#but I KNOW a big part of the reason I like these things IS just personal sentiment! EYE know that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solaceseven · 2 days ago

Text

Ashes of Tomorrow

↳ summary: in a world overrun by the infected, survival is brutal and trust is rare. when a lone survivor joins sukuna’s guarded group, tensions flare, and bonds form in the shadow of constant danger.

→ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna x fem!reader

→ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst

→ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: graphic injuries, violent confrontations, emotional trauma, loss of loved ones, mature themes, and anything you would expect in an apocalypse au.

→ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 22k+

→ a/n: i’ve been debating whether to post this. it’s my first time working on something this big. please keep in mind that i'm still learning and growing as a writer. part two will be uploaded soon. i hope everyone enjoys it!

Six months. That’s how long it had been since the world fell apart.

Six months of chaos, death, and the relentless groans of the undead filling the streets. In that time, you’d lost everything—your home, your family, your friends. Five months ago, you buried your parents the only constants in a world spiraling out of control. Two months ago, the last shred of hope had crumbled when your team was ambushed. You still remembered their screams, the way they’d been torn apart while you ran.

Now, it was just you.

You’d learned to survive, though. To stay quiet, to move fast, and to keep a tight grip on the crowbar that never left your side. But survival wasn’t the same as living. With no one left, no safety, and barely any supplies, every day was a battle to find a reason to keep going.

That’s what brought you here—a decaying pharmacy tucked into the ruins of a crumbling city. The windows had been shattered, and most of the shelves were stripped bare, but there was always a chance something had been overlooked. You couldn’t afford to give up now. Supplies were running low—again—and you couldn’t afford to ignore even the faintest possibility of a find.

The building was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the wind pushing through shattered windows. The quiet always unnerved you. It meant nothing was here, or it meant something dangerous was lurking. And in this world, you’d learned that the latter was far more common.

You moved quickly, rifling through what little remained on the shelves. There was nothing—no bandages, no antiseptics, not even a stray pack of painkillers. Your chest tightened. You hadn’t eaten in two days, and your limbs felt like they were made of lead. The only thing keeping you upright was the faint hope of finding something useful.

A soft scrape of a boot on the tile floor broke your focus. You froze, every muscle in your body tensing as you instinctively gripped your crowbar tighter.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

The voice was low and sharp, carrying a weight of authority that left no room for disobedience.

You did as instructed, turning slowly to face the speaker. Your breath hitched when your eyes landed on him.

He stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, his face half-shadowed by the dim light filtering through the broken windows. Tattoos coiled down one side of his face, stopping just shy of his jawline. His eyes were sharp and unforgiving, as if they could cut you down without the help of the knife in his hand.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” you said quickly, your voice steady despite the fear prickling at the back of your neck. “I just needed supplies.”

The man took a step closer, his posture rigid but calculated, like a predator sizing up its prey. “This is our base. You’re trespassing.”

Your heart sank. Of course, the one pharmacy you decided to search had to belong to a group. You’d seen enough groups in the last six months to know how this could end—most didn’t tolerate strangers. But you weren’t about to beg for your life. Not yet.

“I didn’t know,” you said carefully, your gaze flicking to the doorway. A small, calculated step back might give you the chance to run. “I’ll leave.”

He didn’t move, his eyes narrowing as if assessing whether you were lying. A moment later, a faint laugh came from behind him, and more figures emerged from the shadows.

Four of them, all armed. One with messy snow-white hair leaned casually against the doorframe, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. Another had dark hair pulled back and an air of quiet authority. A blonde stood nearby, his sharp gaze locked on you, while a woman with a cigarette dangling from her lips watched you with mild curiosity.

“You’re alone?” the man with the tattoos asked, cutting through your thoughts.

“Yes,” you answered honestly. “I’ve been on my own for two months.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though weighing your words. “Convenient,” he said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe,” you shot back, your exhaustion bubbling over into frustration. “I’m not a threat. I just need to survive.”

His lip curled slightly, not quite a smirk but close enough to feel mocking. “You and everyone else.”

You stared at him, chest tightening as the weight of the situation settled over you. These people had a base, weapons, resources—and they were ready to protect them. Meanwhile, you were barely holding on, the ache of hunger and the gnawing fear of being alone clawing at you every second.

“I’ll go,” you said again, lowering the crowbar. “I don’t want trouble.”

You turned toward the door, but something stopped you. The truth.

You wouldn’t make it. Not another month. Maybe not another week.

Your breath hitched, and you turned back around, swallowing the lump rising in your throat. “Wait.”

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated by your hesitation.

“I can help you,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you’d intended. “I was a med student before all of this. I know how to treat injuries—stitches, setting fractures, preventing infections. You need me.”

The room went silent for a moment. The woman with the cigarette exhaled slowly, the faint curl of smoke filling the air. The others exchanged glances, their postures shifting just slightly.

But the man in charge didn’t seem moved. “We don’t need you,” he said coldly, his gaze sharp. He jerked his chin toward the woman with the cigarette. “We already have someone who knows how to patch us up.”

You blinked, your stomach sinking as your eyes flicked to her.

The woman raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement on her lips. “Having a partner? Sounds useful to me,” she said with a smirk, dragging the cigarette from her mouth and exhaling slowly.

The white-haired one grinned, breaking the tension. “She’s got a point. Two are better than one, right?”

“She could be lying,” the leader snapped, glaring at him.

“She’s not,” the blonde cut in, his voice calm but firm. “If she is, we’ll know soon enough.”

“She’s alone,” the quiet one added, his tone measured. “If she wanted to ambush us, she would’ve had backup by now.”

The leader scowled, clearly unhappy about the shift in opinion. But before he could argue further, the woman stepped forward, crushing the cigarette beneath her boot.

“I’m glad I’m not the other girl now,” she said with a small smirk. Turning to you, she added, “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking back to the man in charge. His fiery eyes burned into yours, full of warning and thinly veiled hostility. But he didn’t stop the woman from leading you deeper into their base.

For now, you were safe. But the tension in the room made one thing painfully clear: this wouldn’t be easy.

The girl led you down a dim hallway. There was a musty scent to the building, but you didn’t mind. After months of scavenging, you were used to far worse.

“You have a name?” she said casually, glancing back at you.

You hesitated, still feeling the weight of the encounter in the other room. Finally, you spoke, giving your name—a piece of yourself you hadn’t shared in a long time.

“Shoko,” she replied, offering a faint smile. “Welcome to our little slice of apocalypse hell.”

Her tone was light, even friendly, and it caught you off guard. After months of being alone—and year of studying medicine, where people tended to be formal and brusque—her relaxed demeanor was strangely comforting.

She gestured for you to follow her deeper into the base. “Come on. I’ll show you where you can sleep. We’re not exactly running a hotel, but it beats sleeping in a ditch.”

You walked a few steps behind her, taking in your surroundings. The building was old but well-maintained, with concrete walls reinforced by wooden barricades. The air smelled faintly of motor oil and sweat, and supplies were stacked neatly along the walls—canned goods, medical kits, and ammunition. The group clearly had a system, and it was working.

Shoko led you to a small room at the end of the hallway. Inside was a thin mattress on the floor with a couple of blankets folded neatly on top. There was a single metal shelf against the wall, mostly empty except for a half-used candle and a box of matches.

“Not much,” Shoko said, stepping aside so you could enter. “But it’s yours for now.”

You set your pack down, the weight of it finally slipping from your shoulders. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the mattress. It had been months since you’d had anything resembling a safe place to rest.

“Are you hungry?” Shoko asked, leaning against the doorway.

You glanced at her, unsure of how to respond. Your stomach growled before you could say anything, and Shoko smirked.

“Thought so. Come on. We’ve got food in the common area.”

You followed her back down the hallway, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. Shoko didn’t seem to view you as a threat, which was more kindness than you’d expected from anyone these days.

“We’ve been here for about four months,” Shoko explained as she walked. “It’s not much, but we’ve made it work. Sukuna’s the one keeping us alive, mostly.”

At the mention of his name, your chest tightened. “The guy with the tattoos?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, that’s him. Don’t take his attitude personally. He’s like that with everyone. Even us.”

“Us?”

“The rest of the group,” Shoko said. “We’re all friends. We were on a trip together when this whole zombie thing started. Stuck together ever since.”

That explained their familiarity with one another—the way they moved and spoke as a unit, how they all seemed to know what the others were thinking without speaking.

Shoko led you into a larger room, where the rest of the group was gathered. They looked up when you entered, their expressions ranging from curious to indifferent.

“Everyone, this is—” Shoko said your name, her tone casual as she took another drag from her cigarette. “Be nice.”

The white-haired man was the first to speak. He grinned, leaning back against the table where he’d been sitting. “Didn’t think the boss would let you in. You must’ve made one hell of an impression.”

“I don’t think that’s what happened,” you replied dryly, earning a laugh from Shoko.

The dark-haired man beside him gave a small nod. “Suguru,” he said simply, his tone calm but not unfriendly. “Good to have you here.”

The blonde, who was sitting across from him cleaning a knife, didn’t look up. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Nanami,” Shoko said, rolling her eyes. “Can you not?”

“I’m being realistic,” he replied, his voice even.

“You’ll have to forgive Nanami,” Shoko said to you, her smirk returning. “He’s just mad the world ended and he doesn’t have coffee anymore.”

Nanami let out a quiet sigh and finally looked up. “It’s a tragedy,” he said in a deadpan tone, earning a laugh from the white-haired man.

“I’m Satoru,” the white-haired one said, grinning at you. “The fun one, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“Annoying, not fun,” Shoko corrected.

“And you already met Sukuna,” Satoru continued, ignoring her.

Your gaze flicked to the man with the tattoos, who was standing in the corner with his arms crossed. His expression was as unreadable as before, but his eyes stayed on you, sharp and calculating.

“Try not to make things harder than they need to be,” he said, his voice low and cold.

The air in the room seemed to shift, the tension thickening for a moment before Shoko broke it with a clap of her hands.

“Alright, that’s enough brooding for one day,” she said. “Sit down. Eat something. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

You hesitated, glancing at Sukuna one last time. He didn’t look away, his gaze heavy with unspoken warnings. But he didn’t stop you when you sat at the table, your stomach growling at the sight of canned food and stale bread.

Shoko slid a plate toward you and leaned against the wall, her smirk softening into something resembling a real smile. “Welcome to the group,” she said.

For the first time in months, you allowed yourself to feel something close to relief. You weren’t sure if you’d made the right decision coming here, but at least for now, you weren’t alone.

The group ate together in relative silence, save for the occasional joke from Satoru or Shoko’s dry quips that kept things from feeling completely somber. You were too tired to say much, focused on the stale but filling meal in front of you. Every so often, you caught someone’s eyes on you—Nanami’s sharp but observant glances, Suguru’s calm but assessing looks, or Sukuna’s unrelenting scrutiny from across the room.

When you finished eating, Shoko nudged you with her elbow. “C’mon. I’ll show you where everything else is.”

You followed her out of the room, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief settling over you. It was surreal, being here, surrounded by strangers who were both your best chance at survival and a reminder of everything you’d lost.

Shoko walked ahead of you, her cigarette balanced lazily between her lips. “You’re lucky, you know,” she said over her shoulder.

“Lucky?” you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yeah. Sukuna doesn’t usually let strangers stick around. He’s a pain in the ass, but he knows how to keep us alive.”

You frowned. “He didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat.”

Shoko chuckled. “No, but he didn’t throw you out either. That’s something.” She paused, then added with a shrug, “Don’t take it personally. He’s just cautious. Losing people changes you.”

Her words lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of what you already knew too well. You didn’t respond, instead focusing on the tour as Shoko led you through the base.

The building was bigger than you’d expected, with makeshift defenses reinforcing every entrance and window. Shoko pointed out various rooms as you passed—a storage area packed with supplies, a small medical room, and what she called “the armory,” though it was really just a closet filled with mismatched weapons.

Eventually, she stopped in front of another door. “Bathroom,” she said, pushing it open. Inside was a simple setup—a sink, a mirror, and a bucket with a lid you assumed served as a toilet.

“It’s not glamorous,” Shoko said, leaning against the doorframe. “But it works. We rigged up a tank outside to feed water to the sink. You’ll have enough to wash up, but don’t overdo it—we ration everything.”

Your eyes swept across the small space, catching sight of five toothbrushes neatly lined up in a cup by the sink, along with a single, nearly flattened tube of toothpaste. The sight reminded you that this wasn’t just a safe haven—it was their home.

Shoko followed your gaze and grabbed a new toothbrush from a nearby shelf, holding it out to you. “Here. This one’s yours now.”

You nodded, grateful for even the smallest semblance of normalcy.

Shoko let you step inside and handed you a towel from a nearby shelf. “Get cleaned up,” she said, then placed a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll wait out here.”

Before you could respond, she pulled the door shut behind you with a soft click, leaving you alone in the quiet, dimly lit space.

You caught your reflection in the cracked mirror, barely recognizing the face staring back. Dirt smudged your cheeks, and your eyes were hollow with exhaustion. With a deep breath, you turned on the sink. The sink’s faucet sputtered before releasing a steady trickle of cold water, the sound echoing faintly in the small room. You cupped the water in your hands, its icy temperature biting against your skin, and splashed it onto your face and arms.

Using the small bar of soap sitting on the edge, you worked up a thin lather, the faint scent of something herbal breaking through the musty air. You wiped yourself clean in sections with the towel, rinsing and repeating until the layers of dirt and sweat were gone. It wasn’t much, but as you worked, the cold water and the simple act of cleaning up made you feel a little more like yourself again—a tiny piece of normalcy in the chaos.

You reached for the cup holding the toothpaste, squeezing a small dollop onto the new toothbrush. As you brushed your teeth, the minty taste hit your tongue like a shock, unfamiliar after weeks of chewing on dry food and stale water. It was almost overwhelming, but the sensation felt like a step back toward normal life. Spitting into the sink, you rinsed your mouth and ran water over the toothbrush, setting it into the cup.

When you finished cleaning up, you cracked the bathroom door open just enough to peek outside. Shoko was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and looked up at the sound of the creak. She handed you a bundle of clothes—a clean but worn pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt.

“They’re a little big,” she said with a shrug, motioning to the size with a tilt of her chin. “But better than what you’ve got on now.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking the clothes and retreating back into the bathroom. You shut the door behind you, the faint click echoing in the quiet space.

Slipping out of your towel, you quickly changed into the sweatpants and shirt. The fabric was soft against your freshly cleaned skin, and while the clothes were a bit baggy around the sleeves and waist, they fit well enough to feel comfortable. You folded your old, grimy clothes into a bundle, relieved to finally be rid of them.

Once you were done, you opened the door again and stepped out, clutching the pile of dirty clothes in your arms. Shoko’s gaze flicked over you briefly before she gave a small nod of approval.

Shoko led you back to your room and leaned against the doorway as you stepped inside. “Get some rest,” she said, her tone lighter now. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

You couldn’t argue with that. As you sat on the mattress, Shoko hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, her cigarette dangling from her fingers, “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice having someone new around.”

The sincerity in her voice caught you off guard, and you found yourself smiling despite the heaviness in your chest. “Thanks, Shoko.”

She nodded and stepped back into the hallway. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” you said, watching as she disappeared down the corridor.

You lay back on the mattress, staring up at the cracked ceiling. The sounds of the base hummed around you—the faint murmur of voices, the creak of footsteps on the floor above, the distant clang of metal.

For the first time in months, you felt a sliver of hope.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep you going.

The next morning, the faint light of dawn filtered through the boarded-up windows of your room, accompanied by the muffled sounds of movement beyond the walls. You stretched, wincing at the stiffness in your muscles. It was the first time you’d slept without fear of being ambushed in months, and it was strange—unnerving, even—to wake up somewhere safe.

After a moment, you forced yourself up. The air was cold, and the thin blanket you’d been given wasn’t much help, but you didn’t complain. You pulled on your jacket and laced up your boots, steeling yourself for another day of navigating this uneasy arrangement.

As you stepped into the hallway, you heard voices coming from the common area. You followed the sound, hesitating briefly at the doorway.

The group was gathered around a table in the center of the room. Shoko sat on the edge of it, cigarette in hand as usual, while the others stood or leaned against the walls. A map was spread out across the table, marked with faint lines and symbols in red and black ink.

Sukuna glanced up first, his sharp gaze locking onto yours. The room fell quiet for a moment, and you resisted the urge to shrink back under his scrutiny.

“Morning,” Shoko said, breaking the silence with a small smile. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough,” you replied cautiously, stepping into the room.

Suguru offered you a polite nod, and Satoru waved lazily from his spot against the wall. Nanami didn’t look up, focused instead on sharpening a blade in his hands.

“We’re going out,” Sukuna said abruptly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

You frowned. “Out?”

“For supplies,” Shoko explained. She gestured to the map on the table. “There’s a warehouse a few blocks from here. We’ve been meaning to hit it for weeks, but it’s risky.”

“Why?” you asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the map.

“Too open,” Nanami said, finally glancing up. “And there’s been an increase in infected sightings in the area.”

“Which is why we’ll stick to the usual plan,” Sukuna added, his tone firm. “Split into teams, stay quiet, get in and out fast. No unnecessary risks.”

The authority in his voice was undeniable, and you realized that while the group didn’t have a formal hierarchy, they clearly followed his lead.

“Guess that means you’re staying here,” Satoru said, looking at you with a teasing grin. “Unless you want to take your chances out there.”

Before you could respond, Shoko spoke up. “She’s not ready for that yet.”

Your stomach twisted slightly at her words, but you didn’t argue. As much as you hated to admit it, she was probably right. You weren’t ready. Not yet.

“What do I do while you’re gone?” you asked instead, trying to keep your voice steady.

Shoko shrugged. “Stick around. Get familiar with the place. There’s plenty to keep you busy.”

“Help organize supplies,” Nanami suggested, his tone clipped. “The pharmacy is our base for a reason, but it only works if we stay on top of inventory.”

Suguru added, “And if you hear anything unusual, be ready to defend yourself. This place might keep the infected out, but it’s not invincible.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you nodded, determined to prove yourself useful.

The group began gathering their gear—backpacks, weapons, and whatever tools they needed for the run. Shoko lingered behind, finishing her cigarette before snuffing it out on the edge of the table.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, giving you a reassuring smile. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

With that, she joined the others, and within minutes, they were gone.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You wandered the base, taking Shoko’s advice to familiarize yourself with the layout. The pharmacy had clearly been chosen for its abundance of supplies—rows of shelves held medicine, canned food, and other essentials, while the back rooms had been repurposed for storage and sleeping quarters.

As you worked, sorting through boxes and taking stock of the inventory, you couldn’t shake the weight of your thoughts. Being here felt like both a blessing and a burden. You were safe, but you were also an outsider, an unproven variable in a group that had clearly been through hell together.

You had to prove yourself. Not just to them, but to yourself.

Hours passed in relative quiet, the monotony of the work a strange comfort. You were just finishing an inventory of the medical supplies when the faint sound of footsteps reached your ears.

Your pulse quickened as you grabbed the closest thing resembling a weapon—a rusted wrench from a nearby shelf.

The footsteps grew louder, closer, until a familiar voice called out.

“We’re back,” Shoko said, her tone as casual as ever.

Relief flooded through you as the group filed back into the building, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. Sukuna was the last to enter, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on you.

“No issues?” he asked, his voice low.

You shook your head. “None.”

“Good,” he said, his tone neutral but firm. He turned to the others. “Unload and regroup in an hour.”

As the group began unpacking their haul, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride. You’d survived the day without incident, and while it wasn’t much, it felt like a step in the right direction.

But you knew this was only the beginning.

The following days passed in a blur of routine and quiet tension. You found yourself settling into the group’s rhythm, though there was still an unspoken divide between you and the others.

Nanami remained as reserved as ever, focused on his tasks with an almost mechanical precision. Suguru was polite, occasionally offering a word of advice or a small gesture of kindness, but he seemed to prefer observing from the sidelines. Satoru, on the other hand, was relentless with his teasing, throwing in snarky comments whenever the opportunity arose.

And then there was Sukuna.

He spoke to you only when absolutely necessary, his tone clipped and his words laced with an authority that brooked no argument. He watched you constantly, his sharp gaze dissecting your every move. It was exhausting, and no matter how much effort you put into proving yourself useful, it never seemed to be enough for him.

Shoko, at least, made the transition easier. She’d taken you under her wing in her own dry, unflappable way, showing you the ins and outs of the base and ensuring you knew how to navigate their system.

“Don’t let Sukuna get to you,” she said one evening as you helped her sort through a crate of medical supplies. “He’s always like that. Doesn’t trust anyone outside the group.”

You glanced at her, hesitant. “I get it. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

Shoko snorted, lighting another cigarette. “Yeah, well, we’re not exactly saints. You’ll get there.”

Her words were reassuring, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sukuna wasn’t just being cautious. He was waiting—for you to make a mistake, to prove that you didn’t belong.

It was late one afternoon when your chance to prove yourself again came.

The group was in the common area, discussing plans for the next supply run. Sukuna was at the head of the table, gesturing to a map while the others listened intently.

“We’ll need to hit the northeast block,” he said, tapping the paper with a finger. “There’s a hardware store there. If we’re lucky, we’ll find some tools and parts to reinforce the barricades.”

“And if we’re not lucky?” Satoru asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin.

“Then we clear out the infected and keep moving,” Sukuna replied flatly.

The conversation continued, but you found yourself distracted by a low, distant noise—a sound you hadn’t heard in weeks. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but then it came again: a faint, pained groan.

Your blood ran cold.

“Do you hear that?” you asked, interrupting the conversation.

The group turned to look at you, varying degrees of curiosity and irritation on their faces.

“Hear what?” Nanami asked, his tone skeptical.

You held up a hand, straining to listen. The sound came again, louder this time, and you realized it wasn’t coming from outside. It was coming from somewhere within the building.

“There,” you whispered.

The group immediately tensed. Sukuna stood, his expression sharp. He glanced at you and Shoko. “Both of you, stay here,” he ordered before motioning for the others to follow him.

“I can help,” you said instinctively, stepping forward.

“No,” Sukuna snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Stay. Here.”

Before you could protest, the group disappeared down the hallway, leaving you and Shoko alone in the common area.

Your heart raced as you listened to the faint echoes of their footsteps, followed by muffled voices and the occasional creak of the floorboards. The groaning sound grew louder, closer, until you could barely breathe.

And then, silence.

The minutes stretched on, each one heavier than the last, until finally, the group returned. Sukuna was at the front, dragging a body behind him—a man, bloody and unconscious but very much alive.

You stared in shock as he dropped the man onto the floor, the thud echoing through the room.

“He’s alive,” Shoko announced, kneeling beside the man and checking his pulse. “And not infected.”

“He could still turn,” Sukuna said coldly, his eyes narrowing.

“No,” you interjected firmly. “If he were bitten, he’d have turned by now. It only takes a minute.”

Nanami folded his arms, his expression unreadable. “He’s still deadweight. We don’t have the resources to waste.”

“We can’t just leave him,” Shoko argued, her voice calm but firm.

“I’ll handle it,” you said before you could stop yourself.

The room went silent, all eyes turning to you.

“What?” Sukuna said, his tone sharp.

“I can handle it,” you repeated, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I was a med student. Let me help him.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, and for a moment, you thought he was going to refuse. But then he stepped back, his lips curling into a cold smirk.

“Fine,” he said. “Nanami, take him to the infirmary.”

Nanami sighed but complied, lifting the man with Satoru’s help and carrying him out of the room. The sound of their footsteps faded as they disappeared down the hallway.

The infirmary was a repurposed office room, its desks pushed aside to make space for several cots lined up against the walls. Shelves held neatly arranged medical supplies—bandages, antiseptics, painkillers—all salvaged from previous runs. The faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

Nanami and Satoru lowered the man onto one of the cots before leaving without a word. Shoko and you stayed behind, the silence between you punctuated by the man’s faint groans.

Shoko leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette. “Guess you’re on, doc,” she said with a faint smirk. “What’s the plan?”

You moved to the cot, inspecting the man’s injuries. His clothes were shredded, blood soaking through what remained of his shirt. A jagged wound stretched across his abdomen, deep and ugly, though not fresh enough to bleed him out immediately.

“We need to stop the bleeding first,” you said, reaching into the small medical kit you’d salvaged weeks ago.

Shoko exhaled a stream of smoke and gestured toward a nearby shelf. “There’s more gauze and antiseptic over there. I’ll grab it.”

You nodded, already focused on cleaning the wound. Shoko returned with the supplies, setting them beside you before crouching to get a closer look at the man’s injuries.

“What do you think his story is?” Shoko asked, her tone light but curious.

You shook your head. “Hard to say. He’s been through hell, that much is obvious. But if he made it this far, he’s a fighter.”

“Or just lucky,” Shoko said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Maybe both,” you replied, focusing on stitching the gash closed. Your hands moved quickly but carefully, each stitch bringing the wound closer together. It was crude work, the kind you never would’ve considered acceptable back when you were studying medicine, but it would keep him alive. For now.

“Not bad,” Shoko said, watching as you tied off the final stitch. “You’ve got steady hands.”

You gave her a faint smile. “Thanks.”

The man groaned again, his head shifting slightly. You placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, feeling his breathing even out beneath your touch.

“He’ll need rest and fluids,” you said, leaning back to assess your work. After a moment, you sat back on your heels and added, “But he should pull through—if he doesn’t get an infection."

“That’s a big if,” Shoko said, standing and stretching lazily. “Sukuna’s not gonna like this.”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the thought of facing him. His disapproval was palpable even when he wasn’t in the room. “I’ll deal with it,” you said firmly, trying to muster some confidence.

Shoko gave you a half-smile, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “Good luck with that."

When you stepped back into the common area, the rest of the group was waiting. Sukuna leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze locking onto you the moment you entered.

“Well?” he asked, his voice low and cutting.

“He’s stable,” you said, keeping your tone steady despite the knot tightening in your stomach. “But he’s weak. He won’t survive on his own.”

“That’s not our problem,” Sukuna replied coldly.

You stiffened. “You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can,” he interrupted, his voice hardening as his eyes bore into yours. “He’s not one of us. I’m not risking our safety for someone who can’t pull their weight.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but Shoko, still idly puffing on her cigarette, stepped in.

“She’s got a point, though,” Shoko said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “The guy’s barely hanging on. Sending him out now would just be a death sentence. We might as well have killed him ourselves.”

Sukuna’s sharp glare shifted to her, his expression darkening. “And?”

“And we don’t need that kind of bad karma hanging over us,” she continued, her tone casual but pointed. “Let him rest for the night. Patch him up properly, and send him on his way tomorrow.”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Sukuna as he weighed her words. His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as his gaze flicked back to you.

Finally, he pushed off the wall and strode toward you, his towering presence suffocating as he stopped just short of invading your space.

“One night,” he said, his voice low and brimming with warning. “And if he so much as breathes wrong, it’s on you. Got it?”

You nodded, swallowing hard under the weight of his gaze. “Got it.”

Satisfied, Sukuna turned and walked away, tension dissipating slightly with each heavy step he took down the hallway.

Satoru let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

“Or she’s just reckless,” Nanami muttered, his tone as blunt as ever.

Suguru, who had remained silent until now, gave you a measured look and a small nod. “It was the right call,” he said simply.

You didn’t respond, your mind already racing with thoughts of what tomorrow would bring. For now, all you could do was hope you’d made the right decision.

The injured man stirred restlessly throughout the night, his labored breathing echoing faintly in the pharmacy’s quiet halls. You stayed close by, keeping a cautious watch for any signs of infection—or worse, the telltale fever that could signal the end.

Shoko had supplied you with a couple of clean rags, and you used one to wipe the sweat from the man’s brow. His skin was clammy, but his pulse, though weak, remained steady.

“Lucky bastard,” Shoko muttered from the doorway, startling you.

You glanced back at her. She had a cigarette between her fingers, though it was unlit. “How so?”

“He survived out there long enough for you to find him. And Sukuna didn’t kick his ass out the moment he saw him.”

You didn’t respond, focusing instead on adjusting the makeshift bandage over his wound.

Shoko stepped into the room, her expression unreadable as she crouched beside you. “You really don’t think he’s infected?”

You shook your head. “He would’ve shown symptoms by now. Fever, spasms, disorientation… but he’s coherent. Exhausted, but human.”

“For now,” she said, her tone carrying a note of warning.

You didn’t miss the implication. “If he shows any signs, I’ll deal with it.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, studying you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she nodded. “Fair enough.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the faint hum of wind outside filling the space. Finally, Shoko stood and stretched, her back popping faintly.

“Better get some rest,” she said. “Sukuna is going to want an update in the morning.”

You hesitated. “Do you think he’ll…?”

“Change his mind?” Shoko said. “Not a chance. Sukuna’s stubborn as hell. But if the guy pulls through, he’ll at least have a fighting chance out there. That’s more than most people get.”

She left without another word, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the sound of the man’s uneven breathing.

Morning came too quickly. By the time the group gathered in the common area, you were dead on your feet, the ache in your back and shoulders a dull reminder of how long you’d spent sitting on the cold floor.

“He’s stable,” you reported when Sukuna’s sharp gaze landed on you. “The wound’s healing, and there’s no sign of infection.”

Sukuna didn’t respond right away. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, and studied you with that same piercing look that made your skin crawl.

“And?” he said finally.

“And he’s in no condition to leave yet,” you said, forcing yourself to stand taller despite your exhaustion. “But if he rests for another day or two, he should be able to manage on his own.”

Sukuna’s expression hardened. “Fine. One more day,” he said coldly. “Then he’s gone by tomorrow. No exceptions.”

You nodded, keeping your face neutral. Sukuna’s decision was final, and pushing back would likely do more harm than good. Still, the pit in your stomach only seemed to grow

A few hours later, you checked on the injured man. His color had improved slightly, though his movements were sluggish and weak. He blinked up at you, his gaze unfocused.

“Where… am I?” he rasped.

“Safe,” you said simply, not offering more. “For now.”

He winced as he tried to sit up, and you placed a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Don’t. You’ll tear the stitches.”

His eyes flicked toward you, confusion etched into his features. “Who…?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “You’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

His expression shifted, a mix of fear and resignation passing over his face. “I can’t—”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. Guilt flared in your chest, but you pushed it down. There was no point in giving him false hope.

By nightfall, the man was stronger, though still far from healthy. His movements were sluggish, and he winced with every shift, but his color had improved, and he was coherent enough to sip the water you offered him. As you helped him sit up, you couldn’t help but wonder if Sukuna’s decision had been the right one. Was it fair to send someone out into a world like this, knowing the odds were stacked so heavily against him?

But then you thought of the group—of how much they’d risked just letting you in—and you understood why Sukuna was so unyielding. Trust wasn’t something people could afford to give freely anymore. Compassion could get you killed just as easily as cruelty.

