#curses of decay AU

[divinities-hymns]

Instead of a new chapter, I decided to re-write an old fic this week :3 “Sickness Be Upon Ye”

"Their hesitant to label what followed as a symptom, as that would be calling their condition a sickness of sorts, but a simple sickness is far to tame to describe what their going through. But whatever symptom, or curse perhaps, had followed days later, started off rather simple."

»--•--«

Four bishops, four curses placed upon the lamb that slowly drives them to insanity

»--•--«

Or, I came up with an idea of the four bishops cursing the Lamb and decided to role with it

Writing this was super fun, I tried to give the Lamb more emotions then in the original version, so I really hope you all enjoyed

[timmydraker]

Thinking about Vampire Tim AU and him saving Bruce via turning.

None of the Drakes are actually Vampires, at least not permanently. It was a very strange instance that occurred out of pure chance and coincidence.

A pregnant Janet Drake in a foreign country having a run in with a starving vampire rouge that bite her just a few days before she gave birth.

Instead of the curse spreading to her, the labour of her child pushed and the spreading of lifeform spread to her baby as it was born. The child looked healthy, had no inhuman features, and they assumed her being so sick was simply the fact she was about to give birth.

Tim doesn’t realise what he is for a while purely because his parents are vegan and, until he was seven and had some beef from a classmates lunch, hadn’t had any blood enter his mouth.

Having to teach himself everything, Tim learned to manage both his hunger and abilities as quickly as he could. He studied history and mythos and did several test to figure out the limits to what he needed and could do.

He learnt that he could heal via blood, that he could go without air for days, and that his hearing was normal though his sense of smell was enough to distinguish blood types.

He learn that he could go two weeks without blood before it became a problem, but if he pushed it past three weeks he would start to experience literally decay.

Tim disconcerted his saving grace was that the hunger wasn’t as uncontrollable as people made it out to be in movies and books. At most, it was just like normal human hunger or thirst, and he was aware there was a huge variable in him being raised rather poorly.

He keeps it hidden for years, but then when he’s nineteen Bruce dies.

Not Batman, Bruce.

They got in a car crash of all things, the other drive running after they drove them off the road on the extremely rare instance that Alfred wasn’t driving.

Tim watched the tree branch in his foster father’s chest for several minutes as he thought about his options. Bruce was dead upon impact, gone with only the last wisps of life hanging to him.

Bruce was a father.

Batman was needed.

Even though it would out what he was, Tim forced his several sharp teeth out, all needle sharp and long enough his jaw had to unhinge slightly, and bit into his own wrist. The fangs, an inch long each, dug into his skin painfully before moving to dig into each of Bruce’s wrist and then finally his neck.

Tim smeared the blood into all three wounds and then squeezed as much as he could into Bruce’s mouth.

He had no idea how he knew what to do, trusting the instinct the curse seemed to just… give him.

When Bruce begins to breath again, Clark finally shows up. It’s been a total of eleven minutes and Tim only realises that the other took so long because he had been off planet, yet he is grateful because if he had been there…

Tim instructs Clark on how to cover up the scene, removing the cars and getting Bruce to the cave.

Dick is freaking out, worrying over his brothers ripped clothes and Bruce’s clear injuries, but Tim is quiet.

He takes Bruce’s medical cot and leads them both into a containment cell and then seals it, implementing his own lock as well as one of Bruce’s so no one can open it. He can hear someone banging on the glass a few times but he ignores it to stand over his father’s side and wait for him to wake up.

Naturally, when the older man does he’s panicked and screening Tim’s name.

Tim smiles at him sadly before taking hold of his hand, which Bruce immediately process as wrong.

“Why aren’t I dead?”

Smile growing sadder before fading to an almost formal look, Tim squeezed his hand before pulling away.

“I know you’ve had your suspicions and I thank you for trusting me regardless, but you are right. I’m not human Bruce, and now… you aren’t either.”

He lets the worlds settle for just a moment before continuing, knowing the other will want all the information he can. They’re both so similar in that way.

“I was born a vampire, I will always be a vampire. I will explain that all to you soon, but what you need to know is this: you do not need to drink human blood, you will not loose control over your thirst if you allow me to train you, and yes I had no choice. Gotham needs Batman and I-… I need my father. I will not apologise for my selfishness, but I am sorry you have to be like me.”

Bruce is quiet but he doesn’t move to kick Tim out, nor does he shout at him or cry in betrayal.

He’s surprised, but not more than Tim had ever seen before.

It’s almost an hour of silence between them before Bruce speaks again, “You… you are actually nineteen?”

Tim scoffs and Bruce glares, which makes Tim smile more, “I am. My body will age until around twenty five, at least that’s my hypothesis. If you are turned you stay the age you were, but I was born.”

Bruce nods and after a moment reaches out for his son’s hand.

Another silence before he squeezes it, “Have you told the others about… this change?”

Tim winces, “I tried to keep us separated because I knew you would worry for hurting someone, but I knew Damian would break in if he couldn’t listen so…”

“Ah. Understood.”

Then, in another rare instance that Tim thought he wouldn’t see for at least another few years, Bruce opens his arms to him for a hug.

Naturally, Tim crumbles into his father’s arms and sobs louder than a war drum.

Bruce kisses his head and holds him tight, a vampire embrace.

[dixons-sunshine]

The Archer’s Girl | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the world ended, you and Daryl narrowly escaped the clutches of the dead and found yourselves in a quarry camp with Merle and some other people. Unwanted, someone in the camp took a weird liking and disliking to you, and it made you extremely uncomfortable. Luckily, Daryl was there to stand up for you.

Genre: Fluff, some angst.

Era: Outbreak day; The Quarry.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU but can be read as a standalone.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of morning sickness.

Word count: 4.4k.

A/N: Damn, I love when two requests correspond with each other and I can get them both into one fic. It’s my favourite thing in the whole world. I feel like Daryl is kinda ooc in this, but I tried to imagine how he’d be with a woman he just met at the quarry and started forming a relationship with vs how he’d be with someone he’s been with since he was a teenager, and in my mind, he’d totally be softer regarding someone he already knows and loves vs one he’s just started getting to know. So soft!Daryl in this, it is! Anyways, I hope you like this!

Barely one minute prior, you had strayed from Daryl’s side to go grab some milk. You had told him that you would be right back, but with all the chaos that had suddenly unfolded in front of you, you highly regretted leaving him at all. With everything going to hell, you could be separated from the man you loved. That thought terrified you.

“Daryl!” you called out, attempting to push past the stampede of people trying to hurriedly evacuate the store you were in. You were abruptly shoved into one of the shelves, a sharp pain shooting up into your ribs. A loud curse escaped your lips as you clutched your side.

However, as you turned around, nothing terrified you more than the sight that beheld you.

On the floor, a woman was screaming in pure, unadulterated agony. On top of her was a man whose body appeared to be decaying, and he ripped a huge chunk of her flesh from her chest. His grimy hands were clawing at her stomach, and with little to no effort, he tore her stomach open. The sight was truly mortifying, and it would never be erased from your mind.

A hand grabbed your wrist from behind. You flinched and tried to rip your hand from the person’s grip, but the familiar voice of your husband calmed you down. However, when you looked at him, you were surprised to note the splatter of dark blood all over his clothes and face.

“S’me! S’jus’ me!” he hurriedly explained. He cast one glance to the horrific sight in front of you before dragging you along with him, the two of you moving quickly. He stopped momentarily in front of one of the shelves to grab two knives, carefully pushing one of them into your hold. “Ya see one’a these dead motherfuckers, ya stab ‘em in the head, alright? S’the only way they drop dead.”

“What? I don’t—”

“Dun’ think ‘bout it, Peach!” he cut you off, pulling you with him out of the store again. “They ain’t alive. The news weren’t lyin’ to us ‘bout the dead risin’. We got a real fuckin’ problem on our hands now.”

Choosing to trust his judgement, you nodded and hurried next to him. The two of you ran down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of your apartment. As you continued onward, you highly regretted deciding to walk to the store instead of taking Daryl’s truck. It would have been a whole lot easier to escape the mess surrounding you if you had a vehicle.

Just as the two of you arrived at your apartment building, about a dozen of the undead people were stumbling out of the door. Daryl quickly pulled you with him to the parking area instead, making a beeline for his truck. However, more of those things flooded the area and a couple of them were heading straight towards you, and it was clear that the two of you weren’t escaping without a fight.

“Ya got yer knife?” Daryl questioned, shooting a glance at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you told him, gripping the knife so tightly your knuckles started turning white.

“Good,” he replied, stepping forward to plunge his knife into the skull of one of the monsters. He withdrew the knife, holding it ready to use at a moment’s notice. “Ya gotta stab ‘em in the head as hard as ya can, alright? Dun’ think ‘bout ‘em bein’ alive. These assholes ain‘t livin’ no more.”

“Don’t worry about me trying to talk them out of eating me or something,” you scoffed, replicating the way he was holding his knife with your own. “I’m not that stupid. All these fuckers are getting from me is a fatal blow to the head. They’re not touching me.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised you with a small smile. However, his attention soon got diverted back towards the flood of the undead stumbling around in the parking area.

As the two of you continued onwards, Daryl repeatedly stabbed the heads of the monsters. By some miracle, the two of you made it to his truck without you having to do anything. However, just as Daryl was getting into the driver’s seat and you were opening the door to the passenger seat, a slimy, blood-covered hand gripped your arm tightly in its clutches.

You let out a small cry of terror, instantly alerting Daryl to your horrifying predicament. However, as you struggled against the literal death grip of the monster, its teeth trying desperately to take a chunk of your flesh, you realized that you couldn’t wait for Daryl to come to your rescue. By the time he would have managed to make it towards the other side of the truck, you would already be doomed. You had to take matters into your own hands.

Shakily, you drew your hand that held the knife back and plunged it deep into the thing’s skull with a sickening force. The monster miraculously fell limp with the first blow, its hand falling from your arm. However, before you could fully process that you had just killed something that was once human, Daryl took your face in his hands and checked you over, his eyes filled with fear. You had never seen him with as much terror in his eyes ever before.

“Are ya okay?” he asked in a hurried manner, his voice shaky as his blue eyes searched your body for any signs of hurt or discomfort. “Please tell me the prick didn’t get ya. No bites, no scratches, nothin’.”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, watching him calm down somewhat. “But we have to leave. Right now.”

“Yeah, let’s g—”

The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the area, followed closely by the rumble of a motorcycle. When the motorcycle came into view, you were both simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see none other than Merle Dixon. He stopped his motorcycle once he saw you, an exasperated look on his face.

“Y’all jus’ gon’ stand there and get eaten or get in the fuckin’ truck? I did not risk my life gettin’ here jus’ to watch y’all become a mid-day snack.”

Daryl opened the door to the passenger side and quickly ushered you in, shouting over his shoulder at Merle. “What the fuck are ya even doin’ here?!”

“Helpin’ yer sorry ass!” Merle exclaimed, shooting at another oncoming monster. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Daryl did not need to be told twice. He rushed to the driver’s side and hurriedly got in, starting up his truck and speeding out of the parking area, following behind Merle’s motorcycle. With all the chaos that had unfolded, the two of you hadn’t even managed to go grab some clothes from your apartment. However, by some stroke of luck, as you glanced towards the back of the truck, you noted that two duffel bags were resting there, as well as a bag with everything needed to construct a tent, as well as Daryl’s crossbow. You thanked your lucky stars that the two of you had gone camping for his hunting trip two days prior, and forgot to remove everything from his truck. The clothes were dirty, sure, but once you found a body of water, you’d be able to wash them. And Daryl’s crossbow would more than likely come in handy.

“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was nervously chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes darting between you and the road.

You nodded at him, trying to calm your racing thoughts. In a matter of thirty minutes, your life had flipped upside down. You had killed someone, whether they were dead or not. The blood from the kill coated your skin and made you feel sick at your actions, but you tried to remind yourself that the thing you killed was not human anymore. If you didn’t kill it, it would’ve killed you. It would’ve killed—

Gasping, you sat upright and clutched at your stomach. Daryl looked at you worriedly, his eyes trailing to your stomach. His eyes widened in terror, his grip on the steering wheel tightening even more, if that was even possible.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned in alarm. “Oh, god. S’somethin’ wrong with Peanut? Did those pricks—”

“No! No, nothing’s wrong,” you reassured him, your hand resting on your stomach. “It’s just... With everything going on, I forgot about the baby. I forgot about my own child, Daryl. What kind of future mother does that make me?”

Daryl moved one of his hands to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the fabric of your jeans. He sent you a small smile, hoping to bring you some comfort.

“S’okay,” he told you. “Yer not gon’ be a bad mom. With everythin’ goin’ on, yer body went into fight or flight mode. S’cause of it that ya managed to keep the baby in yer belly safe. And once they’re here, I know yer gon’ do yer absolute best to protect ‘em. They’ve got the best damn mama ever.”

One month had passed. One month since the dead had started walking. One month since everything you knew had gotten destroyed. One month since you had stumbled upon a quarry camp filled with other survivors with your husband and brother-in-law. One month since your life had been turned upside down.

“I hope so,” you mumbled, resting your hand that wasn’t on your stomach over his hand that rested on your thigh. “I really hope so.”

You sighed as you washed one of Daryl’s jeans, subtly listening to the other women making conversation, the women sitting quite a distance from you. Most of the ladies in the small camp you were in tended to keep their distance from you, deeming you damaged goods due to the people you were with. Well, more so because Merle was your brother in law. You and Daryl tended to keep to yourselves, with Daryl only speaking to others when absolutely necessary, but the same couldn’t be said for his hotheaded older brother. Merle had made quite the first impression on your fellow survivors, and not a good one. And automatically, by mere association, they had deemed you and Daryl the same. Most of the women simply referred to you as the archer’s girl, and you were pretty sure they didn’t even know your actual name.

Most of the women didn’t even bother acknowledging your existence most of the time. The only exception was a sweet woman named Carol Peletier, who offered you her kindness whenever she saw or spoke to you. She offered you advice on how to properly scrub stains from jeans, on how to fix up the holes in your husband’s socks, and so much more than that as well. She was the only one who you had felt comfortable enough sharing the secret of your pregnancy with, and even though she promised not to tell anyone, she silently offered you her support, and gave you advice regarding your pregnancy by telling you stories about her own pregnancy with little Sophia. Carol was your only true friend there, and you appreciated her on a profound level.

Without her, you probably would have snapped at the other women there for the judgemental looks they threw your way, so you deeply cherished the friendship you had formed with her.

The touch of a calloused yet gentle hand drew you from your thoughts. You looked up and locked eyes with your husband, his blue eyes staring down at you with a softness reserved only for you. You sent him a smile and dropped the pair of jeans you were washing on the ground, standing up to face him better.

“Ya know all’a that washin’ s’now ruined ‘cause ya dropped it in the mud, right?” he told you playfully, sending you a small smile.

You smiled and shrugged. “It’s your jeans. I’ve never heard you complain about a little mud on them before, considering those kills you have to skin that stained these jeans in the first place.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, yer right,” he replied, before his smile fell and he adapted a more serious tone. “I have to go huntin’.”

“Again?” you asked incredulously, your mood visibly deflating. “You went on a hunt not even two days ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daryl said with a heavy sigh, fidgeting with his hands. “But that Shane prick demanded that I go on another hunt again for some reason. I dun’ know why, ‘cause we have enough meat to last us another week or so, but he threatened to throw us out’a the camp if I didn’t go now. We can’t leave. ‘Specially not now.”

Your lips formed into a small smile as Daryl’s eyes trailed down to your stomach, his eyes softening slightly as he thought about the life that fluttered there beyond the skin, the life that he had helped create. His very own son or daughter. A small being that he would go to great lengths to protect, even if they weren’t born yet. His little Peanut.

You stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek, before withdrawing again. You giggled at the blush that spread across his face, and you did not miss the way his lips twitched up into a small smile. He could say whatever he wanted, but he secretly loved your little public displays of affection. It was never something big, like some passionate kiss or a full-blown make out session or something along those lines. It was always something small and sweet, something quick to show your affection without drawing too much attention to the two of you. A subtle graze of your hand against his, quick pecks on the cheek, a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, you name it. You knew how to show him love in public without making him uncomfortable, and he loved you for it.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

Daryl noticed and subtly took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Ain’t no tellin’. Walsh demanded that I find some venison, and that might take me a while. Dun’ even know if there are any deer here.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. “Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

Daryl nodded. Stepping out of his own comfort zone, he leaned down and pressed a feathery light kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he gently caressed your cheek. “Always am. And I love ya more, Sweetheart.”

With that, he turned around and left, leaving you standing alone with the unfinished laundry. Watching his retreating figure, you smiled fondly, completely missing the envious looks the other women were sending your way.

They had not heard your conversation, the two of you being too far away to overhear anything, but they did see the way the archer interacted with you. It was so vastly different from the way he talked to anyone, including his own brother, his own flesh and blood. It was clear there was a lot of history between the two of you, good and bad, and it made the two of you a strong couple. From what Merle had let slip in his high state once, the two of you had been together since you were both merely seventeen years old, and by the looks of it, the two of you were still going strong. The two of you radiated love for one another, and that’s more than most could say about their own past relationships.

Three days had passed. Three days where Daryl was nowhere to be found. Three days where you had to deal with Merle’s disgusting attitude on your own. Three days where you had to sleep alone in your shared tent, wishing, praying that he was there beside you.

It was clear the two of you shared something special, a deep, profound bond that went beyond what the naked eye could see, and it felt unfair to them that they couldn’t find love like that. And with the world at its end, they doubted that they ever would be able to.

It seemed like Baby Dixon noticed their father’s absence, and they weren’t a fan of it. For the past three days, you had not managed to keep anything down in the depths of your stomach. Any and all food you ate came right back up again within a few hours, and it was not exactly pleasant. Thankfully, nobody saw you whenever you rushed to the bushes behind the RV to spew out the contents of your stomach, so nobody knew of your pregnancy just yet.

And you had Carol by your side whenever your stomach rebelled against you, so that was a major plus for you.

“God, I hate this so much,” you groaned in frustration, eliciting a laugh from the woman gently rubbing your back.

“It’s what comes with the joys of pregnancy,” she laughed lightly, continuing the circular motion on your back until you felt better. Once you stood upright, she handed you a bottle of water, encouraging you to drink as much as you needed to. “Drink up. You need to stay hydrated.”

Once you had enough to drink, you handed her the bottle again. “Thank you,” you thanked her, giving her a small smile. “How’d you handle it? The morning sickness, I mean.”

