#I'll just sit quietly and breathe deeply for the rest of the afternoon

[hms-tardimpala]

I'm having chest pain??

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)  MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Rating: Explicit

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con 

Content Warnings: Dubious Consent, Prostitution, Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi, F/F 

Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character(s), Nanami Kento/Original Female Character(s), Getou Suguru/Original Female Character(s), Ieiri Shoko & Iori Utahime 

Major Characters: Original Characters, Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru, Nanami Kento, Okkotsu Yuuta, Toudou Aoi, Zenin Naobito, Zenin Jinichi, Zenin, Zenin Ougi, Fushiguro Megumi, Kamo Clan, Nitta Akari, Inumaki Toge, Ieiri Shoko, Iori Utahime, Kusakabe Atsuya, Muta Kokichi, Itadori Yuuji, Hakari Kinji

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Chapter 14　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Yaga led Gojo into his office, the door closing behind them with a soft click. The room was dimly lit, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the walls. Yaga gestured for Gojo to sit down, then pulled his chair around to sit directly across from him. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands clasped in front of him. His expression was a mix of concern and frustration.

"Sit," Yaga said quietly, his tone firm but not unkind.

Gojo sat down, his usual confident demeanor subdued. He avoided Yaga's gaze, staring instead at a spot on the floor.

Yaga sighed deeply, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders, "What on earth is going on, Satoru? What are you thinking?"

Gojo remained silent, his jaw clenched. He couldn't bring himself to meet Yaga's eyes.

Yaga took off his sunglasses, something he rarely did, and leaned in closer, "Look at me, Satoru."

Reluctantly, Gojo lifted his eyes to meet Yaga's. The concern and worry in Yaga's gaze were palpable, and it struck a chord deep within him.

"I'm worried about you," Yaga said, his voice softening, "I'm worried that you're losing control of yourself. You're losing everything that made you who you are and you're becoming the monster people believe you to be."

Gojo's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—anger, shame, and a deep-seated sadness. He took a shaky breath, trying to find the words to explain the chaos inside his mind.

"I... I don't know what I'm even doing," Gojo finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, "Everything feels like it's falling apart. Sarah, the family, me... everything."

Yaga nodded, listening intently. He paused for a beat before he said, "You've been through a lot, Satoru. But this... this isn't the way to handle it."

Gojo's hands tightened into fists, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He shouted, "Then what the fuck am I supposed to do, Yaga? Just sit back and let them win? Let them take everything from me?"

"No," Yaga said firmly, "But letting your anger control you and burying your feelings by getting high isn't right. You're better than this. You have people who care about you, who are willing to help you if you let them."

Gojo's gaze dropped again, his shoulders slumping. The weight of Yaga's words was heavy, and he couldn't deny the truth in them.

"I just... I don't know how to fix this," Gojo admitted, his voice cracking, "I don't know how to make things right."

Yaga reached out, placing a hand on Gojo's shoulder. "You start by taking a step back. By letting us help you. We can figure this out together, but you need to let us in. You need to trust us."

Gojo looked up, meeting Yaga's eyes once more. There was a glimmer of hope in the older man's gaze, a promise that he wasn't alone in this.

"Okay," Gojo said, his voice steadier. "I'll try."

Yaga gave a small, reassuring smile. "That's all I'm asking for. One step at a time, Satoru. We'll get through this together." Yaga let the heavy silence settle between them before speaking again. "Satoru, I think it would be best if you took some time away from Tenjiku. You need to clear your head, get some perspective," he suggested gently.

Gojo looked up at Yaga, a mixture of relief and uncertainty in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but Yaga held up a hand, stopping him.

"Before you say anything," Yaga continued, "I need you to be honest with me. Do you truly believe you love Sarah?"

Gojo swallowed hard, his throat tight. He looked up at Yaga, his hands wringing in his lap. "I do. I've loved her ever since I was a kid. She was the only woman who ever treated me like a human, not like a monster or some kind of god," his voice cracked, and his voice stammered as he continued, "I know I messed up. I know I don't deserve her, but I know I love her. I don't know why I can't do right by her."

Yaga hesitated, choosing his next words carefully,  "Satoru, do you know what happened that day when Sarah was forced to undergo the ritual?"

Gojo's face contorted with pain, and he finally let the tears fall. "I don't remember because..." he admitted, his voice breaking, "I was drugged. I didn't want to believe it for a long time, but I was drugged because my family knew I wouldn't let them feed Sarah Sukuna's fingers if I was lucid."

The confession hung heavy in the air, the raw truth of it nearly unbearable. Yaga moved closer, placing a comforting hand on Gojo's shoulder.

"I had a feeling," Yaga said softly, "You were manipulated, and that manipulation has had consequences far beyond what anyone could have anticipated."

Gojo wiped his eyes with his forearm, trying to compose himself, "But what do I do now? How do I fix this?"

Yaga sighed, thinking carefully. "First, you need to take care of yourself. No more drowning yourself. No more sneaking in to see her. Stay away from your vices. Then, when you're ready, you need to have an honest conversation with Sarah. She deserves to know the truth."

Gojo nodded slowly, the weight of Yaga's words settling in. He sniffled a little, trying to catch his breath. Yaga gave a small, encouraging smile. "One step at a time, Satoru. We'll get through this together."

Gojo took a deep breath, "Alright. I'll... I'll try."

Yaga squeezed his shoulder gently. "You're not alone in this, Satoru. Remember that."

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

The air in Shinjuku was thick with tension as the two groups stood opposite each other. Yaga, Geto, Gojo, and Nanami faced off against Naobito Zen'in, Jinichi, Ogi, and Megumi. The neutral ground they stood on felt anything but neutral, the weight of their histories and grievances palpable in the space between them.

Yaga stepped forward, his expression composed but serious. "Naobito, I regret that the situation has gone this far already, but I must address the matter that has fueled this conflict."

Naobito's eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for Yaga to continue.

Yaga took a deep breath and asked plainly, "Did Toji kill Fumiya on purpose?"

Naobito's gaze remained on Yaga's and there was a long tense pause. Finally, he grinned and a loud barking laugh echoed through the streets. He leaned forward, "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. But if it were me? I'd be after my pound of flesh."

Gojo and Geto gritted their teeth, taking a step forward only for Nanami to hold his hands up to stop them. Yaga didn't look back, still holding himself high and keeping his expression calm. He nodded once before he spoke once again.

"I see," Yaga said while slipping his hands into his pockets, "Then we have no choice."

Both groups parted, and just like that everything changed overnight.

In the neon-soaked alleys of Shinjuku, tension hung in the air like the heavy smog of the city. The Yaga group and the Zen'in group eyed each other from across the streets. At first, it was just heated words, exchanges of threats in dimly lit corners. The standoffs were frequent, and every encounter seemed to tighten the invisible noose.

The first punch was thrown in the heart of Kabukicho, a district known for its labyrinthine streets and flickering neon signs. A Zen'in thug shoved a Yaga member, the shove turned into a punch, and the punch ignited a wildfire of violence. Fists flew, and the air was filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, of grunts and curses. The skirmish was brutal but short, leaving both sides retreating to lick their wounds and plot their next moves.

But that first taste of violence was a harbinger of worse to come. Blood was drawn on a rain-soaked night outside a smoky bar. A knife glinted in the dim light, and then it was buried in the side of a Yaga shatei. The crimson spray on the pavement marked a point of no return. The gangs responded in kind, blades flashing in the darkness, the violence escalating with every heartbeat.

When the first kill happened, it was under the sickly yellow glow of a street lamp. A Zen'in enforcer was found with his throat slit, the work of a skilled hand. The city held its breath as the news spread through the underworld like wildfire. The Yaga group knew they had crossed the line again, and so did the Zen'in. The retribution was swift and merciless.

The sorcery began in earnest. Dark energies crackled through the air as curses were summoned and unleashed. Shadows moved with unnatural speed, and screams echoed through the night. The battles were no longer just physical; they were waged with ancient powers that turned the streets into a battleground of supernatural horrors.

A quiet night would suddenly erupt into chaos as sorcerers clashed, their powers ripping through the cityscape. Buildings shuddered under the force of curses, and the air buzzed with raw energy. The lights  flickered in the aftermath, casting long, twisted shadows over the carnage.

Yaga's group fought with a grim resolve. They were forced into a war they never wanted, but ready to fight for their territory and their people. The Zen'in, ruthless and unyielding, pushed back with all their might, their own sorcerers unleashing hellish fury.