Still, you couldn’t stand the thought of sending him out with nothing. That evening, you packed a battered backpack with supplies: a bottle of water, a couple of cans of food, the blanket you’d found earlier, and a spare jacket. You tore a page from an old notebook and scribbled a few instructions: “Change the bandages daily. Keep the wound clean. If you feel feverish or the pain gets worse, don’t push yourself.”

The next morning, when Sukuna ordered the man to leave, no one spoke up to argue. Not even you.

The following morning, the man was gone. Whether he’d made it far or fallen victim to the harshness of the world, you didn’t know. No one spoke about it—not over breakfast, not during the day’s routines. The group moved forward without looking back, and you did your best to follow their lead, even as guilt gnawed at your insides.

You were restocking the med kits in the corner of the common area when Shoko appeared, a mug in her hand and a relaxed expression on her face.

“Thought you could use this,” she said, holding it out to you.

You blinked at her in surprise before taking the mug from her hands. The warmth seeped into your fingers instantly, a welcome comfort against the chill of the room. “What is it?”

“Instant coffee,” she said, pulling up a chair. “Barely tastes like coffee, but it’s hot, and it’s something.”

Grateful, you wrapped your hands around the mug and let the warmth seep into your fingers. “Thanks.”

Shoko leaned back, her gaze flicking to the supplies you were organizing. “Not bad, newbie,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re settling in better than I expected.”

“Newbie?” you asked, raising a brow.

Her smile widened. “Satoru calls you that.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “Of course, he does.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” she said with a laugh. “He’s an idiot, but he’s harmless. Well—mostly harmless.”

The comment earned a small chuckle from you. “Good to know.”

Her tone softened as she looked back at you. “For what it’s worth, you’ve been doing fine. Better than fine, really. Not many people would’ve patched up that guy the way you did, even knowing he’d be gone by morning.”

You glanced down at the mug in your hands, unsure how to respond. “It just… felt like the right thing to do,” you admitted quietly.

Shoko nodded, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “You’ve got a good instinct for this kind of thing,” she said. “It’s why I spoke up for you. I figured you’d be worth keeping around.”

Her casual praise caught you off guard, and warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks,” you murmured, the word feeling inadequate for what you wanted to say.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, waving a hand. “Don't let Sukuna scare you off. He’s a pain, but he doesn’t bite—well, not unless you really piss him off.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Finish your coffee,” Shoko said, pushing herself to her feet. “I’ll show you how to get inventory done without losing your mind.”

“Deal,” you said, lifting the mug to your lips.

As she led the way to the storage room, a small smile lingered on your face. Shoko’s steady presence made you feel, for once, like you might actually have a place here after all.

Over the next few days, the others began to warm up to you in their own ways—some more obviously than others.

Suguru was one of the first to reach out.

You were sitting near the barricaded entrance, mending a tear in your jacket, when Suguru approached with something folded in his hands. He knelt down beside you, holding it out.

“Here,” he said. “Thought this might help.”

You took the fabric, your fingers brushing over its thick, durable texture. “What is it?”

“An old tarp from storage,” he replied. “I figured you could use it to patch that up properly.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, can’t have you walking around in rags—it’d reflect badly on us.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Thanks, Suguru. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said as he stood, brushing some dust off his pants. He gave you a small nod before turning and walking away, his steps unhurried.

You watched him go, the warmth of his gesture lingering long after he disappeared around the corner.

Satoru’s approach, as always, was less subtle.

He found you crouched near the supply shelves, reassembling a broken lantern you’d scrounged up earlier.

“Whatcha doing, newbie?” he asked, plopping down beside you with his trademark grin.

“Trying to fix this,” you replied, not bothering to look up. “It’s not much, but it might help.”

Satoru leaned closer, watching you fiddle with the pieces. “Didn’t peg you as the handy type.”

You glanced at him. “What type did you peg me as?”

“Honestly? Thought you’d cry and bolt on day one.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “Wow. Glad I could exceed expectations.”

He laughed, completely unbothered. “Hey, I’m impressed! You’ve got guts, newbie. Gotta admit, I didn’t think you’d last.”

His teasing was irritating, but there was an unexpected warmth in his words. By the time he wandered off, you realized you were smiling.

Nanami, on the other hand, was quieter in his support.

You were dragging a crate of supplies across the common area when a hand reached past you and lifted it with ease.

Startled, you glanced up to see Nanami, his expression calm as ever. “You shouldn’t be carrying something that heavy by yourself,” he said plainly.

“I could’ve managed,” you muttered, embarrassed.

“Maybe,” he replied, setting the crate down neatly against the wall. “But why make things harder than they need to be?”

You opened your mouth to thank him, but before you could, he was already heading back toward the shelves, his focus back on his work.

And then there was Sukuna.

It was late, and the common area was dimly lit by the faint glow of a battery-powered lantern resting on the center table. You sat hunched over the table, scribbling in your worn notebook. The blanket draped over your shoulders barely kept the chill at bay, but the small comfort of the pages beneath your hands kept you focused.

The soft creak of a chair startled you, and you looked up to see Shoko settling into the seat across from you. She rested her chin in her hand, her sharp gaze flicking to your notebook.

“What’re you working on?” she asked.

“Just writing down what I remember from med school,” you said, glancing at her briefly before returning to your notes. “You know—stuff about infection treatments, first aid. Trying to make sure I don’t forget anything important.”

Shoko tilted her head, intrigued. “Let me guess. Wound care, fever management, that kind of thing?”

“Pretty much,” you replied with a faint smile. “It’s not like we have access to the good stuff anymore.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not wrong. If nothing else, the basics will get you farther than you’d think. They drilled that into us pretty hard back in school.”

You paused your writing to glance at her. “How far were you?”

“Three years in,” she replied, leaning back in her chair. “Long enough to know what I was doing, not long enough to actually finish.”

You nodded, finding a strange comfort in that. “Same here. Well, not three years—just one. Still feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It does,” she agreed, her voice quieter now. “But hey, you’re not doing bad for someone who barely started.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Thanks. High praise coming from someone who’s ahead of me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said with a smirk, though her tone was light. She nodded toward your notebook. “What else have you got in there?”

“Just the things I think might come up. Stuff I’ve had to deal with already, mostly. Fevers, infected cuts, dehydration. It’s not much, but…”

“It’s something,” Shoko finished for you. “And that’s more than a lot of people can say. Keep at it. Writing things down helps—it’s easy to forget details when everything’s chaos.”

You hesitated before asking, “Do you ever write stuff like this? Just in case?”

She shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Nah. I keep it all up here.” She tapped her temple. “I guess I’ve always thought that if I need something badly enough, I’ll remember it. Besides, Satoru’s got a freakishly good memory for this kind of stuff—he’s like a walking cheat sheet when he wants to be useful.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I guess that’s one way to get by.”

“Hey,” she said, nodding toward your notebook. “What med school did you go to, anyway?”

Before you could respond, the sound of heavy boots echoed across the room, pulling both your attention toward the doorway. Sukuna stood there, his arms crossed and crimson gaze fixed on Shoko.

“Shoko,” he said, his voice sharp. “You’re on watch tonight. Get going.”

She sighed dramatically, but you noticed how she rose without argument. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t let the big bad zombies in.” She glanced at you and Sukuna. “Enjoy your chat.”

With that, she slipped out, leaving you alone with Sukuna.

“Studying?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and sardonic.

“Just trying to be useful,” you said cautiously, bracing for whatever jab he was about to make.

“Hmph.” He took a step closer, his gaze flicking to the notebook in your hands. “That’s useless.”

Your grip on the pen tightened. “It’s not useless if it helps someone survive.”

He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You really think you can save everyone, don’t you?”

You met his gaze, refusing to back down. “No. But I can try.”

For a moment, something shifted in his expression—a flicker of something softer—but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Try all you want,” he said, turning away. “Doesn’t mean the world won’t kill them anyway.”

His words lingered long after he left, heavy with an unspoken truth that you couldn’t quite unravel.

You were starting to feel it—the subtle shift in the group’s dynamic, like you were slowly being woven into their fabric. The tension that had clung to your every step when you first joined had eased, replaced by a quiet understanding of how they worked together.

You and Shoko had started growing closer over the past few days, the initial distance between you shrinking as casual chats turned into something resembling friendship. She often found you during quiet moments, dragging a chair over to share a cigarette and trade stories—or, more often, her sharp humor paired with a few genuine words of advice. It became a small comfort, those moments with her, grounding you in a world that constantly threatened to pull you under.

Suguru had started inviting you to tag along on supply runs, explaining their strategies in a calm, steady tone that made everything seem less daunting. He’d walk alongside you, pointing out key routes and landmarks to remember, his voice carrying a certain patience that put you at ease.

And even Nanami, in his quiet way, had begun to acknowledge you more, offering the occasional tip or simply nodding in approval when you finished a task efficiently

Satoru, meanwhile, had decided it was his mission to “toughen you up.” Almost every afternoon, he’d challenge you to mock sparring matches, claiming it was all in the name of survival. These sessions usually ended with him grinning while you tried to catch your breath, but even his teasing felt like a strange kind of encouragement.

But Sukuna? He remained distant—watchful and unyielding, as if he were waiting for you to prove him right about whatever assumptions he’d made.

One evening, after dinner, the group lingered in the common area, the glow of the lantern casting soft shadows across the room. Satoru leaned back against a crate, flipping a pocket knife idly in his hand, while Suguru and Shoko shared quiet conversation over a deck of cards. Nanami was seated at the far end, reading a book he’d found on a supply run. You sat off to the side, carefully stitching a tear in Satoru’s jacket that he’d insisted wasn’t worth fixing. The rhythmic motion of needle and thread helped you focus, even as the group's chatter flowed around you.

Satoru, as usual, decided to shake things up. “Alright, newbie,” he said, flicking the knife into the air and catching it by the handle. “What’s the wildest thing you’ve done to make it this far?”

All eyes turned to you, even Shoko and Suguru pausing their game. Sukuna was leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, but you felt the weight of his crimson gaze on you.

You hesitated, memories of near-death moments and desperate decisions flashing in your mind. “Probably the time I climbed out of a second-story window using a bedsheet rope,” you said after a moment. “The place was overrun, and I didn’t think I’d make it if I stayed.”

“Bedsheet rope?” Shoko raised a brow, a grin tugging at her lips. “Did it actually hold?”

“Barely,” you admitted, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I landed in a dumpster, which I guess cushioned the fall. But I smelled like garbage for days.”

Satoru laughed, loud and unrestrained. “A dumpster escape? Classic. You’re officially one of us now.”

“Better than some of your ideas,” Nanami said without looking up from his book, drawing an exaggerated gasp from Satoru.

“Hey, all my plans are genius,” Satoru shot back. “Some just... don’t pan out.”

Suguru shook his head, chuckling. “Sure, genius.”

Even Shoko snorted, and for a moment, the group felt lighter, their collective laughter a rare break from the grim reality outside.

You glanced toward Sukuna, half-expecting a cutting remark, but he didn’t say a word. He pushed off the wall instead, his boots heavy against the floor.

“I’m checking the perimeter,” he muttered, heading for the door.

The mood shifted subtly as he left, but no one commented on it. You leaned back in your seat, letting the warmth of the group’s humor settle over you, even if Sukuna’s stormy presence lingered at the edges of your mind.

The next morning, the pharmacy’s halls were filled with the usual sounds of life in the apocalypse: murmured conversations, the shuffle of boots, the clatter of weapons being prepped. You were still adjusting to the rhythms of the group, waking early so you wouldn’t miss anything important or be perceived as a slacker.

Shoko was already in the supply room when you arrived, reorganizing the shelves with her usual nonchalant efficiency.

“Morning, early bird,” she said without looking up from the gauze she was stacking. “Come to help, or just bored?”

“A little of both,” you replied, grabbing a box of antiseptic wipes to sort through.

She glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re catching on fast. That’s good.”

The casual praise made your chest warm, and you nodded, trying not to let your gratitude show too much. Shoko’s friendship—and the growing camaraderie with the others—was more than you’d expected after being alone for so long.

By mid-morning, Suguru and Satoru were in the common area, going through their usual supply check. Their easy banter filled the room, a contrast to the ever-present tension of survival.

“We’re low on canned fruit again,” Suguru said, examining the inventory list with his usual calm.

“That’s because you keep eating it all,” Satoru teased, tossing a can of beans into a crate with a grin.

Carrying a clipboard Shoko had handed you to update the medical supplies inventory, you entered just as Satoru’s laugh echoed through the room.

“Hey, newbie!” he called, noticing you. “How’s the Shoko torture program going?"

“It’s fine,” you said, playing along. “I think I’m surviving.”

“Good to know,” Suguru said, giving you a small nod. “We need survivors, not liabilities.”

His tone wasn’t unkind, but the bluntness still made your stomach twist.

“She’s not a liability,” Shoko’s voice cut in from the doorway, cigarette in hand. She glanced at Suguru with a smirk. “At least she doesn’t waste food or hog the bathroom.”

Satoru doubled over laughing, and even Suguru’s lips quirked upward. You relaxed a little, grateful for Shoko’s casual defense.

The lighthearted mood shifted when Sukuna entered the room. His presence seemed to absorb the air, silencing the banter as everyone straightened unconsciously.

“We’re heading out in thirty,” he said, his tone clipped. “Suguru, Nanami, Satoru—gear up. Shoko, keep the place locked down.”

“What’s the plan?” Suguru asked, already folding the inventory list.

“Pharmacy across town,” Sukuna replied. “We’re running low on antibiotics.”

Your ears perked up, but you hesitated before speaking. It wasn’t your place to offer, but the words tumbled out before you could stop yourself.

“I’ll come with you,” you said, the suggestion hanging in the now-silent room.

All eyes turned to you. Sukuna’s crimson gaze was sharp and unwavering.

“No,” he said flatly.

You swallowed but held your ground. “I know how to check expiration dates,” you argued. “I can identify what we need faster—”

“I said no,” Sukuna interrupted, his tone cutting through your words. “We don’t need anyone slowing us down.”

Before the tension could stretch further, Suguru stepped in, leaning casually against the table. “She’s been on a few runs with me already,” he said, his voice calm but pointed. “She’s been pulling her weight.”

Sukuna’s glare shifted to him, sharp and unwavering. “You’re responsible for her, then.”

“I’m responsible for getting the supplies.” Suguru replied smoothly.

Shoko exhaled a plume of smoke, adding her voice to the mix. “She knows what we need, and she’s been working her ass off since she got here. Just let her go."

Nanami and Satoru exchanged glances but said nothing, their silence adding weight to the conversation. Sukuna’s jaw tightened, frustration radiating off him.

Finally, his crimson gaze flicked back to you, his expression unreadable.

“Fine,” he said curtly. “But if you screw up, that’s on you.”

His words hung heavy in the air as he turned and stalked off, leaving the room tense in his wake.

Shoko smirked, extinguishing her cigarette. “Guess you’re in,” she said, her tone light.

The tension hung thick in the air as you geared up, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and determination. Shoko caught you just before you left, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

“Don’t let him get to you,” she said softly. Her tone was steady, but her eyes held a flicker of concern. “He’s harder on people he doesn’t know, but it’s not personal.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, earning a small chuckle from her.

“He’s just… Sukuna,” she said with a shrug, as though that explained everything. And maybe it did.

The streets were eerily quiet as the group moved in formation. Sukuna led at the front, Suguru and Nanami flanked the sides, and Satoru kept watch from the rear. You were sandwiched in the middle, your grip on your weapon tightening with every cautious step.

The silence wasn’t calming. It buzzed in your ears, amplifying every distant rustle and creak. Shadows danced in the corners of your vision, each one setting your nerves on edge.

“Relax,” Satoru whispered from behind you. “If you keep clutching that thing like it owes you money, you’re going to wear yourself out before anything happens.”

You shot him a look but didn’t loosen your hold.

“It’s her first big outing,” Suguru murmured, his eyes scanning the road ahead. “She’ll find her rhythm.”

“Let’s hope she does,” Sukuna said, his tone sharp enough to make your stomach drop.

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to focus. You didn’t need his approval; you just had to prove you could handle yourself.

The pharmacy came into view five blocks later, nestled on a side street filled with overturned cars and shattered glass. The faint, acrid scent of decay lingered in the air, a grim reminder of the world outside.

Sukuna raised his hand, signaling the group to stop. He pointed to Suguru and Nanami. “Check the perimeter. Afterwards, see if you can find anything useful—tools or supplies. Satoru, keep watch at the entrance.”

Turning to you, his gaze was cold and unyielding. “You’re with me.”

Your pulse quickened as you nodded, following him toward the entrance. The glass doors had been shattered, and the inside was dimly lit by slivers of daylight filtering through grime-covered windows.

The pharmacy was a mess of toppled shelves and scattered supplies. Sukuna moved with quiet precision, scanning the aisles as he gave curt instructions.

“Antibiotics, painkillers, disinfectants. Check expiration dates. Don’t waste time.”

“Got it,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

The two of you worked in tense silence, the only sounds the faint rustling of supplies and the occasional creak of the warped floorboards. You crouched behind a counter, sorting through a dusty box of medical supplies. Bottles of saline, rolls of bandages—your hands moved quickly, driven by the need to prove your worth.

Sukuna moved like a predator, each step purposeful. His sharp eyes swept over the shelves as he rifled through the remnants of the pharmacy’s stock. Despite his harsh demeanor, there was an air of competence about him that was impossible to ignore. He was someone you could trust to keep you alive, even if he made it clear he wouldn’t trust you in return.

The brittle quiet shattered when a sudden crash echoed from the back of the store.

Your heart leapt into your throat as Sukuna spun toward the noise, weapon already in hand. “Stay here,” he ordered, his voice low but commanding.

You froze, gripping your weapon tighter as your mind raced. He disappeared around the corner, his steps deliberate and silent. The shuffling groan of something inhuman followed, sending a chill down your spine.

A zombie.

The clash of metal against bone echoed through the pharmacy, followed by Sukuna’s grunt of exertion. Then you heard it—a second groan, closer and faster.

Panic surged through you. Another one.

You couldn’t stay put. Not when he might be outnumbered. Gripping your weapon, you crept toward the noise, your pulse hammering in your ears.

As you reached the corner, you peeked around it. Sukuna was engaged with one zombie, its decayed form lunging at him with jerky movements. He dispatched it with brutal efficiency, his blade slicing through bone like paper.

But he didn’t see the second zombie emerging from the shadows behind him. Its rotting fingers stretched toward his back.

You didn’t think—you acted.

With a burst of adrenaline, you sprinted forward and swung your weapon with all your strength. The blunt end connected with the zombie’s skull, the force knocking it off balance. It staggered, giving you just enough time to finish it off with a decisive strike to the head.

Panting, you stepped back, your chest heaving as the rush of the moment caught up to you.

Sukuna turned to face you, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. His gaze flicked from the crumpled body at your feet to your trembling hands.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched taut, heavy with unspoken tension.

Finally, he broke it. “You should’ve stayed put,” he said, his tone cold. But there was no real venom behind the words.

You met his gaze, steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “If I did, you’d be dead.”

Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“Fair enough,” he muttered. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t exactly gratitude, but it was close enough. You nodded, forcing your breathing to slow as you steadied yourself.

Sukuna turned back to the now-silent storage room, his movements brisk. “Let’s finish up and get out of here. No more heroics.”

You followed him, your grip on your weapon firm. His acknowledgment, however grudging, was a step forward. And in this world, steps forward were all you could ask for.

The walk back to the base was quieter than usual. The others were caught up in low conversations, recounting details of the trip and joking about who carried the heaviest load. You could feel Sukuna’s presence just a few paces ahead of you. He didn’t say a word, but his usual tension wasn’t as sharp. It was subtle, like he was letting himself breathe for the first time in a while.

When the group finally arrived at the base, the routine kicked in like clockwork. Supplies were unloaded and sorted, with Shoko perched at the desk, her cigarette dangling lazily between two fingers as she directed the flow of items.

"Looks like you found everything we needed," Shoko remarked, her sharp gaze scanning the bags. "Nicely done."

"Decent work," Sukuna said evenly, brushing past her leaving the room.

You stayed quiet, trying not to draw attention to yourself. Sukuna’s acknowledgement back at the store had been enough of a surprise; you didn’t want to push your luck.

But as you grabbed your own bag of supplies and moved to help Shoko, Satoru appeared at your side.

"Hey," he said, sidling up to you with a grin that could only mean trouble. "So, I hear you went all knight-in-shining-armor back there."

Your cheeks burned. "It wasn’t like that," you mumbled, focusing on unpacking the supplies.

"Really?" Satoru watching you with an infuriatingly knowing look. "Because from what I heard, you saved Sukuna’s life. That’s gotta be worth a medal or something."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. "I think he’d disagree with you."

"Maybe," Satoru admitted, his grin softening into something more genuine. "But trust me, it matters. Sukuna doesn’t trust people easily. If he’s starting to, even just a little… that’s a big deal."

You glanced toward the storage room where Sukuna was organizing the supplies.

Maybe Satoru was onto something.

"Don’t let it go to your head, though," Satoru added with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He’ll still find something to criticize tomorrow."

You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly. "Thanks for the pep talk."

As the day wore on, you couldn’t help but notice the small changes. When Sukuna handed out tasks for the evening, his tone wasn’t as cutting when he addressed you. Later, during dinner, he actually acknowledged you with a quiet question about the inventory—nothing extraordinary, but it was miles ahead of his usual silence.

Shoko caught you while you were restocking the first aid kits that night, her sharp eyes scanning you with a mix of approval and amusement.

"Good work out there today," she said, her voice low but sincere.

"Thanks," you replied, tucking a roll of gauze into a pouch. "I just reacted. I didn’t really think."

"That’s how it is sometimes," she said, lighting a fresh cigarette. She took a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before continuing. "But Sukuna noticed. He won’t say it outright, but he respects people who hold their own. You earned that today."

You blinked at her, caught off guard by her candidness. "You really think so?"

"I know so," she said with a faint smirk. "Just don’t expect him to roll out a red carpet or anything. He’s still Sukuna."

The thought made you smile despite yourself. "Yeah, I figured as much."

That night, as the group settled into their routines, you lay awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the others—Nanami flipping pages in his notebook, Suguru and Satoru trading jokes in hushed tones—made the base feel almost normal.

Your thoughts drifted to Sukuna, to the way he’d thanked you, however grudgingly. His walls weren’t gone, not by a long shot. But for the first time, you thought you saw a crack in them—a small glimpse of the person underneath.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And for now, that was enough

The next few days passed in a tentative calm, the group settling back into their usual rhythm. Sukuna’s small shift in demeanor toward you hadn’t gone unnoticed, though no one dared to comment on it outright. His leadership style remained the same—blunt, no-nonsense, and occasionally sharp—but his treatment of you had softened ever so slightly.

It was in the little things. He didn’t bark your name like it was an insult anymore. When tasks were divided, he didn’t immediately assign you the least favorable ones. And when you spoke up during group discussions, he didn’t interrupt or shut you down. Small gestures, but for Sukuna, they might as well have been grand declarations.

Still, his trust was like the flicker of a distant flame—visible, but too far away to warm you just yet. You knew better than to expect miracles.

One afternoon, as the group gathered around the dining table for the next supply run discussion, you found yourself fidgeting with a pen, tapping it nervously against your notebook. Sukuna stood at the head of the group, a map of the surrounding area spread out in front of him, his intense gaze scanning the terrain for answers.

“We’re low on food and water again,” Nanami said, his voice calm but laced with urgency. “The nearest grocery stores are completely cleaned out. We’ll need to start looking further out.”

“That’s risky,” Suguru replied, leaning back in his chair. “The farther we go, the more likely we run into trouble—whether it’s other groups or something worse.”

“Maybe,” Satoru chimed in, popping a peanut into his mouth, “but we can’t just keep scrounging around the same empty buildings. Gotta roll the dice at some point.”

Sukuna nodded, his finger trailing across the map. “There’s a warehouse here.” He tapped a spot roughly a mile and a half away. “It’s a gamble, but it might still have something useful. We’ll split into two teams. One handles the warehouse, the other checks the pharmacy again for medical supplies.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Two teams for two dangerous locations? Bold.”

“Calculated,” Sukuna corrected. “Suguru, Satoru, and Nanami—you’ll take the pharmacy. Shoko, you stay back and keep the base running.”

“And the warehouse?” Suguru asked.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked toward you, and your heart skipped a beat. “I’ll take the newbie.”

The room fell silent.

You blinked, unsure you’d heard him correctly. “Me?”

“You’re not deaf, are you?” Sukuna replied, crossing his arms. “You’ve proven you’re not completely useless. Time to see if that wasn’t just dumb luck.”

The tension in the room shifted. Satoru’s grin widened, clearly entertained by the turn of events. Suguru remained expressionless, while Shoko gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Nanami’s lack of protest was the most surprising of all, though his gaze lingered on Sukuna for a moment before returning to the map.

“I’ll go,” you said finally, forcing your voice to stay steady.

The walk to the warehouse was uneventful at first. Sukuna led the way, his steps confident and deliberate. You followed close behind, clutching your weapon tightly and trying not to let your nerves show. The silence between you felt heavy, broken only by the occasional rustle of debris or distant echo of the wind through the ruined streets.

“You’re tense,” Sukuna said abruptly, his voice low but clear.

You glanced at him, startled. “What?”

“Relax,” he said without looking back. “If you’re this wound up, you’ll freeze when it matters. That’s how you get killed.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Right. Got it.”

For a moment, you thought the conversation was over. But then he added, almost grudgingly, “You did good the other day. Quick thinking.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he muttered, picking up his pace. “You still have a long way to go.”

Despite his gruff tone, his words stayed with you. Coming from Sukuna, even a half-compliment felt monumental.

The warehouse loomed ahead, its broken windows and rusted metal exterior casting eerie shadows in the fading light. Sukuna stopped just short of the entrance, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, gripping your weapon as you followed him inside. The air was heavy with the stench of decay, and your footsteps echoed against the empty shelves.

At first, the search was uneventful. You moved through the aisles, grabbing what little remained—cans of soup, bottles of water, a forgotten box of granola bars. The weight of your bag grew with each find, and for a fleeting moment, you thought the run might actually go smoothly.

Then, from the shadows, came the guttural snarl of the undead.

The snarl echoed through the warehouse, freezing the blood in your veins. Your grip tightened on your weapon, your heart pounding in your ears. Sukuna immediately moved into action, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the darkness for movement.

“Stay behind me,” he barked, his voice low but commanding.

You nodded, falling into step just behind him. The guttural sounds grew louder, accompanied by the shuffling of feet against the cracked concrete floor. From the far corner of the warehouse, they appeared—three zombies, their rotting forms staggering toward you with alarming speed.

“Shit,” Sukuna hissed, raising his blade. “Stay sharp.”

He surged forward with lethal precision, his movements a blur of calculated violence. The first zombie went down with a single strike to the skull, its body crumpling to the ground. Sukuna didn’t stop, his blade swinging in an arc to take out the second one with equal ease.

But as he turned to deal with the third, you felt a chill run down your spine—a faint shuffle behind you. Your breath hitched, and before you could react, a decayed hand grabbed your arm. Panic shot through you as the zombie lunged, its teeth gnashing dangerously close to your neck.

“Shit!” you yelped, struggling against its grip.

“Hold still!” Sukuna’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sukuna was there. In one swift motion, he shoved you out of the zombie’s grasp and plunged his blade into its head. The creature collapsed in a heap, and silence fell once more.

You landed on the ground with a thud, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Sukuna loomed over you, his face set in a scowl that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He extended a hand, and you hesitated for a moment before taking it. His grip was strong and steady as he pulled you to your feet.

“You okay?” he asked, his tone softer than you’d expected.

“I… yeah,” you stammered, still shaken. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered, his eyes scanning you for injuries. “You shouldn’t have let it get that close.”

“I didn’t—” you started to protest but stopped when you saw the flicker of something in his expression. Concern. He wasn’t just scolding you; he was genuinely worried.

“I told you to stay close,” he said, his voice low but not unkind. “I can’t cover you if you wander off.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said quietly, your fingers trembling as you wiped zombie blood off your sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Sukuna said nothing. Then, with a sigh, he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. The gesture was so unexpected, so uncharacteristically tender, that you froze.

“Just… stay close,” he repeated, his hand lingering for a fraction of a second before he pulled away. His gaze softened, just enough for you to notice. “I’m not dragging your corpse back to the base.”

Despite the gruffness of his words, there was an unmistakable warmth in his tone. Your chest tightened, and you nodded. “Okay.”

As you gathered yourself, Sukuna gave you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching faintly. “Guess we’re even now.”

“What?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

“You saved me the other day. I just saved your ass. So, we’re even.” His voice was calm, but the hint of amusement in his tone caught you off guard.

A small laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself. “I guess we are.”

Sukuna’s expression didn’t change, but you swore there was the faintest hint of a smirk on his face as he turned away. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Sukuna turned back toward the now-silent aisles, his posture tense but his pace slower than before. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still following, and when your eyes met, he gave a small nod of approval.

The rest of the search was uneventful, though you couldn’t shake the memory of Sukuna’s hand against yours, of the subtle shift in his demeanor. When the two of you finally stepped out of the warehouse, the late afternoon sunlight hit your face, and you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

As you walked back to the base, Sukuna kept a steady pace, his sharp gaze constantly scanning the streets for threats. But this time, he stayed just a little closer to your side.

The base came into view as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the barricades. Relief washed over you as you and Sukuna passed through the gates, your shoulders aching from the weight of your packs. Shoko was waiting at the entrance, her sharp eyes immediately scanning both of you.

“Finally,” she said, arms crossed. “I was starting to think you two wouldn’t make it back.”

“Ran into some trouble,” Sukuna replied gruffly, dropping his bag to the ground. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Her gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, her sharpness softened. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you replied, brushing off the lingering tension from the fight. “Just tired.”

Shoko nodded, but her frown deepened. “The others aren’t back yet.”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed, and his shoulders stiffened. “They’re late?”

“They were supposed to check the pharmacy,” Shoko explained, her voice tinged with worry. “They should’ve been back already.”

You exchanged a glance with Sukuna, unease settling in your chest.

“They could’ve gotten held up,” you offered, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Maybe,” Shoko said. “But I don’t want to sit around and wait. I was thinking of heading into the woods to scavenge. If we’re going to be stuck here longer, we need fresh supplies. I can check on the traps we set last week and look for forageable food.”

Sukuna immediately shook his head. “Not alone. If you’re going out there, you need backup.”

Shoko raised a brow, her hands on her hips. “I appreciate your concern, but we don’t need everyone exhausted before we even know if something’s actually wrong with the other group.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sukuna said, his tone brooking no argument.

“No,” Shoko countered firmly. “You just got back. You need rest. Especially if it turns out we do need to go after them.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Then she can go.” He jerked his thumb toward you.