“I was lucky enough to only experience a mild case of morning sickness,” Carol explained, wrapping her arm around you and starting to walk with you back to the main campsite. “You know, and I’m not saying this to pressure you at all, but maybe you should tell everyone about your pregnancy. It would be good for Glenn to be on the lookout for prenatal vitamins.”

“I can’t,” you denied instantaneously. “Then everyone will look at me like I’m carrying the black plague and see me as just another liability. I can’t have that. Daryl and I can handle things on our own until we absolutely have to tell everyone.”

“Okay,” Carol replied, before shifting the conversation away from something that quite obviously stressed you out, and she knew that stress was not good for the baby. “I drank a lot of herbal teas when I was pregnant. That seemed to really work for the nausea.”

“Just great,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Where the fuck are we supposed to find that?”

Carol smiled and gently rubbed your shoulder. “I’ll see if Dale has some. I remember him mentioning something about ginger tea.”

“What if he asks why you need it?” you asked hurriedly with worry evident in your tone.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” she reassured you. “I’ll just tell him I’m feeling nauseous. That something I ate isn’t corresponding with my stomach. Trust me, he’ll believe it.”

You sent her a smile. “Thanks, Carol. I mean it.”

She smiled at you before disappearing into the RV, on a search for Dale. You stood waiting outside, staring ahead at the treeline. You hoped that by continuously looking at it, your husband would appear from the trees with a deer over his shoulders, dirty but unharmed. Alas, as you had learned over the last few days that has passed, that did not work, and you wished you could go out there and look for him yourself, but you knew he’d be beyond mad if you did.

No, your main priority was your baby at that moment. Your husband had shown time and time again that he could take care of himself, so you chose to believe that he would be fine. You had to believe that, otherwise you would spiral into an abyss you did not want to go down.

The feeling of somebody standing next to you startled you. You stumbled and nearly fell, but the hands of the mystery person caught you. Looking up, you locked eyes with the self-appointed leader of the group, Shane Walsh. His brown eyes were staring down at you, a small grin on his face.

“Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized, slightly rubbing your arms.

“What’s your story, lady?” he asked curiosly, leaning back against the metal of the RV, his eyes trailing over you in a way you did not like.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, you shrugged his hands from your arms and took a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. You sent him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay,” you replied, hoping that he would end the conversation with that. However, the man had other plans.

“My story?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing with a low life nothing like Daryl Dixon? I mean, you could have anyone you want, but you chose him, the good-for-nothing redneck. Why?”

“Because I love him,” you stated matter-of-factly, sending him a harsh glare that only seemed to spur him on even more.

“Bullshit. There’s gotta be something to it,” he disagreed, chuckling at the glare on your face. “There’s no way that a guy like that managed to pull someone like you. It goes against all the laws of the universe. So tell me, what’s he got to offer? Is he paying you? Are you some prostitute he keeps around for his own pleasure or something? You certainly look pretty enough to have a guy pay you for something like that.”

Before you could stutter out an angry reply to Shane’s deeply offensive, deprecating accusation, a hand gently gripped your shoulder and pulled you aside. Looking up, you saw Daryl, an angry look in his eyes. Without a word, he stepped forward and viciously connected his fist with Shane’s nose, hearing the satisfying crack of the bone there.

“Son of a bitch!” Shane exclaimed, bending over to clutch his nose in his hands. “What the fuck, Dixon?!”

Daryl gripped Shane by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the side of the RV, a threatening glare on his face. Terror filled Shane’s eyes, something unusual for the for the former sherrif’s deputy. Everyone started gathering around the fighting pair, and Carol, who had rushed from the RV once she had heard the commotion, pulled you back from the battle ground, holding you firmly against her side.

“Listen’a me real fuckin’ close, Walsh,” Daryl spat angrily, his voice dangerously low. “I dun’ care what ya say ‘bout me, but if ya ever talk ‘bout my pregnant wife like that again, I’ll do so much worse than jus’ break yer nose. Ya dun’ talk to her, ya dun’ look at her, ya dun’ even breathe the same fuckin’ air as her. If ya do, I’ll skin ya alive and feed the remainin’ pieces of ya to the walkers. Do I make myself clear?”

“Fuck you,” Shane groaned out.

“Yer venison’s on the table. Next time, go hunt for it yer fuckin’ self.”

Without waiting for a response, Daryl shoved Shane harshly and turned around, meeting your eyes. Instead of finding fear in your eyes from his actions, he found adoration instead. You stepped out of Carol’s hold and took Daryl’s hand in your own, dragging him to your shared tent. You didn’t even spare a glance at the people, so you missed the way all of their eyes widened at the realization that you were pregnant, that they had been unnecessarily rude to a pregnant lady that had done absolutely nothing wrong to them. They had been harsh to an expecting mother and father, and for no reason at all. Everyone felt guilty, but the groan that Shane emitted caught their attention once again.

“I’m not mad, you know,” you finally broke the silence, watching the way his ocean-coloured eyes flickered over to you, the confusion evident in them. “Shane got what he deserved. Quite honestly, I planned on punching him, too. You just beat me to it.”

Back in your shared tent with Daryl, you were stood busy, gently cleaning the blood from his split knuckles whilst the man sat on the cot. Daryl was avoiding your eyes, feeling ashamed of his actions. In all the years that you had been together, you had only seen him lash out like that once—one time when you were drinking together in a bar when you were twenty-four, a guy had grabbed your breast without your consent, and Daryl had completely lost it. After that, he swore he would never act like that around you ever again, but Shane had made him break that promise.

“M’sorry,” Daryl mumbled, ducking his gaze to the floor. “I know ya can fight yer own battles. S’jus’... Hearin’ the way he talked ‘bout ya, like ya were some object whose worth he could judge... I dun’ know. It made me pissed. Ya dun’ deserve to be treated like that, ‘specially not when yer carryin’ a baby in yer belly.” He sighed and placed his good hand on your stomach. “Speakin’ of, m’sorry I revealed that yer pregnant. I know ya wanted to keep that hidden for as long as possible.”

You smiled and gently lifted his chin with your finger, gazing deeply into his eyes. “It’s okay. They would’ve found out eventually,” you told him, gently cupping his cheek. “Look at you, always so considerate about everyone else except yourself. You’re amazing, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl blushed. “Yer the amazin’ one,” he countered, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your stomach. He placed a small kiss to the clothed skin. “Peanut’s gon’ have one hell of a mama.”

“And one hell of a daddy,” you replied, bringing one of your hands to thread through his hair. “I love you, Daryl.”

“Love ya more, Peach,” Daryl murmured, closing his eyes at the comforting feeling, his head still resting against your stomach. “Love ya too, Peanut,” he whispered to your belly, and it made you smile.

The serene moment was soon interrupted. The soft calling from Carol grabbed your attention, and you giggled at the groan Daryl let out.

“Y/N?” she called out. “I’ve got that ginger tea I promised you.”

“Ginger tea?” Daryl questioned, looking up at you.

“Yeah. I got a bunch of morning sickness without you around for some reason. It seems like Baby Dixon doesn’t like it when their daddy’s not here.”

“Good,” Daryl chuckled, rubbing your stomach affectionately. “Then I guess ya won’t mind if I stick ‘round.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think about it before letting out a light giggle. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

“That’s real good to hear.”

Before you could respond, you heard the bellowing voice of your brother-in-law. You groaned in frustration, praying that Carol had gotten out of the line of fire, because your tent was about to become a war ground.

“When the fuck were ya plannin’ on tellin’ me ya got that lil’ whore’a yers pregnant?”

Daryl visibly tensed up at his brother’s words, anger flaring up in his eyes, and you knew that another beating was about to commence. “The fuck did ya jus’ say, Merle?!”

“Ya heard me, boy.”

God, you hated Merle with a fiery passion, and you doubted that it would ever change. But you loved Daryl, and you knew that as long as you had him by your side, you could face anything.

Yeah, your little Peanut was gonna have the best father ever.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[hxney-lemcn]

Ancient Love — deity! Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

summery: you find yourself blessed by the God of magic, don't worry dear reader, he'll take care of you.

tw: mentions of death (he speculates about you growing old). Power dynamics once again (he is a literal god so...yeah).

a/n: another deity au fic. Idk why it's got me in its grasp at the moment. Once again, props to @ceruleancattail for the au. also ik in Greek myths gods 'loving' humans was a reoccurring thing but still, for the sake of this fic its taboo.

wc: 0.8k

Master List

This was wrong. Taboo. So why did it feel so right? Why did you long for him to run his fingers through your hair, or to caress your skin? Why did he give in to your wishes? Malleus, the long forgotten deity of magic and creatures of the night has graced your being time and time again. You had stumbled upon his shrine, the old temple crumbling from centuries of decay and erosion. The gargoyles had stared down on you as you entered, depictions of dragons, reptiles and bats laid upon a mural with the paint cracking. Unlike most ancient temples that are uprooted, this one held no statue, only an altar with melted candles, bones, and decaying papers that you could barely make out. 

Malleus showed himself after your third visit. You hadn’t come to worship him, but instead to document the crumbling temple and what his old followers had come to him for. So what better than to speak to the God himself? At first he didn’t tell you who he was, not wanting you to look at him differently or to scare you off. You always had an inkling of doubt about the mysterious man. He had come from seemingly nowhere and his attire was outdated, not to mention he talked more regal than what you were used to, but you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Malleus on the other hand found you quite amusing. You were unknowingly speaking to one of the most powerful ancient gods yet you spoke to him like any other mortal. He had always been a lonely God, even when he was in his prime he wasn’t as popular as the others. He didn’t offer prosperity, love, or good harvest. People feared him and his ability, humans weren’t too fond of magic and came to him for protection from curses or evil spirits. So you, a mortal who didn’t cower in front of him had his heart melting. Your curiosity about him, his temple, his powers, and his past had him rambling for as long as you’d let him. 

Don’t question why you feel safer at night, or how bats and reptiles are more fond of you. Don’t question why people who wrong you never treat you terribly again or how you always feel watched when the moonlight shines down upon you. Unlike how Malleus was portrayed, he was a deity who cared about his people, and you had wormed your way into his heart. Yet he found himself loving you on a level he’s never had before. Your smile warmed his chilled bones, your laughter was better than any prayer he’d received before, your love greater than any worship he’d ever had.  

A deity falling for a mortal was taboo. It was wrong. It goes against all boundaries. Gods were better than mortals, they were stronger, more powerful. A God's only purpose was to be worshiped, they were not the ones to worship. So why, why did Malleus find himself wanting to bow before you, wanting to pray for your love and care, for you to never leave his side. When you found out his true identity at first you were flabbergasted, you had been speaking to a deity this entire time…but that soon fizzled when you realized he was still the same person you had been talking to. 

You found yourself in the ancient shrine more and more with Malleus’ fingers tangled in your hair as he explained why gargoyles stood post throughout his temple. Or the nights that you both shared under the stars as he explained the meanings of old constellations that had shifted over time. Or when he wrapped you in his embrace when you found yourself with troubles, wishing he could fix everything for you so you never had to shed a tear again. Yet he found himself enjoying the moments you brought him gifts, not out of worship, but out of care. Or when you’d be the one to caress his face, or how your hands always seemed to wander towards his horns but stopped an inch short. Or the moments your eyes would take him in and you’d murmur his praises that he always managed to hear. 

Over time, Malleus started to think of your future. Even though you were nothing like his past followers, you would meet the same fate. Your hair will turn either gray or white, your skin will start to sag and droop, your mind will deteriorate, and one day you’ll return to the Earth. A fate that tore his heart apart. He knew he was thinking selfishly, but he wanted to keep you by his side. He wanted to be with you until time ended, and even then, he’d find a way to be with you. And as a deity, there was a way to turn you immortal, to raise your title of mere mortal to deity. You both could rule the empty temple together, taking care of the geckos and bats that resided there. 

What do you say, dear? Won’t you rule by his side for eternity?

[kibermonakh]

durgetash postcanon forced retirement au

" FREEDOM "

Gortash had a bad trip vision in which Bane strangled him with a leash on a chain and at the end grabbed him by the hand, causing decay with his touch as a punishment for failure and for the fact that Gort generally allowed the destabilization of control over the Netherbrain

Gort woke up and rushed into the backyard in the middle of the night to radically get rid of Bane's curse... and the durge woke up from the noise and smell of blood...

[tsukumomei]

AFTER ASHES | Itoshi Sae

Alice in Borderland AU | PART 1

Tags; •fem + afab!reader, •forced proximity (friends to lovers-ish) •nsfw •softcore •sae doesn't know how to communicate •rare sweet sae at the end Summary: when you suddenly find yourself in a deserted Tokyo, where participating in deadly games is the only way to survive, your mind is consumed by one goal: to escape and return to the comforts of the real world. Survival demands wit, courage, and the willingness to face unimaginable challenges. Yet, amidst the chaos and despair, something unexpected happens. You meet Sae. What starts as a reluctant alliance blossoms into something deeper. CW: •wc; 17k •MDNI •aged-up •violence •gore •murder •death games •psychological distress •depictions of survival scenarios •betrayal and manipulation •themes of isolation and despair •graphic injuries •explicit sexual content •coercion and power dynamics PART 2

You were being chased. 

The frantic pounding of footsteps behind you left no doubt, they weren’t even trying to hide their presence. Judging by the heavy thuds, four, maybe five people were tailing you through this decaying amusement park. 

Each breath burned your lungs, the metallic taste of adrenaline bitter on your tongue. The broken key to your escape dug into your palm as you clutched it tightly, cursing your bad luck. Why did it have to be you holding this thing? Why not Chigiri? He could’ve easily outrun them; this was his element, not yours.

The pressure of the past few days crashed into you as you stumbled over cracked asphalt, the haunted screams of distant animatronics mingling with the mayhem in your mind. 

How did it come to this? 72 hours ago, you were still walking the familiar, lively streets of Shibuya, laughing with your best friend Kaede like everything in the world was perfectly normal.

“Come on!” Kaede had teased the previous day, her eyes alight with excitement as she tugged at your arm, weaving through the crowds, her beautiful blonde hair catching the breeze like a golden veil. “We’re going to miss the movie if you keep walking this slow!”

If only. If only that best-friend date hadn’t been interrupted by that blinding flash at the crosswalk. If only the world hadn’t tilted sideways in that unexplainable moment.

Now, here you were; desperate, breathless, and running for your life. Nothing had been normal since that day.

You thought back to the moment you regained consciousness, laid flat on a nearby bench. Shibuya, once alive with its bright lights and crowded streets, had turned into an eerie ghost town. No cars. No chatter. Not even a stray breeze to rustle the leaves.

“Kaede?” you had called, your voice trembling as you blinked into the unsettling void.

“I’m here,” Kaede had replied, her fingers gripping your arm like a lifeline. Gone was her usual confidence, her eyes darting around the empty city like a cornered animal.

You clung to her then, just as you do to her memory now, forcing your legs to keep moving. Kaede, with her bright spirit, was your anchor in a world turned on its head. Two halves of a whole. You’d survived the initial shock together. You’d survived the first game together. You’d survive this, too.

Wouldn’t you?

The snapping of twigs behind you killed your thoughts and solidified that this is reality. You tightened your grip on the jagged piece of the key. It felt like a joke. So small and incomplete, yet capable of deciding your fate. If you wanted to live, you needed the rest of it.

Just as your legs threatened to give out, a familiar flash of red streaked toward you.

“Y/N!” Chigiri’s voice cut through the chaos, his figure appearing out of the shadows. He skidded to a stop beside you, holding out two more fragments of the key. “I’ve got them. Kaede’s right behind me.”

Before you could respond, Kaede stumbled into view, breathless but determined. She waved the final piece triumphantly. “We’re not dying here, not today!”

Relief washed over you like a wave, but there was no time to celebrate. The pursuers were still on your heels, their shouts growing louder.

“This way!” Chigiri called, taking the lead as Kaede grabbed your hand. The three of you sprinted through the winding paths of the amusement park, dodging rusted rides and shattered glass.

When you finally reached the exit, Bachira was already there, as usual, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You guys sure took your time!” he called out, eyes scanning the horizon. “Hurry, they’re right behind you!” To think he still had the urge to joke around is absurd.

You quickly fumbled with the key pieces, hands shaking as you fit them together. It clicked into place just as the first pursuer burst into view.

“Go, go, go!” Bachira urged, holding the gate open as Chigiri pushed you and Kaede through.

The heavy metal gate clanged shut behind you. On the other side, the shouts of your pursuers were abruptly silenced, replaced by the mechanical voice declaring “Game over” and the sickening, wet sound of blood splattering against the wall. 

For a moment, no one moved, the reality settling like a suffocating weight—to live is to take away someone else’s life.

The four of you crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. Your chest heaved, your body coated in dirt and sweat. The metallic tang of fear lingered in the air as you exchanged fleeting glances, each face pale and hollow. But you were alive, though barely.

For a moment, no one spoke, the weight of your escape settling over you. Then Kaede broke the silence with a shaky laugh, attempting to mask her conflicted feelings. “That was way too close.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, clutching the now-complete key. It was over. 

Bachira flopped onto his back with a grin that could only belong to someone completely unbothered by narrowly escaping death. “Man, that was fun! Let’s do it again sometime!”

“Fun?” Kaede shot him an incredulous glare, her voice still breathless. “We almost died back there!”

Before Bachira could retort, your phones vibrated simultaneously, a sharp buzz breaking through the tense atmosphere.

With trembling hands, you reached into your pocket, pulling out the device. The screen flickered to life, casting an eerie glow in the dim surroundings. On it was a single message, stark and bold:

GAME CLEAR7 of Clubs Complete

The realization hit you hard. You’d done it. Somehow, against all odds, you’d survived.

You nodded. “We wouldn’t have made it without each other.”

“Especially me,” Bachira chimed in, holding up his phone with a triumphant grin. “I totally nailed that waiting-by-the-exit thing.”

Kaede groaned, shaking her head. “Don’t push your luck, Bachira.”

Despite the tension, you couldn’t help but let out a small, weary laugh. For a brief moment, the brutality of this world seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of victory.

But as you looked back at the eerie silhouette of the amusement park, the gruesome reality of your situation settled in once more. This wasn’t over. The games would keep coming, each more brutal than the last.

“Let’s get back,” Chigiri finally said, rising to his feet and offering you a hand. His grip was steady, and it gave you reassurance. “We need to get this to Isagi.”

He held up the 7 of Clubs card, its edges catching the faint glow of the moonlight.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

You first met Isagi Yoichi’s team when you stumbled out of your first game with Kaede, a horrid game that left only the two of you as survivors.

Isagi was the one who approached you first. His calm demeanor gave him an air of leadership. “You made it through your first game. A heart one at that, impressive,” he said, offering a hand.