As the violence escalated, the once-bustling streets of Shinjuku became a warzone, each side vying for dominance, each clash more brutal than the last. And amidst the chaos, the true cost of their conflict became painfully clear: a city caught in the crossfire, lives shattered by the unrelenting cycle of revenge, and a fragile peace that seemed more elusive with every drop of blood spilled.

In this dark and twisted version of Shinjuku, the lines between right and wrong blurred, and the only law that remained was the law of survival. And as the war raged on, it was anyone's guess who would be left standing when the smoke finally cleared.

Yaga sat at his desk, his mind heavy with the weight of the current situation. His office was silent, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as memories of the gang war from twelve years ago flooded his mind. The brutal violence, the senseless loss of life, and the deep scars it had left on both sides.

He had promised himself that if he ever became leader, he would focus on maintaining neutrality between the groups, avoiding the bloodshed that had plagued their past. But now, as he faced the reality of the situation, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of disappointment.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The responsibility of leadership was a heavy burden, one that demanded difficult decisions and sacrifices. He knew that the path to peace was never straightforward, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed in his mission.

Yaga opened his eyes and straightened up in his chair. He couldn't afford to dwell on the past. There was work to be done, strategies to be devised, and alliances to be mended. The future of their family depended on it.

Meanwhile behind the thick, black-out curtains of his penthouse suite, Gojo grappled with his own personal demons. The once-untouchable sorcerer, feared and revered in equal measure, had become a shadow of his former self. He lay in a sweating, delirious mess on his luxurious bed, the sheets tangled around him like the chains of his addiction.

Yaga's words echoed in his mind, a mantra of tough love that cut through the haze of his withdrawal. "You have to do this, Satoru. You have to take back control." Gojo had taken those words seriously. He knew he couldn't continue down the path he was on. The drugs, the alcohol—they were a crutch, a way to numb the pain and the guilt that gnawed at his soul. But they were also the chains that bound him to his own self-destruction.

Hani had offered to filter out the poisonous addictions, to ease the torment of his withdrawal with his healing sorcery. But Gojo refused. He knew that if he didn't face the full brunt of his addiction, if he didn't do his time, he would never truly get clean. So, he locked himself away, cut off from the world outside, and let the hell of withdrawal take hold.

The hours bled into days, each one an eternity of agony. His body ached, his skin burned, and his mind was a maelstrom of regret and self-loathing. He saw visions of the past, of Sarah's anguished face, of the friends and allies he had let down. The high and mighty Satoru Gojo, brought low by his own vices.

Every so often, he would hear the muffled sounds of the city below—the distant sirens, the shouts, the crashes. The world outside was a blur, disconnected from the torment he was enduring. He was alone in his suffering, each moment a test of his willpower.

Nanami and Geto were holding the line with the tenacity of seasoned warriors, their resolve unshaken despite the chaos around them. Geto, with his overwhelming power, could have turned the tide of the conflict with a mere flick of his wrist. Yet, he chose restraint. Yaga's insistence on minimizing bloodshed rang in his ears like a solemn vow. He respected Yaga's wisdom and believed in the possibility of a less violent resolution, even if it seemed increasingly distant.

Geto's strength was undeniable. His ability to command cursed spirits and his strategic mind made him a formidable opponent. But he wielded his power with precision, engaging only when absolutely necessary, neutralizing threats without resorting to lethal force. He moved like a ghost through the battlefield, a shadow that struck fear into the Zen'in without leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. Every confrontation was a delicate dance, evidence of his control and commitment to Yaga's vision.

Nanami, on the other hand, was a man of pragmatism and relentless determination. He was the linchpin in their efforts to uncover the mystery of Q.N. and the drug manufacturing. His days were a blur of investigative work, piecing together fragments of information, following leads, and cross-referencing data. The homeopathic pharmaceutical manufacturing facility they had infiltrated in Malaysia had provided a trove of clues, but it was like untangling a web of shadows.

The Queen of the Night, or Q.N., was proving to be a particularly elusive enigma. The documents Rin had found hinted at something deeper, something more insidious than they had initially suspected. Nanami's mind worked tirelessly, sifting through the layers of deception and misdirection. He knew that if they could uncover the truth behind Q.N., they might find the leverage needed to bring about a ceasefire or even dismantle the Zen'in's operations from within.

There were moments of grim humor shared between Nanami and Geto, a brief respite from the relentless tension. They both understood the weight of their roles, the thin line they walked between maintaining order and descending into chaos. They communicated through nods and glances, a silent understanding forged through years of camaraderie and shared battles.

In the main lounge, Nanami and Geto sat in a rare moment of reprieve. The room was dimly lit, the low hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the silence. Geto leaned back, his feet propped on the table, a cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth. His eyes were closed, taking in the rare tranquility. Nanami, equally worn out, had a cold washcloth draped over his forehead, his posture mirroring Geto’s in its relaxed sprawl.

The silence between them was heavy but comfortable, each man lost in his own thoughts. After what felt like an eternity, Nanami broke the stillness, his voice a quiet murmur. “How’s Gojo doing?”

Geto opened his eyes slightly, exhaling a slow plume of smoke. “Haven’t had the time to check,” he admitted, a hint of regret in his tone. The ongoing conflicts and his own duties had kept him too occupied to visit their troubled friend.

Nanami sighed, shifting the washcloth on his forehead. “I need to ask him about some of the things Rin and I found,” he said, his mind already drifting back to the complexities of their investigation.

At the mention of Rin, Geto’s fists clenched imperceptibly, a flicker of irritation passing through him. The casual way Nanami said her name grated on him, though he knew it shouldn’t. He never expected that Rin would move on from him, especially not with someone like Nanami.

“I’ll make time to see him,” Geto said finally, his voice steady, “We need him in a better state if we’re going to make any headway with the Zen'in anyway.”

Another silence fell between them, but it was less heavy this time, each man drawing some measure of comfort from the other’s presence. They were comrades in arms, bound by their shared struggles and the unspoken understanding that they were fighting for something greater than themselves.

Geto took another drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily upward. “We’ll get through this, Nanami. Like last time.”

Nanami removed the washcloth from his forehead, sitting up a bit straighter. “I know we will,” he replied, a steely resolve in his voice. “We have to.”

Yaga entered the room, waving for them both to remain seated. He settled onto the couch with a deep sigh, rubbing his temples. The tension in the room was palpable, the weight of their collective burdens heavy in the air.

“How are you both holding up?” Yaga asked quietly, his eyes scanning their weary faces.

Nanami was the first to respond, his frustration evident. “I’m frustrated with Gojo. All of this... it’s because of him," he gritted.

Geto’s eyes snapped open, and he quickly came to his best friend’s defense. “Satoru has had it hard under his parents’ thumb, always under scrutiny to be the strongest. You can’t understand the pressure he’s been under," he said, sitting up.

Nanami’s expression hardened. “All of that happened when he was young, Geto. Gojo is an adult now. At some point, you can’t blame your past for everything. You have to take responsibility for who you've chosen to be.”

The room fell silent as the weight of Nanami’s words hung in the air. Geto clenched his jaw, his fists tightening. He knew there was truth in Nanami’s words, but his loyalty to Gojo was unwavering.

Yaga watched the exchange, his gaze shifting between the two men. “You’re both right,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm, “Gojo has had a difficult past, and that’s shaped who he is. But Nanami is also right. At some point, you have to take responsibility for your actions and make a change.”

Geto looked away, his expression conflicted. He knew Yaga was right, but it was hard to reconcile that with his deep-seated loyalty to Gojo. “I don’t want to see him spiral any further,” he admitted quietly, “He’s been through enough.”

Nanami sighed, his anger giving way to a more subdued frustration, “None of us want that. But he has to want to change for it to mean anything.”

Yaga nodded, his expression thoughtful, “We need to support him, but we also need to hold him accountable.”

"What are you suggesting?" Nanami asked, "Should we try to get him into rehab if he messes up again?"

"I doubt that rehab would be able to hold him," Geto sighed, pulling out his bun and brushing his fingers through his hair, "I don't like to suggest this but perhaps we could ask-"

"No," Yaga cut him off, "Not Sarah. He needs to stay away from her. He cannot be allowed to see her again until he's clean."

"But," Geto protested, "He listens to her and she could-"

Yaga shook his head, "No. He can't control himself when he's with her." He leaned forward and looked at Geto over his sunglasses, "Do not encourage that behavior, Suguru."