Shoko glanced at you, her expression thoughtful. “She just got back too, Sukuna. And this was only her second real run. She needs rest as much as you do.”

“Then who the hell is supposed to go with you?” Sukuna snapped, his frustration clear.

Shoko smirked faintly. “No one. I’ll be fine. I know the woods, and it’s close enough to base. I won’t be gone long.”

“Terrible idea,” Sukuna growled.

“Sukuna,” Shoko said, her tone softening but firm. “If something’s happened to the others, you’re going to need every ounce of energy to deal with it. Same goes for her. Let me do this. I’ll be back before dark.”

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking visibly. You could tell he hated this plan, but even he couldn’t argue with her logic. After a tense moment, he relented with a frustrated exhale.

“Fine,” he said at last. “But if you’re not back by dark, I’m coming after you myself.”

Shoko chuckled, giving him a two-fingered salute. “Noted. I’ll be back soon.”

Without waiting for further argument, she disappeared into the base to gather her things. Sukuna watched her go, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

“She’ll be fine,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were reassuring him or yourself.

“Better be,” he muttered, turning toward the main hall. “Get some rest. If those idiots don’t show up soon, we’ll have to move fast.”

You nodded, the weight of the situation pressing down on you as you followed him inside. Whatever was happening, you could only hope that Shoko and the others would return safely—and that when the time came, you’d be ready.

The peaceful hum of the base was shattered by the frantic sound of footsteps and heavy breathing as the group burst through the doors. Suguru and Satoru supported Nanami between them, his face pale and slick with sweat. Blood soaked the side of his shirt, staining his usually pristine appearance.

“Get Shoko!” Satoru’s voice rang out, urgent and louder than you’d ever heard it before.

“What the hell happened?” Sukuna barked, stepping forward, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Nanami.

“A zombie,” Suguru said grimly, adjusting his grip on Nanami. “It came out of nowhere—he pushed me out of the way and got hit instead.”

“Where’s Shoko?” Satoru asked, glancing around as though expecting her to appear at any moment.

“She’s out,” you said sharply, stepping forward, your heart pounding but your voice steady. “She said she wouldn’t be back for an hour—maybe longer.”

For a moment, the room froze, tension thick enough to cut through

“Bring him to the infirmary room. Now,” you ordered, already moving ahead to prepare.

Suguru and Satoru didn’t hesitate, following your lead as they guided Nanami to the cot. Sukuna was right behind them, his expression unreadable but his presence heavy.

“I can handle this,” you said as you grabbed the first-aid kit and spread out the supplies. “Keep him steady and out of shock. That’s all I need from you.”

Sukuna’s sharp gaze flicked to you. “You better not screw this up.”

You didn’t look up, your focus entirely on Nanami’s wound. “I won’t.”

Kneeling beside Nanami, you quickly assessed the damage. Blood was seeping from a deep gash on his side, but it wasn’t hopeless. Your hands moved methodically, cleaning the wound and applying pressure to slow the bleeding. Nanami winced but didn’t flinch, his breathing ragged but steady.

“This is going to sting,” you warned, applying antiseptic before packing the wound with gauze. His eyes fluttered open briefly, meeting yours, and he gave the faintest nod.

The room was silent except for the sound of your precise movements. Satoru and Suguru hovered nearby, watching but not interrupting. Sukuna stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his gaze fixed on you.

As you worked, you felt the weight of his scrutiny—but it didn’t faze you. You knew what you were doing, and for once, you didn’t need to prove it to anyone.

The next hour passed in a blur. You worked with precision, your mind cycling through every lecture, every clinical rotation, every ounce of knowledge you’d absorbed before the world fell apart. Nanami groaned once as you applied pressure to the wound, the sound making your heart race.

"Stay with me," you murmured under your breath, the words meant more for your own reassurance than his. Sweat trickled down your temple, your shoulders aching from the strain of leaning over him, but you ignored the discomfort. There was no room for it now. There was only the patient on the table and the life you were trying to hold together.

When you finally finished, securing the last bandage with steady hands, you leaned back with a shaky breath. Nanami’s breathing was shallow but steady now, his color returning, no longer ashen.

"He’s stable," you said, your voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment. "But he needs rest."

Suguru let out a quiet exhale of relief, his head dropping into his hands as if a weight had been lifted. Satoru clapped a hand on your shoulder, his usual grin subdued but still laced with gratitude. "You’re a lifesaver. Literally."

Even Sukuna seemed less cold as he examined Nanami. His usual indifference remained, but the hard lines of his posture softened just a fraction. He didn’t say a word, but the shift was noticeable. The tension in his shoulders loosened, even if only for a moment.

Hours later, the base had fallen quiet. Everyone had gone to rest, exhausted from the day’s events. Everyone except you and Sukuna.

Earlier, Shoko had returned and thoroughly checked on Nanami, confirming that your work had been solid. She’d cleaned and rewrapped the wound, impressed by your quick thinking. After making sure Nanami was stable, she’d retreated to her room, leaving you to keep watch over him.

Now, you sat beside Nanami, your hand lightly resting near his, watching for any sign that he might wake. His breathing was steady but faint, each rise and fall of his chest a quiet reassurance.

Sukuna leaned against the wall a few feet away, his arms crossed. The firelight flickered across his face, softening the usual sharpness of his features. For a long time, he said nothing, just staring at Nanami with a look you couldn’t quite place.

His gaze shifted to you, his crimson eyes intense but not unkind. “You saved him. You didn’t screw it up.”

You glanced at him, his words catching you off guard. It wasn’t exactly praise, but it was close enough.

“He means a lot to everyone here,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “You, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko.”

"We go way back,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter than usual. “We all became friends in high school. Different years, different circles, but somehow, we ended up stuck with each other.”

He let out a humorless chuckle, glancing down at Nanami. “We didn’t always get along. Satoru was a loudmouth, Suguru was too smug for his own good, Nanami was the uptight kid who thought he was too good for the rest of us, and Shoko… was the laid-back one who somehow kept us all from killing each other.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the mental image. “Sounds like you all balanced each other out.”

“Something like that,” Sukuna admitted, his voice dipping into something softer. “We went through a lot together—graduations, breakups, fights. By the time college rolled around, we were more like family than friends.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of something deeper beneath Sukuna’s sharp exterior. A bond he’d never admit out loud but clearly cherished.

“You’ve been through so much together,” you said gently. “It’s no wonder he means so much to you all.”

Nanami’s breathing filled the silence, steady but faint enough to keep you on edge. Sukuna hadn’t moved, his usual tension buried beneath something quieter, more introspective.

“You remind me of someone,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

The words caught you off guard. “Someone you knew?”

Sukuna nodded, his expression tightening. “Yeah. My brother.”

The admission surprised you. Sukuna didn’t seem like the type to talk about family—much less admit to having one.

“He was younger than me. A few years,” Sukuna continued, his voice distant. “Idiot kid never listened. Always thought he knew better than me. Too brave for his own good.”

He paused, exhaling sharply through his nose. “But he had this way of looking at the world, like... no matter how bad things got, he’d find a way to make it better. It pissed me off sometimes—how naive he was. But he made me believe it, too, even if I didn’t want to.”

“What happened to him?” you asked softly, though the answer was already obvious.

“He didn’t make it,” Sukuna said bluntly, his jaw tightening. “When the outbreak started, I tried to keep him safe. But the world doesn’t care how hard you try. It just takes.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Sukuna’s voice was calm, but the weight of his words hung heavy between you.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently. “He sounds like he was a good person.”

“He was better than I ever was,” Sukuna muttered, his voice quieter now. “He would’ve liked you.”

The comment caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve got that same stupid stubbornness,” he said, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. “Always jumping in when you shouldn’t. Refusing to back down.”

You smiled despite yourself. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t,” Sukuna said dryly, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying him.

You leaned back slightly, drawing in a breath before speaking. “I lost people, too,” you admitted, your voice trembling just enough to show the vulnerability you usually kept hidden. “My parents. My friends. I used to think if I just stayed smart, kept my head down, I could keep them safe. But it didn’t matter in the end. I still couldn’t save them.”

For a moment, Sukuna didn’t say anything, his gaze shifting from Nanami to you. He studied you, his expression unreadable, though something in his eyes softened—just barely.

“You saved Nanami,” he said finally. “That counts for something.”

You shook your head. “I got lucky.”

“It’s not luck,” Sukuna said firmly. “Not all of it, anyway. You’ve got instincts. You’re quick on your feet. That’s what matters now.”

His words caught you off guard again, and you glanced up at him. “Is this your way of saying thanks?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, but there was no edge to his tone.

You smiled softly, turning back to Nanami. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a better person than you let on,” you said quietly.

Sukuna let out a low chuckle, though there was no real amusement in it. “Don’t romanticize me, sweetheart. I’m just doing what I have to.”

“Maybe,” you said, glancing at him. “But it still matters. To them. To me.”

He didn’t respond, but the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, yes, but not in the way it usually was with Sukuna. There was something almost companionable about it, as if the space between you had shifted just a little.

As the hours stretched on, you stayed by Nanami’s side, Sukuna leaning against the wall nearby. Neither of you spoke again, but you could feel the subtle change in the air—a fragile understanding that hadn’t been there before.

Little by little, it felt like the cracks in Sukuna’s walls were beginning to show. And for the first time, you thought he might actually let you in.

Nanami stirred as dawn broke through the windows, his groggy movements drawing your attention. His eyelids fluttered before he let out a soft groan, his hand twitching as if testing the waters of consciousness.

“Nanami,” you said softly, leaning closer.

His eyes opened slowly, the familiar calmness of his gaze returning as he registered his surroundings. His brow furrowed, lips parting to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Don’t try to move too much,” you said quickly. “You’re safe. You made it.”

Nanami blinked, his focus sharpening on you. “You… saved me,” he said, his voice rough but steady.

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders easing now that he was alert. “It wasn’t just me,” you said modestly, though warmth spread through you at his gratitude. “Everyone helped.”

Nanami’s gaze softened as he studied you. “Still, I owe you,” he said, his voice firm despite his weakened state.

You shook your head. “I wasn’t about to let you die,” you said simply. “That’s not how we do things, right? We look out for each other.”

Nanami let out a quiet breath, almost a chuckle. “You’re tougher than I gave you credit for,” he said. “I’ll remember that.”

Sukuna, who had been leaning silently against the wall, finally stepped forward. He crouched beside Nanami, his sharp eyes scanning his friend for any lingering signs of danger.

“About time you woke up,” Sukuna muttered, though his tone carried an undertone of relief.

Nanami gave him a faint, tired smile. “You worry too much.”

“Tch,” Sukuna scoffed, standing back up. “You were half-dead, and I’m the one who worries too much?”

The banter between them felt lighter than usual, and you realized how deep their bond must be. Sukuna might be harsh, but the concern in his actions was undeniable.

Nanami’s gaze shifted back to you. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice steady. “If there’s ever anything you need—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted gently. “You don’t owe me anything. Just focus on getting better.”

Nanami nodded, though the gratitude in his expression didn’t waver.

Sukuna crossed his arms, glancing between the two of you. “Alright, enough of this sentimental crap. She did what she had to. You’re alive. Let’s move on.”

You shot Sukuna a look but didn’t bother arguing. Deep down, you knew his brusqueness was his way of deflecting.

“Rest,” you said to Nanami, ignoring Sukuna’s tone. “You’ll need your strength if you want to deal with him later.”

Nanami smirked faintly, already letting his eyes drift closed again. “I’m counting on it.”

As you stood and turned toward Sukuna, his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than usual. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—acknowledgment, maybe even respect.

“Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. “Let him sleep.”

You followed him out, the tension of the last few hours finally giving way to a strange sense of accomplishment.

The base had returned to its usual rhythm, though a lighter tension hung in the air. Nanami recovered quickly, much to everyone’s relief, and the group seemed to move with a renewed sense of purpose.

Shoko convinced Satoru to organize the medical supplies—a task he turned into a spectacle, juggling antiseptic bottles until Shoko smacked him upside the head. Nanami, true to form, was already back to work, scanning supply lists and muttering to Suguru about long-term resource planning.

You were helping Shoko patch together another set of med kits when Nanami walked into the room.

He approached with his usual calm demeanor, though his expression carried a rare softness. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

You glanced at Shoko, who waved you off. “Go on. I’ve got this.”

Following Nanami into the hallway, you felt a flicker of nervousness. He turned to face you, hands in his pockets, his gaze steady but kind.

“I wanted to thank you again,” he said simply.

“Oh,” you replied, caught off guard.

“For saving my life,” he continued. “What you did out there�� it wasn’t something just anyone could do.”

A warmth bloomed in your chest, though you tried to keep your expression neutral. “I just did what needed to be done,” you said, shifting slightly.

He nodded. “Maybe so. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t appreciated. Sukuna isn’t the easiest person to deal with, but the fact that he let you handle things out there… that says a lot.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Sukuna… he’s not as cold as he seems,” you said carefully.

A faint smile tugged at Nanami’s lips. “No, he’s not,” he agreed. “He just has a way of pushing people away. But for him to trust you, even in the smallest way… it’s not nothing.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you nodded slowly. “Thanks, Nanami. That means a lot.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder briefly—a quiet gesture of gratitude—before stepping back. “You’re part of this group now,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”

As he walked away, you stood there for a moment, letting his words sink in. Being part of the group wasn’t just about surviving together anymore—it was about being trusted, being relied on.

The group gathered in the common area, their conversations weaving together as they planned the next supply run. Sukuna sat in his usual spot near the window, his sharp gaze scanning the streets outside, though he seemed less aloof than usual.

Satoru plopped down next to you, grinning. “So, I hear you’re officially one of us now,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

“Who told you that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nanami, obviously,” Satoru said with a wink. “He doesn’t thank just anyone, you know.”

Suguru chimed in from across the room. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, though his tone was light.

Shoko, leaning against the counter with her usual cigarette in hand, smirked. “She’s already better at following instructions than you, Satoru.”

Satoru feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “I am a delight to work with.”

“You’re a menace,” Shoko countered, flicking ash into an empty can.

As the banter continued, you found yourself laughing along with them, the sense of camaraderie filling the room. Even Sukuna glanced your way once or twice, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

For the first time since you’d joined them, you felt like you truly belonged. And as the group talked and planned late into the night, you found yourself hoping—not just for survival, but for a future worth fighting for.

The storm outside was relentless, wind howling through the cracks of the ruined building. Rain hammered against the broken windows, drowning the world in chaos. Everyone else was asleep, scattered around the dim room like ghosts of the lives they used to live. You sat near the window, your arms resting on your knees as you kept watch with Sukuna.

He leaned against the wall across from you, his silhouette sharp in the weak lantern light. His katana rested against his shoulder, its edge catching the occasional flicker of lightning. He looked like he belonged to this broken world—untouchable, dangerous, and carved from stone.

The silence between you wasn’t unusual, but tonight it felt heavier. The storm wasn’t just loud; it was oppressive, a forceful reminder of how small and fragile you were in a world that had already crumbled.

“You’re too quiet,” Sukuna said suddenly, his deep voice slicing through the sound of the rain.

You blinked, pulled from your thoughts. “I thought you liked it when I stayed out of your way.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “I like quiet. Not the kind that makes me think you’re plotting something stupid.”

Despite yourself, you smirked. “I wasn’t plotting anything.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might actually smile. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual guarded expression.

The wind rattled the broken windowpanes, and you adjusted your position, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself.

“What’s the point of you being up if you’re going to freeze to death?” Sukuna muttered.

You frowned, opening your mouth to retort, but before you could say a word, Sukuna tossed a thick blanket in your direction.

“Use that,” he said, his tone brusque, as if daring you to comment on the gesture.

You caught the blanket, staring at it for a moment before wrapping it around yourself. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

The two of you fell into silence again. You found yourself sneaking glances at him—at the sharp line of his jaw, the faint tattoos peeking out from his sleeves. There was something about Sukuna when he wasn’t surrounded by the others—when he wasn’t posturing or shutting you out. It was almost like he didn’t mind your presence.

“Do you ever think it’ll get better?” you asked softly, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Sukuna’s gaze turned toward you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“The world,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the storm outside. “Do you ever think it’ll go back to how it was before?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned back to the window, his jaw tightening. “Doesn’t matter if it does or not. You survive, no matter what.”

You frowned. “But surviving isn’t the same as living.”

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Living’s a luxury. You can think about it once you’ve got surviving figured out.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest ache. You wanted to press him, to ask what he’d lost to make him so certain of that, but you bit your tongue.

Instead, you said softly, “It’s okay to hope, you know. Even if it doesn’t seem worth it.”

Sukuna’s gaze flicked toward you, and for a moment, you thought he might snap at you or brush off your words. But he didn’t. Instead, his expression softened—just slightly—and he let out a quiet sigh.

“Hope doesn’t keep you alive,” he muttered. But there was no edge to his tone, no real venom.

“Maybe not,” you said, meeting his gaze. “But it helps.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he turned back to the window, muttering under his breath, “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling faintly. “But I’m right.”

The silence that followed didn’t feel heavy anymore. It was almost… comfortable. The storm outside continued to rage, but inside, for the first time, you felt a little closer to him.

“What was your life like before all of… this?” you asked, gesturing vaguely toward the broken windows, the storm outside, and the ruin the world had become.

He gave you a flat look, his crimson eyes sharp. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” you admitted. “I just… I like knowing. It’s easier to see people as human when you know what they were like before all this.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he let out a quiet sigh, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Graduated with a degree in art,” he said finally. “Ran my own tattoo shop for a while.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You were a tattoo artist?”

“Still am, technically,” he muttered. “Not much demand for it now, though.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “That explains the tattoos.”

He smirked faintly, his eyes narrowing at you. “What? You thought I got them for fun?”

“Kind of,” you said, shrugging. “I mean, they’re incredible. They fit you.”

For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he looked away, his expression shuttered once more.

“What about the others?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Sukuna sighed, his fingers tapping idly against the hilt of his katana. “Satoru graduated in education, believe it or not. He was a high school teacher before all this. Loved making kids’ lives miserable—but in his own weird way, I think he was actually good at it. Suguru was a psychology major. Planned to go into counseling or something.” He paused, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Nanami got his degree in business. Corporate life suited him. And you already know about Shoko—med school.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “That’s… a lot to leave behind.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “You think I don’t know that? We all had plans. Things we wanted. And then everything went to hell.”

You looked down at your hands, the weight of his words settling over you. “I was a med student, too,” you said quietly. “First year. I barely started before…” You trailed off, gesturing at the world around you.

Sukuna was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Why medicine?” he asked finally.

“I wanted to help people,” you said simply. “I guess it sounds kind of naïve now, but I thought I could make a difference. Maybe save a few lives.”

He studied you for a moment, his crimson eyes unreadable. Then he leaned back against the wall again, his gaze shifting to the storm outside.

“You’re still doing that,” he said, his voice low.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’re still saving lives,” he said, his tone gruff. “Nanami wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you looked away, an odd warmth spreading through your chest. “I guess,” you murmured.

The two of you sat in silence for a while after that, the storm outside filling the space between your words. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. For the first time, it felt… companionable.

“Do you miss it?” you asked softly.

“Miss what?”

“Your old life. The tattoo shop. Your friends. The way things used to be.”

Sukuna didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it.

“Every day,” he admitted.

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. For once, the walls he kept so firmly in place seemed to crack, just a little.

“I think we all do,” you said softly.

Sukuna’s gaze flicked toward you, his crimson eyes meeting yours. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place—something raw, unguarded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess we do.”

The storm raged on outside, but for the first time since it began, you didn’t feel so alone.

By the time the storm finally began to taper off, Sukuna pushed himself to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his stomach—and the faint outline of abs beneath. Heat crept up your neck, and you quickly glanced away, pretending to adjust the blanket around you.

“I’ll take the next round of watch,” he said, his tone back to its usual sharpness.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to let me?”

“No,” he said simply, grabbing his katana and walking toward the door.

You couldn’t help but smirk a little. Despite the lingering edge to his voice, something about him felt… lighter.

Before stepping out, Sukuna paused in the doorway, glancing back at you. “Get some rest,” he said, almost begrudgingly.

It wasn’t much, but coming from Sukuna, it felt like a rare kind of kindness. You nodded, watching as he disappeared into the hallway.

About a week later, after Nanami’s recovery and the group settling back into their routine, you were sent on another supply run. The mission was straightforward: split into two groups, sweep a nearby grocery store, and bring back whatever hadn’t been raided yet. Sukuna took Satoru, leaving you with Suguru and Shoko.

“Stick close,” Suguru had said as the three of you stepped into the dimly lit store. The air inside was stale, the faint smell of rotting produce and damp cardboard clinging to the space. It felt eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that always made your skin crawl.

You nodded, gripping your weapon tightly. Supply runs were becoming second nature, but the unease never entirely went away. Each unfamiliar building held its own dangers, and you’d learned to stay on edge.

It wasn’t long before the shelves yielded a few treasures—some canned goods, a pack of batteries, even a roll of duct tape. You crouched near an overturned display, brushing debris aside to grab a jar of peanut butter, when the sound of shuffling footsteps reached your ears.

“Zombie,” you whispered, rising slowly.

Shoko, who was scanning a nearby aisle, lifted her head. “Where?”

You pointed toward the end of the aisle. A lone zombie staggered forward, its milky eyes fixed on you. Its movements were slow, but it was still too close for comfort.

“I got it,” Suguru said calmly, stepping forward with his machete.

But as he moved, your boot caught on a broken shelf bracket jutting out from the floor. You stumbled, and in that split second, the zombie lunged.

The jagged edge of its broken fingernails swiped across your abdomen, slicing through your jacket and grazing your skin. Pain flared as warm blood seeped through the fabric.

“Shit!” you hissed, stumbling back.

Suguru swung his machete in one clean arc, taking the zombie down before it could advance further.

“You okay?” Shoko was at your side immediately, her hands already pulling your jacket open to inspect the wound.

“I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth, though the pain told you otherwise. The cut wasn’t deep, but it stung fiercely, and blood was already soaking into your shirt.

“We need to get back,” Shoko said firmly.

Suguru’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “We’ve got enough for now. Let’s move.”

By the time you returned, the pain had dulled to a throbbing ache, though it still made every step a challenge. Shoko had done her best to patch you up on the way back, but she insisted on a proper cleaning once you were safely home.

As soon as the doors swung open, Sukuna’s sharp gaze landed on you. His usual scowl deepened when he saw the blood staining your shirt.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, striding over.

“Zombie,” Suguru said curtly as he helped Shoko unload the supplies. “Got too close.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his focus snapping back to you. “And no one thought to handle it before this happened?”

“I’m fine,” you tried to say, but he was already in front of you, his eyes scanning the injury with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You call this fine?” he snapped, his voice laced with anger and something else—something that sounded suspiciously like worry.

“It’s just a scratch,” you insisted, though you winced as Shoko peeled back the makeshift bandage to reveal the cut.

“She’ll live,” Shoko said calmly, though her tone didn’t seem to ease Sukuna’s tension. “But it needs to be cleaned and stitched.”

“Then do it,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “You need to back off first. You’re hovering.”

Sukuna muttered something under his breath but took a step back, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t leave, though, his eyes fixed on you as Shoko worked.

The sting of the antiseptic made you hiss, and Sukuna’s jaw clenched at the sound.

“You should’ve been more careful,” he said after a moment, his tone softer but still sharp.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” you shot back, your voice tinged with irritation.

His glare didn’t waver, but his next words surprised you. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He looked away, his expression hardening again. “Just… don’t do it again.”

The vulnerability in his voice was fleeting, but it was there, and it made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with your injury.

“I’ll try,” you said softly, offering a small, shaky smile.

Sukuna didn’t respond, but he stayed close, even after Shoko finished patching you up and the others had gone about their business.

The base had settled into its usual quiet hum. Most of the group had gone to rest, but Sukuna lingered in the common area, his sharp gaze darting toward you occasionally. He sat at the far end of the room, his katana resting by his side as if he were ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

For a man who claimed not to care, Sukuna was terrible at hiding it when he did. His usual scowl was still there, but it lacked its usual bite, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

As you adjusted your freshly bandaged wound, you caught his eye. He didn’t look away, his crimson gaze holding yours for a beat longer than expected.

“Get some rest,” he said finally, his voice low but carrying an edge of concern.

You nodded, the warmth of his unspoken care settling over you. As you lay down for the night, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude—not just for Shoko’s steady hands or Suguru’s quick reflexes, but for Sukuna’s reluctant, undeniable presence.

For all his rough edges, Sukuna had a way of making you feel… safe. And in a world like this, that meant everything.

The small infirmary room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a battery-powered lantern perched on the counter. You sat on the makeshift cot, the ache in your side persistent but manageable. Shoko had done an excellent job stitching the gash, but the occasional twinge was a sharp reminder of your carelessness.

The group had been quieter since the incident. Shoko and Suguru had checked on you a few times, offering updates about the supplies you’d retrieved and assurances that you didn’t need to push yourself just yet. Sukuna, however, had been noticeably absent.

Until now.

The door creaked open, and you looked up to see Sukuna stepping inside. His usual sharp expression was still there, but something about it had softened. In his hand, he carried a roll of fresh bandages and a bottle of antiseptic.

“You’re due for a bandage change,” he said, his voice low and even.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I thought Shoko would—”

“She’s busy,” he interrupted, setting the supplies on the counter. “And I’ve done this enough times to know what I’m doing. Sit back.”

You hesitated for a moment before leaning back against the cot, lifting your shirt just enough to expose the wound. Sukuna crouched beside you, his movements precise as he began unwrapping the old bandage.

The room was silent except for the faint rustling of fabric and the soft breath you drew to steady yourself. His hands, rough and calloused, were surprisingly gentle as he inspected the wound.

“It’s healing well,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Shoko did a good job.”

“She always does,” you replied quietly.

He nodded, pouring antiseptic onto a clean cloth. The sharp sting made you wince, and his crimson eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Sorry,” he said, his tone softer than you expected.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, not wanting him to feel guilty.

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. As he worked, your gaze drifted to the tattoos curling around his arms and up his neck. You’d noticed them before, of course, but up close, they were mesmerizing.

“They’re beautiful,” you said suddenly, surprising yourself.

He paused, his hand stilling as he glanced at you. “What is?”

“Your tattoos,” you clarified, heat creeping up your cheeks. “The designs… they’re intricate. They suit you.”

His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. “Thanks.”

“Who did them?” you asked, curiosity slipping into your voice.

“Someone I trusted,” he replied, tossing the old bandages into the trash and grabbing fresh ones. “Takes time to get them right.”

As he wrapped the new bandage around your side, you hesitated before speaking again. “They’re incredible,” you said sincerely.

He shrugged, his hands methodical as he secured the bandage.

On an impulse, your fingers lightly traced one of the lines on his forearm. He stiffened slightly, his gaze snapping to you, but he didn’t pull away.

“This one…” you murmured, your touch barely brushing the ink. “It’s so detailed.”

His voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “Had it done by someone skilled. You don’t let just anyone leave their mark on you.”

For a moment, the tension between you shifted, something unspoken passing in the quiet space.

“I’m glad you’re not seriously hurt,” he said suddenly, the words coming out like they surprised even him.

Your chest tightened at the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. “Thanks to you all,” you replied, your voice steady but warm. “Suguru, Shoko… and you.”

He shook his head, standing and wiping his hands on a rag. “I didn’t do much.”

“You were there,” you insisted, meeting his gaze. “That means something.”

For a long moment, Sukuna didn’t say anything, his jaw tightening as if he was debating whether to respond. Finally, he nodded—just barely.

As he moved toward the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “It’s late. You should sleep.”

“I will,” you promised, watching him disappear into the hallway.

The ache in your side still lingered, but as you lay back on the cot, you realized something else had shifted. The heaviness in your chest—the weight of feeling like an outsider—had lightened, just a little. Sukuna’s walls were still up, but for the first time, you felt as if you might have gotten close enough to see the cracks.

The following days passed in a quieter rhythm. The group had decided to lay low after the supply run, taking time to rest and re-evaluate their next steps. You spent most of your time in the infirmary, both recovering and helping Shoko organize supplies. One evening, after the group had finished a simple dinner, Satoru nudged Suguru with an exaggerated grin. “We’ve got to get something fun going in this place. I swear, I’m losing my mind from all the doom and gloom.”

“Life-or-death scenarios aren’t entertaining enough for you?” Suguru replied dryly.

“Exactly,” Satoru said, ignoring his sarcasm. “We need a game. Something to lighten the mood. Who’s in?”

You looked up from where you sat, sipping from your cup of water. “A game?”

“Cards, maybe,” Satoru suggested, already pulling out a battered deck from his bag. “Or truth or dare. You know, something classic.”

Shoko snorted, leaning back in her chair. “If you make us play truth or dare, I’m outing all your embarrassing secrets.”

“Joke’s on you—I have no shame,” Satoru quipped, winking.

Nanami sighed, shaking his head but offering no real objection. Suguru shot Shoko a knowing look that said, Here we go again.

“You in, newbie?” Satoru turned to you, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

You hesitated, glancing at the others. “Sure. Why not?”

The game started with Satoru choosing dare and being forced to attempt a handstand, which ended predictably with him crashing into a stack of empty crates. Shoko took truth and admitted to once stealing Satoru’s wallet, just to see how long it would take him to notice. (It took a week, apparently.) Suguru picked dare and hummed a painfully off-key rendition of a pop song until Shoko guessed it, rolling her eyes the entire time.

The lighthearted atmosphere filled the room, the kind of rare reprieve everyone secretly craved.

“Your turn, newbie,” Satoru declared, pointing at you with a dramatic flourish. “Truth or dare?”

You glanced around nervously, feeling the weight of their attention. “Dare,” you said, trying to sound braver than you felt.

Satoru’s grin turned wicked. “I dare you to sit next to Sukuna for the rest of the night.”

The air shifted instantly. Sukuna’s eyes flicked toward Satoru, narrowing with icy precision.

“That’s ridiculous,” you said quickly, heat rushing to your face.

“A dare’s a dare,” Satoru said, his grin unrelenting. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

“This is childish,” Nanami muttered, rubbing his temples.

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” Sukuna said, his voice cold and sharp, his irritation obvious. “I don’t care for these games.”

“Oh, come on,” Shoko said, her smirk widening. “Afraid of a little company, Sukuna?”

The tension in the room mounted, and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine,” you said, standing before the situation could escalate further. Grabbing your blanket, you walked over to where Sukuna sat. He didn’t move or protest, though his jaw tightened slightly.

“Happy now?” you asked, throwing a pointed glare at Satoru.

“Ecstatic,” he said with a grin, clearly enjoying himself.

As the game continued, you kept quiet, hyper-aware of Sukuna’s presence beside you. He didn’t speak or look your way, but you could feel his warmth radiating off him, a sharp contrast to his usual aura of detachment.