Kaede, though reluctant, shook it firmly. “We didn’t have much of a choice.”

Bachira, back then, was perched on the edge of a badly beat up, ripped couch, grinning widely. “I like them already. They’ve got guts.”

“Guts won’t keep you alive here,” Barou said flatly from the chair he was sitting at, his piercing red orbs assessing you and Kaede. His kingly demeanor added an edge to the room, making you instinctively cautious of him.

As you and Kaede settled into the group, you quickly found your rhythm. You worked well as a team. Your background as a high diver gave you focus and stamina, while Kaede’s part-time experience as a stuntwoman gave her an edge in high-pressure situations. The others didn’t make a big deal out of it, but it was clear that your skills were definitely a significant advantage when it comes to survival.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

Back at your safe house, you sit with Kaede, reflecting on how drastically your lives have changed. You both knew you might have gone insane if you hadn’t found another person that day. Luck had led you to be saved by a group. Still, you’re acutely aware that this community is anything but permanent. Danger always lingers, yet the relief it offers is undeniable.

Then, without warning, a deafening explosion shakes the building. The walls rumble violently, plaster rains down in chunks, and smoke billows from cracks in the structure.

“Move!” Isagi shouts, his voice cutting through the confusion.

You barely manage to grab Kaede’s arm as the two of you bolt for the nearest exit. 

Around you, the others scramble, coughing through the thick smoke and dodging falling debris. You and Kaede are among the first to break through to the outside, gasping for air in the cold night. Behind you, the safehouse collapses further, its frame buckling under another fiery explosion.

Shidou stumbles out, his eyes darting like an animal’s. “Well, that’s one way to clear out!”

“Where do we go?” Kaede demands, tugging you closer to her as the group gathers on the street.

“Anywhere but here!” Chigiri retorts, his reddish-pink hair catching the firelight as he scans the dark streets.

Before anyone can decide, the low growl of an engine tears through the air. A massive Jeep Gladiator skids to a halt in front of you, its steel frame glinting in the orange glow of the flames. 

Its appearance makes it look as though it could withstand just about anything. A fortress on wheels.

The passenger-side window rolls down, revealing a man with sharp, mismatched eyes that glimmer even in the dim light. One eye is a distinct, almost hypnotic green, while the other is a deep, ocean blue. The contrast between them is unnerving, but there’s something about the way his gaze sweeps over the group that speaks of experience. His face is partially obscured by shadow, but his voice is steady and commanding.

“Get in.”

You and the others freeze, the tension thick as everyone exchanges wary glances. The man’s tone leaves little room for argument, but suspicion hangs in the air.

“Who the hell are you?” Reo snaps, stepping forward but keeping his distance.

“Does it matter?” the man retorts, his mismatched eyes narrowing. “Unless you’d rather stick around and wait for whoever bombed your hideout to come back.”

Bachira, standing slightly apart from the rest, tilts his head, his grin faint but noticeable. “I dunno about you guys, but this feels less explode-y than staying here.”

“Right?” Shidou adds, his wild demeanor returning as he strides toward the Jeep. “I love explosions but I’m not about to die all pretty like this.” Without waiting for anyone’s approval, he climbs in the back of the truck.

“Shidou!” Kaede snaps, her vexation boiling over.

“What?” he says with a shrug. “They’ve got wheels, and I don’t wanna walk.”

Bachira follows him without hesitation, jumping into the back of the truck as well. “Guess I’m going too. This thing kinda looks fun.”

You glance at Kaede, who glares at the vehicle as though willing it to disappear. “Kaede…” you murmur, gripping her arm. “We don’t have a choice.”

Yukimiya adjusts his glasses, his usual composure faltering just slightly. “They’re right. Out here, we’re vulnerable.”

Chigiri faces Kaede and nods reluctantly. “I can’t outrun another explosion. I’m in.”

Kaede curses under her breath, dragging you along as she heads for the Jeep. “If this is a trap, I’m throwing you out first,” she mutters.

The man with mismatched eyes watches silently as one by one, you all pile into the Jeep. You end up wedged between Kaede and Chigiri, the interior cramped but enough to offer a strange sense of protection.

As soon as Kaede slams the door shut, the driver with salmon locks floors the accelerator, and the vehicle lurches forward, speeding away. Inside, the air is thick with tension. 

The man in the passenger seat finally speaks, his voice steady. “Whoever targeted you knows what they’re doing. If you want to stay alive, stick with us.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Reo mutters, his tone sharp. “Why should we trust you?”

The man glances back, “You don’t have to trust me. But I’ll remind you..” his mismatched eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Trust isn’t what keeps people alive here. It’s survival instinct that does.”

His words hang in the air as the truck roars down the deserted streets, leaving the destruction behind. You grip the edge of your seat, your heart pounding as you stare out the window, wondering if you’ve just escaped one danger only to run headfirst into another.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

It turns out they were taking you to another safe house. What was once a luxurious resort in the real world. Known as The Beach. The pristine pools glimmer and the sleek modern design of the resort still carries an air of opulence. People mill about in swimsuits and casual clothing, but the carefree appearance felt like a facade. 

The atmosphere is heavy with tension, the invisible threads of hidden agendas simmer beneath the surface, you had just gotten there, but that much is obvious.

Your getaway driver from earlier, who introduces himself as Sendou, walks alongside you and Kaede, guiding you toward the heart of the Beach. It’s unbelievable how he’s unable to hide the fact that he has a thing for Kaede.

He’s grinning, his easy going demeanor the exact opposite of the nerves shivering in your chest and sweaty hands. “Welcome to the Beach,” he says, gesturing to the bustling crowd. “It’s not much, but it’s home, at least for me.”

At the center of it all stands Ego Jinpachi, the enigmatic leader of the Beach. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and sunglasses, he exudes control and intellect. His assertive tone cuts through the murmurs as he addresses the crowd from a raised platform.

“I created the Beach to bring order to the chaos of the Borderland,” Ego declares, his voice rising with conviction. “Here, we don’t rely on blind luck or brute force. We rely on strategy, intelligence, and teamwork. But none of that matters if you don’t recognize your own worth. You must believe in your ability to rise above the games. Because if you don’t, you’re already dead.”

If you’re being completely honest, you have no idea what this man is going on about—Ego this, Ego that. Sure, you get that he’s trying to give a pep talk to lift the spirits of a crowd that’s clearly beaten down, but wow, he does get carried away.

Beside him, Anri Teieri speaks next, her calm tone providing balance to Ego’s uncompromising tone. “The Beach’s structure is designed to give everyone a chance to survive,” she explains. “But cooperation and loyalty are non-negotiable.”

She pauses, letting the weight of her words settle before continuing. “There’s one more rule,” she says, her voice steady but firm. “All participants must adhere to the dress code. That means beach attire—swimsuits, casual clothing, leaves little to the imagination.”

The murmurs in the crowd grow louder, confusion and unease rippling through the participants. Anri doesn’t flinch, her gaze unwavering, determined. “The reason is simple,” she explains. “It ensures transparency and trust. No one can hide guns, knives, or any other weapons in beach clothes. This rule is about survival. The fewer opportunities for treachery, the safer we all are.”

Sendou gestures toward the raised platform where the Beach’s most prominent figures stand. “Let me give you a quick rundown,” he says, leaning in. “These are the big shots, the ones who keep this place running. Knowing who’s who can mean the difference between survival and, well, death.”

He nods toward the man who saved you all earlier, the one with the mismatched eyes. He was leaning casually against the railing. “That’s Oliver Aiku. Looks chill, doesn’t he? Don’t let it fool you, he’s got a brain that works faster than most, and he’s the guy you want on your side in a tight spot. If you’re lucky, he might even flash you that charming grin of his.” Kaede isn’t impressed.

Next, Sendou gestures toward the man with bleach-blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, and a self-assured smirk. “That one? That’s Michael Kaiser. The ‘I’m better than you’ aura? Yeah, that’s not just for show. He’s got a sharp tongue to match his sharp mind, and he doesn’t care who knows it. You’ll know you’ve done something right if he even acknowledges you exist.”

Sendou’s hand shifts to the figure standing close to Kaiser. “And that’s Alexis Ness, the guy with purple hair and a quiet vibe. Don’t underestimate him, he’s really loyal to everything that Kaiser does. When you deal with Kaiser, you’re dealing with Ness too.”

He then points to a man with tan skin and a buzz cut. “That’s Julian Loki, the ‘God Sprinter.’ When it comes to spade games, he’s the best there is. Fast on his feet and  always one step ahead.”

Finally, his gaze lands on a towering figure with distinctive gold teeth (actual gold), exuding a laid-back demeanor. “And that’s Don Lorenzo. Big, quiet, and scary as hell when he wants to be. He’s the enforcer here, the guy who makes sure no one steps out of line. If you’re smart, you won’t give him a reason to look your way.”

Sendou pauses, his grin faltering slightly as his tone grows colder. “And then, there’s him.” He gestures to a figure seated at the edge of the group, his posture relaxed, but his presence commanding. His reddish-brown hair catches the light, his sharp gaze fixed like he owns the place.

“See that guy with the thick under lashes? Sae Itoshi. Quiet, deadly smart, and not someone you want to mess with. His eyes? They’re already sizing you up, figuring out what you’re worth before you even open your mouth.”

Sendou’s expression darkens, a trace of bitterness slipping through. “Sae doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He’s the type who’d throw you to the wolves if it benefitted him. Arrogant prick thinks he’s better than the rest of us, and honestly? He probably is, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying.” 

He shakes his head, as if trying to shrug off his own words. “Trust me, if you can avoid dealing with him, do it. Life’s easier that way.”

Sendou steps back, folding his arms as he surveys the group. “That’s the crew keeping the Beach alive. Stick to the rules, show your worth, and you might just make it out of this place in one piece. But cross any of them?” He whistles low, shaking his head. “Well, you won’t be around long enough to regret it.”

You take a mental note on each executive, their demeanor, and the subtle dynamics among them. However, as Ego’s commanding voice thundered across the gathering, your focus began to waver. Not out of disinterest, but because your gaze had been drawn to someone among the Beach’s elite.

Seated near the edge of the platform, he was striking, like his face had been carved with meticulous precision. Itoshi Sae had an air of unshakable confidence. 

Despite the chaos of the Beach, he remained unbothered, like none of it mattered enough to warrant his full attention.

His mere presence seemed to create a gravitational pull of a sort, and before you realized it, you were caught staring. How does someone carry themselves like that? you thought, barely processing Kaede nudging you to pay attention to Ego’s speech. Sae’s gaze flicked across the crowd like a predator surveying prey, but there was no malice in his eyes. Just cold detachment.

You knew better than to let anyone at the Beach intimidate you, but he wasn’t intimidating. No, he was something else; aloof, perhaps? The kind of person who made you want to know more, even if you sensed that getting too close might burn you.

“Y/N.”

Kaede’s sharp whisper pulled you out of your thoughts. You blinked and realized Ego was looking directly at you now, waiting for an answer to a question you hadn’t even listened to. Heat rushed to your face as you forced your attention back to the leader’s speech, inwardly cursing yourself for getting so distracted.

Still, as Kaede elbowed you again, mouthing, focus, you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker towards the redhead one more time. He was watching Ego now, his expression unchanged, and utterly captivating.

As the crowd disperses, Ego’s sharp eyes land on you and Kaede. He gestures for the two of you to approach, and now you wonder where the boys had gone? Heart pounding, you step forward, Kaede close beside you.

“New arrivals,” Ego says, his tone neutral but probing. “What do you bring to the Beach?”

Kaede speaks first, steady despite the weight of his attention. “We’ve survived five games so far. We���re quick thinkers and adaptable.” A very basic textbook answer, but you figured it was better than just keeping your mouth shut.

Ego’s lips curl into a faint smirk. “Adaptability is a good start,” he says. “But remember, knowing your worth isn’t just about survival. It’s about domination. If you don’t seize control of your narrative, someone else will.”

You exchange a glance with Kaede, both of you silently resolving to prove your place here. As the Beach’s dynamics unfold, one thing is for sure; Ego’s philosophy of self-worth and survival will test every fiber of your being.

The blonde man, who you understood to be Kaiser, strides forward before anyone can speak, his icy blue eyes locking onto you with an intensity that sends a jolt through your chest. His lips curled into a playful grin but all you could notice was the distinct blue rose tattoo that adorned his neck.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice smooth and teasing. “I didn’t expect the Beach to get so much brighter today. Tell me, are you here to play the games, or just to distract the rest of us?”

Kaede stiffens beside you, protective instincts flaring, but you keep your composure. “I’m here to survive, just like everyone else,” you reply firmly, refusing to let him get under your skin.

Kaiser chuckles, clearly enjoying the exchange. “I like that fire! Don’t lose it, it’s rare around here.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “But if you ever need an ally, I can make things… interesting for you.”

Ness sighs softly, his gaze sharp as it flickers between you and Kaiser. “Kaiser,” he murmurs, his tone holding a note of warning.

Kaiser smirks but steps back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. “Think about it,” he says before turning away.

Kaede leans in, whispering sharply, “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” you mutter, catching a glimpse of the executive with reddish hair making his exit.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

The nearby river feels like an entirely different world, away from the city chaos. The stars sparkle brightly in the cloudless sky, untouched by the glare of city lights. 

You stand at the edge, mindlessly skipping stones, each bounce rippling across the water's surface.

Despite the hope that the presence of companions can provide, moments like these remind you of the need for solitude. 

In the real world, this place would be off-limits—a restricted area—but that never stopped you from sneaking in at night. Here, the only sounds were the soft splashes of stones meeting shallow water, a perfect place to clear your thoughts.

You were distraught. Grief clings to you like a second skin. The pain of witnessing death after death, the desperation etched on the faces of those who gave up, and the stifling feeling of uncertainty. You were a med student just fresh out of university, with dreams and plans that now felt like whispers from some past life. This was your life now.

The questions flood your mind, relentless and unanswered. Where are you? Did some God pluck "chosen" people and leave the rest behind? Had the rest of the world simply ceased to exist, or was this some distant, desolate future where humanity had burned itself out? Did you travel through time? There was no logical reasoning for any of this. All these theories haunted you until it was cut off by a voice you had never expected to hear so close to you.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he called out to you, carrying a tinge of curiosity.

Startled, you turned to see Itoshi Sae himself standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets. 

His calm presence was almost jarring against the backdrop of your inner turmoil. After remembering Sendou’s description of this man, you opted to be casual, respectful but not too friendly. “Something like that,” you reply, turning back to throw the pebble in your hand. “It’s hard to relax in a place like this.”

Sae steps closer, his movements measured, until he’s standing beside you. His gaze follows yours, scanning the city lights that flicker like dying embers.

“You get used to it,” he says, his tone devoid of comfort but not entirely unkind.

There’s a sharpness to him, a precision that feels as if it could cut through the hardest of stones. But beneath that, you catch glimpses of something else, something you couldn’t quite explain. 

If you had just nodded at him, you knew there'd be a 99% chance he wouldn't ask a follow up question, but against your better judgement, you keep the conversation flowing. “Do you ever think about what’s next?” you ask softly, breaking the silence.

Sae doesn’t answer immediately. “No point in dwelling on it. What matters is surviving the next game.”

His pragmatism doesn’t surprise you, but it frustrates you nonetheless. “And after that? Do you even want to go back to the real world?”

This time, Sae turns his head to look at you. “Does it matter?” he counters. “The real world wasn’t much better than this one.”

You frown, his words striking a chord. “That’s not true for everyone. Some of us have people waiting for us out there. Lives we want to return to.”

Sae’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he looks away, his jaw tightening. “That’s a dangerous mindset to have here. Hope gets people killed.”

His words ignite a spark of defiance in you. “Hope is what’s keeping me alive.”

For the first time, Sae’s lips twitch, almost forming a smirk. It’s not mocking, though, if anything, it feels as if… he’s impressed.

“You’re stubborn,” he remarks, his tone neutral but carrying a trace of amusement.

“And you’re cynical,” you shoot back, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Word of advice, Miss?” Sae asks, his voice casual but laced with an unspoken question.

You pause for a moment, then give a slight nod, understanding the subtle request. “Oh, it’s Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

“Miss Y/n,” he repeats, testing the sound of your name, and there was no reason for it to sound that nice rolling off his lips.. "Don’t let your guard down," he says, his tone steady, “even out here” more of a warning than just a statement.

You meet his gaze, nodding in acknowledgment, but you don’t say anything. It’s enough that you understand. And just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone on the riverside. The faint echo of his footsteps fades, but his words linger, intertwining with the stillness of the night.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

The air felt heavy as you stepped out of your room. You had to wear a swimsuit as per the beach’s rules so now you were donning a dark blue two-piece. As a former high diving athlete, you were used to wearing little to no clothing but it still felt uncomfortable in a place that attempted to claim your life every time,  so you decided to drape yourself with a thin, white cover-up.

The lingering buzz of last night's encounter with Itoshi Sae stayed in your thoughts. Shaking the distraction from your mind, you focused on what lay ahead.

Ego’s summons had come at sunrise, summoning all of you to the main hall. He stood at the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, with Anri by his side. His voice rang out, sharp and calculated. “Today, we move forward with strategic assignments. Each of you will participate in a game tailored to your potential. Success strengthens the Beach, and failure...” 

He paused, his glasses catching the light ominously. “...is not an option.”

Kaede, standing beside you, shifted uneasily. “They’re really splitting us up,” she murmured under her breath.

You didn’t reply, your stomach twisting as Ego continued.

The room buzzed with soft murmurs as people digested the assignments. Some whispered reassurances to their teammates, and others exchanged uneasy glances.

Itoshi Sae, as usual, stood apart from the group, his detached expression giving him an almost otherworldly air. He gave the list a brief, disinterested glance before turning to leave, exuding an air of quiet authority that seemed to draw attention effortlessly.

Kaede leaned closer. “I’ve got Aiku, and you’ve got…” She trailed off, following your gaze to where Sae had been standing. “...That guy.”

You tore your eyes away from him, giving her a small shrug. “Yeah. Lucky me.”

Kaede tilted her head. “Just stay on your toes. He seems… intense. Hot, but intimidating.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, trying to muster confidence. “Just focus on your own game.”

She gave you a lopsided smile, though the concern in her eyes lingered. “Deal. But you owe me a debrief after.”

“And you?” you countered, the thought of her under Aiku’s command making you uneasy.

Kaede smirked, the shadow of her usual bravado returning. “Aiku’s charming, but I’ll be fine.”

As the crowd began to break apart, you both exchanged a quick nod, a silent promise to make it through the day.