"But, Sir I-"

"Suguru, if you aid him in meeting or communicating with her in any way I will have you severely punished," Yaga said firmly, "This is not something I'm going to allow to go on any longer."

Geto opened his mouth to protest again, but Yaga's expression quickly silenced him. Nanami nodded in agreement, "Yes, I think this is the best option for them both."

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

The hallway leading to Gojo’s room was eerily quiet, the tension building with each step Nanami, Geto, and Yaga took. The air felt thick, as if the weight of their concerns had settled into the very walls around them. As they reached the door, Yaga took a deep breath and knocked softly before pushing it open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight against the midday sun. They could see a lump under the sheets on the bed, motionless and silent. The room smelled faintly of sweat and the lingering remnants of old smoke.

“Gojo?” Yaga called gently, stepping inside with Nanami and Geto close behind. “We’re here to check on you.”

Nanami and Geto exchanged worried glances as they moved closer to the bed. The lump under the sheets didn’t stir, and a sense of unease began to gnaw at them. Yaga kept his voice calm and encouraging. “We know this is hard, but we’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Geto, his brows furrowed in concern, took a step closer. Something didn’t feel right. The lump was too still, too lifeless. His heart began to race as he reached out and grabbed the edge of the sheets, pulling them away in one swift motion.

The bed was empty.

Nanami’s eyes widened in shock, and Yaga’s face darkened with immediate realization. “He’s gone,” Geto muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yaga’s expression hardened. “We need to find him. Now.”

Without another word, they sprang into action. Nanami quickly searched the adjacent bathroom and closet, finding no trace of Gojo. Geto darted to the window, throwing the curtains open and checking the fire escape. It was clear.

“He can’t have gone far,” Nanami said, his voice tight with urgency.

Yaga nodded, his mind racing. “Check the usual spots. The roof, the garden, anywhere he might go to be alone.”

They split up, each heading in a different direction. Yaga stormed down the hall, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he made his way to the garden. He knew Gojo’s penchant for finding secluded places to think, and the garden had always been a favorite.

Nanami took the stairs two at a time, heading for the roof. He remembered the times Gojo had sought solace in the open air, away from the confines of the building. As he burst through the door onto the rooftop, he scanned the area quickly. Empty.

Geto moved with purpose, his mind replaying every conversation he’d had with Gojo recently, searching for clues. He headed for the gym, the place where Gojo had often taken out his frustrations in a physical form. As he reached the door, he paused, listening for any sounds from within.

Nothing.

Minutes felt like hours as they scoured the building, each passing moment heightening their worry. Finally, they reconvened in the main hall, their expressions grim.

“No sign of him,” Nanami said, frustration evident in his voice.

Yaga’s face was set in a determined frown, “He’s out there somewhere. We just have to keep looking. We can’t let him spiral further.”

Geto clenched his fists, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and resolve. “We’ll find him. We have to.”

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

Rin and Boe walked briskly down the dimly lit corridors of Tenjiku, their footsteps echoing off the walls. Their disagreement had started the moment they left the shared office.

"Banning all gang members is going too far," Boe argued, her tone exasperated, "We just need to ban the troublemakers. Most of them come here to unwind, not to start fights anyway! Let them come play."

Rin’s eyes flashed with determination, "You’re far too lenient. If we allow them to stay, even the peaceful ones, it’ll only encourage the others. We need to send a strong message so we don't accidentally take a side."

Boe rolled her eyes, "You're being paranoid. Not every gang member is out for blood. Most of them respect the neutrality of Tenjiku."

Rin sighed deeply, "And what happens when one of them doesn’t? One slip-up, and we’re in the middle of a full-blown war. I’d rather prevent that altogether."

Their argument carried them all the way to Sarah’s room. As they approached, Boe knocked on the door. “Sarah, we need to talk about—”

She trailed off when there was no response. Rin pushed the door open, and they stepped inside. The room was empty, the covers and sheets pulled down on the bed, and no sign of Sarah anywhere.

“She’s not here,” Boe said, her brow furrowing, “That’s strange.”

Rin’s eyes scanned the room, her concern growing, “Where could she be? She rarely leaves her room without telling anyone.”

The two women exchanged worried glances and then set off to search Tenjiku. They checked the atrium first, hoping to find her among the plants and tranquility she sought solace in lately. But the atrium was empty, save for a few patrons with their women.

They moved on to the rooftops, where the breeze and open sky often brought a sense of peace. But again, there was no sign of Sarah. She couldn't have gotten up there without Todo anyway.

Rin’s frustration was growing, “This is ridiculous. How could she just vanish like that?”

They rushed to find Todo, who was overseeing some maintenance work. He looked up as they approached, his expression shifting to concern when he saw their faces.

“Have you seen Sarah?” Boe asked urgently.

Todo shook his head, “No, I haven’t. I thought she was in her room.”

Rin’s worry was bordering on panic now, “How can a woman without a left arm and leg just disappear? She couldn't just walk out!”

Boe’s expression turned serious, “Do you think someone took her?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Rin’s mind raced, her eyes absently tracing the ground as she fought off the worst of her immediate thoughts. Boe seemed to be on the same page, her hands tightening into fists.

"Boe... Do you think he would--"

She was cut off by the sound of a door opening nearby. They turned to see a young staff member approaching, looking uneasy.

“Miss Rin, Miss Boe, I heard you were looking for Sarah. I think you should see this.”

They followed the staff member down another corridor to a storage room. Inside, they found a folded piece of paper on a crate. Rin picked it up and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the words quickly.

“It’s a note from Sarah,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “She says she had to leave, but she doesn’t explain why or where she’s going.”

Boe’s face darkened with worry, “This doesn’t make sense. She can’t have gone far on her own.”

Rin’s mind was already working on the next steps, “We need to alert the others and start a search. If she’s in danger, we have to find her fast.”

Boe nodded, her expression dark and serious, “Yeah. We’ll figure this out. We have to.”

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

The night was a blur of neon lights and shadows as Gojo stumbled through the labyrinthine streets of Shinjuku. His footsteps were unsteady, and his vision swam with the remnants of his latest binge. A half-empty bottle of liquor dangled precariously from his fingers, the glass slick with condensation. An empty baggie, once filled with cocaine, crinkled in his pocket with every unsteady step.

The city was alive with its usual chaos, but to Gojo, it was a cacophony of indistinct sounds and colors. His mind was a fog, unable to focus on any one thing for more than a fleeting moment. Faces blurred past him, voices merged into an incomprehensible din, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. He paused to take another swig from the bottle, the liquid burning down his throat and adding to the haze.

Yet, beneath the surface of his inebriated state, there was a strange sense of purpose. His steps, though staggered, were not entirely random. He moved with a subconscious drive, his body following a path his mind couldn’t fully grasp. The streets grew quieter as he ventured deeper into the less populated parts of the city, the vibrant lights giving way to dimly lit alleys and the occasional flickering street lamp.

Gojo’s journey brought him to a secluded old motel, its once-bright sign now a dull, flickering beacon in the night. The building was a relic of a bygone era, its exterior worn and covered in graffiti. He pushed through the creaky door, the sound echoing in the empty lobby. The clerk didn’t look up, too engrossed in a worn paperback to care about the disheveled man who wandered in.

He made his way down a narrow hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last. The air was thick with the musty scent of neglect, and the walls seemed to close in around him. He stopped in front of a door, its number barely hanging on, and fumbled with the handle. After a moment of clumsy effort, he managed to push it open and stagger inside.

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, casting long shadows across the threadbare carpet and faded wallpaper. In the corner, Sarah sat in a musty old armchair, her green eyes sharp and watchful despite the dark circles beneath them. She looked up as he entered, her expression a mix of anxiety and something darker.

“Did you get them?” she asked, her voice cutting through the fog in his mind.

Gojo nodded slowly, the motion making his head spin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk bag, handing it to her with unsteady hands. Sarah took it, her expression unreadable as she examined the contents.

For a moment, there was only silence. Gojo stood there, swaying slightly, his mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and sensations. Sarah’s gaze lingered on him, a mixture of pity and something far more complex.

The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Gojo’s vision blurred again, the edges of his consciousness fraying. As he slumped against the chair, sliding down to the floor with his head in her lap, Sarah’s voice was the last thing he heard before everything went black.

“We’re not done yet, Satoru. Not by a long shot.”

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[galacticgraffiti]

❁⋅⋆I am Boba Fett⋆⋅❁

NEW TRAILER DROP NEW GALA THOT

Y'all my brain literally exploded. "I am Boba Fett." SIR- I KNOW BUT YES PLEASE REMIND ME AGAIN. I fucking- hngggg This is not proof-read, I literally wrote this on my break at work but OOF.