“You didn’t have to do it,” he said quietly after a while, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced at him, surprised. “What? Back out of the dare?”

He huffed softly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I meant sitting here. I’m not exactly great company.”

“You’re not as scary as you think you are, Sukuna,” you said, your voice steady despite your nerves.

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you refused to look away. “You don’t scare me.”

For a split second, something flickered in his gaze—amusement, maybe, or something deeper. Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turned his attention back to the group, shutting down the moment before it could go any further.

The night wore on, the group’s laughter filling the space with an ease you hadn’t felt in months. And though Sukuna didn’t say much else, the subtle shift in his demeanor—the way he hadn’t outright refused to let you sit beside him—lingered in your mind.

The faint crackle of the dying fire filled the silence as you and Sukuna sat together. The others had long since retreated to their corners of the base to sleep, leaving the two of you behind. Neither of you made a move to get up, both content to sit in the quiet, the firelight casting flickering shadows on the walls.

“Do you think about the small stuff?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Sukuna turned his head slightly, his sharp crimson eyes flicking to you. “Small stuff?”

“Yeah,” you said, gesturing vaguely toward the fire. “Like, I don’t know… food you miss. Stupid things you used to complain about.”

He huffed, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. “Why? You getting nostalgic over bad cafeteria food?”

You snorted. “I’m serious. Don’t tell me you don’t miss anything.”

Sukuna was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I miss coffee,” he said finally, the admission low but honest. “Not this instant crap we scrape together. Real coffee. Black. Strong.”

You blinked. “You’re a coffee guy?”

He gave you a flat look. “What else would I be?”

“Tea, maybe,” you teased, a small grin tugging at your lips. “Something refined to match that whole brooding aesthetic.”

He scoffed, though you caught the faintest twitch of amusement in his expression. “Tea’s for people with time to waste. I needed something that worked.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Needed it for what? Running the shop?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “Long hours. Late nights. Coffee kept me going.”

You nodded, letting the quiet hang for a moment before speaking again. “I miss real bread,” you said, your voice wistful. “Fresh out of the oven, still warm. Not this stale, packaged stuff.”

“Bread?” Sukuna repeated, one eyebrow raising.

“Don’t judge me,” you said with a mock glare. “It’s a comfort thing. My mom used to bake on Sundays. The whole house would smell like it. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss it until… well.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, something softer flickering in his expression. “Sounds nice,” he said, almost reluctantly.

“It was,” you said quietly. “What about smells? Like fresh bread or coffee—anything like that?”

He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “Rain,” he said eventually.

“Rain?”

“Before all this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the broken windows and the storm outside. “When it didn’t smell like ash and rot. Just clean rain, hitting the pavement. It was… different.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I get that. The way the air used to feel after a storm, too—cool and fresh. Like it could wash everything away.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the firelight dancing between you. Sukuna’s expression was unreadable, but there was a weight to his presence that felt less intimidating and more… grounded.

“You’re good at this,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking through the quiet.

“Good at what?”

“Getting people to talk,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Most wouldn’t bother.”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I like getting to know people. It reminds me that we’re still human. That we’re more than just survivors.”

“Optimistic,” he muttered, though there was no venom in his tone.

“Not really,” you said, leaning back. “It’s just… I don’t want to forget who we are. What we’re fighting for.”

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you, his crimson eyes sharp but not unkind. “You’re not what I expected,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter.

“Is that a compliment?” you teased, though your tone was gentle.

“Take it however you want,” he replied, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

The fire crackled softly, filling the quiet space between you and Sukuna. The storm outside raged on, but for once, the tension in the room felt lighter. Sukuna shifted slightly, leaning his head back against the wall, his gaze flicking to you again.

“You’ve got a tattoo,” he said suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, caught off guard. “How did you—?”

“I saw it when I was changing your bandage,” he said simply, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly, as if daring you to argue.

Your cheeks warmed. “Oh. Yeah. It’s, um… Saturn.”

“Saturn?” he repeated, his brow arching. “Why Saturn?”

You fiddled with the edge of your sleeve, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I’ve always been into astronomy. Saturn’s my favorite planet—something about the rings, you know? It’s just… beautiful.”

He studied you for a moment, his sharp gaze softening slightly. “It suits you,” he said, his tone quiet but sincere.

The comment made your cheeks burn even more, and you quickly tried to steer the conversation. “I got it a few years ago. Back when things were... normal.”

“Who did it?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Maybe I know them.”

You hesitated, then said the name. His reaction was immediate—a quiet scoff, followed by a faint smirk.

“No way,” Sukuna said, shaking his head. “You’re kidding.”

“What?” you asked, blinking at him.

“I know him,” he said. “I used to work for that guy. Before I opened my own shop.”

“Wait, seriously?” you said, your eyes widening. “When?”

“Couple years before the outbreak,” he said. “What year did you get it?”

You thought for a moment, then gave him the date. Sukuna’s smirk grew wider, a flicker of amusement in his crimson eyes. “I was there.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “No way.”

“Way,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I was probably in the back working on a piece or setting up. Funny—I don’t remember seeing you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Imagine if we’d met back then.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the sound low and almost warm. “You wouldn’t have liked me much.”

“Oh, and I like you now?” you teased, though your tone was light.

His smirk widened. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. The thought lingered, though—what would it have been like to meet him in another life, when the world wasn’t falling apart?

Sukuna leaned back again, his expression turning thoughtful. “Funny how things turn out,” he said quietly. “All the places we’ve been, all the people we’ve met... and we still end up here.”

You nodded, your gaze drifting to the fire. “It’s weird, isn’t it? How small the world feels now.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft. “But I guess it’s not all bad.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping at the subtle warmth in his tone. “Not all bad, huh?”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze locked on the flames. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a murmur. “Some parts of it aren’t.”

The unspoken meaning hung in the air, and for a moment, you wondered if he was talking about you. The fire crackled again, filling the space with its gentle warmth as the storm raged on outside. For the first time in a long time, you felt the tiniest spark of hope—not just for survival, but for something more.

The days following your talk with Sukuna, something subtle but undeniable had shifted between the two of you.

It wasn’t anything overt—Sukuna would never be obvious—but there was something in the way he’d glance at you during group discussions, as though ensuring you were keeping up. A faint nod when you helped Shoko organize supplies or lent Suguru a hand with planning. And, most noticeably, how he seemed to position himself near you during outings, always close enough to step in if something went wrong.

One evening, the group had gathered in the common area after dinner. Satoru was attempting to juggle two cans and a flashlight, Suguru was cleaning one of the weapons, Shoko sat on the floor organizing medical supplies, her cigarette tucked neatly behind her ear, and Nanami was seated at the table, meticulously reviewing a list of the group’s remaining supplies, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You were seated cross-legged on a crate in the corner, flipping through a water-stained book you’d scavenged earlier that week. The quiet hum of the group’s activities created a sense of normalcy that felt rare these days, though the occasional clatter from Satoru’s failed juggling attempts punctuated the calm.

“Hey!” Satoru called, catching one of the cans before it could roll under the table. “What’re you reading over there, bookworm?”

You barely looked up. “Something about gardening. Thought it might be useful.”

“Gardening?” Satoru repeated, dropping the flashlight in his surprise. “We’ve got zombies roaming around, and you’re over there trying to grow tomatoes?”

“It’s called thinking ahead,” you shot back, your tone dry.

Suguru chuckled softly, shaking his head. “She’s got a point, Satoru. We’re not going to survive on canned beans forever.”

“Sure, but why doesn’t she do something more fun? Like, I don’t know, play a game with us?” Satoru grinned and turned to you. “Come on, newbie. Cards? Truth or dare? Something other than reading.”

You rolled your eyes. “Pass.”

“Afraid to lose?” he teased, leaning against a nearby crate.

“She’s busy,” Sukuna cut in, his voice sharp and commanding.

The room stilled, the air shifting as everyone turned toward him. Sukuna was seated near the doorway, sharpening his katana, his crimson eyes flicking briefly to you before settling back on his blade.

“She doesn’t need your crap right now,” he added, his tone flat but carrying an undeniable edge.

Satoru raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Didn’t realize I was stepping on sacred ground.”

Suguru chuckled, and even Shoko smirked, but Sukuna didn’t respond, his focus returning to his weapon.

The conversation shifted, the group’s banter filling the room again, but you couldn’t stop glancing at Sukuna. He didn’t look at you, but the faint tension in his shoulders seemed to ease when Satoru finally dropped the subject.

Later that evening, as the base settled into a quiet hum, you found yourself climbing to the roof. The stars were faint, scattered across the dim skyline like shy visitors in the night. The cool breeze was a welcome reprieve, and you leaned against the edge, letting your thoughts drift.

You didn’t expect to hear the door creak open behind you, but you weren’t surprised when Sukuna stepped out, his presence filling the space effortlessly.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, stepping up beside you. “Needed air.”

You nodded, the quiet between you comfortable as you both gazed at the faint stars above.

“I love stargazing,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the wind. “Before all this. My dad taught me all the constellations when I was little. Like I told you—I love astronomy. Hence the tattoo.”

Sukuna’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable but attentive. “That why you got it?”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing at him with a small smile. “It’s a reminder of something constant, you know? No matter how much the world changes, the stars stay the same.”

He hummed quietly, his crimson eyes lifting to the sky. “Never thought about it like that.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You can see them better now,” you said, your tone soft but inviting. “With no electricity in the city, there’s less light pollution. Lay down with me—I can show you the constellations.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, his usual skepticism evident. “You serious?”

“Come on,” you said, grinning as you leaned back and lay down on the roof. The rough surface pressed against your back, but you didn’t mind. You gestured toward the stars above. “You might actually learn something.”

To your surprise, Sukuna shifted, his movements deliberate but unhurried. He lowered himself onto his back right next to you, his broad shoulders brushing against yours as he stretched out. His crimson eyes flicked upward, taking in the night sky.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual. “Show me.”

You pointed toward the stars, tracing invisible lines with your finger. “That’s Orion. You can see the belt there—three stars in a straight line.”

He followed your gesture, his expression softening as he took in the view. “I see it.”

You continued, pointing out other constellations and sharing the stories your dad had told you about them. Sukuna listened quietly, his usual sharpness muted as he seemed to absorb every word.

When you turned your head to check if he was still paying attention, you found him already watching you. His gaze was intense, his red eyes tracing your features in a way that made your breath catch.

“What?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out slowly, his hand brushing against your temple as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, warm against your skin, before he pulled away.

“You should keep your hair out of your face,” he murmured, his voice low. “Might save you some trouble next time.”

Your cheeks warmed at the gesture, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re full of advice lately,” you teased gently.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though there was no bite to his words.

The two of you lay there in companionable silence, the stars above seeming closer than they had in years. Whatever this was between you and Sukuna, it felt fragile but real.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t just surviving—you were living.

part two coming very soon. let me know if you want to be on the tag list.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

166 notes · View notes

backinmyphase · 8 hours ago

Text

Part 1

Thinking about how obsessed King of Curses Sukuna is with you, you, who was originally just a gift from a village.

Lord Sukuna, who is oblivious to the reason why he treats you differently, who thinks you are just the most intriguing person he had seen in years. He didn't know it was over for him the moment he saw your standing there, anger obvious behind your loosely mask. You looked at him with these challenging eyes and raised your head, making that snappy comment. Normally he would have killed you right then and there.

But he didn't. In fact he doesn't even know why he had burned down that village for you.

And now you were sitting in his estate, always with that scowl on your face.

Why did he allow you to eat with him? Why did he order you to eat with him? He doesn't know. But he didn't want you to eat without him, which he just can't explain to himself.

He couldn't explain why he made sure Uraume was watching over you. Didn't know why he gave you your own chamber, so many new clothes and why he gave you permission to go inside his library. Something inside him was just telling him that was right.

And that something inside of him was so angry to see you falling into yourself. To see you neglecting your health over weeks.

It was evening.

Like always, there was a big dinner prepared for the king and he had ordered you to eat with him. But you didn't touch your food, no you just sat there, looking at your plate to avoid his gaze. Oh, he didn't like that.

He stopped eating, narrowing his eyes on your cowering figure. "Why are you not eating."

"Not hungry." your voice was hoarse but still snappy like always.

"You need to eat."

He glanced at Uraume, who shook their head. A silent note you didn't have any sickness.

You picked at the food, but still no sign of actual eating. And god, did it drive him crazy. You were driving him crazy. Your never leaving scowl and your constant denying of everything he had laid out. He just didn't get you.

He didn't know why he even bothered. But he still spoke up.

"What is on your mind?"

You looked up at him. There was no scowl, like he thought, no there was just a shimmer of exhaustion and maybe frustration.

"What am I even doing here, my Lord?" your voice didn't have any sharp in it. "I'm no servant for you, no concubine, not even a jester or anything like that. Why am I here?"

Silence flooded the room. Because you had just asked the question Sukuna asked himself every day. Why did he even bring you here?

He was clueless. Or that was what his brain was telling him.

He inspected you, your almost pleading eyes and he didn't like how you looked at him. He didn't like the almost hopeless look in your eyes.

"Did you want to stay with these people, is it that?" he took a sip of wine.

"No, we both know it's not that." you muttered, taking a deep breath. "Why do I not work for you? Why are you so -"

He raised an eyebrow at you as you struggled to find the right word. Then you finally shook your head.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, a grin following. "You mean, why has the King of Curses not killed me yet?"

You scoffed. "Yes."

"Well you see," he stopped for a moment, before speaking again. "I find you fascinating. And I like to know what I find fascinating."

You rolled your eyes, another thing he only liked when you did it. "So I'm here to be watched like an animal because the King finds me exotic, how kind."

He started to grow impatient, he didn't know why. "You think I would let a meekly animal into my library and give them their own chambers? You think lowly of me."

You started to blink at him, confusion visible on your face. It was his turn to scoff now.

"You're fascinating because I don't get you. And I want to know you. That's why I brought you here." At least that's what he thought.

You turned completely silent, your eyes now looking down onto your plate again.

"That's why you don't 'work' for me, I don't want you to. I don't need you to." he took another sip. "You just shouldn't get your hands dirty."

He looked at you, waiting for a response. Watching how you avoided his gaze, how you gulped. For a second your eyes flicked up to look at him, but went down immediately as your eyes meet his.

"Stop." you were muttering again.

"What?"

"Staring at me like that."

"Why?" He grinned, lowering his voice. "You know I like to stare."

He saw a faint tint of blush on the part of your face he could see. You were silent for a while until you cleared your throat. "I can't eat with you staring at me like that."

. . .

"Alright, I can leave you alone to eat." he stood up. "But you have to now. Eat."

A small chuckle escaped you. "Is that an order?"

"No, it's a request." With that he turned around, leaving to go to his chambers.

You waited til he left the room to breathe. Your body finally relaxing. You looked at Uraume.

"He sounds like he is in... Does he know how he sounds?"

Uraume shook their head. "No, he has no clue. But he wants you to eat, so please do."

@thequeenofcurses

#jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you

146 notes · View notes

zepskies · 3 days ago

Text

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

LOLL girl I totally get it, but I don't think you have to be scared on this one. It's a nice little slow burn fic with cozy winter vibes. 😘 And like you, I LOVE soulmate/true mate/fates mate AUs too. It's definitely a mix of forced proximity and grumpy/sunshine, which you know I can't stop writing that dynamic for some reason. 😂😂

But here we go!! Diving into the rest of your lovely comments...

The physical description of Dean is SO good. The use of "stern" and "stubborn" as descriptors fits well for Dean.

Hahaaa thank you, lovely!! Stern brows and a stubborn chin felt inherently Dean to me.

Oh suuuurrrreeee keep telling yourself that Dean.

Lmfao right? Denial of the purest form. 🙄

So what you're saying is... she's trapped in a cabin, she's got a broken ankle, in the middle of a snowstorm with no way out and no communications, with a ruggedly hot mountain man with gorgeous green eyes, a gruff exterior, and a mysterious past... Sign👏🏻 Me👏🏻 Up

That is EXACTLY what I'm saying. 😏

(Also that How to Train Your Dragon gif made me smile -- I love that movie!!)

So ready for Dean to just obliterate all her other experiences with total jerks.

Oh he already is! You def know where I'm going with this. 😏

I live for the after a nightmare comfort trope (if it is a trope? 🧐) and I am SO happy you put this in. Oh my goodness it was so sweet of him to come check on her, and for you to give us a little bit of insight inside of Dean's POV during those moments where she was terrified. This part stuck out to me, because the man is already hook, line, and sinker. He literally tried to go to a cabin in the middle of the woods to get away from it all, but fate really has an odd way of catching up to you. Can't exactly run from it Dean.

Aww me too!! I love hurt/comfort moments almost as much as pure fluff moments. Dean really is fighting for his life emotionally in this loll. His instincts as an alpha (and her mate) are warring with his brain, and it was really fun to write that aspect of Dean's angst post-season 15.

OOooooooOOOooooo shots fired. SHOTS FIRED... But did she stutter??

She, in fact, did NOT stutter.

I'm losing it over the fact that Sam named his son DEAN Jr. 😂🥰 And also the bit about "running full speed into glass doors" is making me cackle lol.

Ahaha idk if that was actually canon or if that's something we in the fandom started writing and I just rolled with it. 😂 I'm pretty sure it's canon that Sam named his son after his uncle? But oh yeah, the running full speed into glass doors was taken straight out of my childhood. 🤣🤣

This line is so Dean, it's PERFECT, and I really love that it was what made the reader try to snort her diet Pepsi.

LOL thank you!! I think I grabbed part of it from season 12 where they go to Hollywood/L.A., but I thought it was quintessential Dean. 🤣

And I just want to say thank you for giving Dean the kinda "homemaker" role in this fic. The fact that he's making food for the reader (I'm obsessed with men who can cook) and taking care of her is just:

Omg yeesss, I love malewife Dean lmao. He's just such a caretaker at heart, and an awesome cook! I can so picture him making big breakfasts for his kids on weekends and packing their lunches for school. 🥹

Oh no Dean, you're not like the Cabin in that way. The cabin is made of strong aged wood that keeps out the chill and is full of warmth! The cabin withstands the elements and doesn't fall no matter how hard the howling wind blows! Dang it, I have way too many emotions over that line. Alex, why did you have to do this to me 😭 It's SO GOOD!!

Dean's self-deprecating angst is like a necessary evil for his character. I'm so glad the cabin metaphor resonated with you the way I intended, even if it breaks my heart too!! 😭😭💙💙

And I'm not sure if you were trying to say that the reader was also a little skeptical about the true mates and if it is a real thing that happens, but I can't wait for part 2 to see if they actually admit it to each other or if they try to keep it a secret as long as they can! Also the song choice perfectly fits the vibes in this fic 👌🏻

Oh yeah, there's some of that too! She's more open to it now than Dean, but I thought we needed some realism where she's also skeptical true mates are even real -- until she met Dean. How strongly they both are reacting to each other physically, but not wanting to admit it yet, and the reader just wanting to know more about Dean before she begins to trust him, all of that is going to continue playing out in Part 2. 💓💓

Oh thank you on the song choice!! Of course Bob Seger has featured on the show in a big way with "Night Moves," so I thought "Against the Wind" felt very Dean, especially in a post-S15 AU.

My lovely friend, this was so good and I can't wait for part 2!!!

Thank you sooooo very much, my friend!! 🥹🥹 Part 2 is dropping later today!! 🥳💕💕

Against the Wind - Part 1

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: This is a canon ending-divergent AU, but still an Omegaverse story within the canon world. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, scenting, injuries, hints of angst, fluff and feels.

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: In His Hands

Your body is mostly numb when he pulls you out of the snow.

You utter a sharp cry when something in your side twinges, waking up your entire body like a white-hot shiv. Your ankle begins to throb as well.

“Hold on. I’ve got you.”

You only half hear the voice, a deep, coarse rumble. His form is broad and dark and blurry, but his male scent is the only thing you register with perfect clarity.

Alpha.

A small treble of alarm runs through you. It’s an instinct you’ve had to learn, as an omega traveling alone in rural Montana. However, something else disrupts that anxiety.

It’s his scent. His scent is like the crackle and smoke of a warm hearth.

Safe. Your body is heavy and stiff and doesn’t respond to your commands, and yet, you feel a measure of calm when he maneuvers you into his arms. It’s a baser instinct, rooted deep in your chest. He begins to carry you down the slope of the mountain, and your vision blurs white…

Like the flurry of snow falling heavy on his jacket.

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you're able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can't yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you...

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply. The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest.

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you.

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart.

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you.

“Dean,” he says.

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

“What?” he says. You hear the raised brow in his tone.

“You sound like a Dean,” you say, perhaps a little delirious.

Anyway, that’s when your eyes close on you again. You fall back into the warm lull of sleep, to the sound of a crackling fire, and a feeling that permeates throughout your body.

Safe.

Can’t fucking believe this, Dean thinks, as he holds you. Just when he thought his life was done throwing him curveballs.

He tips his head back against the sofa cushion with a tired exhale. It would just be his luck to find a stray omega wandering his stretch of Big Sky. Montana can be gnarly in the winter, but for the past couple of years, Dean has learned to survive here in this rental cabin for a couple of months at a time, when wandering an empty bunker gets to be too much. At least here the quiet’s peaceful, if still a little unnerving sometimes.

He glances down at you. Now that you’re warm and sleeping again, he should find something to wrap your ankle and ice it down. It’s swollen, and he wants to take an inventory of your other injuries, so he can determine how to get you back down the mountain and through the woods, back to civilization.

The sooner he gets you medical attention and back to your life, the sooner he can get back to his—even though the thought of leaving you in anyone else’s hands almost stirs a growl in his throat.

And that last part unnerves him, makes him anxious. He begins to untangle himself from you, but his movements falter when your sweet scent filters through his nose again. Cinnamon apples, with a hint of something floral.

Fuck me.

It’s almost too sweet to be true, but Dean does his best to ignore it…and what that alluring sweetness probably means.

Dean leaves you in the morning to revisit the site where you fell. He digs through the snow and manages to find your backpack, filled with your clothes, supplies, and your phone and wallet. He returns just in time.

The falling snow becomes even more intense, until it becomes a quiet roar outside. You watch the snowstorm through the impact windows in the kitchen, and you know what this means. You’re snowed in with a stranger—an alpha, no less.

You also have a bum ankle, which he wrapped for you. Doesn’t feel broken, he’d said, but it could be fractured, or at the very least sprained. You also likely have a couple of cracked ribs.

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” he asks, while pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “This ain’t exactly hiking season.”

While you drink some hot chocolate he made you with a bit of whiskey splashed in (for extra warmth), you explain.

“Well, I guess it wasn’t my best idea in hindsight,” you say with a weak chuckle. “I was trying to find my way back, and I…well, I was a bit lost.”

He raises his brows wryly, still sipping.

“And to make a great situation even better, I thought I heard a wolf howl nearby,” you say. “I know most of them would rather run from us than attack us, but you can’t be sure, you know? I had my rifle on me, so I was turning around, trying to pinpoint what direction it was in…and of course, my foot slipped on something.”

You fell down that hill. You think you even hit a tree on the way down, which would explain your ribs. Everything gets a bit swirly, cold, and dark in your memory after that.

Dean shakes his head. “Gotta say, going out there alone wasn’t a great idea either, especially now. This time of year, there’s no telling when a blizzard like this is going to come through.”

He waves haphazardly toward the storm raging outside. Your gaze falls to the mug in your hands. You don’t really want to talk about your reasons for taking that risk, but maybe giving him a little honesty will get him off your back.

“My dad and I used to hike up here every year,” you confess. “A few months ago…I lost him. So I guess this was just something I needed to do.”

You blow on your hot chocolate before you take another sip. This time when you glance up, Dean’s judgy expression has evened out into something more sympathetic. He lowers his glass.

“Well, hate to break it to you, but there’s no cell service up here,” he says.

You give a humorless huff. “Believe me, I know.”

“Which means no one can come up here and get you,” he continues, “and even when this storm breaks, I can’t carry you all the way down the mountain back to civilization. Not with the snow as deep as it’s gonna get. Now…maybe I can go down by myself and bring help back with me.”

“But another storm could snow me in,” you realize, with growing apprehension at the thought.

Dean nods. “It’s either I take that chance, leave you by yourself. Or we wait for you to heal up.”

He leaves the choice up to you with a gesture of his hand, the one still wrapped around his glass. You weigh those options with a tilt of your head. On one hand, you don't want to impose on him longer than you had to, but on the other, you really don't want to be left alone in this cabin for God knows how long while he scales the mountain by himself, for your sake.

“I think it would be better if we go down together, right? It can be dangerous, even when the storm breaks,” you reply.

Dean nods slowly, like that was what he was going to suggest too. “All right. Well, until you’ve got two working legs, you’re stuck here with me.”

“I figured as much,” you say. Your head tilts as you consider him. He has a gruff exterior, but all his actions so far have been kind, and far more than you’d expect from a stranger. And an alpha at that.

Not to say that all alpha's are assholes, but you've had far too many experiences with the stereotype: arrogant, entitled, and handsy. Can't forget handsy.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, meeting his gaze, “and for…well, being a decent guy.”

Dean’s lips twitch. He nearly chuckles. Instead, he sits back on his side of the couch.

“Yeah, well, there’s a spare room in this place for you, one bathroom. The kitchen is stocked. I’m a half-decent cook, if I say so myself, but help yourself.”

He gets up from the couch without preamble, to go to his room, you assume. It leaves you feeling at a loss, like he’s trying to get away from you. You know you’re a guest in his space, so you try to respect the way he wants to be alone for a while. He definitely gives off loner vibes.

You look around and find a collection of vinyl records, and smaller collection of books on a shelf next to the fireplace. You find Gulliver’s Travels, Dune, The Odyssey, The Wizard of Oz—books you didn’t think a guy like Dean would be into.

You take up The Wizard of Oz, reclaim your spot on the chaise, and start reading.

That night, your dreams are plagued by the crunch of dead leaves, your father shouting at you to run, and to keep running.

The coarse roar of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short.

You wake with a start, your body both cold and flush at the same time.

Dean is there once again. It confuses you at first, but then it all returns to you in a rush—the where and the why you’re here, once again with the alpha standing over you in concern. He grasps your shoulder and asks if you’re all right. Your breathing is too erratic for you to answer him, your eyes too wide, your body trembling.

Had you been making noise in your sleep? You blush in embarrassment at the thought. You also feel bad for waking him, and all those things get trapped in your throat.

Seeing that you’re most definitely not fine, he sits on the edge of the bed, squeezes your arm, and reminds you.

“It’s okay. You’re safe here,” he tells you. His tone is deep and even, reassuring.

You meet his steady gaze and manage to nod, trying to catch your breath.

“I’m okay,” you say, with a shaky nod. He gives you a measuring look, both a question and a confirmation. You give it to him with a firmer nod. “Thanks, I…I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He exhales through his nose, accepting. “‘S all right. Don’t worry about it.”

You feel the loss of his touch when his hand eventually slip away from your shoulder. As soon as he came into your room, he’s gone.

Dean leaves swiftly, trying to brush off how the scent of your fear had tugged sharply at his gut even in his sleep. It not only woke him up, but compelled him to kick his blankets off and get out of bed to go to you.

You were having a nightmare, reliving your fall, if he had to guess. You came out of it pretty quick when he carefully grabbed your shoulder. Every instinct in his body told him to gather you into his arms and cover you with his own scent and protective embrace to calm you down.

Through sheer willpower, he managed to ignore every single one of those instincts.

Two days pass, in which you and Dean say very little to one another, besides when he asks you what you want to eat, and how you’re feeling. The alpha seems genuine, but guarded any time you ask him about him; anything that’ll give you a clue into who this guy is, and why he’s here.

You try again to strike up some kind of conversation over dinner one night.

“Do you live here year-round?” you ask, around a mouthful of burger that’s absolutely delicious. He wasn’t lying when he claimed to be a good cook. He even made the fries himself.

“No,” he replies. “No Netflix, no internet? Think I’d die of boredom. I just come up here to uh…take a beat, I guess.”

You smile. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes you just need a break,” you say, even though your tone is heavier than you meant it to be. Your gaze, a bit distant in that moment, sharpens and focuses back on Dean. “Where are you from, then?”

“Kansas,” he offers.

“Oh really?” You brighten with that scrap of information. “My older sister lives in Topeka. She moved there for a job, initially, but then she met her guy. He’s some kind of day trader. Which is just code for sits on his ass playing Call of Duty while she busts hers.”

Dean huffs, then crams more burger into his mouth. He hasn’t been giving you a lot to go on while you two have been talking. Unfortunately, you have the tendency to ramble and fill the silence before it becomes even more stifled.

“She works at a bank. Smart, driven, always knows what she wants. Meanwhile, I’ve had about seven jobs in the last three years, none of which were even remotely related to my almost useless degree in Communications.”

“Yeah, doubt you need a degree in communicating,” Dean remarks, popping another fry into his mouth.

You purse your lips at him, but the glint of teasing in his eyes makes you fight not to smile.

“All right, smart guy. So, what about you?” you ask.

Predictably, the man’s walls firm back up. “What about me?”

“Well…why’re you up here alone? Do you have family?” you ask.

Dean quirks a half smile. “I’ve got a brother.”

“Okay. Younger, I’m guessing?”

He tilts his head at you, a bit amused at your guess. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I can’t imagine you with a brother who’s older than you.”

His lips twitch. “You callin’ me old, sweetheart?”

You begin to blush with embarrassment. But also, sweetheart?

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean like…”

Dean saves you with the return of his smile.

“Yeah, he’s younger,” he says. “But he’s the one with the quasi-wife and the apple pie life.”

“Quasi-wife?”

“They’re mated. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole getting hitched thing,” he explains. “But they’re happy. Dean Jr.’s growing up fast, already running full speed into glass doors.”

His smile is genuine when he talks about his brother, just tinged with a bit of melancholy, you think.

“Dean Jr.?” you ask in amusement. Dean Sr. laughs a little, and you enjoy the sound, the way it lightens up his face and pulls at the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, can’t say I wasn’t surprised myself to get that honor, but…hey, it works for the kid. He’s got my chin,” he remarks.

He digs into his pocket to show you a picture from his cell phone. Even though it doesn’t have service, you can still view the many pictures of the adorable infant in his camera roll, courtesy of Sam and his mate, Eileen. You coo at the chubby cheeks, the bright little eyes, and the swirled tuft of dark hair on his head.

“Where do they live?” you ask.

“Out west, a stone’s throw from the City of Angels.” Dean’s smile dims. “He just had to go back to California.”

“What’s wrong with California?” you ask.

“It’s full of pretentious douchebags, that’s what,” he says, his voice a dry whip. “Waxed up to the fucking eyeballs, smelling like Botox, Adderall, and sweaty desperation.”