You found Sae waiting near the lobby, his tall, lean frame leaning casually against a pillar. Dressed in a white, button down shirt, the sharp angles of his features were only emphasized by the dim light. His teal eyes locked onto you as you approached, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“You’re here,” he said simply, pushing off the pillar with a fluid motion. “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

His tone was as detached as ever, but the way his gaze lingered on you betrayed a flicker of acknowledgment.

“Do you even know what we’re walking into?” you asked, trying to mask your nerves.

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’ll either keep up or you won’t.”

Annoyance flickered within you, but you swallowed it down. “I’ll hold my own.”

He regarded you for a moment, his expression neutral. “We’ll see.”

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

The meeting point for the game was deep in the woods, where a cliff loomed over a crystal-clear lake. The stillness of the forest made the setting almost serene, but the stark drop of the cliff and the ominous instructions on the digital board at its base shattered any illusions of peace.

Sae stood at the edge of the cliff, his features lit by the soft light filtering through the trees. His piercing gaze flicked from the board to the lake below, then back to the group. He hadn't spoken much since you arrived, but his quiet, commanding presence spoke volumes.

The other participants—Renji, Ayaka, Kaito, and Yumi—gathered near the base of the cliff, their faces a mix of unease and dread. Renji, tall and broad-shouldered, paced anxiously, while Ayaka clung to her jacket, her eyes nervously darting toward the drop. Kaito, who had seemed confident at first, now wore a deep frown, while Yumi, silent and trembling, struggled to mask her fear.

The holographic screen flickered and steadied, displaying the game rules:

5 of Diamonds: The Plunge

Setup: A button is located at the bottom of the lake, 20 meters deep. Pressing this button will deactivate the laser blocking access to the pathway on the shore, which must be solved to escape. A single participant must dive from the cliff into the lake and press the button.

Conditions: Only one participant can activate the underwater button. Time limit: 20 minutes. If the button is not pressed, or the number panel is not solved within the time limit, all participants will be eliminated.

The mechanical voice echoed through the clearing: “Select the participant to perform the dive.”

The tension in the air was palpable. Renji stepped back, shaking his head. "No way. That’s too much. I’m not risking my life like that."

Ayaka winced. "I can't swim well enough for this… I'd only slow everyone down."

Kaito crossed his arms, trying to mask his nervousness with bravado. "Look, I'm a decent swimmer, but that’s a long way down. If I panic, we’re done for."

You were genuinely appalled by this game; there was no reason for it to be classified as a diamond when it so clearly demanded physical dexterity—high diving, the skill you excelled in particularly. In this world, you’d learned to be cautious about revealing your strengths too soon, because your allies could easily become your enemy overnight—a lesson you learned the hard way when Kuon betrayed your former team.

The others looked desperate, their eyes darting around, but no one dared to step forward. The weight of their indecision pressed heavily on your chest, tightening the air around you. At the edge of the group, Sae stood still, watching, calculating. You could tell he’d already set a mental timer, ready to step in if no one volunteered.

But you weren’t naïve. This wasn’t just a test of courage; this was a test to all of you. This setup was all a part of Ego’s plan. This was your chance to prove your worth to the beach’s executive.

Before the silence could stretch any further, you stepped forward. "I’ll do it."

All eyes turned to you. Renji looked surprised, Kaito skeptical, Ayaka relieved, and Yumi scared.

Sae's gaze settled on you. "You?"

"I’m a high diver, I know the form." you said firmly, meeting his piercing eyes. "I can handle this."

Sae stood, scrutinizing you. "You understand the consequences if you fail?"

You nodded, your eyes unwavering. "I understand."

"Then don’t." His words were simple, yet carried the weight of command.

The words hit harder than expected, but you didn’t flinch. Taking a deep breath, you moved to the edge of the cliff. There was no need to strip down; the bikini you wore was already practical for the dive. The murmurs from the group faded into a dull hum, the pounding of your heart the only sound in your ears.

For a moment, you froze, staring down at the lake. The faint glimmer of the metallic button at the bottom felt like a distant star, unreachable. 

The stakes were impossibly higher than anything you’d ever faced before. Fear clawed at the edges of your resolve, but you clenched your fists, trying to force the doubt away. You can do this. You’ve trained for this. This is just like the nationals, only colder, higher, and with no room for error. You’ve got this.

The wind whipped around you, tugging at your clothes as if trying to pull you back, but you planted your feet firmly. The world around you seemed to shrink until there was only the abyss in front of you and the target at the bottom of the lake.

With a final, steadying breath, you silenced every doubt and counted to three. Then, without hesitation, you launched yourself forward, leaving the solid ground behind cutting through the air in a smooth arc. 

Plunging into the void below with precise, practiced grace, the splash barely audible over the sound of the group’s frantic breathing.

The lake was darker than it had seemed from above, the sunlight barely piercing the surface. You kicked downward, your lungs burning as you searched for the button. Finally, your hand brushed against the cold metal. You worked quickly, your fingers trembling as you pressed it.

From the cliff, the others rushed down the shore toward the number panel. Renji’s and Ayaka’s cheers barely registered as you swam toward the shore, your arms trembling with exhaustion.

Sae stood there, his sharp eyes watching as you pulled yourself out of the water. His expression was as composed as ever, but there was a faint glimmer of approval in his gaze.

Renji, Ayaka, Kaito, and Yumi gathered around you, their relief palpable. "You were incredible," Ayaka said, her voice shaking.

The tension from earlier had faded, replaced with a moment of shared relief, though the game was far from over.

The number panel needed a 6 digit number as the code, only flashing the following symbols as a clue: ◆-⏲-↕

Sae’s gaze flicked over the symbols. This was a level 5 diamond game, after all, and he knew the answer immediately. But before he could speak, Yumi suddenly slipped, losing her footing on the rocky shore. Her scream echoed in the air as she fell into the lake with a splash.

Without a second thought, you dove back into the water, quickly focused on reaching Yumi. The cold water was a shock again, but you pushed through it. Yumi was struggling beneath the surface, thrashing as she tried to stay afloat. You reached her, grabbing her tightly and pulling her toward the shore.

But as you made your way back, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your foot. You tried to shift, but the rocks beneath you were unstable, and your foot became wedged between two heavy stones. The pain was intense, and it felt like the world was closing in.

With every effort to free yourself, the water began to overwhelm you. You gasped for air, but your head felt heavy. Your body was giving out. The heaviness of the lake, the pressure in your chest, and the darkness creeping at the edges of your vision were too much.

Then, everything went black.

The group stood on the rocky shore, the tension thick as Yumi sputtered and coughed, water pouring from her lungs. She had barely been pulled from the lake, her body trembling from the cold and the near-drowning. Renji and Ayaka crouched beside her, trying to help her sit up, while Kaito paced nervously, his eyes darting toward the dark, rippling water.

"Are you okay?" Ayaka asked, her voice tinged with panic.

Yumi waved her off weakly, water streaming from her mouth as she struggled to catch her breath. "I..." she started, only to be overtaken by another fit of coughing.

Sae stood nearby, his expression cold but his sharp eyes locked on Yumi, watching her closely. "Spit it out," he ordered, his tone cutting like a blade.

Yumi coughed again, clutching her chest as she finally managed to speak. "Y/n…" she gasped, her words broken. "She… she’s stuck!"

The group froze.

"What do you mean, stuck?" Kaito demanded, his voice rising in alarm.

Yumi shook her head, struggling to get the words out. "The rocks... under the water," she stammered, her voice hoarse. "They're falling apart… trapping her… she can’t get out!"

Ayaka let out a horrified gasp, covering her mouth with trembling hands. "Oh my god. She went back for you," she whispered.

Renji stood abruptly, panic flashing across his face. "What do we do? We can’t just—"

Sae cut him off, his voice sharp and commanding. "Enough." His patience had worn thin. Not only were the others incompetent; they were actively ruining their chances of survival. And now, their uselessness was putting the only other capable member of the group at risk. 

He barely restrained the insult that threatened to escape his lips, his jaw tightening with the effort of doing so.

But his tone left no room for debate, “The code is 056020. Go.” There was no hesitation, he didn’t even wait for their acknowledgement, already turning towards the lake.

The group exchanged uneasy glances, their fear mounting as Sae began peeling off his shirt, his expression colder and more resolute than ever. The intensity in his eyes silenced any protests before they could form.

"You stay here," he commanded, fixing them with a glare that made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate dissent. "She doesn’t have time for your panic."

Renji, Ayaka, and Kaito scrambled toward the number panel, their hands trembling as they keyed in the code. The pressure of the timer and Sae’s scornful words hung heavy over them.

Without another word, he dove into the lake. The cold didn’t faze him. The lake seemed to swirl and writhe around him as he dove deeper, and in moments, his hand gripped your unconscious form. He pushed the rocks away from you, caring not to graze your bleeding leg any further as he tugged you closer.

He lifted you from the depths, your limp body weightless in his arms, as though you were nothing more than a plush doll. His voice was soft as he whispered, "You did well." The words, barely more than a breath, carried an unspoken admiration.

As he carried you to shore, the others, trembling and terrified, finally entered the code.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

When you finally regained full consciousness, the scent of disinfectants filled the air, waking your racing thoughts. The chaos of the game was gone. There was only silence.

You blinked, your vision foggy as you tried to process everything. As it cleared, you found Sae sitting beside you, his eyes focused on you with an intensity you weren't used to. There was an unfamiliar flicker in his gaze—concern, maybe, though it was quickly masked by his usual coldness.

You tried to sit up, but your body felt heavy, and a sharp pain shot through your leg. Looking down, you noticed your lower leg tightly bandaged. The weight of the game, the stress—it all clung to you like a second skin. 

You were back at the beach, in your shared quarters with Kaede. 

Sae was sitting beside you, his gaze focused on you. He handed you a glass of water, his cold fingers brushing against yours briefly. You drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat but doing little to ease the lingering ache in your body.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice hoarse and unsteady. “What time is it?”

Sae didn’t respond right away. His eyes flickered to the side for a moment, as though weighing his words carefully. When he finally spoke, his tone was as neutral as ever, stripped of any emotion,

“You were unconscious when I found you. You did your part,” he said bluntly.

Your brow furrowed at his cryptic response. “And… my leg?” you pressed, glancing down at the bandage.

“I cleaned your wounds,” Sae replied flatly, his expression neutral. “It wasn’t deep, but you bled a lot. Someone had to make sure you didn’t get an infection.”

For a moment, you stared at him, caught off guard by his admission. From what you’ve heard from the others, he wasn’t one to say things like that, let alone do something so… considerate. “Thank you,” you murmured, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.

Sae’s lips twitched, but whether it was the hint of a smile or a grimace, you couldn’t tell. “Don’t make a habit of needing help,” he said coldly, standing abruptly. “You’re lucky this time.” 

With a final glance in your direction, he left without another word.

Just then, Kaede entered the room. The worry was clear on her face, and before you could react, she jumped onto your bed, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hey, Kae,” you groaned, wincing at the pressure on your aching body. “I missed you too, but I’ll die of suffocation if you don’t let go soon.”

Kaede pulled back slightly, her face filled with concern. “I was so worried about you, Y/n. How could you be so reckless?! Putting others before yourself like that.”

“Now, now, I couldn’t just ignore someone who needed help,” you replied with a tired smile. “But hey, how was your game?”

Kaede’s expression shifted slightly, a heaviness settling in her eyes. She quickly masked it, but you caught the subtle change. Any other person might have missed it, but you and Kaede shared a bond that no one else had. You knew her well enough to see when something was off, even if she wasn’t saying it aloud. You weren’t gonna push the subject since it clearly bothered her.

“It was fine,” she said, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. “Nothing new.” She was quick to change the subject, though, her teasing tone returning as she raised an eyebrow. “But word is running around that you made the ‘oh-so-self-centered’ Itoshi Sae save you.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

Kaede chuckled, clearly amused by the rumors. “Oh, yeah. Apparently, you had to get saved by him. Way to go, Ms. Irresistible, looks like you still have it in you.”

You sighed, sinking back into your pillows as you fought off the lingering exhaustion. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, but she wasn’t convinced and continued badgering you for answers about the game.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

The following morning, you walked into the lobby, only to notice your name wasn’t on the assigned list and neither was Sae’s. 

Instead, Ego had written you a personal note informing you that you’d been given a month off due to your injuries. Since you’d just completed multiple games, you had more than a month left on your visa. The news was a relief.

You headed toward the dining area, the scent of freshly prepared food filling your nose. There, at the end of a long table, Sae was seated, quietly eating his breakfast. 

“Good morning,” you said, your voice low but steady. 

Sae glanced up, nodding in acknowledgment but saying nothing. You stood there for a moment, feeling the unfamiliar quiet around you before you added, “Mind if I join you?”

With a minimal gesture, he motioned to the empty seat across from him, his eyes still fixed on the medium-rare steak in front of him. You slid into the seat, the sound of the chair scraping lightly against the floor filling the space between you.

The silence was awkward, different from the usual noise of Kaede and Bachira's constant chatter. It was strange, uncomfortable even. 

You picked at your food, the eggs on your plate still warm but not particularly appetizing. The room hummed with soft voices from other tables, but the two of you remained quiet.

Finally, Sae broke the silence, his voice low and sharp. His words caught you off guard. “Why did you do it?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. You weren’t expecting such a direct question this early in the day. “Why put yourself in danger yesterday? It wasn’t your responsibility.”

You stole a quick glance at him, acutely aware of the weight of his gaze. His conversations were always so unpredictable, you thought. Still, you answered, keeping your tone steady, not wanting to sound defensive. “Someone had to save her,” you said simply. “I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze slicing through you. “You had nothing to gain,” he pointed out, his voice turning colder. “Most people here wouldn’t lift a finger unless it benefited them. Why are you any different?”

You let out a slow breath, this was starting to sound like a job interview. Your gaze drifted to the window, where the first light of day was creeping over the horizon. “Because I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t do what felt right,” you answered, your voice quieter now, less certain but resolute. “I don’t just want to survive, Sae. I want to remember who I am, even in this place.”

The words hung between you, and for a moment, Sae said nothing. His expression was neutral, his eyes fixed on his plate. He didn’t respond right away, as if weighing your response in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost introspective. “You think that’s enough? Being yourself?”

You met his gaze now, steady but thoughtful. “Maybe not,” you admitted, “But it’s the only thing I have control over.”

He studied you for a moment, and the tension in the air seemed to shift, as though cogs had clicked into place. “You’re either brave or foolish,” he said finally, his tone still sharp but with the faintest hint of interest. “I can’t decide which.”

You let out a small, almost amused sigh. “A bit of both, probably.”

Sae huffed, his lips curling into the faintest of smirks, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Idealism isn’t going to keep you alive.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a trace of a smile playing on your lips. “It’s not idealism,” you countered, meeting his gaze directly. “It’s just… who I am.”

“Who you are won’t matter if you’re dead.”

You held his gaze, unflinching. “Then why did you pull me out?”

The question made Sae pause. His jaw tightened for just a moment, and you could see a flicker of emotion—frustration? It was gone before you could fully catch it. He answered simply, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I didn’t want to waste the effort of watching you throw it all away.”

You smirked, a hint of sarcasm creeping into your tone. “Sure,” you replied dryly. “Because that’s all it was; effort.”

Sae’s expression shifted, his control slipping for just a fraction of a second. It was subtle, but you saw it. “Don’t misunderstand. You’re interesting, but interest doesn’t mean trust.”

“I wasn’t asking for your trust,” you said quietly, your voice softer now. “Just… trying to understand.”

For a long beat, he studied you. When he finally spoke again, it was with a quieter, almost distant tone. “If you want to survive here, don’t make decisions based on feelings. The only thing that matters is winning.”

You set your fork down, and with a probing question, you asked, “And what happens after you win?”

Sae didn’t answer immediately. He stared ahead, his gaze distant, as if considering something far beyond the confines of the dining hall. Finally, when he did speak, his voice was quieter. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

You chuckled, the corners of your lips twitching with amusement. “Just so you know,” you said, setting your glass of water down with a soft clink, “You really suck at making casual conversation.”

His expression remained neutral, but his tone softened slightly. “It was genuine curiosity.” 

This was likely the beginning of your unlikely friendship with Mr. Genius. He was different from the rest of them after all. Perhaps Sendou had been wrong about him, or maybe he had only scratched the surface of Sae’s complexities. 

It intrigued you, drew you in, even if you weren’t entirely sure why. You wanted to get to know him, not as a means to secure your survival or win his approval, but simply as a person. A normal connection in a world where everything felt anything but that.

Still, whatever lay hidden beneath his icy exterior wasn’t something you could grasp. Not yet, at least.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

“For the record, this isn’t part of the Beach’s all-inclusive package,” Sae said dryly, stepping aside to let you in his room despite his comment.

Even with the comfort and relief your month off afforded you, the boredom had crept in faster than expected. Kaede was frequently assigned tasks and spent most of her time with Aiku, leaving you with long, uneventful hours to fill. 

By the second day, you’d already exhausted your limited entertainment options and that’s how you found yourself standing outside one of the Beach’s exclusive suites. The one occupied by a certain red-haired executive.

“Really? I thought hospitality was included in the package,” you quipped, striding into the room without hesitation.

He raised an eyebrow at your boldness, closing the door behind you. “And here I thought you’d find better ways to waste your time.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” you shot back, scanning the room. It was impeccably tidy, with no sign of personal clutter, no books, no scattered clothes, not even an empty glass on the counter. “But since you’ve got all this space to yourself, I figured I’d grace you with some company.”

Sae gave you a flat look, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Company? Or are you just here to entertain yourself?”

“Can’t it be both?” you countered with a smirk, flopping onto one of the couches. “Besides, you owe me for saving your reputation as the cool-headed genius. Imagine what people would say if they knew you pulled me out of that game.”

He scoffed, but the faintest twitch of amusement tugged at the corner of his lips. “Let them talk. I don’t care about their opinions.”

You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “So, what do you do for fun, Mr. Itoshi? Or is brooding your only hobby?”

“I don’t brood,” he replied, his tone neutral but with a hint of defensiveness. “Unlike some people, I don’t need constant distraction.”

“Oh, right, because you’re too busy being a weirdo,” you teased.

He stared at you for a moment, as if debating whether to respond, before finally speaking. “If you’re going to sit here and bother me, at least make yourself useful.”

“Useful?” you echoed, feigning offense. “I’m the most useful person in this room right now. Without me, who’d remind you to lighten up?”

Sae let out a quiet huff, almost a laugh but not quite. “You’re insufferable.”

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

Surprisingly, Sae Itoshi could be quite agreeable.

It started small, like quiet conversations in his suite, debates about the pointlessness of certain games, and occasional sarcastic jabs that somehow felt less biting each time.