Warnings: Fucking a stranger, little to no buildup, barkeeper!reader, cocky Boba, fingering, dirty talk

!!! NSFW/18+ !!!

⋅⋆ ══════ ⋅⋆⋅ ✥ ⋅⋆⋅ ══════ ⋆⋅

You are standing behind the counter, mindlessly polishing a glass for the fifth time today even though you know exactly it will be dirty again one second after you put it down. Fucking sand. Gets everywhere. But you know it makes the customers nervous if you just stand around, so you sigh deeply and take the next glass from the shelf.

The cantina is half empty, it's still too early in the afternoon for people to come and have a drink to celebrate the weekend. Not much to do, but you don't mind. Less customers means less chances of some sleazy mudscuffer walking in here. Most of the patrons are regulars - you know their drinks, you know the kind of banter they enjoy. It's easy going.

The doors slide open and someone steps in. You barely look up from your task, focused on a particularly persistent stain on the glass; but suddenly all chatter ceases. You raise your head only for your eyes to be met by a dark visor right in front of your bar. There is something dangerous about this man - it's not just the armour, not just the helmet or the fact that he is basically carrying an entire arsenal strapped to his body. It's... something in his aura. Something powerful, overwhelmingly so. It is intoxicating, even though he hasn't uttered a single word, even though you can't see his face.

You realise you are staring at him, mouth slightly agape and you shake your head to regain your bearings.

"G'day Sir, how may I help you?" The title just slips out, you are not usually so formal with your patrons, but something about him makes you want to ackonwledge the respect his presence commands in you.

He leans forward slightly as if to tell you a secret and you find yourself swaying in his direction, trying to catch a whiff of the danger that seems to be radiating from him, from the tainted armour - the adventure and peril that seems to be dripping from his fingertips.

"Do you have somewhere more private?" Even though his voice is quiet, the authoritative tone makes you stand up straighter, a shiver running through you. Maker, his voice is beautiful, rough and coarse like freshly ground caf, sweet and deep like sin. You swallow thickly. His visor tilts up and down, and you swear you can feel his eyes on your body, lingering on you when you lean forward again to answer just as quietly as he asked.

"I'm sorry, we just have the one room," you apologise, sudden fear striking through you - fear that he might leave. You want him to stay, you want a chance to... "Well... we do have a small courtyard. You could sit there if you want to be alone."

His helmet inclines and you interpret that as agreement.

"I'll show you," you mumble. It's not strictly necessary, there is just one door in the back, you can't miss it, but... you want to be alone with him.

"Lead the way, princess," he rasps and your core seizes, arousal dripping from your cunt like warm honey. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear - Maker, it's embarrassing, he has said, what, five words? None of them particularly interesting or ambiguous but somehow he already has you ready to get on your knees and worship him. Who the fuck is this guy?

You press your legs together and bite your lip to avoid a wanton sigh, setting the glass down to show the armoured man out to the courtyard in the back. He follows you so close you are sure you could feel his breath on your neck if he took off his helmet, and when you stop to unlock the door, his hand comes to rest on the small of your back. You could shake him off - Stars know you have turned a lot of customers down - but you don't want to. Instead you want his hand to slide lower, you want him everywhere. It feels like he knows exactly what you want, but he is holding back until you say the word.

The door slides open and you point to the chair on the little veranda.

"There you go, Sir."

"You call all your customers that?" He sounds amused and you blush; he reads you like an open fucking book.

"Only the ones I don't know by name," you half-lie and his deep chuckle makes you burn. He sits, leaned back with his legs spread wide and takes off his helmet.

"I am Boba Fett."

You stare, a million things rushing through your head - you know that name, every child on Tatooine knows that fucking name - and everyone knows he is dead. So that's what you tell him.

"Boba Fett is dead."

You can't stop staring at him, he is old, older than you thought he would be from his broad, muscular frame, but Gods he is beautiful. The scar across his face only makes him more interesting, and his eyes are stern but warm. His hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist.

"You wanna feel how alive I am, princess?"

"Yes Sir." The answer is out before your brain has processed what is going on - his hand pulls at you and suddenly you are in his lap, his fingers digging into your arm and the flesh of your thighs as he whispers into your ear.

"Still calling me Sir, sweetheart? I thought I told you my name."

You twist around to study his face, the lines, the features that seem so familiar somehow, like someone you saw in a picture a long time ago, one of the photographs from the War - a soldier, one of millions who shared the same face.

"You can't be," you repeat. "Boba Fett is dead. He died in the Sarlacc Pit years ago."

He huffs, his fingers sneaking around your waist, slipping underneath the waistband of your skirt and you gasp when rough fingertips slide down, down, down until they meet the wet heat of your pulsing cunt and the man - Boba? - groans.

"And yet here I am, fingers already in your sweet cunt even if you don't believe who I am. I'll make you scream my name until you believe I'm back from the dead, princess, I'll make you scream it so loud all of Tatooine will know I'm here to take what's mine."

The confidence in his voice is so infinite, so overwhelming that you don't even care anymore if he is lying. Boba's lips move against your neck, he pulls at your thighs until you spread your legs wider and hook them over his so he can hold you open.

"Tell me, pretty girl, are you this easy for everyone? I won't hold it against you."

"N-no," you gasp. Boba's fingers start circling your aching clit and you lose all thoughts for a moment before his teeth graze your neck and bring you back to reality.

"No?" he asks, dark amusement in his voice. "So you're easy just for me? I saw what you were thinking. I knew the second you offered to show me back here what you wanted me to do. I could tell how your breath hitched when I touched you at the door, I could tell how your heart rate sped up. Do you still want this?"

"Yes," you gasp and Boba's other hand slides up to cup your tits before he closes his fingers around your jaw in a bruising grip to twist your head toward him until his lips are only inches from yours.

"Are you sure? Whose fingers do you want inside you, princess?"

"Yours," you whimper and he tuts.

"Tell me a name, pretty girl. Whose fingers?"

"Boba Fett's," you moan and two thick fingers slip inside your dripping cunt, languidly pumping in and out of you while you lean back and rock your hips to meet his movements.

"Good answer," he praises and you shiver at the pride in his voice. You can feel his cock growing hard against your ass as you continue grinding your hips down while Boba fucks you with his fingers.

"You gonna let me fuck you before you take care of the other customers? Gonna let me fill you up until you can feel my cum leaking out of you while you serve them their spotchka with a smile?"

"Fuck," you mumble. The mouth on that man- nothing could have prepared you. "Fuck- yes, Boba, yes. Want your cock, please."

"Look at you, already begging," he smirks against your neck. His thumb rubs against your clit and you arch into the touch, chasing the sensation of his thick fingers inside you and the delicious friction. "If you come for me, I'll fuck you right here and now. You're already so fucking wet I could probably fuck you without making you come first- osik, I could've probably fucked you the second I put my hands on you way back there from the way you reacted. But I want you to know that I am a generous man. So come for me, princess, let me feel how tight your little cunt gets, let me hear you scream my name first, and then you get my cock."

You moan, your head swimming at the sensations you are being bombarded with - Boba's legs keeping your own wide open, his fingers inside you, his thumb against your clit, his hand on your tits and his lips on your neck - he is everywhere, everything and he demands that you feel him with such intensity that you can't hold back.

"Boba!" you cry out, "Boba, please, I'm so close, please can I come?"

He bites down on your shoulder, not enough to break the skin but enough you know his teeth will mark you. His thumb draws tight little circle around your clit while his fingers stretch you open and it's so much, so goddamn much.

"Good girl, good fucking girl... asking for my permission, screaming my name- Maker, you're perfect like this, knew it from the moment I walked in there that I'd have you just like that, fuck you open with my fingers and bend you over until you're fucking ruined- pretty girl with my cum staining her thighs. Gods, can't wait to split you open on my cock, princess..."

Everything stops and the world melts away, white-hot bliss washing over you with a force you could never have prepared for. Everything fades, it's just you and Boba, you and Boba's fingers, his mouth, his strong thighs underneath you and nothing else. The world is him and he becomes the world while you come around his fingers, your legs shaking and your cunt clenching while you scream until your voice is rough with it. Boba keeps talking through your orgasm, sweet praises and sinful filth breathed into your ear while his fingers shallowly fuck into you and prolong your pleasure.