You splutter laughing so bad that your diet coke escapes you in a spit take. It partially goes up into your nose, burning, stinging your eyes, but it’s made worse by the way Dean waves a hand up incredulously. You’ve just gotten half his sleeve wet.

He meets your gaze, and you can’t help but laugh even harder.

“Wow,” he says.

“God, I’m sorry,” you say, still giggling. You get up, hobble over to the kitchen counter, and rip off a paper towel to try and pat his arm dry. He takes it from you and helps you back into your seat.

“I got it, Spit Take. Just finish your food,” he says, if with a dancing gleam in his eyes.

From then on, it becomes easier for you to pull the alpha into conversation. Besides reading, napping, and staring out the window while it snows, you don’t have much by way of entertainment. Not to mention the pain of trying to get around without crutches, as it also jostles your ribs. Dean often has to help you from one room to another, which of course, you get embarrassed by.

“I’m sorry!” you yelp, when he saves you from another crash landing in the hallway. You’re fresh out of a shower, and it had taken you twenty minutes just to figure out how to wash your hair on one leg, let alone dry yourself off and get your shirt and borrowed sweatpants on. The main problem in getting back to your room happened to be the pants themselves. Their length and bagginess made you slip.

At least Dean’s learned to ignore your apologies. He now holds you by the waist, having pulled you against his chest on reflex. With furrowed brows, he notices your pained hiss when you grab onto his arms for balance.

“You okay?” he asks with a note of alarm.

“Ribs,” you gasp. They’re throbbing sharply with his hold, especially after being rattled by the near fall.

He immediately adjusts his hold lower, holding your arm and hip to support you. His hands are strong, but gentle. The warmth and pressure of his touch rattles you more than almost falling into a heap. Cliché as it might be, your heart is beating faster, what seems like in and out of rhythm. A feeling you can’t name stirs and tugs at your lower belly when you hazard looking up into his eyes. They’re a nice shade of green, like a forest floor in the spring.

“You just go ass over tea kettle at any moment, huh?” he quips, his lips tugging upward. “Come on. Where were you headed?”

“To my room, wise guy,” you say wryly, even as your blush heats your face and neck. “But this is a great taxi service.”

He snorts. “Yeah, call it the Winchestermobile.”

“Winchester. That your last name? Like the rifle?” you ask, while he helps you carefully down the hall. He nods in confirmation.

“That’s interesting. You don’t meet many Winchesters,” you remark.

“Yeah, well, ain’t that many left,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, easing you down onto the edge of the bed. His hands go to his hips as he scrutinizes your form for further injury. “You good? I was about to get cracking on some lunch.”

You offer him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. What’s on the menu?”

“Nothing fancy. I’m thinking grilled cheese. Maybe some tomato soup, assuming I can find a can in the pantry,” he says.

“Honestly, that sounds awesome,” you say. “Haven’t had a grilled since…God, probably since I was a kid.”

At that, Dean smiles. “Well, I happen to make an awesome one. No less than three kinds of cheese.”

“If they’re as good as your burgers, then I don’t doubt it,” you reply. He seems pleased at that, and maybe a little bashful as his gaze falls away.

Cute, you think. Your smile grows.

“All right, well, stay tuned,” he says. He winks, tossing you a “gun for hand” gesture that makes you laugh. Dean wears a rugged exterior as easily as his winter jacket, but he’s also kind of a dork.

After lunch (delicious, as you predicted), you take the afternoon just to sort through Dean’s records and alphabetize them for him. You hunker down on the floor in front of the shelf, close to the record player.

“I don’t need all that. I know where all my stuff is…more or less,” he says, with a lazy wave of the beer he has in hand.

“Oh really?” you raise a brow. “Okay, let’s test that theory. Where’s Boston.”

“Right next to the White Album, there on the left.”

Sure enough, you find Boston, as well as the White Album by the Beatles.

“Oh my God, you actually have the White Album?” You open up the double-sided case in excitement to read the list of songs printed on the inside. “This thing is so expensive.”

“Beatles fan, huh?” Dean says as he takes a seat on the couch. You turn your smile on him, and he stills in his seat.

“Uh, yeah. Who isn’t?” you say.

Dean shrugs with a smile of his own. “Put it on if you want.”

You bounce a little with excitement before you figure out how to turn on his record player. You put the vinyl album on Side B, moving the needle until you find “Blackbird.”

“Of course,” Dean says, slightly teasing. You turn to him with crunched brows.

“What? ‘Blackbird’s’ a classic.”

“Eh. Everyone likes ‘Blackbird.’”

“That’s what a classic means,” you argue.

“More like a mainstream copout,” he says. You think it’s just to needle you, but you still purse your lips.

“Fine, Mr. Music Snob. Then what’s your favorite?”

“On the White Album?”

“Any Beatles song.”

“‘Hey, Jude,’” he says, after a moment. There’s some kind of weight in his eyes, a note of melancholy. You don’t miss it, even though you don’t know why it’s there.

“Everyone likes ‘Hey, Jude,’” you quip, trying to lighten him.

He smiles a little. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

Finally, the snowstorm breaks. Dean ventures outside and brings you back a long, sturdy stick to lean your weight on when you want to move around, though he claims he’s working on a better solution. Now that the snow has let up, he’ll be able to go out to the shed and do some work.

Whatever that means, you think.

You watch him from the living room when he goes outside to chop some more firewood.

He should really wear a hat. His brown hair is getting dusted white with snow flurries as he continues to swing down the ax. You notice the power in his tall frame, even covered by layers of his jacket, pants, and boots. You almost feel each chop of the wood resonate in your chest.

Heat rises in your cheeks when he looks up, as if he senses he’s being watched. You bow your head and pretend to read your book.

His boots continue to crunch in the snow as he makes trips back and forth from the surrounding forest. Aside from the firewood, he brings back a few long, thinner logs that he takes to the shed. Soon you begin to hear the steady back-and-forth cutting of a saw. You wish you could go out there and take a look, but you can’t even get around the house that easily, let alone venture outside.

Your curiosity about this man knows no bounds, and you decide to use the walking stick he found for you in the meantime to get around without putting pressure on your injured ankle. You know it’s wrong, but you end up traversing the long, dark hallway, pushing open the door to the right, and venturing into Dean’s room.

It smells like him, earthy and tinged with smoke. His scent is seeped into every part of it—the bed, the dresser and nightstands, the dark blue bedsheets, the desk and chair, and even the drapes. It makes you almost lightheaded at the pleasurable feeling of it washing over you.

A shudder suddenly runs down your spine and tugs at your core in arousal. With a sharp intake of breath, you have to shift on your feet, pressing your legs together against the slick already forming down below.

You’re shocked and embarrassed at first. You aim to bolt out of his room, but you stop short in the doorway as it dawns on you.

Your sister is a beta, and so is her husband. She’s never completely understood you as an omega. She never understood your parents either, or the bond they had. She always scoffed at the idea of “true mates.”

Soulmates. It was fantasy and myth, the stuff of cheesy Harlequin novels.

Growing up, you’d agreed with her, even though a part of you deep down always protested. It wanted to tell her not to open her mouth about something she knew nothing about, and would never know.

The day you met Dean, you knew she was wrong.

Your more logical mind tries again to reassert itself though. You remind yourself that you barely know anything about this man, no matter how attractive, kind, funny, enigmatic…

And yet, you can’t shake that part of you that doesn’t rest until you see his face in the morning; until you make him coffee and eat breakfast together, and take any opportunity to pull more threads from him. It’s more than passing attraction. It’s more than just being stuck together in this cabin, unable to escape each other. You know, because the feeling scares you, and it electrifies your blood at the same time.

All these thoughts go through your mind when you turn back around. Slowly, you continue to look around his room, your whole body tingling. The room is neat, more or less, with everything in its proper place. It’s pretty bare though, décor wise. There’s a desk with a few scattered books and a journal sandwiched in between. A smile of surprise forms across your face.

No. Don’t tell me this guy is Mr. Dear Diary? you think in amusement. Though you wonder if it’s another way he passes his time here, especially when he’s holed up in his room.

You know you shouldn’t be snooping, let alone contemplating what you’re about to do…but you can’t help yourself. Biting your lip, you slide out the journal and begin to flip through it.

You frown at the strange drawings and odd entries—dates, narratives, scraps of information on different types of mythological creatures, and even more strange, on how to kill them.

What the hell is this?

That’s when you hear the front door swing open. You bolt from his room as quick as you can, not realizing you took the journal with you in your haste. You stuff it up your sweater and pretend like you’ve just come out of the bathroom on the way back to your room. There you slide the journal under your pillow. You jump when Dean knocks on your door.

“Hey,” he greets.

The jolting pains your ribs, and your hand goes to your left side in a hiss.

“You okay?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. He takes a step into your room, but you turn to him with a nod and a placating hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just scared me,” you say, with a bit of nervous laughter.

He gives a half smile. “Sorry. Just come ‘ere a sec. I wanna show you something.”

He reaches out a hand to help guide you to the living room.

There he presents you with two rudimentary crutches. Your eyes widen as your free hand passes over the smooth chestnut color of the wood. Dean keeps a light hold on your elbow, just in case.

“You made these?” you ask.

“Yeah, just a bit of woodworking. Picked it up over the last couple of years,” he says.

He’s downplaying it, but you’re nothing short of marveling. You set aside the walking stick in favor of picking up the crutches, and they’re even the right size to position them under your arms.

“Now you don’t have to hobble around like Long John Silver,” Dean quips. You meet the sight of his grin with a raised brow, but you soon begin to smile. When you get close enough to him, you lean the crutches against the couch and give him a warm hug, resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say. It’s something he was wholly unprepared for, but he hugs you back with a chuckle.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Just then, he tries not to inhale your scent. He tries not to focus on the feeling of your body pressed soft and warm against his. You fit just right.

After a beat, you have mercy on him and pull away. You take your crutches back up and continue to walk around the living room experimentally.

“You think I’d be okay trying to go outside?” you ask on your way to the door. Dean tenses.

“Uh, I don’t think—”

But you’re already halfway out the door. He shakes his head and follows you with swift strides. He watches you step out carefully onto the porch like a baby deer. He cleared the snow this morning from the deck and the steps, but he’s more concerned when he sees you considering how you might step out onto the snow.

“Stay on the porch, all right, Bambi,” he warns. “You’re not wearing snow boots and it’s still pretty deep. Not to mention, I’ve been keeping an eye out for a bear that wandered through here last week—”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder in amusement.

“Okay, Alpha. Calm down,” you say playfully. “I’m not gonna go ass over tea kettle.”

His brow twitches as he frowns. Alpha. He fights not to show his reaction to the way you said it; it calls to his baser instincts, almost stirring a rumble in his chest.

Cheeky little omega.

You keep to the porch, but regardless, you’re happy. You don’t even mind the cold. You see your breath on the air, and you tip your head back, closing your eyes with a smile as the sunshine warms your face. You inhale through your nose and let it out slowly in contentment.

“It’s a good day, Dean,” you say quietly.

You don’t realize that he’s watching you with a more reserved smile on his face. When he realizes it, he shakes his head at himself. He’s only been here a week with you, and it’ll probably take a couple more for your ankle to heal up well enough for you to walk again, let alone get down the mountain.

He doesn’t want to leave you alone up here, so he’ll have to somehow keep fending off your probing questions into his past and personal life. There's a lifetime of blood, nightmares, and death that he just can't let you see behind his eyes.

Hell, he's been trying to shove it all down for the past year—in booze and odd jobs and trips to nowhere, always coming back to an empty bunker. He still wonders how Sam's managed to do it, to move on, and build a new life for himself.

If Dean's honest (and he's not), he feels a bit like this cabin; old, falling apart, and forgotten.

But he’ll have to keep taking in your brightness and warmth, continue arguing with you about music and other inane shit, and pretend that every small touch of yours doesn’t ignite his skin. That it doesn’t make him have to beat down every instinct he has to pull you into his body and blanket you with his scent, ravage you, claim you, and make you his.

He never thought this would happen to him. He never thought someone like you was out there…for someone like him.

He knows it though, deep in his gut. You’re meant for him. You’re meant to be his mate.

Which means he’s already screwed.

AN: And we're off! Special thanks again to Michelle (@luci-in-trenchcoats) for being my sounding board when I was first writing this series. Let me know what you think of Part 1! 💜

Next Time:

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed…

When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

Read on Patreon now!

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @deans-spinster-witch

@deans-baby-momma @sanscas @kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @iprobablyshipit91

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @pieandmonsters

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @mxltifxnd0m

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378

@deanbrainrotwritings @urfav-tz @alwaystiredandconfused @mrlonelycat @deans-daydream

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @aylacavebear

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @suckitands33

@winchestergirl2 @a-lil-pr1ncess @winchester-whiskey @spnbabe67 @cheynovak

@megara0224 @yoongi-holland @illicithallways @perpetualabsurdity @deansimpala

@jessjad @impala-dreamer @k4marina @atenea585 @king-of-milf-lovers

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @daisychaingirl @star-yawnznn @number1whorehome

@g0ldfishd00dles @10ava01 @sixxteenbullets @tayl0rfanatic @everything-is-all-clear

@trashmoutth @riteofpassage77 @bleuatlas @luci-in-trenchcoats @valerinapetrova

@spnaquakindgdom @podiumackles @ladykitana90 @cookiechipdough @dmz1975

@lamentationsofalonelypotato @itsdesiree86

#lovely review!! 💕💕#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #against the wind feedback

336 notes · View notes

avelera · 15 hours ago

Note

Hi, I wanna say I really like your posts and enjoy your meta's about jayce.

So I wanna ask a question: How do you interpret jayce's behaviour here?

Personally, I have always believed that since jayce came from a family of blacksmiths, he would at least know how to negotiate or essentially haggle to an extent so do you think that it's on purpose that jayce isn't particularly shown to haggle when it comes to his interactions with zaunites?

Also, aside from that I think silco and Jayce's last scene really goes unnoticed by many epssically when jayce genuinely chooses to be fully transparent and honest with silco admitting that he is scared.

Short answer: My interpretation of this scene is that it is meant to show how privileged and naive Jayce is.

Just to be clear, I adore Jayce, but I will still admit to his flaws as a character. But, I will also point out when "flaws" like privilege can also lead to generous or otherwise laudable behavior, because it's easy to be a saint in paradise.

As for the longer answer, Jayce doesn't haggle for a few reasons:

1 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because he's never known real hardship. He's from a family of blacksmiths, yes, but of a particular flavor. He's actually from a family of factory owners and toolmakers. He's middle class shading to upper middle class either by virtue of being the son of a factory owner or certainly by the time Hextech takes off. What Benzo was charging probably didn't cost that much to him, especially with Kiramman money backing him up. He needed the items more than he needed a bargain to have them. It probably didn't even occur to him to try to get a deal because of how little the items cost to him.

2 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because of cultural differences. To a Zaunite, it's unthinkable not to haggle. To a Piltoverian of a certain class, it's probably unthinkable to haggle.

I've felt this cultural difference as a person from the US while traveling. You would never haggle in the area I'm from (I don't claim to speak for the entire US), because most shops have an established price and that's what you pay. It would be incredibly rude in most instances to haggle. But when I've traveled to other parts of the world, Turkey for example, it's not considered rude at all, but expected. In places like the Istanbul Grand Bazaar, it's expected and there's etiquette governing it, and US customers are regularly fleeced for 10x the actual price if not more.

But you have to understand too, in relation to Jayce and as referenced in point 1, one reason US customers get fleeced in those places is because the amount being demanded as 10x more than the cost of the item is still a negligible amount for them. An item that they could haggle down to 50 cents costing $5 instead isn't really a big deal. Especially if you're on vacation anyway, you can afford to be generous, even if it means getting mocked behind your back as a sucker.

And for some there's an element of generosity to not haggling. Why would I haggle to get a $5 item down to $2, when it's a negligible difference for me, I want the item, and the person I'm haggling with needs the money more? Which leads into:

3 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because he's a good person at heart. Zaunites from Ekko to Silco are aghast at Jayce's lack of haggling, so it's not just a financial thing, it's a cultural thing. But even with the case of Silco, I'd argue one reason Jayce doesn't haggle is because he sees himself in a position of strength. He knows that independence matters more to Zaun than it matters to the Councilors in Piltover, who might whinge about it and the potential profit losses of losing sovereignty over Zaun, but they've been neglecting Zaun for years so boohoo, they can suck it up and get over it.

That to me is Jayce's view. Jayce admits that Zaun is asking for a lot of privileges that probably should be haggled over, like access to the Hexgates and blanket amnesty, but all that would do is drag out the process, possibly lead to more conflict if tensions rise again during the negotiations, and it would still lead to the same conclusion: Zaun deserves to be its own nation after Piltover neglected it. Jayce is a direct thinker and he decides it's better to just rip the bandaid off and let the chips fall where they may, rather than try to nickel and dime Zaun's negotiations when it would cost nothing AND be the morally correct choice for Piltover to just let them go.

One a final note: I think one reason we're seeing Jayce become a more beloved figure in S2 is because we can now see how radical and progressive his negotiated peace with Silco actually was.

When we only had the context of S1, Jayce's negotiation can come across as too little, too late, or even foolish. But when you see at the end of S2 that, as far as we can tell, without the negotiation going into place, Zaun doesn't have independence and only gains one seat on the Council, you can really see why Jayce using his position of authority while he had it to cut through the bullshit and right what he saw as a systemic wrong in one fell swoop might have been naive but it might have also been the radical change that the city desperately needed. Granted, we'lll never know if the Councilors were right and there could have been negative consequences to not negotiating more. Maybe handing an independent Zaun to Silco and the Chem Barons without haggling would have led to further disaster.

But as the show's theme constantly reiterates, "What could have been?" I think we can see better now that Zaun didn't get everything Jayce was willing to give them at the end of S1, and that's a tragedy. If nothing else, Jayce's willingness to not haggle even when he could wasn't just foolishness, it was because his heart was in the right place and he thought they deserved it. It might be a long time before there's another chance at that kind of progress again without the Man of Progress.

#jayce talis #arcane #arcane meta #silco arcane #zaun #piltover

101 notes · View notes

kinda-indecisive · 2 days ago

Text

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⋆ Face Kisses pt. II ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳

Basically how I imagine their reactions to an onslaught of face kisses from you (MC). Fluff.

Part 2: The Rafayel and Sylus Edition!

+:★:+* *+:★:+* +:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+* *+:★+:★:+* *+:★

Rafayel

Enjoying the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your ear, you are already comfortably nestled into your spot on his lap, arms lazily hung around his neck as he continues to flip quietly through the gallery catalog over your head.

A catalog Thomas had sent Rafayel to review a week ago, which you feel kinda guilty about.

Usually, Thomas can trust you to keep Raf in check, pushing him to slough through the boring stuff so that the two of you can spend the rest of your time together doing other, more exciting things. This past week, however, you had been having a really frustrating time dealing with a particularly nasty group of Wanderers that kept reappearing at the most inopportune times and locations. And, when you showed up in his studio, he noticed something was off instantly.

He’d taken it on as his duty to pull you out of your slump of frustration, dragging you from marketplace to marketplace, shop to shop, beach to beach, hoping to get your mind off of those “creativity sucking Wanderers with bad attitudes”. And that was just on the first day. All week, he’s been there the second you wake up, chattering excitedly about where you two were off to next. And, in all honesty, having him around has kinda helped.

And although you didn’t say it out loud, he sensed this, too. Hence the only reason he has finally given you a second to breathe, curled up in his lap on the sofa, the beach breeze gently blowing at the white curtains, and the only other movement in the room being his occasional page turning.

When he hums softly in disdain at something, you are snapped out of your comfy daze.

You really do appreciate how much effort he puts in to make you feel better at times like these. And even though he insists on brushing it off as no big deal (“I already needed to make a trip to this shop, cutie, you just saved me from having to go alone” ), you know that his actions have always spoken much louder, and much more clearly, than his words.

Your heart nearly bursts at how true the thought is and you shift in his lap to look down at him.

He groans loudly, setting the catalog aside, his eyebrows furrowed as he pouts up at you, “Why are you moving around so much? I was perfectly comfortable staying how we were before and I’ll never get any work done if you keep squirming…”

He continues to pout, even when you take his face between your palms. Such a nice face belonging to someone with such a good heart. An absolutely gorgeous face, even if he does keep that indignant little scowl and crease between his brows.

You kiss this space between his brows first, which makes his eyebrows raise in surprise. But before he even has a chance to collect himself from this initial surprise, you continue planting small kisses to cover the rest of his face, making sure to leave no space neglected.

“Alright, alright,” he says once you’ve already finished, clearing his throat and turning his face away, “You’re treating me like some kind of puppy. I’m not your pet, y’know.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and pretends to be annoyed, his face still turned away. His refusal to look you in the eye, however, only gives you a better view of his bright red ears and cheeks, betraying exactly how he feels about the attention he just received.

“Oh? Well, I guess if you didn’t like that, I shouldn’t do it ever again. I admittedly still don’t know much about what kind of behavior is accepted in Lemuria. And I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything,” you say, pretending to get up from his lap.

He catches your wrist and gently pulls you back down, giving you that signature head tilt and grin when he reassures you.

“Aw, well, I get it. You are still pretty new to this Lemurian thing. Besides, it wasn’t too horrible,” he says, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He swipes it away nonchalantly, continuing, “I could maybe suffer through such treatment once or twice a month. Or a week. Or even once a day if you really felt the strong desire to. You humans and your customs are weird, but I can be a good sport about some of them.”

“No, no, there’s no need,” you continue to tease, pretending to stand once again, “I really should be more mindful when it comes to these kinds of things.”

“No, I insist. As a matter of fact…” he says, catching your wrist again and tugging you back down to sit in his lap, simultaneously managing to wrap his arms around you to prevent you from getting up again, “...dontcha think it’s my turn to give this newfound custom a try?”

+:★:+* *+:★:+* +:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+* *+:★+:★:+* *+:★

Sylus

When you arrive at the N109 Zone, it’s almost noon. Therefore you aren’t surprised that Sylus is still in his room, is still asleep, and is not quite ready to compromise that sleep for anyone or anything.

You know that technically doesn’t include you, but you don’t want to ruin his rest, so you leave him be for now. Instead, you decide to check out some more rooms in this grand house.

Your visits to the N109 zone have been much more frequent, despite this past week apart. But before this last week, you had come and gone with a frequency that Sylus had finally seemed pleased with.

In that time, you had familiarized yourself with many of the rooms of this mansion already. That being said, you could almost swear that Sylus brought in something new every single day, so there’s always something new to discover on your visits.

And now you find yourself faltering before a suit of armor you hadn’t noticed before. It must have been pure white at one time, but now has gone dark from wear, age, and transportation. The armor wasn’t made for someone of Sylus’s size, and you wonder what about it made him want to add it to his collection. You try to resonate with it to get something off of it, but nothing really happens.

Soon, however, you grow tired of the silent house and the suit of armor. You figure that a small nap never hurt anyone. Besides, it feels like you haven’t seen Sylus in ages, even though it’s only been a week. A long, tedious week of Wanderers and stuck up clients who you sometimes thought about leaving to fend off the Wanderers themselves.

Slipping into his bedroom, his bedside lamp is on. The dim light casts strange shadows around the room, but softly illuminates the man on the bed.

Walking around the bed, you crawl onto the mattress and begin to make yourself comfy, trying to do it slowly so you don’t disturb he who breathes deeply beside you. Once settled, you roll over to face him.

His normally strong features look so soft in this lighting, and his brow is furrowed slightly in his sleep, his expression one of a man concerned. Your heart aches a little as you realize just how much you’ve missed him this week despite trying to convince yourself you were better off without his incessant teasing. Reaching out, you mean to brush your fingertips over his cheekbones, but you suddenly hesitate before touching him. He sleeps so lightly sometimes and you don’t want to be the reason he can’t fall back to sleep.

But it’s already too late.

That frown of concern shifts into confusion as his eyes open—the color as bright and striking as ever—then relief when he sees you, sleepily taking your hand in his own and intertwining your fingers. Rolling onto his side, he smiles faintly at the sight of you tucked in beside him.

“I’m not dreaming, am I, sweetie?” he murmurs, his already deep voice even deeper with sleep, “It’s been 8 days and a few hours since I saw you last.”

“You keep count?” you tease as he brings your wrist to his lips.

“Maybe I do,” he says with a huff and a shrug, his still-heavy eyelids closing again. You know he isn’t asleep, however, by the sound of his annoyed grunt when you try to slip your hand out of his grasp, “Leaving already?”

“No, I just want to get more comfortable.”

His eyes still closed, he allows you to take your hand back. You start to settle in beside him, but thinking about how lovely and worried he’d looked when you first came in, you suddenly have an idea to hopefully help soothe whatever dreams he’d been having.

His brow furrows again when you take his face in-between your hands, but a smug little smile is quick to replace it as you place feather-light little kisses against every inch of his face.

He sinks deeper into the mattress as you do, his entire body relaxing as you surge with gratitude for the fact that he shares this vulnerable side with you and only you. By the time you finish, his smug smile has faded softly as he dozes off and on again.

“Hmm? Is that all?” he hums. Rolling your eyes, you chuckle, sliding back into the blankets, grabbing his arm and drawing it around you as well. Nuzzling his nose against the back of your neck, he murmurs with a voice as smooth as velvet, “Thank you, sweetie. It’s been a hell of a week and I needed that.”

“Don’t be silly,” you murmur, “Now go back to sleep, Sylus.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1: Xavier and Zayne Edition

A Short Little Tag List! 💕 (I hope you enjoy :))

@lemurianmaster @myeagleexpert

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace sylus #lads rafayel #lads sylus #qi yu #qin che #my stuff

117 notes · View notes

confiaenanaa · 3 days ago

Note

Hello,how are you? I saw your post asking for fic ideas so here's one I hope you like it

Assistant reader who has worked with Eminem since the beginning of his career, the public and his kids love her, the kids always goes to her for advice and see her as part of the family . Marshall admires her and her relationship with his kids, He has always been attracted to her, but he respects her a lot and thinks she can find someone better, They are very close and know each other like no one else. They have fight a few times but she would always go to him and put some sense into his head and they would make up. Maybe she could have an accident or become very ill and end up in the hospital, he is terrified at the prospect of losing her. They get so stressed about the situation that they have a very serious fight, he says a lot of shit and she sends him away. A few days pass and they don't talk to each other, he didn't want to apologize and decided to wait until she came back and fix the things like she always did, but the things he said during the fight really hurt her and she decided to resign from her assistant position, she sent an email with the details of her contract termination.

You decide what happens next.

PS: I really loved your writing, sorry for the long request, I like to detail things, if you don't like the idea or don't feel comfortable writing this you can completely ignore it please.

Hugs and bye (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

my assistant - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Y/N is Marshall's assistant. They're close and best friends until something goes wrong in her life...

A/N: hi! I know it's been a while, i've been super stressed with finals and stuff but i'm finally back on track and I wrote this. there's more to come since I have a ton of requests to have fun with! hope you enjoy this one. and i'm so glad to hear you liked my writing!

-Marsh!

-What?!

-Dre’s on the phone for you! Something about needing you to re-record something!

Marshall groaned from his office. Y/N giggled at his antics, he really could be a grump at times. She continued to put away files and work on his busy schedule, something she’d done every day for years.

Y/N had been Marshall’s assistant since what felt like forever, and it sort of was. Ever since his career took off, she’d been by his side. She did her job well, and never gave anyone on the team any reason to doubt her abilities. Not to mention she was always the go-to for advice. Marshall was always asking for advice; situations big or small, his mind always went to call Y/N. And his kids did the same. And his friends. And his team.

The public always wondered about their relationship, about what happened behind closed doors. “She and I are just close friends. That’s all.” And truthfully, that was all there was to it. They were friends. Though he’d often find himself wondering and daydreaming about what it’d feel like if they were more, he always stopped himself before it could get any deeper. He knew she deserved better. She was smart, kind, and hilarious. Surely, she’d find another man more attractive and muscular and smarter and funnier. Surely, she wouldn’t want a man like him. But, in actuality, they were both stuck in a cycle of feeling this way. She felt he deserved someone who related to him more. Someone prettier, someone more famous. Why would he want an accountant when he could easily have a bombshell?

Everyone around them knew how they felt about each other, except, apparently, them. They knew each other inside and out. Marshall knew all of her nervous tics; like her lip biting, finger picking, leg bouncing, pen tapping, and arm crossing. And, in return, she knew all of his icks; loud chewing, gum popping, loud singing, loud speaking, fingernail tapping, and slurping. They could read one another like books, unless, of course, it came to romance.

Y/N had been to enough family dinners at his house to know this. She was basically a Mathers herself. She became a Mathers when Hailie got her first period and Marshall had no clue on what to do. When she told him what to buy at the supermarket while she washed Hailie’s bed sheets and clothes. When she helped Hailie with her first breakup. And she became a Mathers when Marshall started his journey with sobriety and she was with him the whole time. Marshall admired her greatly. He admired her bravery and courage, her kindness and empathy, her ambition and perseverance, it seemed like everything life threw at her, she could easily push past it. He respected her a lot. He also respected how much a perfectionist she was. She made sure her nails were properly painted and if not they looked well groomed; cuticles always cut, nails long and strong, filed to perfection. Her hair was done meticulously, clearly also well taken care of. Her skin had a light glow to it. Marshall admired this for years. He admired and respected every aspect about her, she was like family to him.

However, like friends and family do, there were always a few quarrels. When Y/N was on her period and already in a sour mood, and Marshall decided that would be a good day to be a brat and complain about everything. Y/N adored him, but he could be really childish at times. He whined one too many times and she’d snapped at him. It escalated into an argument that Dre had to promptly break up. Or when Marshall was upset because he had writer's block and Y/N asked if it was really that hard to write a song. He snapped at her too. But, in the end, they always made up. In all honesty, it was usually Y/N that would fix things. She’d go over to him and no matter who was right or wrong, she’d say it was silly and smack him upside the head for staying upset.

The symptoms started mild. A bit of dizziness and fatigue. Walking up the stairs got harder, standing up suddenly quickly became a threat. Marshall and the others had noticed it, but decided not to mention anything. Health business is private business. Then, she started getting weaker. She was fatigued after just walking from the office back to her desk. She got pale. She no longer had that glow to her. Hailie asked Marshall what was wrong, but even he didn’t know.

She was always short of breath. When she talked, she occasionally slurred her words. She’d stumble through the hallway, just trying to make it back to her desk. This went on for months. In the beginning, Marshall took the pallor and fatigue as stress and exhaustion from work. He no longer complained, instead taking on some of her duties in an attempt to alleviate her. He saw nothing changed, in fact, it only worsened.

She started having heart palpitations. They became more frequent as the weeks flew by. When she’d hug her friends or set a hand down on someone’s arm, they’d notice that they were cold as ice. Her nails, something she once cared for, were now brittle. Her hair, once shiny and well put together, was now thinning and falling like a withering tree in the fall.