You discovered that, despite his aloof demeanor, Sae had a surprisingly talkative side when the mood struck him. Through one of those rare conversations, you learned he was a professional football player. While your football knowledge was that of a toddler, your adventurous nature wouldn’t let such an opportunity go to waste.

If only there were a football field somewhere in this eerie city, you’d have eagerly asked him to join you. But since there wasn’t, you settled for dragging him to the Beach’s bowling alley instead. 

You figured he might enjoy a ball-related game, even if it wasn’t quite the same. Of course, you didn’t dare mention your “logical reasoning” to him; he’d probably take offense at the idea that you associated bowling with his beloved soccer. 

Instead, you framed it as something to pass the time, though his skeptical glance suggested he saw right through you.

“You think rolling a ball at pins is a worthwhile way to spend time?” he asked, unimpressed.

The irony wasn’t lost on you, though you held back the urge to point it out directly. And yet you play in a team that kicks balls for a living, you thought to yourself with a smirk. “Better than sitting in your room sulking,” you shot back.

The competitive glint in his sharp eyes became unmistakable, and his precision started to show.

Neither of you had paid much attention to the scoreboard until a sudden burst of confetti erupted from the ceiling, startling you. The sound of clinking mechanisms followed, accompanied by an unexpected jingle of triumph. 

A small chute dispensed the prize: a plump seagull plush, its goofy expression and floppy wings entirely out of place in the empty, unenthusiastic bowling alley. You both stared at it for a moment before Sae picked it up, his expression a mixture of confusion and faint embarrassment.

“Here,” he muttered, thrusting it toward you without looking in your direction. His usual composure wavered.

You blinked, surprised. Your lips quirked into a small smile as you tilted your head slightly, leaning in just enough to catch a glimpse of his face. He was stubbornly avoiding your gaze, his ears suspiciously red at the edges.

“Are you going to take it or just keep staring?” he said, his voice gruff but lacking its usual bite. Finally, he turned to face you, his teal eyes flickering.

Biting back a laugh, you reached out and took the plush from his hands. It was soft and silly in design, a stark contrast to the brooding atmosphere Sae carried with him. Clutching the toy against your chest, you grinned. “Didn’t think I’d leave here with a souvenir,” you teased lightly, your tone laced with genuine gratitude. “Thanks, Sae.”

He scoffed, turning his head slightly, but not fast enough to hide the faint tint of red creeping over his cheeks. “It’s just a stupid plush. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Holding the seagull plush tighter, you couldn’t help but think that, goofy as it was, it might just be the thing anyone has ever given you.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

You wondered if he’d actually warmed up to you. It didn’t feel as one-sided as it had at the start. Maybe this really had turned into a friendship—or something close to it. But the question remained: what exactly did you mean to him? Because you knew he wasn’t someone you could force into anything he did not want to do.

Sure, he complained. There were sighs, eye-rolls, muttered insults. But in the end, he always went along with it.

You were being delusional. Maybe, for him, this was nothing more than a way to pass time in this strange world. And if that’s the case you’d make the most of it.

That’s how you came up with the idea of dragging him to the karaoke rooms. It was stupid, sure, but the thought of getting someone like Sae to stand under disco lights with a microphone was too tempting to resist.

But when you opened the door to one of the karaoke rooms, you froze. 

Lounging on the plush couch was Oliver Aiku, a girl straddling his lap. Her laughter rang out as Aiku whispered something into her ear, his grin as smooth and shameless as ever.

Your gaze quickly darted to the girl’s face, and you nearly choked on your surprise—it was Kaede.

Kaede, on the other hand, looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Aiku glanced up, his expression as smug as ever. Kaede flushed bright red, quickly scrambling off Aiku’s lap.

Still laughing, you waved Kaede a quick goodbye and followed Sae out of the room, unable to resist one last quip.

If you’d learned anything that day, it was that no matter how mundane or pointless he claimed a situation to be, he would still follow you. Yet, you couldn’t fully bring yourself to believe it, knowing that if you were wrong it would only crush the growing feelings in your fragile heart.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

The night air seeped through the thin cracks of your window, the cold brushing against your skin as you sat cross-legged on the floor of your room. The faint hum of the Beach’s generators was the only sound. Kaede was sprawled across the bed, her head resting on her hand as she stared at you with a look that was far too knowing.

The conversation had started innocently enough, idle talk about the games, the people here, and the way life seemed to teeter constantly on the edge of chaos. But then her words shifted, growing softer, heavier with meaning. 

“You know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I think I’m falling for him. For Aiku.”

You blinked, her words pulling you from the depths of your thoughts. Aiku, the ever-charming executive with his disarming smirk. The way Kaede spoke, her voice tinged with an unfamiliar vulnerability, made it clear she was serious.

“I didn’t expect it,” she admitted, her gaze dropping to her lap. “It’s not like he’s been anything but himself—cocky, annoying, impossible to ignore. But there’s something there, something more to him.”

Her confession sent a ripple of recognition through you. That sense of being drawn to someone, of being unable to shake the weight of their presence—it wasn’t foreign to you. You felt it too, for Sae that is.

Kaede must have noticed the change in your expression because she lifted her eyes to meet yours. Her gaze was perceptive, and far too knowing. “And you,” she started, her tone gentler now. “Don’t even try to deny it. You like him, don’t you? Itoshi Sae.”

The words hit you like a blow, and your breath caught in your throat. You wanted to shrug it off, to laugh at her assumption, but the sincerity in her voice disarmed you. The cold of the room felt even sharper against your cheeks as heat crept up to them. 

You bit your lip and gave the smallest of nods, your hands clutching the edge of your blanket like a lifeline.

Kaede’s expression softened, and she sat up, her hair falling messily over her shoulder. “It’s okay, you know,” she said, her voice quieter now, as if afraid to shatter the fragile admission you’d just made. “This place… it’s cruel. It makes us cling to things, to people, to anything that feels real. You’re human. So am I.”

A laugh bubbled out of you—soft, strained, almost bitter. “Yeah, but falling in love? Now? That’s not exactly the smartest move, is it?”

Kaede tilted her head, studying you. “Maybe not. But I think he cares about you more than you realize.”

You looked away, your gaze fixed on the open windowpane, it’s a bit far-fetched. “Even if he does… I can’t risk it. What we have now—it’s good. It’s safe. I don’t want to ruin that. If I say anything, if I… admit it to him, I might lose it.”

Kaede reached out, her hand covering yours, warm against the chill of the room. “You’re scared,” she said softly. “I get it. But don’t let fear stop you. We don’t know when this nightmare is gonna end, we might as well start living it.”

Her words lingered long after she’d fallen asleep, her breathing steady in the silence. You stayed by the window, staring out into the night, your heart heavy with the truth you couldn’t bring yourself to share with him. Fear wasn’t just stopping you—it was paralyzing. Because the thought of losing Sae, even in the smallest way, was unbearable.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

The Beach, with all its illusions of safety and utopia, could only hold back reality for so long. If your visa runs out, no matter where you hid, you’re dead. Today marked your last day of time off—and you already missed most of it.

When you opened the door to your room however, Sae was already standing there. His expression was unreadable, his arm extended toward the door indicating that he was one second away from knocking it himself.

“Missed me?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe.

He quirked an unimpressed brow, his voice dry as he replied, “I just wanted to check if your idiot ass didn’t accidentally get flushed down the toilet.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at your lips. Without much thought, you suggested skipping stones by the nearby river—a callback to the night you first met him. You wouldn’t admit it to his face, but you’d been longing to see him, to spend time with him, no matter how mundane the activity, as long as it was with him.

Sae, predictably, was skeptical. His gaze fell to the smooth pebbles in your hand, his brow furrowing slightly as if they were alien artifacts.

You gave a small smile, clearly unfazed. “It’s therapeutic,” you countered, tossing a stone with a flick of your wrist. The stone skittered across the water’s surface, bouncing three times before it sank beneath the surface with a soft plop. “See? It’s about finding rhythm.”

Sae stared at the smooth, round stones in your hand as if they were strange objects. “Therapeutic? It’s a rock. And water,” he said, his tone more skeptical than anything else.

“Come on, show me what you’ve got,” you prodded, tossing him a stone with a playful smirk.

His first attempt was, to put it mildly, clumsy. The stone barely left his hand before it plopped straight into the river with no grace, no finesse. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. 

“The great Itoshi Sae, defeated by a rock,” you teased, leaning against the riverbank with a wide grin.

His gaze flickered over to you, he really did hate losing. “Don’t push it,” he warned, though the sharp edge usually present in his tone was absent. It was almost as if your laughter had softened him, or at least caught him off guard.

Determined to prove himself, he picked up another stone, his jaw set in concentration. This time, his flick of the wrist was smoother. The stone skimmed across the water—one, two, three, four, FIVE times—before it sank with a soft ripple.

You blinked, genuinely impressed. “Not bad for a beginner,” you said, a slight, almost reluctant nod of approval following the words though betrayed by your most beaming smile.

He didn’t respond, but you caught the faintest flicker of satisfaction in his expression.

“I used to come here whenever I felt overwhelmed,” you shared, breaking the silence. Then, with a teasing grin, you added, “I’m sure you already knew that, since you were stalking me my first night at the Beach.”

His gaze flicked to you, and with practiced indifference, he replied, “I was just passing by.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, letting the topic drop as you idly tossed a pebble into the air and caught it in your palm. Your gaze drifted toward the river, your tone shifting to something quieter, more reflective. “So, it’s our last day, huh?”

“It’s not like we’re going to die tomorrow or something,” he replied casually, but his words faltered when he noticed your eyes glistening.

“We could,” you said, your voice trembling. “That’s what’s terrifying—we could die.” You buried your face in your palms, your quiet sobs breaking the night’s stillness.

The month had passed in a blur. Your moments with Sae had become a comforting routine—quiet conversations, playful banter, and a silent understanding that grounded you in this surreal reality. But as the end of the month loomed, so did the overwhelming fear of what lay ahead.

What he did next was something you never expected. Sae stepped closer. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, his embrace firm yet careful, as if you were a fragile piece of glassware, afraid you might break. The cool night air nipped at your skin, his warmth wrapped around you, calming your frayed nerves.

“We’ll be fine,” he murmured, his voice low but resolute. “And if it helps, I’ll look out for you. Whenever I can, always.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-streaked lashes. “You promise?”

His response caught you off guard—not the nod or silence you expected, but a firm, steady, “I do.”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle pat on your head made your heart ache in a way that was both painful and reassuring. For now, it was enough.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

Returning to the games, you found yourself shuffled between other executives.

One day, it was Kaiser and Ness, leading a Diamond game that required intricate strategy and manipulation. The next, you were paired with Don Lorenzo for a Spade game that pushed your physical limits, his menacing smiles exhibiting his golden teeth giving you constant discomfort. Even Loki’s charm couldn’t soften the brutality of a Club game that demanded relentless cooperation among strangers who knew nothing about each other.

No matter the variation in challenges or how cunning the leaders, the truth remained constant: this place was designed to break you.

During the times you were assigned to Sae, however, things were different. The casual interactions you once shared had shifted into something more professional. He was focused, sharp, and detached in front of others. Yet, even then, he didn’t fail to show that he cared. His gestures were subtle—an extra moment of consideration, a quietly murmured “be careful,” or the way he placed himself between you and danger without hesitation.

You were certain the others noticed the faint special treatment, even if Sae masked it well. But when no one else was watching, he dropped the pretense and treated you like a friend, like he always had.

It was during one of these unguarded moments that he handed you a bottle of water after a grueling game. His tone was brusque, but his actions were anything but, pushing it into your hand before walking off.

Or the time he lingered by your side after a particularly taxing Spade game. You’d been injured. It was just a scrape, really—but his gaze had darkened when he saw the blood. Without a word, he’d torn a piece of his shirt to wrap around your arm, his movements quick and efficient.

And then came that day.

One you could never have prepared for, no matter how much time you had.

In the Borderlands, there were no police, no FBI, no medics to retrieve the bodies. Death was final, and corpses were left to rot where they fell. But this time, it was different. This time, there was an attempt at retrieval—but it was far from professional. 

The body was wrapped hastily in stained, reeking cloth, its outline grotesque, the pungent stench of death wafting through the air like a cruel mockery.

The sight offended every fiber of your being, not because of the lack of care but because of the unmistakable shade of blonde hair peeking out from beneath the blood-soaked fabric.

Kaede.

Your best friend.

You didn’t just cry—you wailed. Your voice tore through the air, a raw, guttural sound of anguish that clawed at your throat and left your chest heaving. The sobs wracked your body, a visceral release of the horror and grief that threatened to consume you whole.

It felt like the world had taken a blade and plunged it into your chest repeatedly, then run you over with a bus as the cherry on top. Your knees buckled, but you couldn’t fall. Not yet.

Bachira had explained the horror of the game she’d been trapped in, though you hadn’t needed the details to piece together the nightmare. A Heart game—vicious, cruel, and unforgiving. One player had been chosen to harbor the 9 of Hearts card, concealed within their body by the twisted hands of the game master; they would have to kill that person. 

That player had been Kaede.

She had known. 

They had all known. 

Aiku, Reo, and Bachira himself had tried everything to protect her. Even if it meant fighting and shedding blood for her sake. But she had made the ultimate choice. By slitting her throat herself to spare them, she couldn’t bear to be the sole survivor in that awful, awful game.

Her life had ended by her own hand, but the horror didn’t stop there. 

The card was needed to end the game. It was stuffed inside her lungs, to force the survivors to desecrate her body in the name of their own survival. Anri Teieri, a surgeon, was the only one capable of performing the task of retrieving it without as much as ruining her perfectly maintained corpse.

“No! Stop! Don’t touch her!” you screamed, thrashing in the lobby as they prepared to take her body away. Everything about it is sick, disgusting. Your voice cracked, and your struggles were wild, desperate, animalistic.

Sae had rushed toward you as soon as he heard the news. He was the only thing keeping you from collapsing completely. He held you back, his arms a steady force as you fought against him with everything you had.

“I’m sorry,” Reo muttered, his voice thick with tears. His face was battered, one eye swollen shut, his body covered in cuts and bruises. He cradled Kaede’s lifeless form in his arms as he carried her toward the basement where Anri waited.

“Where’s Aiku?” you screamed, your voice raw and broken.

Reo’s steps faltered. He didn’t look at you as he answered. “Unconscious. He’s in a coma… in the clinic.”

You felt like you were shattering, splintering into a million irreparable pieces.

You wanted to scream, to curse the world, to make it all stop, but Sae’s arms never left you. He had kept his word, that he’d always look out for you. He was your anchor, the only thing keeping you from being swept away by the tide of despair.

And even as the world seemed to crumble around you, his presence was the only thing that kept you standing. 

That night, Sae didn’t leave you to face the hollow void of your shared room with Kaede. Instead, he let you stay in his. The silence between you was heavy, but not unbearable, it was better than the oppressive emptiness that awaited you in yours.

That night, as you lay curled up on his bed, you asked him, your voice trembling, if he swore he’d never leave you, cause you just lost Kae, and you couldn’t bear to lose him too. 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you close, his arms encircling you in a way that felt both protective and fleeting. You buried your face in his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and for a brief moment, it was enough.

He was still there for you in the ways that mattered most. When a game pushed you to your limits and you stumbled back into the lobby, bruised and battered, he was always the first to offer you water or silently leave a pack of bandages on your table. When nightmares jolted you awake in the dead of night, he would come moments later, as if sensing your distress, and sit beside you until you fell back asleep.

One evening, after a particularly brutal Club game, you found yourself limping back into the beach, blood trickling from a gash on your arm. Sae was waiting, leaning against the wall with his usual composed demeanor. He caught sight of your injury and immediately took your arm, leading you to a seat.

“Hold still,” he said, his voice low and steady as he cleaned the wound with practiced care.

“Thank you,” you murmured, searching his face for any sign of the warmth he once had. But his expression was unreadable, his eyes focused solely on the task at hand.

His gestures started to feel… distant. Like he was fulfilling an obligation rather than offering genuine care.

Later that night, you found a bowl of steaming soup left at your door, but when you sought him out to thank him, he was nowhere to be found.

More and more, it became harder to find him outside of games. He stopped lingering in the lobby after debriefings, his presence becoming increasingly scarce. Even during the times you were paired together, his demeanor seemed colder, more professional.

You tried to bring it up one night, catching him in a rare moment of quiet. “You’ve been distant lately,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, though the heaviness in your chest made it hard.

“I’ve been busy,” he replied curtly, his gaze fixed on the horizon rather than you.

“But—”

“You’re strong. You don’t need me hovering over you all the time,” he interrupted.

It was a contradiction, you realized. He was still there when you needed him, but he was pulling away in every other sense. It was as if he was trying to keep you safe while also building walls around himself.

You didn’t know if it was out of guilt, fear, or something else entirely. But as much as it hurt, you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him fully, not when you knew how much he’d already done for you.

And so, you let the distance grow, even as it tore at the fragile connection you still clung to.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

You had always believed it would remain that way. No matter how distant he became, no matter how much he avoided you, he would never truly leave you. There was a fragile comfort in that thought, a belief that despite the growing space between you, some invisible tether still connected the two of you.

But now, curled up in your blanket after that one day, the truth weighed heavy on your chest. You had assumed wrong.

It was late that day. The Beach had settled into its uneasy quiet, the faint hum of electricity in the hallways the only sound. You had been in your room, lost in thought, when a knock startled you.

When you opened the door, Sae was standing there. His expression was unreadable, his teal eyes darker than usual, shadowed by something you couldn’t quite name.

“Sae?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t say anything, but he had sad eyes. 

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. Before you could process what was happening, his hand cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle, and his lips were on yours.

The kiss was sudden, and yet it felt like the culmination of every unspoken moment between you. It was rushed, desperate, as though he were trying to say something words couldn’t convey, as though he were racing against time, as if the moment were his only chance. 

As if it was goodbye.

Your heart was pounding, your thoughts spiraling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

And just as quickly as it started, it was over.

Sae stepped back, his hand falling to his side, his expression once again closed off. He looked at you for a moment—just a moment—and then he turned on his heel and walked away without a word.

You stood frozen in the doorway, your fingers brushing your lips, still warm from his. A thousand questions filled your mind, but no answers came. 

The door clicked shut behind you as you sank onto the bed, your thoughts a tangled mess. Whatever had just happened, it had changed everything. And yet, as much as you wanted to chase after him, to demand an explanation, you stayed where you were, uncertain and unsteady.

Sae Itoshi had kissed you, and then he walked away.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

If you had the slightest idea of asking him for any sort of clarity, you couldn’t, not because you didn’t want to, but because you literally couldn’t. 