It takes you a long time to manage a coherent thought again and when Boba pulls his fingers out of you and sticks them into his mouth to lick them clean, you almost come again.

"Hmm, calling you sweet girl was right," he hums. "Get up if you can manage, princess. I'll ruin you and let you lick my cock clean like a good girl. I'll leave you so goddamn ruined for anyone else that Boba Fett is the only name you'll ever be thinking about again."

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[onceupona-chaos]

Feathers and dawn

Day 15 of Elriel month/ Explosion of power

The half-wraith gave her friend a feral grin, white teeth flashing against her dark skin, and said quietly in her midnight voice, “Stealthy as a doe.”

Elain matched Nuala’s smile, sending a thrill down Azriel’s spine. “Fierce as a wolf.”

Word count:  3838

Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: This was a huge challenge for me, because English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Part II is coming out on day 18 (I think). Be kind!

“ELAIN!”

Azriel was kneeling on the ground, panting through gritted teeth as he tried not to succumb to that invisible force covering him like a heavy blanket. Whatever spells and wards casted upon that place were draining his magic little by little as if he had been hit by several ash arrows - only ten times worse. 

Even with the cold rain soaking him, the raindrops like ice needles against his skin and wings, he managed to fix his eyes on the cave, scanning and scanning through the dark dots that were beginning to form, trying to see something, anything. 

But the cave was as dark as the sky above him. A never ending darkness that seemed to swallow any blue light from his almost drained Siphons.

His shadows detected nothing. Not a whisper, not a move, no sign of her. 

After Elain had disappeared inside the Cave and his shadows couldn't get a reading, he had immediately sent Nuala to get Rhysand whilst he tried to find a way in. But he couldn't pass the wards just like his shadows couldn't sense her.

When a female scream echoed from inside the cave, Azriel couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Pure, clear panic was all he knew.

When he had been summoned to the river house in the morning, not in his five hundred years he’d expected it to turn out like this. 

 Shit. Shit.

________________

Azriel hadn't been able to sleep for more than a few hours, and even so dreams and nightmares made him roll in his bed the entire time. He’d  been awake for hours, staring at the two Solstice gifts he’d got from her when dawn came. And with it, Rhys’ orders. 

He made a point not to arrive earlier than he needed, so he wouldn’t be - couldn't be -  in the same place as her longer than necessary. Keeping his distance when he wasn't at the river house was torture enough, but being in the same house and still feel as if they were at opposite edges of the same abyss…  

And yet when Azriel landed outside the river house, his shadows quickly whispered in his ear that Rhysand wasn't alone in his studio. 

The warning did nothing to stop his body from stiffen when he stepped through the door, the illusion of a meeting only between him and his brother quickly dissipating, and his eyes shot straight to the window - and there she was.

He didn't know if it was the lilac dress or the sunlight casting through the window, but her eyes were almost the color of pure honey. But something was off, her usually open expression was stark and hard, and then he noticed the pallidness on that beautiful face and the faint black bruises under her eyes. Even though he knew his face was the portrait of boredom, his shadows swarmed him, sensing his unease.

Azriel made his eyes move to where Amren was sitting crossed-legged, her petite body almost hidden beneath a white fur coat. Feyre cradling Nyx in her arms was sitting next to Rhysand, the baby soundly asleep, warm against his mother's chest. 

Azriel looked back to where Elain was, her shoulders tensing a bit as if she could sense his gaze on her even when she was peering through  the window, and he knew she was deliberately avoiding looking at him. It was only a stolen glimpse from his part - Azriel was well aware of Rhysand's violet eyes on him, almost daring him to disobey his orders. 

Azriel made the boiling rage cool down, kept his face carefully blank, his mask of cool boredom still in place whilst he faced his brother, lifting an eyebrow in question. 

Amren, on the other hand, didn’t bother to mask her impatience. “We’re waiting, Rhysand.”

The High Lord of The Night Court nodded to Elain, and Azriel felt his body stiffened once again. Rhysand announced, "It looks like we have another Made object to worry about.”

Silence.

Azriel’s blood went cold in his veins. He asked quietly, "How would you know?"

Elain didn't give many details. But she emphasized it was more of a sense than a normal vision, as if she could smell a storm coming but the skies remained clear. As if she could hear an ancient whisper in the wind. She wasn't sure what it was until last night - when  something long forgotten had presented itself in a dream. Azriel was well aware of what kind of objects could call for someone like that.

“What is this object?” Feyre asked.

Elain replied, “I… I can’t See what it is.” Azriel tracked the way she swallowed. “It’s veiled in shadows. Hidden among the silence itself."

Nodding more to herself, Amren said, "Whatever this is, it wants to be found at last.” She narrowed her eyes at Elain’s direction. "It's calling for you, girl."

Azriel's shadows gathered even closer, sensing his concern. He remembered of Oorid, how Nesta’s body shook after she retrieved The Mask. For Elain to be exposed to the same danger…

And yet, he couldn’t - wouldn’t interfere. He knew how much each choice Elain got to make was precious to her. She’d told him that herself on one of those nights in front of the fireplace. Her eyes had been filled with a mix of sadness and hope as if she still could feel her own choices slipping through her fingers as if they were grains of sand. 

He had only stared at her back then, imagining how it had been like for her going into the Cauldron - and then spending months trapped in her own visions to the point she couldn't tell dreams and reality apart. So he'd kept silent, let his understanding rise to the surface so she could see it and watched as her body relaxed under his gaze.

So different from now when she looked in every direction except his as she watched the harsh argument, Amren insisting vigorously that Elain should go look for the object. 

That explained why Nesta wasn't there, why Rhysand hadn't asked him to fly her down.

Whilst Cassian was in Illyria for an inspection of the aerial legions, the priestesses had recently received another female. Nesta didn't so much hesitate in wanting to help her the way she could and have been spending more time than usual at the library. But not to tell her, to keep this away from her… 

"Does Nesta know about this?", Azriel cut in.

"She would take this task for herself." Rhysand didn't even bother to look guilty. "And if it's calling for Elain, we can't risk sending anyone else, even if she chooses not to go. It could end very badly."  

"Maybe Nesta would be right to hesitate to send Elain,"  Azriel argued back, violet eyes narrowing. "Either way, that doesn't justify not telling her."

Feyre was glaring at her mate, undoubtedly saying something in his head, as if they had that discussion before. Many times. 

But before she could say anything out loud, Amren cut in, "It's not calling for Nesta, boy."

Azriel's voice was cold as ice. "Do not forget that we already kept information from her before." 

Amren didn’t even have time to open her mouth - to disagree or snarl, Azriel didn't know - before Elain stood up from her seat at the window, "That’s enough."

They all twisted toward her, brows raised. The only sound in the room now was the soft rustle of Nyx delicate wings.

Elain looked at Rhys, eyes sharp but voice even. "You of all people should know what it is like to want to protect those who you love and that is no excuse for keeping things from Nesta." Sadness coated her expression. “Not again, Rhys.” 

This time, Rhys had the decency to look at least guilty. Ferey intervened, "I'll tell her this afternoon. I want Cassian there, too."

Elain nodded. "I'm not a child for anyone to decide for me. If it's calling for me, I won’t run away.” She said squaring her shoulders, never looking away from her older sister, who was just about to say something. "And I am not asking for permission." 

And her posture, her words, her tone were so fierce, those large caramel-brown eyes flickering while she studied them all and Azriel knew that she’d do whatever was necessary to help this court. 

A  reminder that the Archeron sisters were forged by the same fire.

Azriel's chest ached with pride - and terror. Terror for her. But he pushed aside those instincts that were screaming to keep her safe, to not let her near any danger, and asked at last, "Then how do we find it?"

_________________

In a matter of minutes, Elain was sitting before a map, her eyes shifting beneath her lids as if she could See the entire world. Everyone was watching her as she searched for the right place, the one that appeared in her dreams - so Azriel used the moment to admire her.

Beautiful. She was so beautiful, he could admire her for the rest of his days in the same way he looked at the rising sun.

Elain’s hand hovered over that map, the creamy, soft skin marked by small scars, her delicate fingers were calloused, no doubt from her gardening. She cocked her head, as if listening to those whispering to find the right path. Azriel could’ve sworn the room was getting warmer.

She let a finger down and opened her eyes. For a second it looked like a faint golden glow shone behind the familiar brown, just like one could see the faelights behind a piece of glass, but then Elain blinked a few times -  and it faded away.

 "Here," she said.

Feyre sighted deeply as she cupped Nyx’s head as if she could protect him from her very words. "Of course it's in the Middle."