Almost a year had passed since the symptoms started. It was a somewhat normal day in the studio. Y/N walked in with Marshall’s weekly schedule in hand. Today, the windows weren’t coated with curtains like they usually were. Today, Marshall saw Y/N in the natural light. He noticed how pale she’d become. How her hair was now messy and thinned. How she looked almost malnourished.

He loved her the same, but he was concerned. He asked her to sit beside him on the couch, looking towards the others in the studio. Certainly the others had to have noticed her dire state. She sat carefully, moving slowly in an attempt to not exhaust herself too much. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion. Why was everyone looking at her like that?

She sat there for a while, when she realized she needed to finish a document for Paul.

-Shit!

-What? What’s wrong?

-I need to finish that paper for Paul. I’ll see you guys later.

Y/N stood up madly. Suddenly, she felt her body numb slightly and her eyes roll into the back of her head. She felt dizzy and everything around her felt surreal. She attempted to take a step forward, but instead, her entire body fell forward. Next thing she knew, it all went black.

Marshall saw her stand up. She looked like she was going to hurl. She fell forward and with a thud, she hit the carpeted floor. Everyone in the room ran to her. There was a bustle of voices. Pandemonium broke out. Someone called an ambulance. Marshall couldn’t remember much, but what he did know was that now he was sitting in a hospital lobby. Awaiting any news about his best friend.

The realization settled in. The panic came along with it. He realized that his best friend (and sort of the love of his life) was in a hospital bed right now, unsure of whether or not she’ll make it out of here. He knew he couldn’t lose her.

-It’s anemia. Her case was pretty severe, since it was left untreated for 11 months. She had an iron deficiency, most likely from not eating properly. It could’ve become deadly if she’d left it untreated for too long.

-Anemia?

Marshall couldn’t believe it. All of the signs were there and he never did anything about it. As soon as they let him know she was conscious, he ran into the room. He saw her in the bed and felt a wave of emotions. He felt sad knowing that she was hurting, he felt happy that she was okay, and he felt rage that she let this get that bad and that he hadn’t noticed.

-Hey, Marsh.

-Hey. Did you know you had anemia?

-Wow. Straight to the point. Um, not specifically but, like, I knew there was something wrong.

Marshall started to become upset. How was she so casual about this? If anemia is left untreated, it can result in death.

-And you didn’t do anything about it?

-Well, no. I didn’t expect anything serious?

-The doctor told me that you could’ve died if you didn’t treat it. And he said it was because you weren’t eating. Why weren’t you eating?

-Look, Marsh, I just assumed that it would go away after a while. I didn’t even notice it had gotten that bad. And I mean, I haven’t really had an appetite. I’ve been working a lot and I just think I was stressed.

-Well, you should’ve told me you were feeling overworked! I could’ve helped you! You could’ve died Y/N! Doesn’t that go through your head!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t think it was that deep!

-Yeah? Well it was. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I came here thinking you got some crazy disease. I was so worried.

-I can’t control my appetite Marsh. And you didn’t have to come.

-Yeah, well, when you’re on your deathbed, alone, you’ll wish you might’ve listened to me.

Y/N’s mouth stayed slightly ajar after that last comment. How could he say that to her? He saw the look on her face and immediately regretted it. He knew he was doing wrong. He knew that it was a terrible thing to say.

-Look, Y/N, I’m so sor-

-Get out.

-What?

-Get out, Marsh. Leave.

And leave he did. He went home that day and had a long night of processing. He concluded that he had a point, but he should’ve phrased it better; he also should have picked a better time to say it. But he didn’t want to apologize. For some unknown reason, he couldn’t find it within himself to go to her and apologize. Eventually, a week had passed. He figured that she’d come to him soon and they’d make up. However, he was proven wrong when he received an email that Paul had forwarded him that morning. The title read “My Resignation”. He began to panic, calling her and sending her countless texts.

He then called Paul, hoping it was a mistake.

-Look, man. I don’t know what you said or did to her, but it must’ve been pretty fucked up. You better go apologize to her now.

Marshall quickly hopped into his car and drove to her house. He parked his car in her driveway, seeing she was home. He knocked on the door furiously, hoping to get ahold of her. She opened the door only a few inches. Enough to see his face. She was about to close the door when he pushed it open. She stumbled back a bit.

-What the hell do you want Marsh?

-Look, Y/N, I came to apologize. I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner. I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean any of the bullshit I said. I was just scared. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel bad. Especially since you were the one in the hospital bed. When I was the one in trouble, you never did any of that shit to me. I’m so sorry Y/N.

Y/N sighed deeply. As upset as she was with him, she couldn’t stay mad. She was starting to look like her old self again, Marshall realized. She got her glow back, her hair was looking thicker; she looked like she did before. Still a little thin, but back to somewhat normal.

Y/N smiled weakly. She knew she couldn’t be mad at him forever, and this was silly. Marshall looked at her face, smiling, and he realized just how much he loved her. He looked at every feature he’d fallen in love with; her eyes, bright and curious, her lips, pretty and cute, her cheeks, slightly indented with all the smiling she does, but still beautiful. He knew he needed her, and without thinking, he leaned down and connected his lips with hers. It was passionate and sweet. The kiss contained all the words that need not be spoken. When he pulled back, she was smiling like an idiot, wide eyed.

He knew that from then on, he would love her a little harder.

#masterlist #new writer boost #writers on tumblr #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem #marshall mathers #dr dre #50 cent #eminem fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #one shot

73 notes · View notes

wrathofrats · 2 days ago

Text

Let Me Slip Inside Your Ultraviolet Disguise

Mountain/Rain, explicit

Merry Christmas @forlorn-crows (:

Rain gave him a soft closed lip smile. His hands reached to overlap mountains that sat at the hem of his sweats, simply rubbing his hands over the fabric. He had never had his tentacle actually inside of anyone. Sure, maybe countless mouths but this? This was different. More intimate and strange in rains mind. No one else had something like this.

Maybe that’s what made it more exciting. The ability to feel something no one else could.

Or, mountain rides rains tentacle for the first time.

Small warnings for t4t, rain has top surgery, mountains big naturals, cunt and clit and folds used for both of their anatomy’s, tentacles, it’s literally all fluff

Read under cut or on Ao3

“Could I try?” Mountain sat back on his heels, biting his lip. Rain didn’t meet his gaze, instead opting to pick at a loose thread from the pillowcase. His sweatpants were double tied around his waist, probably stolen from Swiss or simply bought to be a size too big. The extra room was comforting.

Mountain pulled at the drawstring, simply wrapping his finger around and pulling for the first knot to come undone. Rains shirt had rode up to expose the soft part of his stomach. It wasn’t that rain didn’t want this, but the nervousness settled inside him like a rock. Heavy and uncomfortable as mountain continued to toy with the hem of his pants, careful not to brush over his skin as to not seem like he’s trying to take it too far.

“Are you sure? It’s just ..” rain finally plucked the stray piece, throwing it onto the floor before finally looking back up at mountain, “isn’t it weird?”

“Do you want it to be weird? Dew sometimes likes it better when I treat him like that” the last knot came undone, letting the sweatpants slouch a bit more under rains tummy. It wasn’t meant to be weird, it was just rain, that’s all mountain needed.

“No, I don’t think so. Can you just ..” Rain trailed his thought off, the combination of not exactly knowing what he wanted to say and not being able to get the words out even if he did. Mountain knew though, knew him better than he knew himself, rain was pretty sure. Even if mountain didn’t know what he needed, he trusted him to take care of him anyways.

“I’ve got you waterlily”

Maybe that’s what made it more exciting. The ability to feel something no one else could. Rain watched mountain undress in front of him, pulling his shirt over his head with a crack in his back, the amber sunset making his skin look almost golden. There was no flair in the way he took his clothes off, something almost domestic in the prospect of not showing off. It made Rain feel more at ease.

Mountain turned back around to focus on rain once his pants were in a careless heap on the floor along with his sweater. He only added to the mess, neatness not a virtue of his but especially not when he needed to focus on the water ghoul in front of him. The sweats and thin t shirt that rain had on were quickly discarded, leaving him in the same vulnerable state. Delicate scars decorated his chest, ones that mountain found it almost impossible not to kiss and rake his teeth over whenever he got the chance.

The prospect of different tasted funny on rains tongue. Something bitter but not exactly bad. Sure, they had done things countless of times before but there was no plastic or silicone involved this time, not some quickie in a dark corner with mountains fingers shoved deep inside of him. The idea of being inside of mountain was for some reason intimidating, either just because of anxiety or the small amount of fear that mountain would get freaked out and stop.

Suddenly a large hand rubbed over rains thigh, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts once again.

“Don’t think too hard, ok? I can practically hear your thoughts rainy. Im excited that you get to be my first time” there was a small chuckle to mountains voice, as if he was being half ironic to lighten the mood a bit.

“Your first time? Thought you were supposed to be the experienced one. Lead me through my first time”

“It can be both our firsts then. Together. How about that?” Mountain leaned over rain, pressing his lips softly to rains own. Chaste, even if he lingered for a moment over him.

Rain snorted and pushed against mountains chest to get him to sit up right again. Sappy fucker. An intimate experience even if mountain was exaggerating a little bit for the sake of the mood. Mountain knelt between his legs, hands rubbing closer and closer to his folds. Rain was already a little slick, mountain had the tendency to get him like that without doing much.

“Gotta coax her out” Rain practically whispered, almost sheepishly.

“She loves me” mountain spread rain open and thumbed at the smooth patch of skin right below his clit. Something wriggled beneath it, the tip of rains tentacle emerging from its sheath, “see, didn’t think she would take much convincing”

It slowly pushed itself out and wrapped around mountains hand. Surely just searching for warmth but still a bit endearing, especially with how the flush on rains face grew watch the whole ordeal.

“Come on- don’t just play with it, said you’d take care of me”

Mountain gave a playful roll of his eyes before moving his hips to be flush with rains. He used his free hand to open himself up, spreading his lips to rub the tentacle along his cunt hoping it would take. Rain is sure he started drooling. Thick hair from his navel down his thighs but pretty pink between them, warm and wet. It was hard not to completely zone out staring at him. A bit of hair covered his chest as well, large breasts bouncing slightly with every move and god mountain was just beautiful.

The tentacle removed itself from mountains hand before slowly pushing inside of him. The two released a punched out groan in tandem, mountain slamming his hips down with a tight grip on rains waist. Rain was right, he felt fucking perfect. Silky and soft inside, absolutely tighter than he thought he could be but it was all entirely new. His mouth fell open and eyes screwed shut, tangling his fists in the sheets below him to hold on to a semblance of reality as his tentacle explored mountain from the inside.

Sweet little suckers pumped in and out, practically kissing the rim of mountains hole. He rocked back and forth, working up to ride him in earnest. Rain had never seen him like this before, sure he had mountain ride him countless times but this was, again, different. His eyes were practically in the back of his head and his thighs shook with every small downstroke. His long hair fell into his face as he threw his head forward, giving a low moan seeing how rains tentacle entered him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful waterlily”

#I’m starting Christmas early bc I have a couple of these fuckers #and need to space them out #merry Christmas crow I hope you like sappy freaks #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes

60 notes · View notes

rootspiral · 2 days ago

Text

I know it *technically* hasn't been stated anywhere that Rio can't physically kill people, but it's one of my favorite headcanons so I'm going to stick to it like a fart in a phone booth until proven wrong. And to work on it further, I think that Rio and Agatha started out as business partners / the ol' you get your power I get my bodies situation. Idk if Rio needs a certain number of bodies to keep the universe in balance or (funniest option) sometimes she just wants to kill somebody very very badly but all she can do is torture them, and there's one particularly stubborn motherfucker that just. won't. give up. on life.

... oh my god that motherfucker was totally Agatha wasn't it. I just had a moment of total clarity. okay okay okay I'm gonna come up with a story gimme a second

A young Agatha starts merrily dropping bodies. Fateful eye contact is made over corpses.

Agatha already knew about Death's existence as a physical being, she probably read it in a forbidden ancient text or something. So she's equal parts scared and nerding tf out, plus she's already trying to figure out how to turn things to her own advantage.

Meanwhile Rio is getting annoyed at having to clean up after a baby serial killer. Maybe there are very complicated Sacred Balance Reasons why Agatha shouldn't kill so much. Or maybe Rio just wants to have ONE FRIDAY EVENING OFF, she already has to deal with all the world's famine and war and plague! And Agatha's antics keep eating up even the two minutes of peace and quiet she'd set aside for herself.

Rio wants to scare Agatha tf off and goes full on psychological / physical torture. I picture a Dickensian ghost carrying the 17th century equivalent of a bloody chainsaw.

Agatha (fucking terrified but never admitting it): "WHOA THERE SCARY SKULL FACED LADY! I HAVE A ✨✨BUSINESS PROPOSITION✨✨. Because of course that nerd has already figured out that Death can't actually kill her.

So whenever Death needs some abomination obliterated from the face of the earth she gives Agatha a phone call. Shenanigans and at least 50 year of delicious slow burn ensue.

I especially want a moment of full on "oh no she's hot" gay panic when Agatha sees Rio's human face for the first time. Like, she was already down bad for those big black eyes before seeing the juicy kissable mouth. (I also have a strong headcanon about Rio being human before becoming Death but I've already talked enough nonsense for today).

#agatha all along #headcanons #agathario #truly silly stuff

60 notes · View notes

typewritingyip · 2 days ago

Text

The Arcturus Missions

Part Seventeen - Anger Issues

Part Sixteen

———

Prior to becoming a pilot, Harold Jackson, callsign Hound, had been an enlisted officer for the United States Army. It was all he had ever known really, his father had been in the army and they moved from base to base like any other military family. The housing was similar enough that each room felt like his own and life was always chaotic but simple. From coast to coast and in other countries, he was content with that life.

The Quintessons attacked when he was still young, the first response was with military action, the Air Force and Navy, naval pilots were the first to scout the enomally off of Hawai’i. The aircraft carrier the USS Enterprise which had been in the North Arabian Sea on exercise with German, French, and British forces, was the first thing attacked by the foreign invader. When the first call from Hawai’i reached them, they redirected the course to provide assistance. It sustained too much damage to remain in operation but its nuclear reactor was safely removed before its decommission. It was one of ten aircraft carriers in the pacific and Indian oceans during that time, many sustain unrecoverable damages.

With the Cold War in active swing, it was difficult to initially adjust focus, but once they started to attack cities most powers were redirecting their focuses away from the arms race and into the mechanical suit race. Just another angle initially, which eventually turned into government cooperation.

Hound had enlisted at eighteen, understanding only some of what was happening and signing up for the compatibility testing after bootcamp. It was around that same time when Hound got married, though the wait for his mech suit was longer than his marriage. His father had signed up for the testing as well and was found non-compatible, he was medically discharged not long after. Hound knew how much it broke his father to not be compatible, both in spirit and body, he didn’t understand how hard the test was until he was in it. No one comes out the other side of compatibility the same person.

His ex-wife lives in a “protected city” somewhere in Colorado, specifically away from coastal regions and major epicenters, near to a mech suit outpost for the marines. She was receiving housing and funding from Mecha on behalf of Hound to ensure her safety, her and his father, it’s one of the many reasons he agreed to head the Arcturus One mission. He may not love her and she may hate him, but he didn’t want to see her remains on the next cover report, hers or his fathers. It was hard not to care when the person used to be your best friend, no matter what they did to lose that place or what you did.

—

Hound had fallen back asleep in command, tipped back in his chair while the others had talked, Megatron’s explanation dying off when his head began to droop. The lights in his cockpit were off, but he remained in his chair, leaning back comfortably enough. It was nice enough until a shrill voice woke him up, “Sir, Hound isn’t at camp.” Sideswipe was the most frustrating person to him at that very moment, groaning quietly as he tipped the chair back up, “That’s because he was here, discussing plans with us.” Megatron stood, now sober and feeling improved from last night. Hound took the moment to stretch and stand, “Sideswipe, I would suggest checking everywhere or comming me before jumping to conclusions.” He walks over and rests a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you for the concern though. Nodding some, Sideswipe sighs, “Breakdown woke us all up not knowing where you were,” “Breakdown?” It was almost hard to tell that Sideswipe looped sheepish, but the body language was easy enough to read, “He left medical this morning, to much protest from Knockout. I think the medic is still yelling at him for being a ‘big wreckless oaf’.” He chuckles and with a sigh, Hound nods to Megatron before heading out of command.

Yelling was certainly one way of putting it, Knockout was shrieking at Breakdown who was now sitting near the heater, his head hanging down. Sighing, Hound jogged over, “Alright, enough. Why are you screaming, Doctor?” He moved and stood between them, “Breakdown won’t let me run a systems check, he says everything is fine but his arm is hardly attached.” Knockout rested his hands on his hips, jaw set. Sighing deeply, Hound nodded, “Because your systems will crash ours, I’m sorry if this is inconvenient but it's for his safety that he turns it down.” Raising a hand, Hound stops Knockout, “But, he is off duty until further notice. Once we’re back in Iacon we’ll finish repairs but he’ll be on the bench for a while.” Breakdown looked up, “What?” Hound really just wanted to hit his head against a wall, “We’re going to keep following typical standards, two weeks at least of light duty.” Now both of them were angry and it was draining.

“Alright, enough!” Hound holds up his hands, “Knockout, if Breakdown were to stay in the medical tent until we return to Iacon, would that make you happy?” Knockout stopped and nodded, “Yes, of course.” “Hound,” Breakdown steps forward and Hound turns to him, “You should be resting regardless, your two weeks start now. Go lay down, that is in fact an order.” He could almost feel the bitterness rolling off of Breakdown, who turned away, “I swear, once we’ve returned to Iacon we can discuss this but until then, please just rest.” The cold shoulder was like a blizzard or arctic night. Sighing deeply, Hound moved to the others, shaking his head a bit, “If there is no attack today we should be returning to Iacon tonight.” “Thank god for that.” Sideswipe sank back down, rubbing his face, “I’ve got a great plan for something in the apartment.” Groaning, Sunstreaker shook his head, sitting back, “It’s too early for great plans.” “Yeah, well it’s too early to sneak off to talk to the guy who almost killed you.” Hound hits the heater, “Enough arguing! Enough. Just, spread out and take some time away from each other. Please. Let’s wait and see what the projection looks like before we try and kill each other.” He had a headache that was getting worse with every moment of arguing.

Slowly, Sunstreaker walked off, Sideswipe followed though at a distance. Breakdown was back to medical, and Jazz was sitting on the ground near the heater. Sighing, Hound joined him, rubbing his face, “How did you get used to working with other pilots? Or, mechs?” They were all, mostly, used to working solo. The suits were big enough to level a city block at times and more than one was hardly ever needed. Jazz chuckled slightly, “Well, I worked with Prowl solo for about the first six months or so. Not with other strong willed pilots, but still someone with experience.” Nodding a bit, Jazz leans back to stare at the sky, “I also didn’t have a unit of people from diverse backgrounds to command, all I had to do was adjust to one culture. I also didn’t have two pilots who had never been in the military to watch over,” the look almost makes Hound groan, “Their great pilots, but we both know that this is something that’ll take plans they aren’t used to and a lot more orders.” Also looking at the sky, Hound groaned, “I was worried you’d say that.” Jazz snorts, grinning, “Yeah well, you all have a lot of adjustments to make still.” With a hum, Hound threw his arm back over his eyes, still so tired. Yawning, he turns off the lights in his cockpit and turns down his visual feed, “Adjustments I'll start making, after I get some more sleep.” It didn’t take Hound long to fall back asleep, not long at all.

Jazz sat there, smiling a bit, “You’ve already made some Hound.” He glances over towards command where Red Alert and Mirage were talking, Mirage leaning against the wall comfortably, “You just can’t see it yet.” He smiles and moves to be able to watch their surroundings so his friend could sleep easier. Sometimes, the cluelessness of the other pilots drove him mad and sometimes he wondered if they were all just more nearsighted than they looked.

—

Sunstreaker went and sat with Bluestreak, glancing back over his shoulder at Sideswipe who diverted to sit with a few other mechs, he breathed a sigh of relief. The other mecha sitting with Blue glanced at each other before standing, “Hey, we’re going to go eat. See ya Blue.” One patted him on the shoulder and the other gave him a thumbs up before heading off towards food, talking quietly to each other. Sunstreaker paused, frowning a bit, “Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to chase off your friends.” “What? Oh, no you’re fine!” Bluestreak leans forward some, smiling nervously, he clears his throat a bit, “They’ve been waiting for an excuse to get away.” Sunstreaker chuckled slightly, “I doubt that.” Bluestreak smiled and glanced over towards Sideswipe, frowning, “Look,” “We’re not going to talk about that here.’ Sunny rested his hand over Blue’s, visor brightening, “Later, so, um.” He clears his throat and pulls his hand back, glancing up and away, “Have you ever been to this planet before?” Bluestreak smiled, “Yeah, but it was just for a different fight.” He tries to wave it off, but Sunstreaker turns to him, “Tell me about it.” Bluestreak chuckles lightly, “Uh, why?” The smile couldn’t be kept from Sunstreaker’s face, “The longer I sit here and you don’t try to kill me, the more likely it’ll be that Sides will eventually forgive you.” “Oh.” Nodding slowly, Bluestreak frowned, “You or—humans, are very strange.” Sunstreaker laughed.

Shaking his head a bit, Sunstreaker rubs at his chest, “Oh Blue, you don’t know the half of it. So, what was the last fight here like for you?” Bluestreak’s face lit up, “Well it was back during the last war, primus, you would have thought we were insane back then. Fighting after the fall of the system we were fighting over,” Sunstreaker stares and chuckles slightly, “You really don’t know anything about Earth, do you?” Bluestreak looks at him and shakes his head a bit, “Uh, no, not really. Jazz doesn’t talk about it much and Prowl said to not bother him with it.” Nodding a bit, Sunstreaker shrugged slightly, “Well, I’ll tell you more about it after your story. So, this last war, you were here,” he prompts lightly, Bluestreak nods and starts talking, smiling brightly. Sunstreaker smiled and just listened, glad to listen to someone who wasn’t giving him orders or was his brother.

—

The shuttle that evening was not sentient and Hound was still never sure to be relieved or not. It always took Sideswipe the longest to figure out if they were on a shuttle he knew personally or not, Sunstreaker always had the easiest time with it. For the moment, Breakdown was not speaking to Hound which was understandable, typically they were on equal footing but having to pull rank always left others feeling ruffled. Jazz was up towards the front talking with the pilot, but the entire shuttle was full of mechs. Each seat was filled and there was limited walking space since it was filled with the construction materials, plus the heaters. The twins were pretending to be asleep, really they were out of their chairs and talking over comms in English. Just because they had the translator doesn’t mean they wanted to use it all the time.

Sitting back, Hound was almost asleep himself when the second ring of his comm drew his attention. He paused for a moment before adjusting his setting to answer, “Hello?” There was a brief sigh on the other side of the line, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to answer, most mechs answer as soon as it pings.” Mirage sounded like he was smiling, “You doing alright after last night?” Hound smiles a bit, “Yes, thank you for your concern Mirage.” He thought for a moment that that’s where the conversation would end, “I saw what happened this morning, uh, is that normal for you all?” Sighing, Hound scratches at his jaw and chuckles, “Kind of, pilots back home, we’re not used to working with other pilots.”

“Why not?” Hound opened his mouth and stopped, tilting his head a bit before biting back a swear, “We’re spread out across the planet to protect as many civilians as we can. The five of us being in one place at once, it’s not typical and certainly not what we were trained for.” Mirage hums, “So, the tension is growing.” “Exactly.” Sighing, Hound rubbed his face, “Only ones who are used to working with each other are Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, and even then they only did when in the same region during an attack. Most of us had never worked together before this mission.” He swore he could hear a pin drop over that line before Mirage took a breath, “They sent you, on a death mission, with people who you’d never worked with?” Shaking his head a bit, Hound sighs, “No, not quite. For around six months, uh, half a stellar cycle, we were together preparing for this mission. Isolated together, mostly.” Mirage made an indignant noise.

Chuckling lightly, Hound scratched at his jaw, “Don’t like that either, huh?” “I just don’t understand your people, redesigning and reprogramming you all for this.” Hound hummed, leaning his head back comfortably, “Someone has to do the work that no one else wants to do.” There was another long pause, before Mirage spoke up again, “Prowl says the same thing, Megatron says the same thing.” Grinning, he shrugged lightly, “There are some things that almost transcend culture.” Mirage hummed lightly, then cleared his throat, “So, we will be in Iacon by morning,” “Will we?” Hound’s internal clock was shot, both his internal clock and the one in his suit, Mirage’s smile was even evident through the comm, “Yes, and I understand you’ll want some time to rest and repair Breakdown of course, but I was wondering when we’d be able to have that, uh, talk.” It took him a second to remember what Mirage was talking about, “Oh, the one about where Breakdown is from?” Mirage and his pauses, “Yes,” Nodding a bit, Hound leaned forward and glanced over to Jazz, gesturing towards his head lightly.

It was several longer seconds of silence before the click of someone joining the comm came through, “Yo.” Hound leaned back, “Jazz, how much free time do you think we will have when we get to Iacon?” Jazz popped up in the corner of Hound’s visual feed, he responded with his own internal camera but ensuring both were kept from Mirage’s view, “Uh, I don’t know. Depends on how long Joan is in his meeting,” “Joan?” The confusion in Mirage’s voice almost made Hound double over, even as Jazz’s face turned dark with blush, “Hound! You could warn a mech when having them enter a comm,” Still laughing, Hound sits up and wipes at his eyes, “Sorry Jazz, Mirage and I were discussing when’s we would be able to meet up to talk about the Soviet Union, in turn I added you to ask what Prowl’s plan looked like. Mirage, Joan is what we’ve taken to call your boss over private comms. She was a figure not dissimilar to your Prime.” Both men sat in silence, as if waiting for the other to break it.

Hound cleared his throat a bit, “Regardless, do you think a meeting with the Prime will be possible once we get there or will we have a while?” Jazz sighed and leaned forward, looking at Hound, “After we’ve had time to repair Breakdown, I think we’re going to have some time before we’ll get an audience with the Prime. Why?” He shifted a bit uncomfortably on his own seat, sitting back and away from Jazz’s prying eyes the best he could other than for the camera, “Well, Mirage wanted to learn a bit about the Iron Curtain,” “And other things about you— and Earth. Your planet seems so interesting.” Hound smiled a bit, “It is, or it can be.” Jazz was smirking, leaning back and shaking his head, “It’s almost cute how you all are skating around other mecha. Trying to make friends.” Mirage made a noise, and suddenly Hound wasn’t sure if Jazz was talking to him or Mirage. It took only a second for an answer, “Your species of mechanicals are so different from ours, your way of life, your relationships. None of you have mentioned being conjuxed and yet have split sparks, things that seem so familiar yet there are things that are… missing.” Hound cleared his throat a bit, “I’m sorry, the translator didn’t take to that word. What does being conjuxed mean?” Jazz stayed silent, though his hand was covering his mouth as he held back laughter and Mirage was painfully silent.

After nearly a minute ticked by, Hound sighed, “Is it something incredibly private or?” Weak laughter filled the line, “No, Primus no, it’s just your translator makes you sound strange for some words when they don’t translate.” It was another second before Mirage sighed, “Conjux is short for Conjux Endura, it’s a committed relationship between two mecha, for the rest of your life.” Hound paused and nodded slowly, “So like being married.” “I suppose, though that is not translating either.” Hound chuckled slightly, “Marriage is a committed relationship between two, uh, mecha for the rest of your life. Unless you get divorced like I did.” Mirage made an ear piercing sound and Jazz choked, nearly shooting out of his seat while leaning forward, “What the hell?” “What?” There was a click for a moment, as Mirage left the comm, “What? What did I say?” Then there was another click as Jazz left for a second. He was left in the quiet for a moment before two clicks notified him that they were back on the line.

Jazz sat there, staring at him and shook his head, “No, no, I need you to say that without the translator on. That can’t be right.” Mirage was making the slightest of choking sounds still, so adjusting his setting Hound sighed, “I’m talking about my divorce Jazz.” Several seconds went by, “Oh, oh! I didn’t think that would translate like that.” He pauses, “Damn, uh,” There was a click and he went silent, then a second click as Mirage went silent as well. Setting his jaw, Hound leaned his head back and picked at his fingers. It wasn’t a topic he even remotely enjoyed talking about, two clicks showed they re-entered the comm line, “It is much more normal on Earth Mirage, it’s not a bad thing and certainly not.. that.” He could hear the mech breath out a sigh of relief, “You can understand my concern Jazz,” Mirage clears his throat, “I apologize Hound, your ‘divorce’ translates as something rather drastic in our language. Not a separation of legally binding relations.” Opening his mouth, Hound tried to say something before shaking his head, “You know what, I don’t want to know. My divorce isn’t anyone’s business but mine.” “Of course, I apologize.” Jazz hums lightly, “I knew some things would never translate but that was just something else. No word for divorce is nuts.” Nodding a bit, Hound folds his arms before sighing, “Yes, very odd.” It was uncomfortable, so Hound disconnects from the line, dimming his visor to ensure he wasn’t disturbed before deactivating his comm.

No word for divorce and whatever it translated into seemed like murder, setting his jaw, he leaned back and closed his eyes. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his, no one needed to know he was divorced. Pausing, he sighed, he hadn’t set up the time to talk to Mirage about Earth properly. Sparing a glance towards where Breakdown was sitting, it would have to wait. His systems were shut down quickly so he was able to throw his arm over his eyes, removing the helmet and visor. Sometimes, the differences felt greater than they probably were.

———

A/N

I think I am finally recovering from being sick, but we will see. Next part will hopefully be out Monday and I’ll actually get to that schedule that I was talking about before.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @astridkolch @cosmique-oddity

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU

#transformers #maccadam #tf mecha universe #mech pilot jazz au #hound #breakdown #sunstreaker #sideswipe #jazz #prowl #Mirage #bluestreak #knockout #the arcturus missions

64 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 13 hours ago

Note

Can we get a doctor phosphorus X reader where the reader has power similar to Deadpool. Example of unable to die and sometimes has ability to pull things out of thin air for comedic effect

You were a curious case to most, from your inability to die, to your unique ability to seemingly pull things that people needed out of thin air as though by pure coincidence. When asked about how you did what you did, you merely shrugged your shoulders - you sipped a drink you plucked out of thin air through a silly straw- and replied with something that only left the rest of the monsters even more confused;

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the audience reading this fanfic that author took far too long to actually get to writing.’

Many left you alone after that, deducing you a tad mentally unstable, all but Dr Phosphorus who also thrived off of the chaos and unpredictable nature that you brought to every situation you found yourself in. He found comradery in you and your ability to piss of basically everyone by getting under their skin, even him at times but he knows when to laugh with you as while everything that came from your mouth might sound insulting, that’s just how you came across and it only takes someone with a likemindedness to understand when you were being genuine or not.