He shut you out. 

It wasn’t just the silence that stung, it was the absence of his presence, the subtle shift in the air when he was no longer around. He hadn’t spoken to you since that day, and the changes that followed were probably his doing as well. 

You no longer saw him during games. Instead, you were constantly assigned to other executives. 

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence, but as the days turned into weeks, it became painfully clear that it wasn’t. It was as though a door had been quietly, irrevocably shut between you.

The shift didn’t end there. The small gestures—those fleeting moments of acknowledgment or shared silence—became rarer. The places you’d once walked together were now foreign, empty. 

Even the odd shared glance was gone. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at you with any semblance of interest, let alone spoken to you. The brief connection you had once shared seemed to be slipping away, eroding, until all that was left was a hollow echo of what once was.

And for the first time, you felt what it was like to be truly alone.

The loneliness crept in slowly at first, like a shadow you couldn’t quite shake off. 

There was a heavy emptiness in the spaces he used to occupy—his absence a constant reminder that whatever bond had existed between you had been severed. 

The laughter, the fleeting moments of understanding, the quiet companionship in a world that felt too loud—it all felt like a distant memory now.

The others? They weren’t the same. Conversations with the other executives were strained, more transactional than meaningful. They didn’t ask about you in the same way, didn’t seem to care in the same way. You were a cog in the machine to them, just another role to fill.

Even the quiet moments you used to cherish—standing at the river, skipping stones, the comfort of being near someone without needing words—felt impossibly far away now. Those moments were yours and his, but now they felt like they belonged to someone else, to a version of yourself that no longer existed.

Each day, you woke up with the sense that something was missing, but you couldn’t put your finger on what. And maybe you didn’t need to. 

The truth was already clear: you were alone. And you had no idea how long it would be before you could find your way back to something that resembled the connection you once had.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

It was around 2 in the morning when you heard the knock on your door. Groaning, you rolled out of bed, still caught in the haze of sleep. Stumbling toward the door, you swung it open, expecting a false alarm or maybe your overzealous roommate. Instead, your breath caught in your throat.

It was Sae.

He stood there, his usually composed demeanor fractured, discomfort etched across his face. His shirt sleeve was soaked with blood, the dark stain spreading ominously. 

"I need your help," he said, his voice low but urgent.

His fatigue was unmistakable, and the rigid tension in his posture only made him seem more vulnerable—a version of Sae you had never seen before. 

In all honesty, you were mad at him, no, you were furious. The audacity he had to show up now, seeking your help without so much as an explanation for his sudden and complete avoidance. Every ounce of anger you’d suppressed threatened to bubble to the surface, but you weren’t a petty person. You saw the blood, the pain he tried so hard to conceal, and that was enough to silence your protests. Instinctively, you stepped aside to let him in, but the sight of your roommate fast asleep on her bed made you pause.

Sae’s gaze flicked to her, and for a moment, his teal eyes softened, understanding the situation without you saying a word.

"I’ll wait for you," he said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically patient.

Grabbing the first-aid kit from your dresser, you followed him down the hall to his room. The silence between you was almost suffocating, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the walls.

When you reached his room, he was already sitting on the couch by the window, his back turned to you. The faint glow of the streetlights filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. He unbuttoned his sleeve, rolling it up to reveal the source of the blood—a deep, jagged gash carved into his upper arm.

The sight made your stomach twist, but you forced yourself to focus. Sitting beside him, you began to clean the wound. Sae didn’t flinch, but you noticed the faint tightening of his jaw whenever the antiseptic touched raw skin. His silence was heavy, as though he was holding back not just pain but words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

"What happened?" you asked softly, breaking the quiet.

Sae hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It was a difficult one. spade game,” he said finally, his voice clipped and distant. “Got slashed during the final round.”

The weight of his words hit you like a wave. This wasn’t just about the gash on his arm—it was a brutal reminder of the relentless stakes in this world, where survival demanded more than just physical endurance. Every wound, every scar was a testament to the unforgiving cost of staying alive.

You gathered the first-aid supplies with steady hands, though your heart pounded in your chest. Sae sat silently, watching you prepare a needle and thread. The sharp metallic scent of antiseptic filled the air as you cleaned the wound, your fingers brushing against his skin.

“This is going to hurt,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

He nodded, jaw tightening as you began stitching the wound with precise, practiced movements. Each pass of the needle through his flesh was met with his silent endurance, though his sharp intake of breath betrayed the pain. 

The room was heavy with quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of bandages and the subtle rhythm of Sae’s breathing. The tension between you felt almost palpable, lingering like an unspoken truth neither of you dared to voice.

When you tied off the final stitch and leaned back to inspect your work, you let out a small breath of relief. “That should hold,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence. But as your eyes met his, the gratitude and something deeper in his gaze made your chest tighten, leaving you wondering what words he was holding back.

Sae’s teal eyes flicked to yours. For a moment, they softened, and the tension in his shoulders eased. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice stripped of its usual sharp edge.

You stood to return the first-aid kit, the sound of the latch snapping shut echoing in the stillness of the room. When you turned back, the air in the room seemed thicker, charged with unspoken tension.

Something unspoken hung between you, growing louder in the silence.

The weight of it finally broke you.

“Am I really just someone for your convenience?” Your voice trembled, the question carrying the burden of weeks of uncertainty. “It’s unfair, you shut me out, you drop me, and then you come to me for help like nothing happened. Everything you’re doing is so unfair, Sae.”

His expression faltered, guilt flickering across his face like lightning through a darkened sky.

You pressed on, your words spilling out like a flood you couldn’t stop. “One moment, you’re prince charming—pulling me aside, whispering, ‘Come, let’s get lost for a while,’ making me feel like I’m the only person in this godforsaken hellhole who matters. And the next? You vanish. Like none of it meant anything. What am I supposed to make of that kiss?”

Tears welled in your eyes, the ache in your chest tightening like a vice. Frustration and heartache bleeding into every syllable. “If I’m wrong, just say it. Just say the words, and I’ll walk away. We can forget all of this, if that’s what you want.”

Your voice cracked, the weight of your emotions making it difficult to steady yourself.

You clenched your fists at your sides, fighting to maintain your composure.

“I’m not asking for some grand declaration of love,” you continued, your tone softer now but no less desperate. “I just can’t keep going like this, stuck in this limbo, with all these questions in my head.”

The soundproof walls of the room seemed to hold your speech, amplifying the vulnerability in every syllable as the silence around you pressed in.

Sae’s gaze fixed on yours, intense, but he remained silent. His normally detached expression was etched with shame, regret, and something you couldn’t quite place.

“Why don’t you say something?!” you exclaimed, your hands gesturing wildly, to fill the void of his silence carved into this very room.

His eyes darkened, brows knitting together as if fighting some invisible war within himself. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck straining as though he were holding back an eruption of words. For a moment, it seemed like he might walk away, leave you drowning in the sea of your own emotions.

But then, without a word, he reached out, catching your balled fists in his hands.

He brought them to his lips, his kiss soft but weighted with unspoken apologies. “I’m sorry,” he finally murmured, his voice barely audible. His jaw clenched, as though struggling to get the words out. “I can’t tell you everything right now. I just… I need you to trust me.”

Trust him? The thought was ridiculous, a bitter sting rising in your chest.

Your hands trembled as you shook your head, voice cracking under the weight of unshed tears.

"You don’t care about me, Sae," you choked out, the words laced with raw hurt. "You just use me... like you do everyone else." Each syllable felt like tearing open a wound, exposing the ache you’d tried so hard to bury. 

"No," he said sharply. "You don’t get it."

"Don’t I?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You act like I’m expendable, but here I am, falling in love with the most detached person in the world." 

The words lingered in the charged air, your confession landing like a stone thrown into still water.

Sae’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face. But beneath it, there was a flicker of longing, of pain.

Sae was never a man of words. You knew that all too well. But as you turned, the weight of the moment threatening to crush you, his hand caught your wrist, keeping you from running away.

Before you could protest, he stood, the quiet intensity in his eyes rooting you in place. In one swift movement, he pulled you into his arms, his embrace firm and unyielding, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart.

The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, chasing away the cold ache in your chest. His hands rose to your face, trembling slightly as they cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears that fell freely now. His gaze locked onto yours—raw, unguarded, and so painfully human it stole the breath from your lungs.

“Sae…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your heart.

He said nothing. He didn’t have to. The honesty reflected in his teal eyes spoke louder than words ever could—a silent confession, a unspoken yet undeniable promise.

And then, with agonizing slowness, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours.

This kiss was everything the first was not.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate, it was soft and sensible, filled with a quiet intensity that made your heart ache. He kissed you as if trying to tell you everything that he couldn't quite put into words. A deep apology for the agony and isolation you went through. 

You knew you should pull away, demand answers, cling to the anger that had simmered inside you. Instead, you let yourself fall deeper, surrendering to the emotions that you held back for far too long. Your hands found their way to his chest, then to the back of his neck, fingers trembling slightly as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

His touch was soft against you, one hand cradling the back of your head as the kiss deepened , the other resting lightly on your jaw. Each passing second melting into and the world around you dissolved into a hazy blur until all you could see, feel, and breathe was him.

You'd be lying if you said you haven't been with anyone else before, but it had never felt like this. A conflict between your rational mind and the rest of your body craving for his touch.

Slowly, you felt his hands move to cup your ass, gently squeezing the plush skin as you moaned against his mouth. He took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your eager mouth, gliding alongside his own like sweet honey.

His hands travelled lower, grabbing your thighs to lift you up and proceeded to carry you towards the bed, not daring to break that heated kiss.

The soft dip of the mattress against the small of your back sent a jolt of awareness through you, but you didn’t stop him, not when he was on the bed hovering over you, his lips trailing down, brushing lightly against your jawline, to the curve of your neck, nipping at the soft skin. 

The thin fabric of your white silk cover-up had been tossed away in one swift motion. Not that you had much clothing left underneath, you had the beach to thank for that, feather-thin yet still an insurmountable barrier separating you from him.

His fingers carefully pull down the strap of your bikini, slipping away inch by inch. 

But then he hesitates. 

His breathing hitched as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, guilt flickering across his face. “Sorry,” he whispered, starting to shift away, his apology tumbling out in fragments, but you caught him before he could retreat any further.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm, pulling him closer, your hands clinging to his button-down shirt as you brought him back to you. “It’s okay.’ 

It was the first time you saw them so closely—eyes the shade of teal sapphires, a treasure just as rare as the man who bore them. Guilt in his gaze was evident, but so was the yearning, emotions he couldn’t bring himself to voice. He hovered over you, his weight supported by his arms on either side of you, his expression conflicted.

You'd been the one who pulled him back, lips pressing against his, as he kissed back with a new intensity.

Sae’s fingertips gently went back to undressing you, this time he didn't falter, quickly pulling your straps down, your breasts bouncing as it came free from its confines. He gropes your breast, fingers pulling at your nipple, caring not to neglect the other and presses open mouthed kisses till he feels the hardened bud against his lips. 

You desperately cling to him, one hand tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging wildly at his reddish auburn locks. Your teeth sinking on your lower lip, a futile attempt to stifle the moans threatening to escape you right this second, but a needy whimper slips out as Sae sucks one pert nipple. 

Another hand slowly and steadily pushes the flimsy fabric of your panties to the side, exposing your glistening folds. tracing your slit with the pad of his thumb, and slides two fingers into your entrance and pushes it in. 

You’re tight, it was unreal. Clenching and throbbing against the fingers he gradually pumps inside you.

He takes your hand gently, lifting it to give a quick kiss to your knuckles and lowers his face to your inner thighs, lips pressing against it, leaving behind a trail of dark purple marks. A reminder of his unadulterated desire etched on your soft flesh.

You were utterly helpless against the wave of sensations as he held your throbbing core close, devouring your slick folds. Head tossing back, and breath hitching as the intimacy of the moment left you feeling exposed yet cherished in a way that stole the very air from your lungs.

The bed beneath shifted with every movement. messy—wet, hungry, and filled with a raw urgency that lust ignites.

He just couldn’t get enough of you.

Sae pulls away to peel his shirt off, you peer up at him through half-lidded eyes. His hair is messy, courtesy of all your pulling and grabbing, the only source of light in the room coming from the soft glow of the moon.

He wants to do you just like this, appreciating the work of art that you are, eyes lingering on your flushed face, breaths coming in shallow, panting gasps.

You start pawing at your own panties, impatiently trying to yank the piece of clothing down mewling, “Nngh. Sae, need more of you”, voice trembling with such fervor from the depth of your need.

Who was he to deny you?

“Shh baby, I got you.” He stills your squirming, quickly discarding your underwear and his, throwing them aside, as if nothing more than an afterthought. 

He lets you rub his leaking cock with your soft palm. He's holding back subtle groans when he feels you stroke up and down the length of him. You felt him nudge your legs apart, aligning his cock with your entrance, pressing his forehead against yours, waiting for a nod, or a squeeze of his hand— anything that would tell him that he could move. 

The only response you could give was an impatient roll of your hips to meet his.

Your approval was all he needed to slowly ease into your dripping cunt.

"Don't ever say I don't care about you," he whispers softly between your ragged moans, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Because every second in this fucked up world," he murmurs, brushing his lips over your cheek, "my thoughts are plagued." His kiss lingers on your neck, his voice a tender, loving murmur as he gently nibbles your ear. "by you.” and fully sheaths himself into your tight heat.

You’re tossing your head back from the sting of the stretch. But he was quick to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and kiss you stupid to catch your soft gasp.

His words, sweet as lullaby, a stark contrast to the rough way your walls are stretching to accommodate the length of him. You were utterly speechless by his bold expression.

This same man that never spoke so much more than blunt statements, now telling you just how much you really mean to him.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you were desperately craving for him to be closer, as if he wasn’t already knocking on the gates of your cervix.

Your silent pleas didn’t come unnoticed, enticing him to lock one arm around your upper back, holding your thighs open as he began to rock into you. At this point he had his face buried on the crook of your neck, pushing his cock deeper and deeper into you, lost in the sweet euphoria of your tight, soaking core.

Your arms flew across his back, nails pressing into the firm muscle beneath your fingers. The look on your face made the corners of his mouth turn up. A rare smile that reached his eyes. You knew you looked just as intoxicated on this wave of pleasure as he did.

It felt perfect, heart pounding with so much adoration for the man you’re connected to at this very moment, making up for all the lost time.

“I missed you.” Sae whispers, each word laced with unguarded intensity that sends shivers down your spine. His voice is low, almost trembling, as if confessing a secret too precious to be spoken out loud. 

“You idiot,” you replied, a shaky laugh escaping through the tears streaming down your face. Your voice wavered, caught between the weight of your emotions and the flicker of relief his words brought, the ache in your chest softening ever so slightly.

You feel yourself nearing your climax, a cracked moan broke from your throat, skin tingling with electricity as your body succumbed to pure ecstasy. He felt your cum all over his length as he chased after his own release. With one final thrust, as your velvety walls clench around him, and teeth grazing his shoulder. Emptying himself completely inside you. A warm sensation flooding your insides.

You felt him gently pull out, the warm fluid slowly seeping out your used hole. 

You gently wiped the sweat from his forehead with the palm of your hand, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned down to kiss you softly, before collapsing beside you, his breath steadying as he nestled you closer.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

Sae never falls asleep before you, not even during those nights when you stayed in his room.

He always waited for you to drift off first.

But this time was different.

As you glanced over at him, you saw the lines of tension that usually creased his face had smoothed out. His features, typically stoic and guarded, now seemed calm—peaceful even.

It was a serenity you hadn’t seen before, as though the burden he always carried had, for a fleeting moment, been lifted.

The soft moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over his face and highlighting the faint rise and fall of his chest.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping effortlessly from your lips, barely more than a breath in the stillness of the room. You knew he couldn’t hear you, he was fast asleep. 

You lay nuzzled against him, head resting on his arm wrapped securely around you. Your fingers grazed absentmindedly over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

It was a moment you didn’t want to end, your own weariness slowly pulling you under as his warmth enveloped you.

Despite the intensity of the love you had confessed to him earlier that night, he hadn’t offered you an explanation. No words, just this. But this was enough. For now.

A/N: If you've made it to this point, all I wanna say is; Thank You so much for taking the time to read this story <3

This is the most shocking fic I’ve ever written! Honestly so surprised by the outcome and the amount of time, I poured into it (was even more than my college essays). Though I barely had the time to edit it :<

17k words wow, I had so many instances in which I felt like I just wanted to drop this fic all together because it wasn’t connecting the way that I wanted it to, but every time I read the drafts, there’s this feeling like a silent sense of accomplishment waiting if I do finish it, and I’m glad I pushed through, because I’m proud of the result.

This was actually a challenge from a friend—play with the tropes of forced proximity (but not really) and friends to lovers with Itoshi Sae. I thought it was such an outrageous request, but then an idea struck when I was rewatching Alice in Borderland and binging Blue Lock. Out of nowhere, I thought: What if Sae were in this setting?

I hope I did justice to blending tropes, but either way, I really hope you all enjoyed reading it!

It was intentional on my part to leave readers feeling confused in this part—after all, if you were in that kind of situation and environment, and he treated you this way, you’d be confused too. 

Should I write Part 2? If I do decide to write a second part it will start from Sae’s POV to explain his side of the story.

───🃁🃜🃚🃖🂭🂺🃁───

if you enjoyed my work please consider donating on ko-fi ^^

PART 2

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 3

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

The lovely @pure-plum request a third part to @jackofallrabbits's and my Hocus Pocus AU! I'm so excited to share this next installment. The witch boys are far from done with the little historian and Michael has some explaining to do. Sun needs to share some vows and Eclipse tries to explain some things on the roof of Michael's home. Enjoy!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, blood, violence, fire, (temporary) animal death and (temporary) character death.

———

On the outskirts of town, where the buildings and the suburban life thins into winding roads and wild, pale orange and deep red trees, is Michael’s home. He lumbers towards it like a creature from a 1950s movie.

Weaving between your footsteps is Vanessa, the talking rabbit. Her ears stay pricked and her wide, green eyes scan the starry skies constantly—blades of dead grass stick to the legs of your pants. Holes decorate your sweater, and your breathing has yet to level into something less frightening by the night's events.

You close your eyes for a brief moment to contain all the terror within you, but you almost trip on the dark pavement of the road. Michael reaches out to steady you with a rotten hand. Straightening quickly before giving him a glance of reassurance that you're alright, you nod. You stare at the putrid flesh of his fingers. Your stomach twists.

His dark eyes, alit only with twin, pale pricks of light, linger upon you. The weight is unbearable.