______________________

Nuala didn't ask any questions. She'd only showed up in the afternoon as they had agreed, passing right through the wall. Elain appeared a second later, opening the door and almost scrambling Azriel's brain cells to the point of uselessness. 

Her hair was braided behind her head, a blue surcoat, similar to the one she wore in the war, reached the middle of her thighs. It wasn’t Illyrian leathers, but the slits in the lower part of the surcoat  combined with her leather pants did absolutely nothing to hide her curves and the color made her skin look almost golden.

His shadows brightened as if to let him see all of her more clearly. He knew he was staring, that he should say something about them going somewhere, but he couldn't even remember his words. When Feyre had suggested he accompany Elain, he’d made his best to not look at Rhys, to just naturally nod in agreement. 

Rhysand wouldn't say a word about Solstice. Not in front of Feyre, that is.

But that didn't stop his High Lord to make Nuala play chaperone with a bullshit excuse that her gifts might end up being useful in the place they were heading to and her friendship with Elain could help. 

The message was crystal clear.

Azriel's eyes dropped without his acknowledgement to her lips, those sweet lips he had been so close to taste. He heard someone coughing, but his mind didn’t register the sound.

When he finally realized he was staring, he quickly snapped his eyes to hold her gaze. Despite the faint pink coloring her cheeks, a flicker of amusement sparkled in Elain’s expression.

Behind him, someone cleared their throat. 

Azriel ignored the smirk curving Feyre’s lips just like he ignored Nuala’s amusement, trying his best to contain the heat spreading across his cheeks at the thought of them watching the staring contest between the two of them.

Finally Nuala decided to put him out of his misery and asked, "Shall we?".

________________

By the time the swirl of shadows disappeared, Azriel was half distracted by the feeling of Elain's small hand in his. But the moment Azriel was able to have a good look at the place before them, he felt the hair on his arms rose. 

A deep forest was revealed, huge, gigantic trees side by side, making him feel the same size as Amren. Nuala let go of his other hand and almost unconsciously he tightened his grip on Elain's as she looked wild-eyed at the view before them.

As if one could call it that.

Where the forest should be rejoicing with life, there was none. Not a single leaf remained in those trees, the naked branches curling above the small, meandering trail like black claws. There wasn't a single animal or insect anywhere beneath the dark gray sky, making the atmosphere grievously melancholic. 

No light, no life. A place of utter sadness, as silent as Death.

"I've seen worse." Nuala's midnight voice was almost a whisper, but still reverberated like a thunder in that deadly silence, her attempt of being playful covered by the tenseness in her tone.

Azriel studied Elain, who swallowed before saying, "Me too." Her face was cautious, tight. She cocked her head as if heading some inner voice.

He asked, "Can you See where it is?"

She gently let go of his hand, blushing a little as if she had just realized they were still touching. "No, not See it" She said, scanning the forest. "But I can hear it."

"The shadows don't hear anything," Nuala said, moving to be at Elain’s side. “Do you remember what we discussed?”

Elain nodded.

“Once we enter the forest, watch your steps and try to walk toe to heels most of the time. Listen carefully to our breathing,” Nuala said, gesturing to her and then Azriel, who was watching the scene with raised brows. “And match yours with it always. Be as quiet as you can.” 

To his surprise, Elain just lifted a brow at the command in Nuala’s tone, who gave her a Look. “I’m serious, if you can help it, do not make a sound in this place.” The half-wraith gave her friend a feral grin, white teeths flashing against her dark skin and said quietly in her midnight voice, “Stealthy as a doe.”

Elain matched Nuala’s smile, sending a thrill down Azriel’s spine. “Fierce as a wolf.”

And then they walk right into The Silent Forest, living an almost dumbfounded Azriel behind.

_________________

They had been walking for what it felt like hours now. 

Even with his five hundred years worth of daily training, Azriel could feel his strength being drained slowly as if a heavy hand was pushing them back. With every step he took, it was like the forest itself, every single inch of that damn forest, didn’t want them there.

He kept his wings tucked in tight while eyeing their surroundings, once or twice he saw what seemed a glimpse of eyes watching them. The children of The Silent Forest. He could only pray for them to get the hell out of that place before sunset. 

Nuala seemed just as uncomfortable. Shadows gathered around her like a veil of darkness as if they could shield her from that invisible force, even though she was holding Elain’s hand now. 

Elain, who did not balk. She just kept walking, stopping sometimes along the way, her head cocked as if she could hear an inner voice luring her into the right direction until, at some point, Elain left the small forest trail to venture in an invisible path between the trees. 

More than once Nuala looked at Elain and smirked, causing a blush to spread across Elain’s pale cheeks.  

Despite the circumstances why Nuala was there, Azriel was grateful for the female attempts to distract Elain from her visible, growing tension. So he kept a few steps behind, offering the two females some privacy.  And when the temptation of using his shadows to know the cause of that blush crossed his mind, which was every five minutes, he pushed it aside and tried to focus on the surroundings or on the infinity, dark sky above them. With the sun almost down, the charged clouds waltzing through it in a promise of desolation.

They kept walking against that invisible force, almost unbearable now until… there. Azriel stiffened.

Deep in the forest, where the darkness seemed to unfold out of it, the entrance into a cave opened as if it was a path to another world, one made of Darkness and nothing more.  

Azriel’s shadows whispered to not go further. 

Nuala seemed to sense the same thing. "It feels… so wrong.” Her voice was quiet, but it seemed to be swallowed by the cave as if it was greedy to devour any sound, any light. 

“Strange,” Elain whispered back, brows furrowing. “It doesn’t feel like that to me.”

Azriel looked once again at the sky. They didn’t have much more time before night - and the beasts - came. He was almost suggesting to turn around, maybe they could convince Rhysand to come along. 

"I’ll be right back."

It took a moment to her words sink in, to Azriel make sense of what had just come out of Elain’s mouth. Elain, who was already moving. Elain, who was already walking towards the cave, getting closer with each step. 

Azriel moved out of sheer instinct, rushing forward to grab her hand, but again that damn force was pushing him back now. He flared his wings, trying to find some balance to keep going. "Elain," he snarled. 

She paused right before the entrance and looked back at him,  "I can hear its calling, it won't hurt me.”

Azriel was breathing hard, so lost on his mind that he didn’t realize the rain soaking him. He didn't like that one bit. He wanted to reach her, put his arms around her and shot to the skies. But he only unsheathed Truth-Teller and offered it to her. Elain bit her lip and walked back.  

He pressed his dagger to her hands, their eyes meeting - just like he had done once. Elain didn't hesitate this time. “Just…” He took his hand, trying to find the words. And there were so many words. “Come back," he said at last. A request and a prayer.

Elain squeezed his fingers and looked at Nuala before turning around. Azriel tracked every breath, every movement she made. His shadows speared toward the cave, watching over Elain, until darkness swallowed her. 

He was still monitoring her through his shadows, Nuala by his side. None of them dared to speak - not that he wanted to. Nuala worked as his spy long enough to know he kept to himself. His shadows were still curling around his neck to whisper in his ear.

Then, they became silent. As silent as they could be as they lost Elain’s track.

The screams came not long after she disappeared. 

______________________

"ELAIN!"

The female scream was still echoing in Azriel’s ears, his own panic was a fog he couldn't see through. He tried to use his Shiphons, but whatever twisted magic ruling that place, it could not be affected. 

And Elain was there somewhere. 

So Azriel lunged forward  - to be pushed back by that invisible form. He felt a tentacle of darkness grab him, sinking its talons deep in his very bones, sucking on his killing power.

He turned to Nuala, who was trying to summon her own shadows, to see beyond the darkness. “Go back, right now and bring Rhysand.” Her face drained of color. “Now, Nuala.”

“I won’t leave her.”

“That’s an order," he snarled.  

She looked back at the cave, before assuming her shadowy form and ran back, passing directly through the trees in her way. 

Fuck. Seven Shiphons never felt so powerless. He could only imagine what the hell was happening, ancient spells and wards, casted by god knows what kind of creatures and now Elain - Elain - was there and -

Think. He needed to try to calm the hell down and think. He was always planning, always calculating, that was his fucking job.

But he couldn’t think. Those talons thigned, more and more. He felt his magic leaving him slowly.

And then everything stopped.

