd knowing that there were girls still trying to win his affection.
still, he never accepted any gifts from them or did anything to make it seem like he was actually interested in them out of respect for your relationship
one morning, you’re at school early for morning duties and you see the four third years heading towards the clubroom
upon seeing you, Oikawa envelopes you in a hug and proceeds to twirl you around
“you guys are literally disgusting” Makki scoffs
ignoring him, Oikawa presents you with a cute box of chocolates
“for you~” he smiles and you eye him suspiciously
“kinda odd for you to have chocolates... where did you get them from Tooru?” you ask
Oikawa rolls his eyes and decides to joke around, “oh yeah a really cute girl gave them to me this morning”
you could see the receipt from the store he bought it from peeking from his school jacket pocket, but somehow you thought it would be a good idea to mess around with him
your smile drops, “oh- you got them... from another girl? that’s cool. um I don’t really want chocolate right now so maybe you should take them!! you should eat them, since you know... a cute girl got it for you!” you offer him a weak smile before announcing you had to head to your classroom for your morning duties
you walk out of the room quickly, praising yourself for your stupendous actions as you recount the third years’ reactions
Oikawa’s face was filled with panic when he thought that you misunderstood his joke
and the other three stood there wide-eyes, not knowing what to do
things would only get funnier throughout the day because naturally, Oikawa would find himself surrounded by girls in the hall
and everytime you witnessed this, you made sure to have some sort of sad expression when you made eye contact with him
you don’t know why you decided to take this little prank even further, but you’re literally hiding in the library in order to avoid Oikawa during lunch
since Oikawa can’t find you, he mopes back to his friends
“Iwa-chan, I think Y/n is upset with meeeee” he whines
“probably, it’s your fault for saying you got the chocolates from another girl you dumbass” Iwaizumi isn’t the most comforting, but you gotta appreciate his honesty
“you know what bothers me though?” Makki speaks up, “I don’t think Y/n is this dumb to believe Oikawa’s joke”
Mattsun nods hid head, “I was literally thinking the same thing. Oikawa would be a big enough idiot to fall for something like this-”
“what, okay first of all that’s rude. also I don’t know if it’s fair to say Y/n is faking her emotions” Oikawa says. of course he doesn’t want to dismiss your own feelings, no matter how off script they may seem
back in the library, you decide to stop the whole act when you see him after school- right before he has practice
throughout the rest of the day, Oikawa is trying to text you- trying to explain everything. but you leave his messages on DELIVERED
he starts to think about how you might have gotten more insecure seeing him be flocked upon by girls and how you probably just didn’t share this feeling
it probably didn’t get any better considering he pretended he accepted chocolates from another girl
he plans out an entire apology for you!! like he is writing an outline of all the times he has wronged you and how it was all just a stupid joke. like he is really keen on making sure you understand how much he loves you and only you
after class he’s unable to find you until he gets a message from Iwaizumi that you’re sitting behind the gym
when Oikawa manages to evade his fans, he sees you sitting against the gym wall, scrolling through your phone
he sits in front of you, and when you notice him, he grabs your hands and begins his apology
“Y/n. I wanted you to know that I lied about getting the chocolates from a girl this morning-”
“I know” you manage to slip in in the middle of his words
“I thought it would be really funny to joke about it but- wait did you say you knew? Who told you, and when?” he looks surprised, wondering which one of his friends confronted you about it
“uhhh I knew the second you told me. plus I saw the store receipt sticking out in your pocket soooo” you giggle at him, but slowly your laughter ceases when his own face gets serious
“you’re telling me that you knew about this, and still decided to ignore me.” his eyes staring into yours are enough to make you lose your thoughts for a second
“I- uh, well you joked around with me first Tooru!!! so I thought I would... do the same?” you smile sweetly, hoping he would forgive you
your boyfriend rolls his eyes, and pulls you forward and into his arms
you wrap your arms around his torso and let out a content sigh- to be honest you did miss being around him today. plus he wasn’t upset with you so no harm no foul-
“you’re so sly Y/n-chan” he whispers in your ear, and you feel a blush forming on your face
but before anything could happen, Iwaizumi rounds the corner of the building
“Shittykawa get your ass over here, it’s time for practice”
leave it to Iwaizumi to ruin the mood
Bokuto
no why would you ignore the owl boy : (
because sometimes he needs to be HUMBLED
it’s already after school, and you were watching the volleyball team practice
today’s practice was much more lax than usual, so it was entertaining to see the team just play around for fun
you’re watching them practice their serves and chatting with the managers when a ball bounces off the floor and hits your face
your face stings for a bit, but you’re completely fine since it wasn’t a direct hit
you look up to see the perpetrator approaching you- and it’s your boyfriend. of course
Bokuto bites his lip, but he can’t help but laugh at what had happened
“oh my god, babe- I'm so sorry but seeing your shocked face right before the ball hit you was the funniest thing ever”
he cups your face to check for injuries but his smile falters when he sees you looking upset
“kou- that really hurt me. I can’t believe you laughed” you pout at him
no of course you weren’t upset, but he literally laughed at you for getting hit. he should feel a bit upset
without giving Bokuto a chance to react, you escape from his hands to hide behind Yukie and Kaori