You’re not walking much better than the cursed, rotting man with a broken leg. When you asked him if it hurts, he said no. He can’t feel much of anything. You almost burst into tears, but he told you to keep going. It’ll be alright. 

You don’t know what to think anymore.

“There, up ahead,” Michael's voice churns with gravel. He gestures with a putrid arm. “My house. We’ll be safe there.”

It’s a bonte-white structure, a touch old considering the peeling paint on the outside as well as the overflowing garden of lavender—but you understand now why the flora flourishes on the grounds. 

Two stories tall, the roof slants over the attic. On top, a cupola framed in square panes of glass gives a small sense of safety, like a lighthouse on a cliff overlooking a stormy sea. The dark shingles slope down over the upper-level windows. 

“Do you know where Afton’s home is?” Vanessa speaks, and it almost startles you out of your wits. Her small, fuzzy head turns towards him while he reaches the front gate and shoves it open. You follow in afterward.

Your brow crinkles. When Michael first approached you, inquiring history of some genealogy he was doing on his family, you did point out a few historical buildings and locations within town. He said he needed your research for… personal reasons.

“I do, thanks to our friend,” he gestures to you. 

Vanessa flatly says, “The virgin.”

You cringe as the rabbit hops onto the porch. Michael stops before the cement steps with a quiet growl.

“Don’t say that.” He turns to you. “Can you help me up? I’m sorry, I smell like death.”

“It’s okay,” you smile, then immediately grimace at the stretch while you take his arm. “It’s not… going to fall off if I tug you up, right?”

His dark hair falls across his forehead while he shrugs. “I hope not.”

With that cheerful reassurance, you hook his elbow. Shadowing his step, you help him lift his bad leg onto the step, and pull the rest of his body afterward. Repeating the motions, you fall into a natural rhythm by the time you reach the front door. All the while, your mind whirls at Michael’s current condition while the rabbit waits impatiently at the door and the bizarre events since you lit the starry candle. 

“You didn’t tell me…” you say softly but fall short. You don’t want it to be an accusation, but you want to know. “You didn’t tell me about the brothers.”

He turns his face towards you. The clogging scent of decay infiltrates your nostril and you’re forced to cough to clear it away. Spying the yellowed cusps of his molars between threads of his cheek flesh conjures a sickness in your middle. His half-rotten lips press together into a thin line.

“It’s hard to approach someone with ‘Hey, I’m a witch hunter, just like my great ancestor who hung witches.’”

“Michael,” you chide.

“I warned you,” he says.

“I know.” You shake your head. Reaching out, you grab the door handle and push it open. “We need to brace your leg. Just because you don’t feel hurt doesn’t mean you aren’t.”

“Cursed,” he corrects quietly. “Not hurt. It could have been worse.”

His eyes drift to Vanessa, who stands guard for one moment, staring out into the darkness, before he returns his attention to you.

“I can still do things, though I wouldn’t want to be caught by the witches. They would torture me for eternity if they had it their way, I’m certain,” he drips derision.

A dark fist squeezes your heart. Heavy and pained, you guide Michael into his home. You’ve been in here once or twice, advising him in his research since he asked for your help. It was fun. You like talking about the town’s history how many historical homes are still maintained in the area and what significant events took place on what are now random fields or paved parking lots.

“Do you have some wood boards or planks we can use for a splint?” You ease Michael onto a blue couch, ripping slightly at the seams along the arms. The pale wood coffee table is overrun with books, an assortment of old and dark pages worn by time. You’re tempted to flip through titles, but fear keeps you on track. Michael might dissolve into dust and bones right before your eyes. 

“Yeah, under the sink. I have medical supplies in there.” Michael nonchalantly grabs his ripped jeans leg by the knee and hauls his broken leg up to prop it across the coffee table. A part of you squirms to see the unnatural bend in his shin bone, the leg all but collapsing. He continues without missing a beat, “Don’t worry about cleaning the wound or painkillers.”

“O-okay.” You sound far away. Those aspects are important to treating any injured person but what rules apply to a cursed man? Dizziness circles your skull as you stumble into the kitchen. A few dirty mugs are left in the sink. Rummaging underneath it, you find a black tote filled with medical supplies, a suspiciously, well-prepared assortment from bandages to antibacterial ointments. Needles for sutures wink up at you. Wooden stints wait as if expecting you.

Why does Michael have so much emergency aid prepared? It would be nice to think of Michael as simply a man who is well-prepared for the worst, but after tonight, how can you believe that? He’s a witch hunter in the modern day. 

There’s so much you don’t understand. 

Picking up the entire tote, your questions follow you back into the living room. Vanessa sits on her haunches on the coffee table, her fur still caked with streaks of dirt as she examines Michael’s broken leg. He straightens on the couch as best as he can when you kneel beside his wounded leg.

Following Michael’s instructions, you set the splints around the limb, up his knee, and over the top of his shoes. 

“Ties,” Michael says, “right here.” He leans over and fishes through the tote until he finds dark cords. 

You tie it carefully. You don’t want it too tight or else it could cut off blood circulation—if that is still functioning within his walking corpse. Dismissing the idea, you shudder and finish off the knot. 

“Do you have salt? More charms?” Vanessa asks, her attention upon Michael.

“I do. Weapons too,” he says.

“Wait.” You straighten, stepping back to gaze at both of them. This is not a normal conversation. This is not a normal get-together with a zombie and a rabbit—you need answers. Now.

“What is it?” Vanessa asks, her little rabbit face perturbed by your behavior.

“What is going on? No one has given me a straight answer all night.” You cross your arms, clutching at the torn sleeves of your sweaters. 

Michael and Vanessa share a glance as if they’ve known each other far longer than just this evening. Isolation settles upon you.

Michael faces you, testing the splints to see how well they hold. They remain rigid around the broken limb.

“The brothers are witches. They’re very real, and they’re very dangerous,” he says, his dark, sunken eyes holding your gaze. “My ancestor, William Afton, was a witch hunter. He hanged them for their crimes.”

“They were supposed to stay dead.” Vanessa’s voice lowers. Shame and hatred mingle into a chord under her tone. “I was there the day the brothers were hanged. I was the one who led Afton, my master, right to their home. For that, the brothers cursed me with immortality and this wretched body.”

Her ears flick. A heaviness settles over your chest, and your breath quickens into a shallow, desperate rhythm.

“You mean… all this time?” you whisper. 

Vanessa stares at you. Her green eyes are unreadable.

“All this time, I guarded the starry candle. Until you came along,” she seethes for one brief moment.

“Vanessa,” Michael’s voice cuts over her. “Don’t… I shouldn’t have let anyone go there, much less alone.”

“There’s the ceremony we must worry about,” she jumps in place, twisting to face him. “We must only wait them out until dawn, and they will return to their graves.”

Your head spins. The witches who spun you around and purred in your ear have wrecked so much havoc, even after their demises. You turn away.

Michael calls out your name.

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” you ask, not looking back at him. Your fingers knot ceaselessly into the fabric of your sweater, widening the holes further. 

“Of course.” Michaels’ voice softens. “Up the stairs, in the attic. Take whatever shirt you want. There’s something else we need to tell you, though. Can you wait a moment?”

“No,” you whisper, then shake your head, “Just… Just give me one minute, okay?”

You don’t wait for an answer as you step out of the room. Hurrying up the stairway that leads to the attic, you hear a hushed exchange. The rabbit harshly wonders if it’s wise to let you leave. You hurry up the steps.

The landing is open, sprawling with chests shoved against walls and a dusty desk left beside a window overlooking the garden sprawling with lavenders down below. A sack of wooden and leather charms sits near the top of the stairs. Across the room, a bed sits with a thick, brown quilt depicting yellow and orange flowers in geometric patterns over the cover. Does Michael sleep up here?

You venture forward, finding a closet with bi-folding doors. You nervously touch your fingers to the handle. Michael said it was alright, but somehow, this feels like an invasion of privacy. A little funny, considering you don’t know as much about your friend as you thought. 

Sliding one open, you find a few shirts hanging. Plaids and button-ups and pullovers, all with the faint hint of Michael’s musky, woody scent. You reach for a fisherman’s sweater, green and thickly textured. Lifting the hook off of the rack, you gingerly handle it with grimy fingers. You make a quiet sound of equal disgust and annoyance at yourself.

Look at you. You’re a mess. You went to explore a historical home and brought three witches back to life. Michael and Vanessa know who the brothers are and the brothers have seemingly claimed you as an intricate piece in a ceremony you have yet to understand.

You should listen to what the witch hunter and cursed rabbit woman have to say. Learning more and diving deep into the past has never been a feat you’ve shrunk away from, but you feel so strange. Confused. 

Phantoms of Eclipse’s hands slip underneath your sweater. Moon’s vows circle your head in a chant, spell-binding and complete. Your stomach burns with the memory of Sun pulling you onto his lap and flying off. 

This should be simple, like a fable. The witches must be defeated and the village saved. Historically, however, witches were only innocents. They were victims of powerful people and scapegoats for natural disasters and widespread sickness. They weren’t luring children away into the house of candy. They were simply practicing an art or culture that so few understood.

A gentle stroke of pity fills you when you think of the brothers and their hangings. Were they truly so evil they deserved to die?

You hear a soft creak of wood just above your head. Your eyes lift to the ceiling. The home is old. It’s bound to groan and settle in around you. Though your heart briefly knocks against your ribs, you clutch at your holey sweater and remember what you’re doing.

Michael and Vanessa are waiting for you. There’s more you don’t understand, and you have to face it. You lower your shoulders and close your eyes, then shiver.

A cool draft ghosts through the room. You turn, dropping the red sweater on the bed. Curiously, your eyes roam the windows, searching for which one hangs open—and why you didn’t feel a breeze before.

A spiral staircase leads up into the cupola. You peer skyward into the black, starry darkness through frames of wood. One of the glass panes is slightly ajar, pushed in, and left precariously loose. A chill slips against your skin through the holes of your sweater.

Was that always open?

Your spine tingles; the sensation of no longer being alone. 

“Hello, sunshine,” a cheerful, dripping voice slips into your ear from behind you.

Sun.

You inhale sharply. Before you can scream, a hand clamps over your mouth. An arm, lithe and solid as iron, wraps around your waist. The witch lifts you off your feet. Struggling, you claw at the hands holding you. Panic surges into your veins as you’re carried across the room and then twisted around to face your abductor. Without his warm, dark palm leaving your lips, Sun pins you onto the bed. You gaze up at him, eyes wide as he grins devilishly. He immediately slots his knees on the other side of your legs, hovering above you like a dark red sunrise, securing you in place.

A quiver runs through you. Your middle returns with a familiar warmth while you roam over his visage. His wide, pale eyes greedily devour you. His other hand softly pets your collarbone, hooking the collar of your shirt to expose more skin.

“There you are.” His thumb softly swipes your cheek without giving you room to speak. “I feared the fool rabbit and the rotten witch hunter spirited you away from us. No need to fear, my darling. We’ve come back for you.”

You whine underneath his palm. His grin widens as if he finds your little muffled sounds adorable. Sharp teeth glint in the near darkness of the attic.

Squirming, you grab at the edge of the bed and attempt to pull yourself out from under him. Sun clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Ah, ah, ah, my dove! I haven’t gotten a kiss from you yet.” He shakes his head with great sorrow. “Don’t you want to hear my vows?”

He snatches your wrists, one by one, and shackles them in his one fist. He lifts them over your head and holds them against the headboard. Your heart thunders at how easily he contains you. Yet, you twist and flutter at him so close. A scent of honey and wildflowers falls from his cloak, sweet and intimate. You gaze up at him, little more than a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“It’s truly breaking my heart,” he feigns dramatically slumping. “My eldest brother has the pleasure of knowing the taste of your lips, and my twin has spoken his vows to you, but what of me? What am I supposed to do but die of heartbreak?”

He leans closer. Your eyes dart to his mouth and back to his gaze, holding you in a feverish, boiling want. A swipe of his tongue wets his teeth. A heat floods your cheeks.

“Shhh, sunshine. I’ll remove my hand so long as you’re good.”

You weakly nod. Your jaw trembles under his palm before the witch spears you with one last warning. His grin, however, grows. His hand lifts away and frees your mouth. Nervously, you lick at your lips while he studies the movement with pleasure staining his expression.

His hand falls, his dark satin fingertips flowing down your chin before ghosting over the sensitive cords of your throat. As if painting with his hands, he follows the curve of your collarbones. You wince when his claws cut through your poor sweater as he warms your chilled body with his palm pressed against your shoulder.

“Will you allow me the honor of becoming your husband?” He holds your gaze. 

Your breath slows as his hand falls to your side and begins softly caressing you through a notable tear in the knitwear of your shirt. A shiver spreads across your body from his touch. He tilts his head, his sun rays cutting through the darkness in a peacock-like twirl.

“Will you allow me to worship you endlessly, to be at your beck and call, to endure curses and terrors, and to witness blooming gardens and bright days by your side?” He sighs so sweetly as if he can’t stand the thought of stalling a moment more. “I’m afraid you are simply too lovely. Let me show you my devotion, then you may say ‘I do.��”

A tender pang in your heart ripples through you. Gazing into his pale, wide eyes, you fall into them. Would someone so evil have so much good to say? Would he ask for your hand in marriage if he truly meant harm?

“Sunshine?” Sun purrs gently. “It’s alright. You can speak your vows later.”

“Wait,” you whisper. Your gut twists as you think of Michael and Vanessa. Your friends are cursed, and they have the power to undo it. “Michael and Vanessa are suffering. Can’t you remove the curse placed upon them?”

Sun’s mouth pulls taut into a razor-sharp grin, but he doesn’t truly smile. Your stomach clenches with dread.

“How sweet to think the enemies of my brothers and I deserve mercy.” He withdraws his hand from the hole in your sweater and slips down to the hem slipping up your waist. His thumb slides over your hip bone. Softly, he begins circling it and you must bite your bottom lip to keep from gasping at how gentle his touch is. 

“Please,” you say quietly. You curl your fingers, still trapped under Sun’s grip. “I can’t say what you want me to say until Michael and Vanessa are free.”

“Hm,” he hums, the sound rolling deep in his chest, “A great gift to demand as our bride. Why don’t we speak of something else? Something more delicious.”

Your lips part as he leans down. His face is mere inches from your own, and you feel a buzz upon your mouth in anticipation. Shyly, a pink blush fills your face.

He draws his hand from your hip and takes your chin in his hand. His thumb gently brushes your bottom lip, holding you in place.

“You have the most beautiful freckles,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and sultry. “Your lips are like roses. Won’t you let me stain myself in them?”

“Sun.” You want to turn your face away, but he’s so close. You can smell the sweetness of his person, and your core becomes molten. 

His mouth finds yours, and heated light falls over you. You fall utterly still under his gentle and smooth, practiced motion. Pushing and pulling, like steps to a dance, he kisses you. His tongue softly swipes at the seam of your lips, asking for entry. A mewl catches in the back of your throat. Insistent but gentle, Sun’s tongue finds its way past your teeth. The molten heat within you becomes lava, volcanic, and you are filled with his feverish desire to love you.

His grip softly flexes against your waist and wrists. Your back arches slightly, and his hand slips underneath you to support your spine. He draws you flush against him. Your sweater rides up, and you feel the soft fabric of his billowy shirt and the smooth, marbledness of his torso. A great fluttering erupts within your chest. Dizzy and struck by his full attention, you are molded by the sheer heat of his affection.

You’ve never felt such love before.

His tongue caresses your own before he draws it slowly out of your mouth. A stretch of spit follows before it snaps. He breaks the kiss, leaving you cold. You whine, afraid to never have such a connection again. You fall back to the mattress but Sun’s hand splayed over your back refuses to let you go, and you remain fast against his body.

He chuckles. “You are so sweet and precious. I have had lovers before, but you are the one who will stay with me. You are mine.”

You breathe out heavily. Your chest is gooey and warm, and your heart beats to a fiery tempo. 

“It’s alright,” he speaks in a low growl, passionate and terrifying, “Accept my vows, and I will love you for eternity. I will give you my heart on a silver platter. I will be your undying servant. I will dance with you every dawn. Sunshine, say ‘I do.’”

It’s on the tip of your wet lips. The words. The one phrase that will somehow evoke magic and time and fate, and make you entirely his.

“Oh, Sun,” you breathe, shaking your head.

Would it be wrong? Couldn’t you show him that he has too many curses? There are other ways he and his brothers can use their magic, right? They don’t have to be like this again.

“One more kiss,” he breathes against your cheek, fingers curling against the dimples of your spine before he bows over you. Your breath catches at the touch of his lips—

Footsteps thunk, slow and uneven, up the stairs. Michael's voice calls out to you, gently, but the undertone of concern does not miss your ears. The splint is working. The quick scurry of little claws scrabbling upwards echoes towards you and the witch about to kiss you.

Sun snarls silently. 

You clench your hands.

“Don’t hurt them,” you whisper, “Please.”

He levels you with a look, a glint of a blade-like calculation.

Rising, Sun pulls you after him in a whisking motion. Your vision spins as your hands fly down to cling to his shoulders. Taking your hips, Sun secures you against him, glaring daggers at the steps leading into the attic room before Michael’s purple face emerges, then widens in alarm and fury. Vanessa bound inwards and jerks to a stop, stunned. 

Sun cackles as he skips you backward in a dizzying, near glide upwards to the cupola. 

“Go and rot elsewhere, witch hunter!” he calls out. You clutch at his arms as he pulls you towards the askew window pane. The night breeze causes your hair to flutter around you. Sun grips you tighter, bowing close and protective over you. “It’s a beautiful night for a wedding, don’t you think?”

“No!” Michael shouts your name, stumbling forward at a break-neck speed. Vanessa scrambles up the thin, narrow steps with bounding legs.

Before you can cry out, Sun bends in half, forcing you down with him as he sticks one leg out of the window, and in one smooth motion, taking you in his arms like it’s your wedding night, he slides you out of the window and onto the roof of Michael’s home. You catch the last fleeting glimpses of Michael and Vanessa, both slapped with horror.

Sun extends his hand. With a hushed but fierce chant, magic heats the air. The little hairs on your arms prickle with a sizzling sensation as Sun casts a spell from his lips. The glass becomes molten, shining orange and taffy-like as it remains stuck within its frames, and then with one more word, Sun changes the glass once more. It warps and expands, becoming almost triple in thickness. 

You catch the sight of Michael throwing himself up the stairs. A warning flies from your lips. Whether he can’t hear you or he can’t stop himself if he wants to or not, he flies into the glass. He bounces off of it as if it were a steel wall. He hits the other end of the cupola, almost falling down the steps before he catches himself.