Dr Phosphorus remembered the first time you interacted with one another when you scared him by accident, making him grab your shoulder with his exposed radiated hand, thinking you’ll die a violent death but imagine his surprise when you only shrug his hand off to reveal a healing shoulder where his hand once was. ‘Is it hot in here or is it just you? Oh who am I kidding it is you because of your…yeah.’ You said as you gestured to all of him and while he couldn’t smile since he was a literal skeleton, he couldn’t help but chuckle at your words now that the initial scare was over.

‘Oh you’re the wise ass who thought it’d be funny to scare the irradiated Skelton?’ Dr phosphorus says as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he took you in and the burnt cloth at your shoulder from his touch, your skin however -now fully healed at this point- looked untouched as though he wasn’t close enough to even hurt you. ‘Who are you newbie, I would think that I would remember a person like you.’ He adds with an almost flirtatious purr.

You smiled as you offered out your hand. ‘Of course you wouldn’t as I was hauled off here just this morning, but for the sake of keeping this fanfic a reasonable length as to prevent the possibility of stretching the readers attention span too thin, I killed a bunch of bad guys and lost a couple of limbs in the process.’ You said as though it wasn’t as big of a deal as it would be to others, ‘people were screaming, I was screaming. and here I am being called a freak, monster and whatever even by people who should probably look in the mirror before saying shit. It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.’ You finished.

Dr phosphorus looked at you then back down at your hand before looking back at you once more, amused. ‘I’d take your hand sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you…again.’

‘Oh then take these gloves.’ You said.

‘What gloves-‘

‘These silly!’ You exclaimed as you shoved a pair of irradiation proof gloves against dr phosphorus’s chest.

‘How did you-‘ dr phosphorus tried to ask, only to then decide that logic wasn’t all that important to you when you seemingly worked outside of logic as a person, logic and sound decisions didn’t exist within you, and it shows in the most subtlest ways that one wouldn’t notice unless they were paying attention as to how you seemingly controlled an unforeseen narrative to your very will.

‘How did I what?’ You asked.

‘Pull shit out of thin air.’ Dr phosphorus replied as he slides the gloves over his hands.

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the them.’ You then pointed towards a part of the room, almost as though gesturing to an audience , only for there to be no one there at all but cold walls. You two were the only ones in the room and dr phosphorus thought he was the only mentally unstable one in this facility. ‘Who are we looking at sweets?’ Dr phosphorus says as he tried to see what you were seeing, but all he could see was the cold walls that he was far too familiar with then the outside of the very structure he was trapped within, which sounded sad but to his knowledge no sane mind would blink twice at the mistreatment of a monster.

‘The audience reading this very fan fic.’ You informed him with a smile before seeing that he had put on the gloves and boldly grabbed his hand, making the skeleton jolt as he then relaxed when remembering he did put on the gloves. ‘But never mind them, it’s good to meet you dr phosphorus.’ You add as though knowing his name without him telling you was all apart of your character and dr phosphorus had to say that he was liking you more and more you spoke.

‘I don’t think I disclosed that to you sweetheart, but it’s good to meet you too.’ He chuckled and in that moment he knew that your relationship was going to be unlike any other. And he was right.

There would be times where all of you were gathered in the cafeteria, where one of the monsters nudged past you rather rudely while sneering at you. You were use to this as technically while you had abilities that went beyond human comprehension, you were still the closest thing to being a human in comparison to those who had physical appearance that screamed monster.

‘Watch where you’re going human.’ They’d spit at you venomously.

You only smiled back at them while Dr Phosphorus looked between the two of you from the sidelines along with everyone else. ‘Someone who’s going to get bitchslapped by a fish says what.’

The bat like creature scrunched up their face. ‘What-‘ before they could finish their sentence, they were then smacked across the face with a fish rather violently as they were sent to the floor. They hold a hand to their cheek, clearly unaware of what had just happened along with the rest of the room, before looking at your hand that was once empty now was grasping the tail a dead fish the length of your arm; which explained the disgusting smell that soon hit their senses a second after they realised that they were hit in the face with a dead fish.

‘Where did you get that thing?!’ They’d spit exclaimed but you shrugged.

‘That’s on a need to know basis.’ You replied as you shoved the fish into the hands of a gargoyle like being as you took your place next to dr phosphorus, who had been trying to hold back his laughter but couldn’t when you were close enough if g for him to ask. ‘A fish? That’s what you come up with when insulated?!’ He wheezed. You shrugged ‘thought you would like the image of someone getting slapped with a fish and so I went with it.’ You explained as though it was something that happened on a daily basis for you.

‘Well it was definitely a sight to behold for not just me sweetheart.’ Dr phosphorus tells you as you both carried on with your day, all the while everyone else could only watch as the irradiated skeleton and you continue your conversation before being joined by weasel who had the fish firmly liked in his jaw.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #dr phosphorus x reader #dr phosphorus x you #dr phosphorus x y/n #dr phosphorus imagine #dr phosphorus imagines #creature commandos #creature commandos x reader #creature commandos x you #creature commandos imagine #creature commandos imagines

40 notes · View notes

yardsards · 3 days ago

Text

also another reason i'm wary of discussions of "female socialization" is that too many of them act like it's a universal experience rather than something that varies widely based on your individual sociocultural background. like, what a girl is supposed to be varies WIDELY by culture or even by family.

like as someone who grew up in rural appalachia, what was expected of me as a girl was a good bit different from girls (even of the same race and similar income level) that i've talked to who grew up in town just an hour away. a woman who could effortlessly lob a hay bale half her body weight was considered a *good* thing here. but at the same time, we were told things about submitting to our husbands that could possibly be described as "some handmaids tale type shit".

(the ideal of a good redneck woman shares a lot of traits with a "pickme girl" actually, though it's not quite identical, and is also wrapped in a layer of *regional* pride/exceptionalism rather than *personal* exceptionalism.) (sidenote i've kinda grown to detest the term "pickme girl" cuz half of the people who say it aren't referring to women that push other women down and degrade femininity. they're just referring to like. a masculine woman minding her own business and maybe personally kinda disliking the colour pink cuz it got forced on her too hard as a kid.)

ANYWAY. this is only part sociological analysis and is mostly a leadup to an anecdote i remembered:

in high school i had this girl i was friends with. classic queer teenage friendship. unhealthy, codependent, being some form of in love with each other, ultimately culminating in an explosive friend breakup. you know the deal.

and at the time (peak of friendship, pre-breakup) my friend had this shit-ass boyfriend. like i probably would have disliked him on principle cuz i was a jealous baby queer but he more than earned my vitriol for reasons i'm not going to go into here cuz most of em aren't funny they're just legit upsetting.

and we were talking and i think my friend mentioned something about liking a big strong man who could carry her, cuz next thing i know i'm smugly looking the fuck ass boyfriend in the eyes lifting my friend up with my wobbly little nerd arms. real urgent "mother lifting a car off her baby" type strength or something must have kicked in cuz i've always been shaped somewhere on the spectrum of "twink" and "malnourished victorian orphan"

and i put her down and the fuckass boyfriend comes up to me and pats me on the back and says "wow, you're a real country gal!"

i wasn't trying to affirm my heritage, dalton. i was trying to steal your girl. (and possibly affirm my burgeoning transmasculinity? but mostly steal your girl tbh.)

#eliot posts

38 notes · View notes

springholly · 2 days ago

Text

Part 1

More Mouthwashing Alien AU? Maybe.

This is the very first sketch I made for it:

The first sketch of the crew:

- Just some simple headshots, trying to get the feel for the characters.

- I kind of wish I had kept Curly's longer hair to go with the late 70s aesthetic. Also, Anya is supposed to have a Ripley esque early 80s perm, that is why her hair is so big.

- These were done without reference so that's why some of them are a bit unclear as to who they are supposed to represent in the story of Alien.

More Anya:

- Flamethrowers are a pain to draw.😔

The aftermath of the chestbursting:

- I really enjoy how Curly's corpse turned out in the fourth panel. I've never drawn a character from that angle before.

How the facehugger impregnation was supposed to go:

- I originally wanted Jimmy to cause Curly's infection to parallel him causing the crash. It would've been an intentional act that would've incapacitated Curly from the story just like in Mouthwashing.

- I however realized that the facehuggers don't exactly cause memory loss (don't believe even Curly is a big enough doormat to let that one slide)

and that Ash (Jimmy's parallel in Alien) wasn't out with the others investigating the signal.

- Thus, I decided to scrap it.

AU infodump:

- The characters are still space freighters working for Pony Express. (Yes, Polle the cat is a company provided luxury. Of course he'd be named Polle.)

- The characters still retain their personalities, for example, Anya isn't as outspoken and headstrong as Ripley, she's more stoic. And Jimmy is still the same demeaning asshole, not a sly british weirdo like Ash.

- Slight dialogue changes to fit the characters' voices better.

- Unlike in the film, Ash (Jimmy) isn't the last minute newcomer, instead it's still Daisuke (Brett). I wanted Jimmy to have the status of being Curly's best friend for plot reasons.

- The ship the crew are in is still called the Tulpar, but it's interior aesthetics follow the retro-futuristic look of the Nostromo.

- In this AU Pony Express has gone under far before the crew is informed about it. Of course, it has been bought out by Weyland-Yutani, and Jimmy has been programmed to join the crew and get into the captain's good graces.

- Weyland-Yutani know about the xenomorphs and want to study them, the crew is to be possibly sacrificed to retrieve the necessary info.

- The crew find the alien signal coming from LV-426.

- Curly is hesitant to approach due to possible danger.

- Jimmy appeals to the fact of them all losing their jobs anyways. Maybe whatever they find could prove to be a big payday?

- Curly yields to make Jimmy happy, thus dooming them all. They go and investigate.

- Curly gets facehugged and falls into a coma, the others (Daisuke and Swansea) want to bring him back in but Anya (like Ripley) wants to uphold the quarantine protocol.

- Jimmy (like Ash) breaks the protocol, putting them all in danger but appearing as a hero to the others.

- The same stuff happens. They study it: acid blood? Yikes! We are not getting that thing off Curly's face.

- It falls off on it's own, dead. Curly wakes up, all's well that ends well. Except for when he begins convulsing at the breakfast table and then promptly births a chestburster right from between his lungs.

- Panic ensues. At some point Jimmy deems the others too much of a danger for the mission and (for a few other reasons too) tries to kill Anya. Swansea saves the day and accidentally severs Jimmy's head.

- Turns out he's an android! They plug his severed head back online and learn what his mission was all along.

- Fuck that guy, we're blowing up the ship.

- Scratch that, Anya is blowing up the ship because everyone else dies.

- Our final girl escapes with the cat and all's well that ends well.🎉🎉🎉

Take a breather, I know that was a lot. I will write some more for this later, going more into the characters themselves and their relationships.

53 notes · View notes

postingjustwhatever · 2 days ago

Text

Spoilers for Sonic 3. This is just a rant. I just really want to get my thoughts out there and everything off my chest because I am just so upset, like really really upset. I am shocked I have heard nothing but praise for this movie. It really got my hopes up. I really didn't like the other ones. I'm not a big fan of the live action plus animated characters combo, The characters still look super uncanny and weird to me. I also really don't like Jim Carrey, I realllllly reallly don't like him. I don't find him funny at all. He's got kind of that millennial humor where it seems he thinks making weird faces and acting goofy is the peak of humor. Idk if younger kids find that funny, I feel like I wouldn't even as a kid. But I especially don't like it now, I'm just old man, I'm tired. I really wanted this movie to be a little more mature. Shadow Generations did such a good job. Dark Beginnings was amazing. I wish this movie could have felt more like that.

These movies just don't feel like Sonic at all. I know everyone gets sick of people complaining about Sonic's personality in these. But I think those are valid complaints. He just doesn't act or feel like Sonic and I don't think anything they do can make me view him as Sonic.

I just can't get over the whole Sonic the other characters being aliens from a different planet thing. It makes it hard to introduce other characters. And it completely changed who Sonic is. And now it's changed who Shadow is. Shadow is now just Sonic but edgy. He's just Sonic but if he got caught and put in a lab instead of living by himself and later getting adopted by humans. They took the Shadow being a darker version of Sonic thing literally. They changed everything about his backstory all while talking about how they wanted to do his backstory right.

It just hurts so much. I know I shouldn't be so affected by this. But I have been a fan of the Sonic franchise for so long and Shadow has always been one of my favorite characters of all time. And it hurts to have had my hopes up for this movie even a little bit thinking it would at least be better than the others and be so so disappointed. Maybe I don't have a right to complain because I didn't actually finish watching it. I started crying and ended up leaving around 45 mins in. Really embarrassing. I just couldn't enjoy it. I really really didn't like the Jim Carrey parts, they were painful. I was willing to sit though them because I wanted to see Shadow's backstory brought to screen in a big movie. But then then they explain his backstory and it's nothing like the games.

He crashed to earth in a comet. He wasn't created by Gerald. Maria wasn't sick. They didn't live on Space Colony Ark. I was so confused. I never even considered that they would change any of this. I thought the gun commander was just lying to Sonic about where Shadow came from so Sonic would work for them or something. But then they show the flashback with Maria and it's still the same. I ended up quickly looking up on my phone it they changed his backstory for this movie and they did. I just don't get why. I've seen people say because it wouldn't make sense in the movie universe because in the movies Sonic and friends are aliens. So they decide to just make Shadow an alien just like them?? I feel like they could have made his backstory work somehow. They didn't even try. Now he's just a literal dark parallel to Sonic. He's always been so but not like this. Do they think the most important part of his backstory is that he was in a lab, there was a professor and also a little girl he was friends with that gets killed.

It just kills me that they changed everything about Maria. She's not sick??? I guess if she's not sick it makes no sense for Gerald to have been researching a way to cure her or anything. I hate it so much. Shadow being just an alien takes away so much depth from all of their characters. Maria is the reason Shadow exists in the first place. She was so important. Their relationship was so important. It feel so much more meaningful for Shadow to have been created by her grandfather to cure her, than him just being some alien she was friends with. Her being sick but also so kind and hopeful was so important. She gets killed by the government when they raided a place that was trying to find a cure for her and she still tells Shadow to protect the people of earth. Maria was so important but now she's just some kid he was friends with I guess. I hate that they took away her sickness and her disability. I loved that the journal that came with Sonic x Shadow Generations portrayed that more. I loved that they showed it actually affecting her. I loved them showing her in the wheelchair hooked up to the iv bag but she was still smiling. She was still strong and hopeful despite everything and she still wanted Shadow to protect the earth despite what happened. And this movie took all that away from her character. I hate it.

Them just living on earth on some base makes me so upset. I was excited to see them on the Space Colony Ark. I wanted to see them looking out the window of the ark at the earth but instead I get them laying in the grass looking at the stars. Maria was so tragic because she loved the earth so much but she couldn't be there because she was sick. They took all of those parts of her character away.

I don't know how Professor Gerald was portrayed all I've seen of him was what was in the trailers and the brief glimpse I got before I left and I've hated everything I've seen. Gerald has never been as silly a character as Eggman. But it seems like Jim Carrey was playing him exactly the same. I assume he changes and acts different towards the end but my impression of him was already ruined. What's the point of him if he didn't create Shadow as a way to cure his granddaughter. It takes away so much from his character. He was also a tragic character. Him trying to do good with his research but then using his creation, Shadow as a weapon against humanity after his granddaughter is killed even after his death is ruined. He's still alive and he didn't create Shadow. I hate it so much. It's not as tragic with him still being alive. Did they have him still be alive so Jim Carrey could play double the annoying wacky roles. Gerald Robotnik is supposed to be a sad tragic old man but all I got was Jim Carrey in goofy looking prosthetic makeup.

Look I know it's a kids movie but couldn't they at least of made it a little less silly. The games were also kids games. Shadow Generation was also a kids game but it did a way better job with handling these characters. Maria and Gerald were Shadow's family. Gerald was his dad, sort of, I hate that they changed that. I guess Maria was still like family with him in this (idk what his relationship with Gerald was I didn't watch that far) but it's not the same.

I loved the Space Colony Ark, I loved it being some research lab up in space. What about artificial chaos, the biolizard, emerl??? None of that is a thing in these movies. It just sucks sooo much. Everything I love about the games is not in this movie. I couldn't finish watching it because I was so upset about the changes. It was bothering me so much it made Jim Carrey so much more insufferable. I am wondering if Shadow still has some connection to the Black Arms because he did fall to earth in a suspicious looking comet. I don't know if I even care because they already took away all the most important parts of his backstory.

Shadow's backstory being changed also kind of ruined the whole Sonic and his powers being sort of a natural force of nature thing and Shadow and his power being a man made thing. Like Shadow is always claiming to be the ultimate life form but he almost can't live up to Sonic's natural talent. It makes their rivalry so much more interesting. I also hate them having such similar backstories here. Sonic is supposed to be unburdened, free as the wind, living in the present, we don't even know what his backstory is. While Shadow is nothing but backstory, haunted by the past and burdened with tragedy.

Movie Sonic is nothing like game Sonic. There is very little that I love about game Sonic present in movie Sonic. I hate that since movie Sonic has a backstory they decided to take most of Shadow's backstory away so he would parallel Sonic. They really just made him Sonic but not nice.

I've just wanted to see a fully animated Sonic movie for years. I've especially wanted to see Sonic Adventure 2 adapted as an animated movie. These movies ruined my chance of seeing that. I thought this movie would be as close as I'd ever get to seeing SA2 in movie form. But there was nothing about it that was similar. Shadow may have the right personality but he has none of his backstory. Sonic isn't anything like Sonic. Tails is Tails I guess. I don't really care much about Knuckles but he doesn't even feel similar to his game counterpart.

I really hate everything they are doing with this movies. It's fine if people like them. I'm not trying to change anyone's opinion. I just really wanted to write how I feel about them because this one really upset me. I've cried a lot because of it. Which is silly I know. Shadow's character was important to me and so was Maria and it hurts so see so much changed about it. I had a dream a couple nights ago that I was watching this movie in theaters. In the dream there was some kind of change I didn't like and the movie was really short and I was really disappointed about it. I remember being upset about it because it sucked so bad. And the same thing happened when I actually saw the movie. They changed a lot and it was short because I left early. I just usually don't get excited for things because they usually disappoint me. I was kinda looking forward to this one and the good reviews didn't help. I was probably more excited than I realized because I did dream about it multiple times. I was disappointed in every dream. Usually when I am looking forward to something I have dreams about the thing where it sucks. I never been this thoroughly disappointed though. I think this is going to ruin my enjoyment of the Sonic franchise, everytime I see anything Sonic I think this movie and the disappointment that came with it is going to pop into my head.

Something that really bothers me is this quote from the director.

They didn't want too many characters so they could get Shadow's backstory right??? They got nothing about it right. I wish they wouldn't have added Gerald in the movie. He felt unnecessary. I would have much rather have had Rouge than another Jim Carrey. Rouge is important to Shadow's character. She was introduced in the same game. I hate that she was just sidelined like that. Them talking about how they wanted to do Shadow's backstory right just got my hopes up too much.

The lead up to the movie made me more excited than I should have been I guess. I preordered Sonic x Shadow Generations when it was announced. I played it when it came out, it had everything I loved about Shadow's character in it. I went to the Sonic Symphony this November. I felt like this movie, even if it wasn't great would at least be a fun way to end all of that. But it really just left me feeling awful.

I'm sure these movies have been great for the Sonic franchise. The money made from them probably helps them make better games. They've probably introduced a more people and kids to the Sonic franchise. I just kinda hate that this is the version they are introduced to.

I'm just so upset but I keep thinking something's wrong with me because everyone else seems to be enjoying it but I just can't. I don't think I am going to be watching any more of these movies, this one killed any interest.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie #sonic #sonic 3 #sonic movie 3 #sonic movie spoilers #spoiles #sonic movie 3 spoilers #shadow the hedgehog #rant #maria robotnik #jim carrey #gerald robotnik

31 notes · View notes

yellowjestertfs · 10 hours ago

Text

Altered State: Part Five

Alright second to last part! Read Part Four, Three, Two, and One here if you haven't. Just a warning, part is more action oriented then the others but still has the same tf and progression elements. Currently I am in the process of writing the epilogue which is a bit of a mess at the moment so the last part might be a few weeks (sorry) but hopefully not too long. Anyways enjoy and thanks for reading!

Edward's mind worked feverishly, processing his thoughts as fast as he could with his 19 intelligence. Part of him wanted to blow off the quest. The possibility of being a level one wretch, if defeated, seemed too big a risk to take. On the other hand, the love potion offered as a reward was excruciatingly tempting. The decision was made for him, Leon scooped him up in a firm fireman’s hold and then still naked, sprinted out the door and into the cool night, moving at a pace Edward couldn’t quite believe.

His strides were effortless and long, and even with the added weight of Edward, Leon made an amazing time. The row of frat houses that everyone called “fratrow” was four blocks away. Leon reached in just less than a minute hardly even winded.

It was fairly obvious which house was Sigma Alpha’s. Besides having the Greek letters emblazoned on its front, it was the only house on the row with loud music and voices coming from the backyard.

Leon set Edward down and it took a few seconds for him to get his bearings. According to Trent’s texts, the Alpha Sigma frat bros weren’t letting anyone leave. Edward had no idea why but he couldn’t imagine it was for any good reason. The backyard, enclosed by a seemingly hastily erected high wooden fence was where everyone was congregated. Two frat guys with their arms crossed stood outside, seemingly guarding the entrance to the backyard, and also the way out.

Just above the fence, Edward could see the tip of a white-domed object peeking out. It looked like a satellite dish connected to the top of a projector screen connected with random metal scraps and duct tape. Sure enough, Edward could see a place on the side of the large two-story house with loose wires sticking out of it where the satellite dish was presumably held before.

The seconds ticked by. They had less than sixteen minutes remaining. “Alright, I’ll check out the backyard, and see if I can get everyone out. You need to go into the house and see if you can find Hunter or Alvis and shut down whatever it is they are planning” Edward said, the pressure making him decisive. As the one with the highest intelligence, if only by a few points, he felt responsible for making a plan.

“You want us to split up?” Leon asked incredulously.

“We have to. Besides you're much better equipped to do actual fighting.” Edward found his eyes drifting over to one of Leon’s strong pump pecs. He suddenly remembered that Leon was naked, a very easy thing to forget with Leon’s Naked Confidence perk. That meant he wasn’t carrying a phone, not that that would have been useful with Edward’s being basically dead. “If either one of us is in trouble make a bird sound or something.

“A bird sound, are you for real?” Leon asked rolling his eyes. The comment broke Edward’s moment of seriousness and he moved to punch his friend in the arm, but then remembered the effect of his touch and thought better of it.

“Shut up. Just call for help.” They now had only fifteen minutes left. “We got to go, stay safe.”

Edward pounded a fist against his muscular chest and faint hollow metallic sounds rang out. “Don’t worry about me.” Then in a genuine tender way, Edward hardly ever heard his friend use “you be safe too. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Edward felt his heart skip a beat. This was not the time to be having these feelings but god damn was Leon good at giving mixed signals. “Bet you I’ll get take out more frat guys than you.” Leon challenged.

“Suck my dick” was all Edward said.

“Fine, but if I win you have to suck mine.” Leon shot back.

“You're so on,” Edward said as the two snuck forward. Edward headed for the backyard, and Leon went up the stairs and to the front door of the frat. Once Edward got closer he could make out the two frat guys stationed at the door. He didn't recognize either of them. They looked young, maybe recent pledges. Edward wasn’t overly surprised when he saw they had floating names above their heads with classes and levels, but he thought it would make this a whole lot more difficult.

Luckily neither of the two guards was very high level. The one on the right had a floating tag above him that labeled him as Broden, a level four Jock. The other guy was a stranger. He wore a suit jacket and tie on top and only his boxers on the bottom. His name was Harold and he was only level two in a class called an Oil Baron. Edward shuddered to think about what type of boosts a class like that would give, though if these classes followed the pattern his and Leon’s did, which was hardly a guarantee, they hopefully wouldn’t have any abilities or techniques unlocked until level five.

Edward adopted his best approximation of a bro walk and strode forward with all the confidence he could muster. The two young frat guys seemed as if they were about to say something but stopped when they saw the name and level above his name.

“Yoo, what are you two bozos still doing here?” Edward asked in a dumb voice. He overdid it a bit and sounded like a caveman instead of a frat guy, but he hoped his high charisma and perks might make up the difference.

The two pledges just looked at him blankly. “Hunter sent you two out to get more duct tape like an hour ago. He’s going to be so pissed.”

“But bro, Hunter told us not to leave this door,” The Jock said, in a slow confused way that made it clear his class wasn’t giving him any boosts to intelligence.

“Don’t worry about it bro, I got it. No one gets in or out, I know the deal.”

The Oil Baron opened his mouth to object but a loud crash interrupted him. Edward suspected that was Leon making his entrance. Subtly had never been his strong suit.

“Shit bro, that’s Hunter. You can’t let him find you here, I’ll cover for you don’t worry” Edward said. Fear instantly burned in both their eyes. Without another word, they both sprinted into the night. Edward waited until they were a few streetlights away before he opened the makeshift gate. The quest “defeat lesser members” changed from 0/26 to 2/26. As Edward watched that number went up to 3/26 then 4/26, presumably thanks to Leon. Edward would have to work faster if he wanted to win their bet.

Inside the party was packed like sardines. Judging from Trent’s texts Edward had expected people to be clambering to get out by the door but most people still danced and drank, unaware that they had been unable to leave in the first place. Edward navigated his way through the backyard. It was then that Edward missed the invisibility of being ugly. The second he entered the party nearly everyone was all over him. Strangers started to grind up on him, offered him drinks, and tried to chat him up. It made moving through the crowd a nightmare. His perks didn’t help matters either. His pheromones caused the people flirting around him to progress to making out and caused those already making out to progress further into outright indecent behavior. Edward did his best to avoid skin-to-skin contact but it was inevitable in a crowd so packed, he heard several yelps as people suddenly felt orgasmic pleasure on their skin anywhere Edward’s hands accidentally.

Eventually, Edward reached the bubble of relative calm around the projector screen. He saw Trent and Tag talking to each other in low voices by one side of the fence, clearly unaware that the way out was open now. Edward briefly thought about going over to them but he knew neither would recognize him and he didn't have time for lengthy explanations. He needed to get everyone out, and quick.

Edward glanced and saw two more frat guys standing by the door to the house while four others worked on the projector, taping wires down to the ground that led inside the house. All six had names, classes, and levels above their heads. Edward stopped walking realizing if he could see their level then they could undoubtedly see his. Sure enough, a level nine Keg Commander started walking towards him briskly. He looked older and in charge, and Edward doubted he could resort to trickery to deal with him like before.

Edward ducked back into the crowd, hoping the chaos would obscure his floating name tag. No luck, the Keg Commander along with two other floating tags, a level six Crypto Bro, and a level seven Hype Beast moved towards him. Edward pushed his way through the crowd much less carefully this time. More couples, affected by his pheromones got nasty with each other right there in the backyard, which Edward hoped would make the chase more difficult for his pursuers.

Edward heard a crash from inside the house. He checked the counter to see it was now at 6/26. Edward hoped Leon was being safe. He heard another noise, like a loud bubbling. Edward risked a glance behind him and saw the level nine Keg Commander wave his hand over a beer keg, the thing started shaking violently before it took off into the air like a bottle rocket.

“Shit” Edward yelled reflexively, diving sideways into a group of guys who all let out sounds of shock and moans of pleasure as Edward pressed up against them. Edward’s dodge hadn’t been necessary. The keg went wide, flying over the party and landing with a bang in the neighbor's yard, spraying the gathered crowd with beer as it flew.

Edward kept moving, circling back around to the wall of the house. Behind him, the hype beast was letting out loud whoops and hollers that seemed to be riling up the crowd even further. The music started to build up to a beat drop and people started to mosh making it even harder for Edward to move through the crowd. Edward spied the source of the music, a giant speaker, at least the height of his chest. One of the frat guys, a level five DJ stood by it, making strange motions with his hands which caused the music to change in volume rapidly in a nauseating way. A plan formed in Edward's mind, with only thirteen minutes left he needed to be bold.

Edward made his way towards the speaker, careful to avoid the Crypto Bro who tried to cut him off. Once he was close Edward rolled up his sleeve and dove out of the crowd, running for the plug connecting the speaker to the outlet. The DJ tried to grab at him but Edward twisted so that he grabbed his arm instead. The bare contact with his flesh and the intense pleasure that resulted from it was enough to cause the DJ to drop his grip. Edward grabbed the plug and yanked. The loud music suddenly cut off, and there was a second of silence as the whole party looked toward the speaker questioningly. Edward took advantage of that moment. He climbed on top of the speaker and screamed a word as loud as he could manage.

“Flee” he yelled, the word echoing loud and powerful as he imbued it with the energy of his Silver Tongue technique. His energy pool which had fully regenerated in the hours he had spent with Leon now dropped to 14/19.

The effect was immediate and jarring. Every single person at the party fled in a wave emanating from Edward. The exit quickly clogged as hundreds of people all tried to leave the party at once. Edward watched horrified at the stampede he had created as students pushed at each other to get out as if death itself were chasing after them. Some students in their haste to get out decided to climb the tall fence, jumping off it into the neighboring yards before continuing to run into the night.

In a matter of seconds, the entire backyard was empty and silent. Edward stood on the speaker, amazed at his own power. Though he had feared someone might be trampled it seemed that everyone had gotten out safe at least. It was a good reminder to him though that he needed to be careful with this power.

His words had caught up a fair number of the frat guys causing them to flee as well. The counter now read 15/26, though he wasn’t sure how many of those he could take credit for. Still, Edward suspected he was kicking Leon’s ass when it came to their bet. He also noted that the quest item “Put a stop to the legion’s plans” was still marked as incomplete, meaning whatever it was they were planning involved more than just trapping students in their backyard. Edward thought of the love potion again and felt a nauseating mix of hope and guilt.

Edward didn't have long to revel in his victory. From the second floor, he heard another loud crash then the unmistakable sound of an Owl’s hoot, or Leon’s best attempt at one, in truth it sounded more like a fart noise.

In a second Edward was off the speaker and racing toward the house. He entered a side door into the kitchen. Six low-level frat guys were inside, protected from Edward’s ability by the thick glass door. All of them were looking at the empty backyard in shock. They were even more shocked when the level eleven Snake charmer ran in.

Edward didn’t have a thought in his head except the safety of his best friend. “Defend me,” he said, embossing the words with another ten of his remaining energy points, leaving him with only four more. Instantly the frat guy's faces went from confused to blank as they robotically followed him into the hallway and up the stairs as Edward followed where the wires connecting to the project screen led.