when the managers turn around to face you, they see you give them a small wink and they give you a small nod in return
turning back to the captain, who sat this point looks really confused and slightly worried, the managers keep up the charade
“Bokuto, you should just let Y/n calm down. get back to practicing” Yukie says and they return to practice
the managers pull you off to the side
“well, I think we deserve an explanation since we just covered your ass there” Kaori says, trying really hard not to laugh and draw in suspicion
“oh my goodness, you saw what happened!! I don’t think Koutarou should have teased me like that. there’s nothing wrong with teaching him a lesson!” you say in a low voice
“I don’t know... don’t get me wrong I think it’s hilarious in theory. but are you sure about this”
you shrug at your friends, “yeah, it’ll be a fun joke.” and the two managers sigh, knowing what would happen to the ace
when the three of you appear back in the team’s line of sight, Bokuto is throwing glances at you, in hopes that you look back
and when you do, his heart absolutely shatters when he sees you give him a hurt look
his hair deflates and he lowers his head as he walks towards Akaashi
“Akaashi... I'm a terrible boyfriend. I injured my girlfriend and then laughed about it” he whines
Akaashi remains as honest as ever, “yeah, I think making fun of her was pushing it Bokuto-san. I don’t blame her for being upset”
as practice continues, it doesn’t take long for everyone to notice Bokuto’s decline in skill. he’s very out of it, and just overall sluggish
you watch in shock as Bokuto tells Akaashi to not set to him anymore
Kaori pokes you in your side, “still think this is a good idea, Y/n?” and Yukie sticks her tongue out at you. the two has 100% expected this outcome
to be fair, you knew that Bokuto would feel apologetic, but your top notch acting really intensified things
during the team’s break, you approach your boyfriend, who’s sitting on the bench alone- away from the rest of the team
you shake your head at how dramatic he can be sometimes, still it was cute how much he was worried for you
you tap his shoulder, and when he looks up you simply plop yourself down on his lap and wrap your arms around him
“I’m sorry” you mumble
Bokuto blinks in confusion, “wha-wait what for?”
“I lied to you. I was never upset at you, I just pretended to be because you decided to tease me and I wanted revenge” you bury your head into his neck, half guilty and half embarrassed
Bokuto wraps his arms around you and takes a deep breath in
maybe he should be upset that you had messed with him, but you were really remorseful and so cute, he decided to forget about it and skip the lecture
instead he gives the top of your head a kiss, “you’re forgiven. but I’m also sorry for hitting and laughing at you” he says
you lift your head to kiss him, “well then, I guess we’re even then” and like that, Bokuto returns to normal
the two of you cuddle a bit more before the team heads back to practice some more
somehow that has given him strength, and his spikes are even more powerful than before
please don’t get hit this time though
— peep show | m.
pairing : hanamaki/reader
wordcount : 2.395
genre : fluff, smut, pwp
cw : established relationship
tags : voyeurism, reading doesn’t know she’s being watched but makki does????, oc roommate, daddy kink, squirting, riding, fingering, soft!makki, praise kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation,
note : ive had this idea rattling around in my brain for ages. it’s got lit the BARE MINIMUM of plot it’s lit just pwp tbh so ENJOY
+ summary : makki overhears his roommate talking trash about how he can’t pleasure you, his girlfriend. so he puts on a little show to prove just how well he can treat you.
It started out with mumbled whispers in the spare bedroom. Makki was passing by, water bottle in hand as he made his way back to his own bedroom.
The voice was familiar – the masculine tone of his roommate, Kensuke. If he had to guess he was on discord, chatting with some gaming buddies as usual. He was a nice enough guy, did what he was supposed to do in terms of pay rent and bills – that’s all Makki could really ask for. They had become roommates when Makki put out an ad and the rest was history. They were, by no means, friends and to be quite frank, they both liked it that way.
And Makki wasn’t usually in the habit of eavesdropping but when he heard your name muffled through the wood, he paused.
Pressing his ear against the door, he closed his eyes to block out all other external stimuli – focusing on the words being spoken by his roommate.
“Yeah dude, Hanamaki’s girlfriend,” he muttered, “She’s a total babe, I don’t know how he managed to get her. She’s way out his league,” he was quite for a second before laughing, “Nah, she prances around in these little lounge shorts that just make her ass look great, trust me, it’s a sight.”
Makki rolled his eyes. Of course it would be that. He wasn’t insecure or worried about his roommates apparent attraction to you, no, he was pretty used to it. He knew you were pretty and, to be quite frank, it boosted his ego to hear how other men lost themselves over you. But Kensuke’s next words truly irked him and had him storming back to his bedroom with his jaw set in irritation.
“I can hear them bangin’ sometimes – like the bed moving and shit but she never makes any noise so he’s probably not even that good,” Kensuke laughs, “Anyone with eyes can see she’s too good for him – he can’t even get her to moan in bed, I feel kinda bad for him…poor guy. Anyway, let’s get this game goin’!”
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pairing: atsumu x reader
warnings: 18+ smut, pwp, unprotected sex, sex in a locker room, dirty talk, creampie
word count: 362
author’s note: based on the ask: daily Astumu milking (◡‿◡✿)
“someone could walk in on us any minute now… you’d like that though, wouldn’t you?” impatient as ever, he starts bouncing you, all the way up and all the way down, easily guiding your movements as the squelch of your pussy fills the locker room.
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