When he  looked through the raindrops once more to the cave, - 

Elain’s head broke the darkness first. A solemn expression printed on her beautiful face and her eyes... they glowed. Nothing like Nesta’s silver fire, nothing like Amren’s once were, but gone was the familiar chocolate brown that Azriel had lost himself in it more times he could count, replaced by a light of white and golden. As if the sun itself was behind her skull and, just like that, the air in the forest grew hotter, wave after wave of heat crashing through him, his own strength being restored. He was only half-conscious about the dark forms of beasts older than Darkness who lived there in absolute silence, that now ran from that promise of light.

And in her hands… a small golden orb.

Any trace of that unholy darkness was gone as Elain stepped closer and on her back... the hair on Azriel arms rose, pure awe ran though his body. A pair of beautiful, strong, powerful wings, covered in feathers, each one white as snow, gleaming and glowing as if they have been sewed with golden thread, perfectly matching her otherworldly eyes. They seemed impermeable despite the water running down, like they were covered by a protection layer where drops glittered under starlight, similar to pearls. 

Azriel only stood there, drinking her image and memorizing it as she walked toward him. For she was something from dreams, from tales as old as the forest around them. 

Sweat began to run down his back, between his wings, in great rivers and in that moment she was the sun itself. Her face was sheer power, so luminous that radiated from her, warming the world, and he knew that despite the heavenly glow, she could release hell upon them all with nothing but a blink - no kindness, no mercy whatsoever.

Despite the heat, he did not flinch, did not so much as move. This was different from the fire that gave him his scars, a constant reminder of hate and fear. Whatever that fire was made of, this was something else entirely. 

It was the warmth of firelights on Solstice nights with his family, of spring days when he would sunny his wings. The warmth of Nyx’s laughter, of Elain’s smile. He wanted her closer, wanted to slide his arms around her and let her light cast through him until the darkness of his very soul faded away. For she was light, always have been. And for someone who is lost in the dark, light is salvation. 

Slowly Elain stepped out of the cave. The moment she crossed the dorway, after a few steps, that light dimmed, her wings dropped as if she couldn't sustain its weight any longer. Azriel saw when her hands tightened around the orb, bringing it to her chest. She blinked and every trace of light disappeared, her beautiful face was now mortal - and pale. 

Caramel-brown eyes met hazel ones before rolling back into her head. Azriel only had time to catch Elain in his arms before she could collapse on hard rock.   

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Maze Trials: A Gally Fanfiction

Pairing: Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, first girl the Glade has seen. Tougher than she looks and more than ready to prove it. Since day one her and Gally have been at each other's throats. Fighting constantly and not just with their words.

(Gally fanfiction which will include smut. It also has an actual story line. Think of it as an AU to the original Maze Runner. It'll mostly follow the main story line with some changes. Mostly focusing on Emi and Gally and their relationship.)

Chapter Four

The next morning I was awakened by a thick accent speaking as I was being shaken.

"Greenie, wake up" Newt said giving me a good shake.

I groaned and rolled over on my back.

"You want breakfast or not love?" Newt asked quietly.

My eyes popped open as my stomach growled at his words. I hadn't realized I was hungry until he mentioned food. Newt laughed as I quickly got myself out of bed. I smoothed my hair out the best I could as I followed him out of the homestead.

Next to the homestead was a decent sized shack with a few tables sitting out in front of it. A line had formed in front of the shack as each boy was given a tray of food.

"Hey Frypan" Newt greeted once it was our turn to get our food.

"This is our new greenie" Newt gestured back to me with his head.

"I'm Frypan, you can call me Fry though. I watched you kick Gally's ass last night. That was awesome." He beamed at me then handed me a tray of food.

"Thanks" I chuckled then followed Newt once again.

I sat next to him at the table. Clint and Jeff were sitting across from us. Just as I was about to take my first bite hands slammed down on the table next to me making me jump and drop my bite of food.

I snapped my head to the side to see Minho sitting down next to me. Once he was seated I pulled my arm back and punched his arm.

"Ow" he chuckled wrinkling his nose and rubbing his arm.

"Don't do that" I chided him then turned back to my food.

I don't know if it was due to me being so hungry or if Fry's cooking was really this good but I couldn't help myself from shoveling the food in my mouth as quickly as possible. The four boys sitting around me chuckled.

"After breakfast you're gonna go with Clint and Jeff. Try out the job of a Med-Jack for the day." Newt said between bites.

I looked up at the two boys across from me. They were smiling ear to ear. Both seemed pretty eager to have me working with them for the day. I already had a feeling I wouldn't be taking the job of a Med-Jack. I had a feeling I'd be more suited as a builder.

I glanced over to the table Gally was sitting at. He was on the side of the table that had him facing me. He glanced up from his food like he could feel my eyes on him. He saw me and gave me a tight lipped nod before going back to his food.

Breakfast was soon over which meant I had to get to work. I followed Clint and Jeff back to the homestead. We went upstairs where there was two different rooms. One for their supplies and the other for checking out patients. They informed me of a small hut on the other side of the homestead that was for people who got injured and had to stay there to rest and be looked after.

Their job was simple enough. They organized and listed all their supplies making sure they knew what they had and where it was. It wasn't until a little later in the afternoon that I got to bandage someone up.

Just as Newt had said it was a slicer. The guy had cut his arm up pretty good. I learned quickly that Jeff didn't do well with these kind of injuries. He was gagging as he tried to clean the wound. The deep cut exposing the slicer's bone.

"Jeff go have a seat I think I can manage this one." I told him softly.

He quickly stepped away and I stepped in. Clint brought over a few things we'd need to bandage the guy up.

"We don't get a lot of wounds this bad. Usually its minor things." Clint said quickly as he grabbed the slicer's arm.

I saw the thread and needle Clint had grabbed and knew this wasn't going to be easy. I looked around the room quickly finding some cut up fabric. I grabbed it rolling it together as I walked over to the slicer.

"You might want to bite down on this." I suggested handing it to the boy.

He did as I said placing the fabric in his mouth to bite on. Clint grabbed the needle and thread then moved to start stitching the boy's arm up.

"Go to that side of him. You'll probably need to hold him still when I start this." Clint said as he glanced between the wound and the boy's pale face.

I nodded jogging to the other side of the boy. I placed my hand on his cheek and gently moved his head to look at me. I wanted to try to distract him.

I knew the moment Clint started working because the boy howled and tried to jerk away. Without thinking I jumped onto the bed throwing my legs on each side of the boy and sat in his lap. I grabbed his free arm and tangled my fingers together with his. I put my head between the boy's head and his arm blocking him from seeing what Clint was doing.

"Squeeze my hand as hard as you need to. Don't worry about hurting me." I whispered to him.

He nodded slightly and whimpered as Clint went back to working. The boy cried and squeezed my hand until my fingers were almost purple. I didn't complain. I knew my pain was far from what he was feeling right now.

Before I knew it Clint raised up and stepped away. He was back quickly to clean the wound once more.

"Alright I'm finished" he finally said stepping back from the bed.

The slicer slowly released his hold on my hand. His head fell back as he breathed deeply. I sat up taking the fabric from the boy's mouth.

"Thank you" he said in almost a whisper.

Tears were still rolling down his cheeks. I patted his chest then climbed off of him and the bed. Clint was eyeing me with a smirk. He moved back to the boy then quickly wrapped his arm in a bandage.

"Come back this evening so I can clean it again and change the bandage." Clint told him sternly.

The boy nodded then slowly sat up. It took him a few minutes but he finally got up and left the room. Jeff came over and quickly got to work cleaning up the area.

"Thanks for that greenie. I get real queasy when I can see down to the bone." Jeff said with a shy smile.

"No problem" I chuckled.

"You did good greenie. I'm sure you made the poor guy's day jumping up on him like that." Clint laughed.

"I don't doubt that." Jeff laughed shaking his head.

"Even if you don't take this job I'll probably ask you to help out with the major cases like that." Clint smiled.

"Don't let the others know. They'll be cutting themselves up all the time." Jeff laughed as he got rid of the used tools.

"I don't think they'd go that far." I chuckled lightly as I took a seat on the bed.

Jeff and Clint both just looked at me.

"What?" I asked them clearly not getting their silent comments.

"Greenie, if the only way for me to get a girl like you to get on top of me like that was to gash myself open then believe me I shucking would." Jeff said seriously before laughing.

I shook my head. These boys are unbelievable. You'd think they'd never seen a girl in their entire lives. Which, if they all were like me, that could be true. If none of them remember anything but their name they wouldn't know if they've ever seen a girl before or been around one. At least they remembered their names. At least they had that much. All I had was the feeling that I'd met some of these boys before. Like Gally and Minho. I felt like I'd fought Gally like I had last night before. When Minho draped his arm around me it felt familiar. With all that I still couldn't remember my own name.