Edward raced upwards two stairs at a time towards the sounds of voices and struggles. A circle of frat guys, most of them level ten or higher encircled the kneeling form of Leon. Two purple and white bands bound both of Leon's wrists to the floor despite the obvious effort he was exerting to free himself. A level fourteen Pledge Master with a sinister look to him held a red solo cup to Leon’s lips and was saying something in a low scolding voice too soft for Edward to hear with all the blood rushing in his ears.

Edward let out a yell as he and his frat protectors charged forward in the doomed defense of his best friend.

Leon strained at the colorful bamboo restraints binding him to the floor. The harder he struggled the tighter the traps bound him. He activated his Inner Strength ability and wrenched upwards, it was a bad idea. The sudden burst of strength was redoubled against him and he was forced to his knees, naked body beginning to sweat with the effort. Above him the level thirteen Prankster laughed. He had the same flawless complexion as Edward that indicated a high charisma, only his features looked mischievous and impish, nothing like the kind angelic features of his friend.

Leon still found it hard to believe that god of a man he had slept with was Edward. And yet when he looked hard he could see the resemblance. His eyes had the same gentle genuineness in them, his lips, now thick and oh so kissable, still twitched the same way when he wanted to laugh but was trying to be serious.

The Prankster above Edward let out a laugh that bordered on deranged as he watched Leon struggle. He and his other two frat brothers circled around Leon, a level ten Drug Pusher, and a level eleven Vape Mage, moved aside for a new figure. This one, a tall skinny man with dark hair and dark handsome features that made it clear he was also a charisma class, walked forward. His dark perfect eyebrows arched sharply, making him look like a cartoon villain. The floating name tag above him listed him as a level fourteen Pledge Master. Leon recognized him as one of them men who had been with Hunter earlier that day during the with the Dagorhir players, thought he hadn’t been nearly so handsome or intimidating when they had first clashed. Those events now felt like a lifetime ago.

His hands glowed with an eerie brown light then a red solo cup appeared in them, full of a sloshing brown liquid inside Leon didn’t think was beer. “We have a new pledge I see. Hunter told me to watch out for you.” He took a step closer and a strange aura washed over Leon, he suddenly felt as if he would do anything this man told him to. It made him sick, nothing like the warm feeling he got from being around Edward. “You can join our frat if that's what you really want, but first don’t you know that new pledges have to suffer.”

Leon blanched. He hoped Edward hadn’t heard the bird sound he had made when he was first trapped. He hoped Edward would escape now while he could. These frat guys were too powerful, too high-level. Leon had no idea how they had managed to gain so much experience in such little time. They must have received their classes after Leon and Edward had and yet even the two Leon had faced downstairs had been nearly his equal in level.

Leon supposed he and Edward could have been faster if they had been more efficient, and hadn’t spent several hours fucking like bunnies. Still, if those were to be Leon’s last moments on earth he was endlessly glad at how he spent them. He only wished he had told Edward how he felt, though that would require him to first understand what it was he felt, which was mostly confused.

Since the day they met in freshman orientation, Edward had been his best friend, his partner in everything. There had never been even a hint of anything more though. Leon was straight and Edward wasn’t interested in him besides. Now their dynamic had shifted. For Leon it wasn’t so much a big deal he had slept with a man, sure that was new, but his attraction for Edward burned just as bright, if not brighter than any he had for a woman. The part that was making him so on edge was the fact that it was with Edward.

Leon knew with the way Edward now looked he could have any man he wanted. There would be no reason for him to want anything more than something physical with Leon. And yet Leon could swear that he saw something more than lust in those expressive eyes. He knew it was probably wishful thinking.

It wasn’t particularly worth dwelling on though, considering Leon’s current predicament. He had been so cocky when he had first entered the house. The door had been locked but a quick Inner Strength-enhanced kick busted the thing wide open.

Inside were two frat pledges, just sitting in the entranceway as if they had been expecting him, one, a level eight Louisville Slugger gripped a wooden baseball bat in his hand. The wood was a strange ashen gray as if it had been petrified to stone. The level eight swung his bat hard into the side of Leon’s face.

Leon’s whole skull rung like a bell as the bat that felt more like stone then wood bounded off his armored skull. The man moved to swing again but Leon took a step forward and shaved the man causing him to crash back into the stairwell. The other guard, a level six Tattletale made no move to attack, instead he opened his mouth, and a grating blaring almost robotic alarm came out, filling the whole house. Leon dashed forward and slammed his hand over the man's mouth, muffling the sound but not cutting it off. Leon wrapped his hand around the man's throat and squeezed, careful not to be too rough with his prodigious strength. Within seconds the Tattletale was unconscious. Leon made sure the man was still breathing before moving out of the entranceway. The counter was now at 4/26, meaning he and Edward were tied. Leon needed to move fast if he wanted to win and get another of those life altering blowjobs from Edward.

Still he paid one last glance at the two unconscious men and noticed something odd. Both of them seemed to be changing, shrinking. The level nine Louisville Slugger was a muscular dude, tall and clearly athletic. Yet as Leon watched the guy's muscles deflated and he shrunk in height. The level above his head changed to seven to six counting down to level one as his stats drained away. Finally, as the guy started to look plainly average his class switched to one called a “Wretch” and he was defeated further, losing muscle height and likely some charisma based on the way his face twisted unattractively and broke out with acne. The Tattletale also lost much of his charisma-enhanced beauty and became an equally pathetic level-one wretch with his friend. Leon flashed back to the note about the quest being a correctional one. He supposed the two were considered defeated and therefore suffered the punishment of failing the quest. It was a horrifying fate. Leon imagined the muscles and perks he had so come to enjoy draining away and found the thought terrifying. He couldn’t go back to his old life, he wouldn’t.

Both the Tattletale, and the load noise of kicking in the door, had ruined any chance of surprise Leon might have had. He assumed other members of the frat would soon come to investigate the noise, meaning he needed to move. Leon wasn’t exactly sure where though, several hallways with bedroom doors on either side connected to the entranceway, along with hallways connecting to a massive kitchen and eating area that ran along the back of the house. A large lounge for hosting parties or doing school work was to Leon's right, and a set of stairs right in front of him led upwards, presumably to more rooms and potentially another lounge or hang-out area. Leon wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, either of the bosses he supposed. He poked around a few of the hallways but they were all abandoned and all the doors were locked. Eventually, Leon decided he should go upstairs.

That was where the trouble started. Up the stairs, there was a long landing that let off to lots more rooms. In the hallway stood four older-looking frat brothers, all with classes and levels above ten. The Prankster and the Drug Pusher noticed him first, while the Vape Mage, and level twelve Beer Pong Champion stood with their backs to him.

Leon didn’t wait for any of them to react. He rushed forward and shoved the Beer Pong Champion hard. The man went flying into a wall behind. The attack caused Leon to come into proximity with the Drug Pusher which caused his head to start to feel funny, like he was drunk and high at the same time. The effect was unbalancing enough that the Prankster was able to grab his hand. He activated some sort of ability or technique and suddenly through his hand waves of painful electricity washed through Leon’s whole body. It felt like one of those prank hand buzzers only one hundred times more powerful. His whole body shook, completely unprotected by his armored skin. Leon was too stunned to react as the Prankster used yet another ability on him which caused those bamboo restraints he currently struggled against to bind him to the floor. Leon struggled for a few seconds before he spotted an open window that faced the backyard and made his best approximation of a bird call.

The three frat guys looked at him funny but they were too cocky with the thrill of their catch that they didn’t seem to care. They called out for the pledge master who came out of a hallway a few moments later. Now Leon looked up at his eerily perfect face and felt a wave of revulsion and loyalty at the same time.

“Let go of him!” Leon snapped his head away from the frat guy's face as he heard a familiar voice yell. Edward raced up the stairs trailed by six frat guys all also running. Leon could only watch as Edward flung himself at the Pledge Master, skinny body bringing the other man to the ground. To Leon’s surprise, the frat guys who Leon had assumed were chasing Edward rushed into his air, charging their own comrades with first and foot and claw in the case of one guy with the Party Animal class who turned into a puma wearing a party hat before Leon's very eyes. The Vape Mage opened his mouth and a stream of light pink smoke emerged, quickly filling the room and limiting Leon’s slight to only the area directly around him.

Leon could just make out as the Pledge Master flipped Edward onto his back, pinning him. Edward brought one hand up to rest upon the Pledge Master’s cheek almost lovingly. The man screamed out in orgasmic pleasure and Edward used that moment to break free of his hold and flip him onto his back, the two disappearing from view into the cloud of cotton candy-smelling vape.

Around him, Edward’s frat guys fought against their own compatriots. Though they had the numbers advantage they were younger, and less high-level, lacking the truly influential perks and abilities to match their opponents. Leon continued to struggle in vain, wanting desperately to join the fight and come to his friend's air.

Edward’s presence was like a strong clean gust of wind, clearing away the other aura and effects that had been clouding Leon’s thoughts, allowing him to think clearly for the first time since he had been trapped. He took a deep breath of the cotton candy fog. All of these classes were thematic. The ability he was trapped in was from the Prankster class, which meant it had something to do with pranks. Leon looked down at the colorful interlocking bamboo pattern of the trap and realized it looked familiar. It reminded him of those Chinese finger traps sold for tickets at arcades or behind glass counters at roller rinks. The trick to those was simple, the harder you pulled the tighter it bound. All Leon had to do was relax. He let his arms fall loose and felt the bounds on his wrist loosen, he relaxed further and suddenly he was free.

Leon swung about in the cloud of cotton candy smoke. He caught a brief glimpse of a few different frat guys fighting with each other but in the chaos, Leon couldn’t tell which were friends and which were foes. He needed to find Edward.

At level eleven Leon’s Inner Strength cooldown was at 109 seconds. Though he has used it to try to escape the countdown was almost up. Leon waited the last few seconds then activated the ability, feeling strength surge into his body. Leon splayed his large hands wide, admiring his now considerable wing span, then brought his palms them together with a colossal force that would have likely broken both his hands if not for his armored skin.

A loud boom shook the room and a pressurized gust of air ripped from his hands. The force wasn’t enough to do more than startle any of the men fighting each other on the ground but it was enough to temporarily clear away the lingering vape cloud in the room.

Leon instantly spied the Pledge Master and Edward struggling near the stairs, the Pledge Master sat on top of Edward using some ability that made his hands glow brown and seemed to have paralyzed Edward. Leon wasn’t capable of feeling fear anymore but he felt something distinctly like it as he saw his friend helpless on the ground, that and a bubbling red rage he had never felt. As the room once again filled with smoke from the Vape Mage’s mouth Leon rushed towards the pair. He ripped the scrawny Pledge Master off of Edward’s body as easily as he would lift an insect and flung him down the stairs. The man tumbled down, sprawling at the bottom in a heap, out of the fight but still breathing. Leon watched the first level tick away and knew he would soon become a harmless wretch.

From the ground, Edward looked at him with a mix of awe, fear, and relief. Slowly he regained control of his limbs and then sat up and wrapped his arms around Leon, squeezing tightly onto Leon’s muscular back. Leon laughed feeling an overwhelming flood of relief. He hugged his friend back tight, not caring that the skin-to-skin contact made his naked dick instantly hard.

Leon continued the embrace until he felt something bounce off his butt. He turned around to see the Beer Pong Master, who he had thought was out of the fight, lift his hand and shoot a ping pong ball out of it with considerable force. More and more shot out in a jet towards the two friends. Leon positioned himself to block Edward from the barrage. The plastic balls stung but his Armored Skin prevented them from doing any real damage. Leon rushed forward and delivered a hard punch to the gut that finally defeated the man who began to turn into a wretch as well. The counter was now at 21/26. Whatever Edward had done outside and to control those guys had taken out a majority of the lesser frat guys. Leon was so relieved that he didn't even care he was losing the bet. He would be glad to give him friend a blowjob if they lived long enough for that.

The pink fog slowly began to clear and he and Edward were left facing down the remaining five frat guys. Edward’s method of control seemed to have warned off and the two remaining, a level seven Party Animal and a level nine Bully looked pissed. Leon readied himself for a fight. He didn't relish the idea of being mauled even with his armored skin but he would do it to protect Edward.

He was spared the trouble. A beam of purple energy shot from Edward’s hand and into the Party Animal. The frat guy's eyes glowed the same purple shade for a second, then he adopted a look of pure horror and ran right past him and Edward down the stairs, a visible wet spot in his pants. Edward had told him about his new emotion bomb ability but he hadn’t known it would be so potent.

Not wasting the opportunity Leon raced forward and quickly subdued the Vape Mage with a punch, then the Drug Pusher with a knee to the chest, then did a quick uppercut which finished off the Bully who went down to the ground groaning as he slowly became a level one wretch.

That left Edward and Leon facing only the Prankster. The sinister-looking man tried the same hand buzzer trick on Leon again but this time he was ready. He grabbed the man's hand and slapped it onto the guy's own chest causing him to electrocute himself instead.

Finally, alone Leon and Edward stood in trashed hallways breathing heavily. Edward had a small cut on his arm and a blossoming bruise on his perfect symmetrical cheek which gave his handsomeness a rugged quality, a quality broken by his wide innocent grin. “So you want to suck my dick now or later?”

The quest marked itself up to 26/26 and he and Edward both heard a ding as they leveled up.

“You have reached level twelve. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma, + 0.3 Intelligence.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Punchable Face: If moved to sufficient hostility, creatures are more likely to attack you than your allies. Note: This effect scales off both Strength and Charisma. Note: Creatures with higher intelligence will be more resistant to the effects of this perk.”

Leon felt the now familiar feeling of leveling up as each of his attributes increased. The intelligence gains Leon got at each level were too small to be perceptible, though he supposed he noticed a small difference now that he had an 11.3 compared to his previous base of 8. His charisma boosts per level were larger, though also hard to exactly quantify. When Leon had looked hard in the mirror he had been able to pick out ways his face was a bit more handsome than it had been, thought it was hard though to know what was due to his charisma boosts and what was from the changes to his body composition. Still, his eyes were brighter, his features more symmetrical, and his skin clearer than it had ever been before. Despite gaining twelve points Leon didn't feel like he had gained Edward’s easy effortless charm, though his jokes that always sounded so funny in his head but never when he said them out loud did seem to be landing more frequently and he was starting to pick up on social cues that would have once flown over his head. This level up Leon actually did think he could feel something shifting in his face though he chalked it up to placebo.

His strength though Leon was sure he could feel. His body stretched another quarter of an inch taller, and he gained another five pounds of muscle, all packed evenly onto his body. Though he didn't store fat according to his Metabolizer perk his muscles didn't have the dehydrated malnourished look of extremely low body fat. Instead, they all looked full and strong, tight on his dark skin. His biceps were like softballs, his legs were becoming thick as tree trunks, and his abs seemed to only get tighter, six-pack verging on an eight-pack.

Besides him, he saw Edward experience a level-up. It was the first time he had actually witnessed it, last time he had been too busy fucking his friend's ass to see. Now he watched as Edward's already perfect features became somehow more perfect. Leon had thought his skin was flawless before but it now took on a somehow otherworldly shine. His teeth became blindingly white and even straighter, making the grin he shot Leon somehow more adorable and endlessly distracting. His jaw looked like it could open a beer bottle and his hair was so gold it could be spun from hay. Watching his friend change mixed with the proximity to Edward’s pheromones made Leon hard, his massive penis springing forth with the velocity of a jouster.

Leon opened his mouth and then closed it. Edward's beauty had always been distracting before but now he was stunned stupid by his charisma. The act of talking seemed too complex when he looked at Edward so he just sort of moaned and drooled a little.

Edward had that far-off look that meant he was reading his notifications. He looked up and laughed at Leon’s cross-eyed expression. “Oh god. That’s my new perk.”

“New perk?” Leon asked. His face was all but paralyzed which made his words come out slurred and almost unintelligible. This only made Edward laugh harder.

“It's called Dazzling Presence. Apparently, it gets less effective the more time you're around me.” Leon felt himself slowly come back to earth, though not fully. He found it intensely difficult to look away from Edward or think in more than caveman “me horny” thoughts.

“I think it's supposed to temporarily stun people when I first interact with them to give me the upper hand. It should wear off soon. Edward squinted his eyes as if he suddenly noticed something, he took a step forward so their faces were only inches apart, a move that was not helpful in Leon’s attempts to break free from his horny hypnotic state. “Oh my god your face!” Edward started laughing again, harder than before.

“What's wrong with my face?” Leon asked concerned. “I got a perk called punchable face.”

“Punchable face?” Edward asked still laughing. “More like a kissable face,” he leaned in and pecked Leon on the lips, the touch making Leon somehow harder. “Go look at yourself in a mirror.��

Leon had enough control now to hobble to one of the communal bathrooms, he stepped over a groaning unconscious level-one wretch, maybe a man who had been the Vape Mage or the Drug Pusher, it was hard to tell them apart now. In the glow of the automatic lights, Leon saw what Edward had meant. He groaned to himself. He had a serious case of Jock Face. He looked like a cartoon high school bully, with thick eyebrows, a broad forehead, head the shape of a square. The mustache he now had was not helping. Small dark beard hairs had already started to grow on his cheeks making him look like a dad coaching little league baseball who took the game too seriously. Leon felt the urge to punch his own reflection.

“It's not that bad” Edward called from the hall, knowing what his friend's reaction would be.

“I look like a Neanderthal!” Leon shouted back. His body was one thing but he had never expected this class to affect his face so much.

“No, you don’t!” Edward said encouragingly coming into the bathroom to stand beside his friend. “I think it’s fitting. You look like a sexy Viking.”

Leon turned to look at Edward. His presence was still extremely distracting but Leon could now at least have a conversation with his friend. “It's worth it I guess. The perk says people are more likely to attack me now than you.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Alright, knight in shining armor. If I remember correctly you were the damsel in distress.”

“Yeah,” Leon said awkwardly color flushing his cheeks, the blush looking strange on his now hyper masculine face. “I’m sorry about that, I got overconfident.”

“No I’m sorry,” Edward said grabbing Leon’s hand in his own. “I sent you in there alone. That was stupid of me, from now on we stick together.”

Leon nodded wordlessly, unable to get anything past the lump in his throat. He didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, not fear, he wasn’t capable of feeling fear but he still felt anxiety and guilt and a deep love for his friend. Suddenly he felt it all crash down on him. Everything that had happened in the past ten hours. Even with his Animal endurance perk Leon was exhausted. He realized he hadn’t eaten since that one protein shake so many hours ago. He couldn’t imagine how Edward felt.

Leon glanced at the countdown timer and felt his heart skip a beat as he saw they only had eight minutes left. There would be time to talk to Edward about what he was feeling and where their friendship stood after they completed the quest.

The main hallway on the second floor led to a set of large wooden double doors. Leon was ready to kick them down but they were unlocked. He poked his head in and wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. There was a large room, obviously meant for holding mixers and formals. A long bar sat on one end of the room, a dance floor near it. Leon’s attention however was more focused on the contraption directly in front of him.

It looked like a doomsday device out of a science fiction B movie. A mishmash of repurposed tech and scrap metal welded into a crude but ominous tower of technology. Strips of LED screens, ripped from discarded tablets and smartphones, lined the upper frame, flickering in erratic patterns, casting eerie reflections off the exposed metal. At its core was the familiar “Altered State” video game cartridge, nestled in a nest of wires and circuits that branched out to hacked Wi-Fi routers and a jury-rigged motherboard, all held together by zip ties, duct tape and sheer ingenuity. A large fully extended TV antenna was on the top of the contraption which buzzed and pulsed every few seconds with electricity. Leon hadn’t a single clue that the machine did but it looked intensely complex and dangerous. He had played enough video games to know that to complete the quest he and Edward probably had to destroy the thing.

There was something else in the room that caught Leon’s eye. A figure paced back and forth in front of the machine, snorting and grunting occasionally as he moved. Leon had seen a lot that had challenged his understanding of reality today but the name tag above the creature's head sent him reeling. Hunter, level seventeen Roided Out Berserker. The Frat president was unrecognizable. He had always been a large man but Hunter now was a giant, eight feet tall, muscles like swollen overly ripe fruit, huge and crawling with protruding veins that looked like worms, glowing a sickly green. He was naked with an inhumanly large penis and a matching set of balls hanging in-between thickly muscled massive hairy legs. His arms were like veiny boulders, his neck a thick stump, and he had a massive roid gut ballooning out his belly.

His face, never particularly handsome was now a twisted mask of permanent anger, more animal than man, and the spark of cruel intelligence that once lived behind his eyes was gone replaced by a feral mindlessness.

Quietly as he could Leon closed the door and pulled Edward away from it. He relayed what he had seen much to Edward's disbelief.

Edward’s disbelief grew as Leon told him his hastily constructed plan. “Didn’t I just say we were going to stick together? You're going to get yourself killed if you go in there alone,” Edward insisted trying to talk him out of it.

“It’s the only way. Besides you can always step in and save me like before,” Leon joked trying to ease his friend's tension. He wasn’t sure if his confidence was warranted or if it was reckless arrogance from his No Fear perk but he just knew he couldn’t bear to see his friend in danger again. Before Edward could further talk him out of it he walked over to a window and ripped down the ratty red curtain, then he marched back over to the set of doors and got ready to open them. “Be safe” Edward said looking at him with those deep soulful eyes.

“I will,” Leon said back tenderly. He wanted to say more, to sweep Edward off his feet and kiss him but the timer was at six minuets. There would be time after if he survived. Besides if they did this right his quest reward might just help Leon show Edward exactly how much he meant to him.

Leon burst through the double doors, red fabric trailing behind him like a cape. “Hey Hunter you ugly motherfucker. They say imitation is the more sincere form of flattery, but I think for you it might just be fattery.” The joke didn't actually make any sense but Leon stopped for a second to admire his on-the-spot wordplay. Maybe his higher charisma was having more of an effect than he had thought.

Hunter growled and snorted like a bull, staring at Leon with undigested loathing as Leon entered the room. “Me fucking kill you.” He said in deep halting English, like he was Frankenstein’s monster. He and Leon started circling each other like two cats in an ally waiting to pounce. Leon’s new Punchable face perk ensured that Hunter kept his attention on him and not Edward not so subtly head peaking through the doorway. Leon hoped if Hunter did decide to go for Edward he would be stunned by the Snake Charmer's new perk but even so, he was determined to keep the Berserkers attention on himself. Leon waited until he had circled the whole room and his back was to the machine before he shouted.

“Now!” Due to the fast regeneration from his high charisma Edward had regenerated just enough energy points to perform one last Emotion Bomb. A beam of red energy leaped out from his hand, striking Hunter from behind and causing his eyes to glow red for a split second.

Any human part of Hunter left died at the moment as he was overcome by an overwhelming wave of anger and became fully animal in his desire to kill Leon. That was the result Leon was hoping for. He knew he wasn’t stronger then Hunter but he could hopefully be smarter, if he survived long enough. Hunter charged forward hands extended to tear Leon apart. Leon flourished the red fabric in front of him like a matador before jumping away at the last second to avoid the man’s charge.

As Leon had hoped Hunter charged straight into the device Leon had been standing behind. The whole contraption shook with the force, small electrical bits falling off the side. A few of the more ominous-looking red wires connecting to the game disk in the center disconnected but the contraption maintained its structural integrity. Hunter recovered and had somehow grown angrier. Leon flourished the red cape and began to circle again trying to lead Hunter into another charge at the machine. He shouldn’t have known it wouldn’t be so simple.

Hunter activated an ability. It was one similar to Leon’s own Size Up ability except rather than growing in overall proportional size the ability only affected Hunter’s muscles. The veins prominent on his body grew a brighter shade of green for a moment then each one of Hunter’s muscles ballooned to inhuman size, making the man even more grotesque. His dick grew to at least three feet in length and likely would have brushed the floor if it didn't become erect.

Leon hoped the sudden growth might have decrease the big man's speed but it seemed the opposite was true. Hunter charged at him like a bullet and Leon just barely jumped aside at the last second.

As Leon’s plan crumbled to dust he realized once again Edward had been right. His plan, lure Hunter into charging at the device, toppling the contraption and trapping his foe all in one ironic blow, was a stupid one. The device at the center of the room was large but not nearly large enough to keep the now colossal Hunter pinned. Leon suddenly felt like David facing Goliath without a sling. Still, he had to look as if he was in control lest Edward rush in and do something stupid. Leon at least had a chance against the massive Hunter, but Edward would be trampled in seconds with his unenhanced strength.

Leon shot Edward’s worried face peeking through the door a cocky wink and gave his makeshift red muleta a showman-like shake. He thought briefly about activating his own size-enhancing ability and decided agains it, he couldn’t overpower Hunter, not when the man had five levels on him. Sizing up would only make him a easier target and the last thing he needed was to get pinned down.

Hunter charged again. This time Leon moved too late, though he dodged Hunter’s attempt to grapple him he was clipped by Hunter's shoulder as he spun away. The slight contact was enough to send Leon skidding across the smooth wooden floors like a rag doll.

He had no time to recover from the crushing blow. From the floor, he heard the sound of rushing feet. On instinct, Leon activated his Inner Strength ability and launched himself into the air just in time to soar over a rapid charge from Hunter. With momentum and reflexes of the ability, he flipped once in the air before landing on his feet, crouched low next to a windowed wall ready for Hunter’s next attack. The loss of his only safety net for the next 108 seconds would have made him fearful if he could still be. Instead, it made him focused, and ready. In the tumble, he had lost a scrap of red fabric, and seriously injured his left shoulder even through his armored skin. He tried to move his arm and felt a shooting pain, dislocated or broken he couldn’t tell which. He would have to hope his animal endurance would heal it soon.

Hunter’s charge that Leon had dodged taken him right into the far wall and he had gone through it, revealing a messy bedroom on the other side. Leon guessed that once he started charging it was hard for him to stop. Maybe his original plan had some merit after all.

Hunter turned back around eyes insane with rage, spit flying from his mouth as he screamed and grunted unintelligibly. For a moment Leon felt bad for what this game had done for him but then he remembered how Hunter had been in life and felt the pity leave him. “Hey, Cassie just called and she said she didn't want to date an Incredible Hulk knockoffs.” Leon wasn’t sure if it was just the loud noise attracting Hunter attention or if the beast could accurately process the jab thrown his relationship. Either way he charged big bare feet tearing up the floor as he rushed at Leon with inhuman speed.

Leon took a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and gave one final wink to Edward, hoping his friend would remember him fondly if this didn't work out, then he ducked and rolled.

Hunter sprung like a cobra. If Leon had still been there the hit would have broken every bone in his body. Leon however was not there, and instead, Hunter charged right into the wall. It was a testament to his strength that he took nearly the whole side of the second floor with him, glass, drywall, bricks, and electrical wires all fell down in a shower of debris as Hunter fell to the dark ground below. Leon had to throw himself forward so as not to go down with the collapsing floor under his feet. He heard a crash then a slash then silence.

Edward rushed forward and the two of them peered through the giant hole in the house to the yard below. Hunter lay with his swollen belly up floating in the frat's outdoor hot tub, his body having crashed through the tiled roof of the hot tub like paper. Leon watched as Hunter shrunk, first as his ability ran out then as the levels fell away. Hunter began to look like himself again before shrinking further into a scrawny ugly thing labeled as a level one wretch. The quest “Defeat Legion boss” updated itself to 1/2, though the “Stop the Legion’s plans” still remained at 0/1 which was concerning.

“That was amazing,” Edward said voice tender. He looked down at Leon’s shoulder and sucked in a breath. “Does it hurt?”

Leon looked down and winced at the way his muscular shoulder was twisted at an unnatural angle. “Yeah” he answered truthfully laughing weakly. Leon took a deep breath and prepared to pop his shoulder back into place. He didn’t feel fear but he still felt pain.

Edward stopped “may I?” He asked reaching out his hands. Leon nodded and Edward placed his hand on the hard dark metallic surface of his skin. Instantly the pain was replaced with an orgasmic pleasure that felt warm and intensely comforting. Gently at first then harder when Leon didn't flinch Edward wrenched Leon’s shoulder back into its socket.

Leon smiled up at him. “Thanks,” he said simply, he was too tired to think of a joke or anything more to say.

“I should be thanking you,” Edward said cheeks flushing. The two of them weren’t normally like this. They normally teased each other like brothers and let the mutual love they had for each other go unspoken. Now all the changes had them flitting about like scared middle schoolers. Leon wanted to wrap Edward up in a big hug and tell him it was alright but it was clear his friend had more to say.

“Look I know this might not be the time, but I have something to tell you,” Edward said. Leon still found it hard to do anything but think about fucking when he was around Edward but he sensed his friend was serious and tried to pay attention. “I know everything is happening so fast, and our relationship just became physical which I feel bad about. I really didn’t know it was you I promise, but well I like you Leon, I have always liked you and not just in a friend way or a sexual way but also like you in a -“

Leon blinked and suddenly his friend was gone. He heard a faint scream getting more distant. His brain took an embarrassingly long time to process what had just happened. Edward had been right in front of him saying, well Leon couldn’t bring himself to think about what Edward was going to say, when he was ripped through the hole in the wall. Something metal had grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him into the air like a fish on a line.

Leon rushed to the opening and couldn’t quite believe what he saw. On the street a giant thing had Edward in its hand, no claw. It was a machine Leon realized. It looked like it was made from a refrigerator, parts of a playground and a car, all deconstructed and reconstructed into a giant vaguely humanoid mech. Leon felt his blood boil as he saw a red bumper with a familiar license plate. Mother fucker had made his car into a mech.

Leon’s rage continued to build as he saw Edward struggling to get free. His friend was saying something to the person inside but he was too far for him to hear. Leon looked back at the machine still humming behind him. He grabbed a loose brick from the rubble of the caved-in wall then hurled it at the center motherboard as hard as he could, hoping that would put a stop to whatever the contraptions purpose was. Then he activated his Size Up ability, growing 70% his original size, spine expanding, pecs ballooning, legs growing longer and thicker, penis growing to well over a foot long. His strength doubled and Leon for the first time felt the intoxicating rush of true power. He knew he now had to be one of the strongest man on the entire planet. Leon needed more. He activated his inner strength ability, taking his already monstrous strength to godly levels if but for a moment. Leon bent his legs and then jumped into the cold dark night cracking the floor underneath his feet. He sailed in a long ark landing just behind the mech with a powerful earth shaking impact.

The street outside was cold but his blood boiled hot. Leon couldn’t make out the face of the mech’s driver but he could see the name tag floating above its head, "Alvis, Level 22 Technocrat.” Leon smiled humorlessly and balled up his hands into fists now the size of thanksgiving turkeys. He was going to get back his roommate, his best friend, even if he had to rip apart his other roommate and every machine in the whole city to do so.

#male tf #male transformation #musclegrowth #tf #straight to gay #ai image #reality change #gay litrpg #yellowjester #videogametf

37 notes · View notes