A loud bell tolled pulling me away from my thoughts. I looked to Clint and Jeff who were taking their aprons off.

"Lunch time greenie" Clint smiled then nodded for me to come with them.

Once we had our food we sat down at the same table we were at this morning. Newt was already there with his food. I sat next to Newt again while Clint and Jeff sat across from us again. This time Alby was here sitting on the other side of Newt. I expected Minho to come sit beside me but I never saw him.

"How's it going with the Med-Jacks love?" Newt asked as he ate.

"Oh man, you should have seen it!" Jeff shouted making Clint laugh.

I rolled my eyes at them.

"What happened?" Alby asked curiously.

"She made one of the slicer's day that's what happened." Jeff chuckled shaking his head then going back to his food.

Both Newt and Alby looked at me with confusion clear on their faces.

"I had to stitch up a pretty bad gash. When the guy tried to jerk away from me she jumped up on the bed and pretty mush laid on top of him and held his hand." Clint explained with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"I kept him calm didn't I?" I asked him trying not to laugh at the look on his face.

"That you did greenie" he chuckled.

"What do you think about the job?" Alby asked me.

"It's alright I still like to try the others though." I stated simply.

After lunch I went back to work with Clint and Jeff. The rest of the day was pretty quiet. Jeff had just said the dinner bell should be sounding soon when the slicer from earlier walked into the room.

"Winston let me go early so I could come back up here." He said simply glancing over to me.

Clint had the slicer sit back on the bed from earlier. He had explained how to clean wounds and bandage them to me so he let me try it this time. I slowly took the bandage off the slicer's arm noting the blood that had seeped threw the bandage. I cleaned it with water first to get rid of the now dried blood. Then I used the alcohol. The boy hissed but stayed still. After I was finished cleaning it I wrapped it up in a new bandage. As soon as I finished I heard the loud bell toll. That meant work was over and it was now time for dinner.

The four of us walked to get our food together. The slicer thanked me again then went off to sit with Winston and the other slicers. For my first day at work I think I did decent.

—

[katherinepulitzumber]

I'll Still Love You

Fandom: Newsies Ship: Jack x Katherine (Jatherine, lambcuddles) Description: After helping as Davey and his wife Clara had their baby, Katherine nervously thinks about her and Jack's future. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx A week ago Davey and Clara had their first baby. It had happened nearly out of nowhere and scared the daylights out of the entire newsboys clan, even Katherine included. Davey had almost passed out on more than one occasion as Katherine held Clara's hand (who squeezed her's in return until Katherine physically wondered if it could break her wrist). They nearly thought they wouldn't have made it to the hospital on time (which worried Davey all the more). But they did, by some miracle, and Davey and Katherine stayed back with Clara while all of the Newsies waited in the waiting room (needless to say it became quickly crowded). But to also say the whole ordeal hadn't shaken Katherine up a bit would be an understatement. Davey may have almost passed out but Katherine was shaking even while trying to calm her best friend down long enough to breathe. She hated seeing her face scrunched in pain and hearing her cry. Katherine kept herself pulled together, stroking Clara's blonde hair that stuck to her face in sweat and whispering words of comfort. It was 12 hours later that Clara and Davey were holding their new baby girl that they named Katie, as it was close to Katherine. After spending a while with her new god-daughter, Katherine came out to the waiting room and slumped down into a chair, wiping the sweat off her bangs and pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt Jack rub his hand on her shoulder and gave her a quick kiss on her head. Clara and the baby had to stay at the hospital for a few nights before they were allowed to go back to Clara and Davey's home (which was right near the Lodging House). Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the schedules slowly went back to normal. Katherine now sat in the arm chair of her and Jack's apartment, reading a book quietly. Every now and then she'd space out until finally she closed the book and set it beside her. Katherine rest her chin in her hand and closed her eyes. She was still slightly frazzled with all that had happened that week. It seemed to have put her on slight edge as she started asking herself millions of questions. Why didn't she and Jack have a baby? Did she want a baby? Did Jack want a baby? Could they handle a baby? Could she handle pregnancy? Katherine thought back to the hospital. All that had happened. It terrified her. The pain and blood. Katherine was no idiot, she knew the process of having a baby wasn't easy. Nor was it exactly delightful. She pulled her legs up onto the chair and sighed, resting her head in them. They weren't ready for a- she wasn't ready for a baby. But who knows what Jack thinks? Hell with the hormones of a boy just getting out of his teenage years, who knows what he's been thinking? Katherine sat up straighter and ran a hand through her curly hair. Why couldn't she think? Katherine stood up and walked to the window of their apartment, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out at the view in the afternoon daylight.  The apartments across the street greeted her gaze as the sun shone against a pale blue sky.  Katherine breathed in deeply, trying to calm her racing mind. They didn't need a baby right now.  They still had their jobs- they couldn't financially support both themselves and a baby, could they? She paced the floor nervously, fidgeting her hands against the edge of her white blouse as she thought. The door to the apartment opened causing Katherine to jump at the sound and Jack stepped inside. "Hey Ace." "Oh, hi." Katherine mumbled, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. Jack hung his bag up on the coat hangers before peering over at her, raising an eyebrow. "Yous feelin' okay?" He asked. "Yeah, definitely." Katherine said quickly. Jack walked over and kissed her softly, wrapping his arms around her as she kissed him back.  He smiled against her lips and rest his hands against her waist before slightly trailing them up towards her chest.  Katherine made a small noise as she quickly jumped away.  Jack stood there with his eyebrows raised, mind racing in confusion even more now. "I- um, sorry." Katherine stuttered out, "Not- Not right now. . ." She walked over towards where she had been sitting before, biting her nail nervously as she tried to block out any of what just happened. "Ace, what's wrong?" Jack was concerned by now at what kind of expression had crossed her face.  Was it fear? The last thing he wanted her to feel when he'd touch her was fear. Katherine sat down in the armchair and ran a hand through her hair once more before looking up at him. "Do you want a baby?" She asked softly. Jack blinked hard for a few seconds before walking over and kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his. "Course I's want a baby Kath.  Don't you?" "I- yes, I do.  But-" "Wait, are yous. . ." Jack's eyes became very wide. "What? No.  No no no no." Katherine quickly said, shaking her head, "I'm not pregnant Jack." "Ok." Jack released the tension he didn't know he was feeling in his shoulders, "Then, what is it?" Katherine looked at the ground, biting her lip in uncertainty of how to word what she was feeling at that moment.  Jack gently lifted her chin to face him. "You can tell me anything Ace.  I's ain't gonna love yous any less; no matter what you say." Katherine squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath, "I don't think I could do it. . ." She whispered softly, feeling tears well up in her eyes, "I just don't think I can.  And- And I'm sorry. . . I'm so sorry." Katherine took her hands away and put her head in them, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Jack ran a hand through his hair, "Ace I. . ." Was this all she thought about this week? Was he really that oblivious? "I know you want a child.  I know we both want a child.  But I- I just don't think I can go through it.  She was in so much pain and- and it was so scary even for me.  I- I can't imagine her feeling! And I know you'd want someone who'd be able to give you that- to give you a child and I- I just. . . I'm so sorry." She cried softly. Jack said nothing but quickly took her in his arms, hugging her close and stroking his hand through her hair, mumbling comforting words and pressing a kiss to her head. "Ace, I don't care if yous don't want to have a baby like that.  As much as I's want a baby- I want yous even more.  And I'm not gonna put you through anything yous don't wanna do." He pulled away and wiped a few stray tears that had fallen down her face before tucking a strand of hair behind Katherine's ear, "We's can adopt Ace.  It doesn't matter if our baby looks like us because no matter what it'll be ours Kath.  It will be a lil' Kelly and no matter what I'll always love him or her as I love you.  We don't needs to rush into this.  There's still time an' there always will be.  We'll be okay.  'Sides, I dunno if your father is ready for us t' be makin' babies anytime soon anyways." Katherine cracked a small smile and wiped a tear away from her eyes, "Fo' sure?" She asked, putting on her best New-York-Manhattan-Jack-Kelly-accent. Jack grinned, pressing their noses together softly, "Fo' sure.  I love yous and always will.  Nothin' is ever gonna change that." "I love you too Jack." Katherine whispered before hugging him, "So much.  You don't even know how much." "I think I do Ace." Jack said, kissing her head with a smile, "It's a lot but, I think I do."