You gasp sharply. Clinging to the shoulders of Sun’s cloak, he purrs in delight as he slips carefully down the old, faded shingles.

“It’s alright, sunshine.” He pecks your cheek as the sloped roof descends to a dangerous lip with only the gutter acting as a barrier between you and a 20-foot drop. “Eclipse should have cursed the witch hunter into a rabbit. A yellow one with purple eyes. I would have let you keep him as a pet. Vanessa, too, if you ask nicely.”

“Don’t drop me!” your voice rises shrilly as you tuck your face against his neck. “Please.”

“Oh, I’ve received enough lectures from my brothers,” he laughs, then presses close to your cheek, contrite. “Please, forgive me, my darling. My excitement overtook me. I merely had to have you—and our vows still haven’t been exchanged!”

He steps over one of the windows, taking you to the south-facing side of the house, away from the window you both emerged from. Sun is light and graceful as he crosses the dizzying slopes of the roof. 

“The bride returns,” a familiar voice crones. Eclipse.

Lifting your head, you start as Sun slips towards the very lip of the roof. There, floating right in the open air, dozens of feet above the lavender garden, is Eclipse. Moon perches on an arch upon the roof with a disgruntled expression twisting his face while he strokes the warm, honeyed wood of Sun’s broom.

“I’m surprised you didn’t drop our bride once more,” Moon drips with venom. You gaze at him, remembering how he pinned you to the mausoleum wall. A bubbling roil returns to your middle.

“Silence, brother,” Sun growls, “You had your chance to exchange vows and you lost it to a fool imp and a vermin!”

Moon’s red eyes soften upon you when your gazes meet.

“Hello, little mouse. We almost lost you.”

“Moon,” you say softly, blinking against the starlight.

“Come here, little comet.” Eclipse opens his arms out to you. You openly stare. With ease, he balances upon the slender reddish-brown wood of his broom, his cape descending around him like wings. His grin is sharp and earnest, all at once. “We must make haste.”

“Wait, wait,” you try to shake your head but Sun passes you easily onto Eclipse’s lap as if you were mere feathers. 

“Sun?” Eclipse looks to his brother.

“No, I didn’t get vows in return,” he huffs, “the nasty witch hunter has a habit of interrupting private engagements.”

“I thought so.” Eclipse faces you. You sit securely upon his lap. His black cloak drapes slightly over your legs in the manner of a warm blanket. He gently takes your chin in his hand. You are still at the slight trace of his other circling your waist and securing you close. “You need to perform the ceremony with us.”

“Why? Why is it so important I perform the ceremony with you?” you ask softly. The cool air sends a chill down your back. Eclipse frowns before he hugs you close to his chest, sheltering you from the elements.

For a beat, he is silent. He strokes your arm with the back of his hand in slow, tender motions. Your eyelids flutter under such gentleness.

The sound of glass cracking jabs into the air, muffled but distant. A sharp growl echoes from Moon and Sun. You try to twist back to see if Michael is emerging onto the roof but Eclipse hums sharply, regaining your attention.

“It’s important because of you,” he answers gravely but with no less affection. “I have waited a whole life and death for you. As have my dear brothers. Sunrise will be here soon.”

“Sunrise?” you ask, confused. You’ve heard them tell of the bells ringing for them at dawn. “What does that mean then?”

Eclipse cups your face, forcing your attention upon him despite the rush of footsteps scrambling over the roof, and the harsh breaths and sharp curses.

“You love us, don’t you?”

Your lips part breathlessly. His eyes hold you in molten gold, and you become unbalanced once more.

Do you?

Can you marry these strange and handsome witches the very night you brought them back from their graves?

He drops his touch from your mouth and softly caresses the back of your hand. He looks down at it, admiring the small hills of your knuckles and the softness of your skin.

“We don’t have long,” he says. “We have already devoted our hearts to you, little comet. You have the power to—”

“LET THEM GO!” Michael shouts.

Eclipse’s head snaps back to the roof. Sun and Moon are clawing over the singles, the former giving chase after Michael. Shards of glass stick out of the sleeve of his torn shirt, embedded into his flesh; he seems to ignore the wounds entirely. Moon snatches a white rabbit rushing over the arch of the roof with a swipe of his claws. A sharp squeak of pain echoes from Vanessa. Holding up his catch like a fox with his meal, the witch cackles. 

You startle and start to wiggle desperately off of Eclipse’s lap. 

“Please!” You extend a hand towards Sun and Moon. “Don’t hurt them!”

Eclipse begins to wrap both arms tight around you, despite your struggle. Michael recklessly charges down the slope of the roof and reaches deep into his pocket. Producing pale lavender petals, he tosses them like confetti into the air just as Eclipse curses, then shrieks as the petals fall over you both like rice at a wedding.

“No! We’re running out of time!” Eclipse shrieks as he rapidly swipes at his person, removing the petals with a pained expression, but his golden eyes hold you captive. “My bride.”

You sadly shake your head. A dark mouth swallows your heart in a twisting torment: to stay or to leave. To forsake your friends or to give in to your suitors. 

On a nameless fear, you turn back to the roof and fling yourself off of Eclipse’s lap. His claws swipe at your sweater, ripping a tear into the back of it but you managed to land on the lip of the roof. The gutter buckles. You scream. Michael yanks you by the collar of your almost-ruined shirt and drags you up the roof. Sun cuts into his path.

“Nasty little corpse,” Sun snarls, “I’ll teach you to stay dead.”

“Sun, don’t!” Your eyes widen.

His pale eyes flash to you, his wicked grin easing. In the brief moment of Sun’s distraction, Michael squeezes several petals and a charm in his fist. The lethal design flashes in the starlight. Michael hurls the charm and the few petals left. When the charm hits Sun’s chest, a sharp sizzle echoes. The witch yelps, writhing as you fear a searing of flesh before he manages to fling it off of him. Sun is left clawing at where a mark burns through the fabric of his shirt.

Up the roof, Michael scrambles, towing you after him, trying as you might to look back at Sun in your worry. You reach a hand out towards the witch. He stops in his writhing to look back, but Michael pulls you faster until your feet almost give out from underneath you. Across a peak in the roof, Michael zeros in on Sun’s broom.

“Michael,” you say, but he is already striding towards it. Using his un-splinted leg, he brings his boot down hard on the broom until it snaps and cracks in half.

“Afton!” Sun howls, “I’ll make you pay!”

You hear a sharp snarl from across the roof. You face Moon clutching Vanessa as he begins the mutterings of a curse. Vanessa is kicking with her hind legs and writhing. His black claws wrap around her dirty white fur before she manages to twist and sink her teeth into his hand. A growl, pain-filled and brimming with loathing, echoes before he hurls her away from him. Vanessa falls down the roof and over the edge.

“Vanessa!” you scream out.

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Michael utters, dragging you back to the cupola. “Go, go, she’ll be outside on the grass, and then we’ll run.”

“No, no, no!” you half-sob. You lock eyes with Moon, his expression unreadable. His eyes are red like blood but he makes no more to stalk after you as Michael shoves you through the shattered window. Thick shards of glass lie upon the steps of the narrow staircase and the wood frame is splintered. 

“Hurry,” Michael urges. He pulls you rapidly through the attic room. He stops only to snatch a leather bag and throw it over his shoulder. “It’s not safe here anymore. They’ll curse it. We have to get to town, shake them off our trail.”

“But Michael, Vanessa,” you sob and realize how stupid you are to trust the witches. They are violent. They are wicked.

You wanted so badly to kiss them.

“Focus up,” he says firmly. “Stay with me.”

You catch a whiff of smoke. You and Michael both pause on the top of the staircase leading to the ground floor, and peer up to find flames licking at the wood of the cupola greedily, and descending further, and further down.

“Fire. Of course,” Michael mutters. “Let’s go.”

He yanks on your arm and you both fly down the steps. Out of the door, you scramble over the porch and onto the lawn, finding the still form of Vanessa on the grass. Just like Michael said. You tear away from Michael to snatch up the rabbit’s body in your arms. You turn her head and find blood splattering the side of her face. Her poor, broken body hangs limp in your hands.

“Vanessa,” you wail.

“Run. It will be okay.” Michael pulls you after him. He races down the lone road, towards the light of the town. 

Twisting back once to stare up at Michael’s home now descending in rapid, unnatural flames of bright orange, you almost fall at the sight of it becoming ash. Upon the roof sit three witches, watching you race away. Their stillness pierces your heart. You sob once more and kiss Vanessa’s head in apology. You didn’t mean for her to die.

Why would they do that? You begged them not to.

Michael keeps running an awkward gait with his splinted leg and his rotten flesh. You keep pace, shoes slapping on the pavement, hugging a dead rabbit to your heart with tears spilling down your face.

[riboism]

haunted: sneak peak

♱ pairing: vampire! p.sh x fem reader

♱ synopsis: a young woman seeking a fresh start takes a job as a live-in housekeeper for the mysterious count who resides in a grand but decaying gothic estate on the edge of a wary town. the villagers warn her of his dangerous reputation, spinning tales of curses and dark deeds, but necessity drives her to stay. as she works tirelessly to bring order to the neglected home, she finds herself torn between the unsettling rumors and her growing infatuation with count park—a reclusive, strikingly beautiful man who claims to be a nocturnal artist. strange dreams and eerie moments in the mysterious castle blur the line between reality and imagination, leaving her questioning whether the true danger lies in the man—or in her own heart.

♱ content tags: vampire au, gothic romance, gothic horror, story takes place circa early 1900s, reincarnation, smut, angst, forbidden love, slowburn, nosferatu/bram stroker’s dracula/edward scissorhands vibes

♱ wordcount: this is going to be a series

♱ songs: haunted- beyonce

this is a work in progress. release date is to be announced. to request to be on the taglist, please reblog and comment!

[divinities-hymns]

Winded up writing a one-shot because I had an idea for a new cult of the lamb au, so, good people, I present to you, “Sickness Be Upon Ye” (this is not related to my cotl au Floreo btw, also just in case I do write for this au again, I’ve decided to name it the Curses Of Decay au)

“Damned creature,” The bishop’s raspy voice came out of his mouth, barely reaching their ears, “From the moment you rip my heart out of my chest, may your feeble mind never feel a moment of peace ever again,” They had paid the words no mind, slicing open the fallen bishop and taking his heart as a gift to their god. They could not have imagined the repercussion that would have followed.

Might write more, might not, idk

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (6)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 6.7k

A/n: I slacked last night to post this chap, ya girl was tired lol. f this 9-5 ON A SUNDAY- anyways yall enjoy lol

_________________________

The hum of the Undercity stretched below you as you sat perched on the edge of an old rooftop, the air thick with the scent of metal, oil, and faint traces of decay. The flickering neon signs in the distance cast an eerie glow across your features as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. The city buzzed with life, chaotic and unyielding, but up here, it felt strangely quiet.

“Brooding already?” Jinx’s familiar voice broke the silence.

You turned your head slightly to see her slinking toward you, her wild hair catching the light like a chaotic halo. She plopped down next to you with her signature reckless ease, her legs swinging freely over the edge as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I don’t brood,” you shot back with a smirk. “You’re confusing me with Vi.”

Jinx snorted. “Vi’s brooding is all fists and scowls. You? You’re more of a ‘mysterious loner with a tragic backstory’ kind of brooding. Very cinematic.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Yeah? And what’s your deal? Crazed powder monkey with a flair for dramatics?”

She gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Excuse me, but I prefer the term artistic mastermind.”

“Sure,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “That’s definitely what people call you.”

The banter continued, sharp and fast, each quip met with equal intensity. But then, amidst the teasing, Jinx’s voice softened just slightly. “I missed this.”

You glanced at her, your smirk fading into something gentler. “Missed what? My dazzling wit?”

“Maybe,” she said with a sly grin, but her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. “Missed you.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both had been through pressed down like a storm cloud. Without thinking, you reached out and took her hand, your thumb brushing over her scarred knuckles.

Jinx’s gaze dropped to your arm, her sharp eyes catching the faint lines of ink peeking from under your sleeve. “What’s with all these tattoos, anyway?” she asked, tilting her head. “You never told me.”

You hesitated for a moment, the question digging up memories you preferred to keep buried. But Jinx’s curious stare was relentless. “They’re… a map,” you admitted finally. “A map my so-called family gave me. They told me it would lead me to something important—something I needed to find to figure out who I was. But it’s from my past, and I haven’t looked at it in years.”

Her interest piqued, Jinx leaned closer. “A map, huh? Lemme see more of it.”

Before you could protest, she tugged at the hem of your shirt, lifting it enough to reveal the intricate network of lines and symbols inked across your chest and stomach. The tattoos were stark against your skin, a labyrinth of pathways and cryptic markings.

Jinx’s fingers hovered above the lines before tracing them lightly, her touch featherlight. “This… this is insane,” she murmured, her usual chaotic energy replaced by quiet fascination. Her fingers stopped at a particular symbol etched near your ribs.

“Wait a second.” Her voice grew sharper, her finger tapping the symbol. “This. I’ve seen this before.”

You glanced down. “What about it?”

“It’s Silco’s symbol,” she said, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and unease. “How the hell do you have this?”

You frowned, shaking your head. “I don’t know. It’s just part of the map. I never understood half of what these marks mean.”

Jinx stared at the symbol for a moment longer before her fingers resumed their path, tracing the lines of ink as if trying to decode you. Her touch lingered, and her voice softened again. “You know, when I was a kid… I used to dream about someone like you.”

Her confession caught you off guard. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice distant, almost wistful. “Someone who could pull me out of the mess I was in. Someone strong, who’d see me for who I am and not some broken thing. Someone who could…” She trailed off, her eyes meeting yours. “Give me the life I always wanted but could never have.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, and without thinking, you leaned closer. “And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her lips curled into a faint smile. “Now I’ve got you. So, I guess… dream fulfilled.”

The warmth in her eyes pulled you in, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance, your lips pressing against hers. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the unspoken things you’d been too afraid to say.

Jinx melted into you, her hands gripping your shoulders as if anchoring herself to reality. And for a moment, everything—the chaos, the pain, the uncertainty—faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet glow of the Undercity.

Caitlyn sat at her desk, a chaotic array of maps, reports, and scattered photographs spread across the once-pristine surface. Her office, once a model of order and discipline, now reflected the turmoil in her heart. The faint hum of Piltover’s cityscape filtered through the window as she poured over the last known locations associated with you. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, but she refused to stop. Not until she had something solid to go on.

“Commander Kiramman, there’s… not much to go on here,” the enforcer standing before her said hesitantly, his voice grating against her frayed nerves. “The reports from the Undercity are unreliable. And the last sighting was weeks ago.”

“That’s unacceptable!” Caitlyn snapped, slamming her hand down on the desk. The officer flinched at her sudden outburst. “I don’t care if the information is unreliable. You are reliable, aren’t you? Then do your job. You find her.”

The enforcer opened his mouth as if to protest, but the icy fire in Caitlyn’s eyes silenced him. “This isn’t just another case,” she continued, her voice low but seething with urgency. “I don’t want excuses—I want results. She’s alive, and I need to find her before someone else does.”

The officer nodded nervously and backed out of the room, leaving Caitlyn alone with her thoughts. She leaned back in her chair, running a hand over her face as a wave of emotion washed over her. She couldn’t shake the guilt, the memories of what she had done to you.

For weeks, Caitlyn had been consumed by a singular need to find you—not to capture you, not to punish you, but to make things right. Now that she knew the truth, that Ambessa had fed her lies and manipulated her into believing you were responsible for her mother’s death, the weight of her actions was unbearable. She had hurt you in ways she couldn’t take back, and yet, she couldn’t let go of the feelings she still carried for you.

She cared for you. Loved you, even. That much she couldn’t deny anymore.

You had always been a mystery, but there was something about you that drew her in—your strength, your resolve, the quiet way you carried the scars of your past. And now, knowing you had been innocent all along, those feelings burned even brighter, mixed with an aching need to atone.

She stood abruptly, her decision made. Grabbing her coat, she strode out of the office and made her way to the grand steps of Piltover Tower. By the time she reached the top, a crowd of enforcers had gathered below, their curious murmurs filling the air. Caitlyn stood tall, her sharp gaze scanning the assembled troops as she prepared to address them.

“This city,” she began, her voice steady but firm, “has been through hell. We’ve lost good people—our families, our friends. And in the midst of that pain, we’ve made mistakes. I’ve made mistakes.”

The enforcers exchanged uneasy glances as Caitlyn’s words hung in the air.

“I’ve come to realize that some of the choices we’ve made, some of the people we’ve blamed, were wrong. There’s someone out there—a person who was wronged by this city, by me. And now, they are in danger.”

She took a deep breath, her voice softening as her eyes drifted to the horizon. “Y/n isn’t a threat to us. She never was. And I won’t let Piltover’s mistakes take her away from me again.”

The crowd murmured, confused but attentive.

“I’m ordering a citywide search,” Caitlyn continued, her voice hardening with resolve. “Every corner of Piltover and the Undercity will be searched. I don’t care how long it takes—we will find her. And she is to be brought back alive.”

Her last word rang out like a commandment, silencing any doubts among the ranks.

“There’s another threat,” she added, her expression darkening. “Someone is targeting her—someone who wants to use her for their own gain. We cannot allow that to happen. I won’t allow it.”

Her gaze swept over the crowd, and for the first time in weeks, Caitlyn felt a sliver of clarity amid the chaos. She turned sharply, walking back into the tower, her mind already racing with plans.

This wasn’t just about making amends or clearing your name. It was about protecting you, saving you from the same forces that had taken so much from her. Because deep down, Caitlyn knew the truth: she still loved you, and she wasn’t ready to lose you again.

The streets of the Undercity buzzed with the usual mix of life and chaos as you walked alongside Sevika. She lit a cigar as the two of you moved through the crowd, your hood pulled low to avoid unnecessary attention. It was a routine now—your almost daily rounds to reinforce your presence. Let the people see you, remind them that you weren’t a ghost, that the streets still had a protector, even if it wasn’t the one they expected.

“I don’t get why you bother with all this,” Sevika muttered, exhaling a thick plume of smoke. “Your face is plastered on every corner. Pretty sure they know you’re alive.”

You shrugged, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. “Gotta stay ahead of the rumors, Sev. Besides, it’s not all for appearances.”

“Right.” Her smirk was as dry as the tone in her voice. “Totally not about that dish Jinx keeps whining about or those goggles you were ogling for the kid.”

You shot her a look, but it was playful. “She’s been craving it for days. And Isha… she’s been working so hard on her little machines. She deserves something nice.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, taking another puff. “You’re soft, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a small smile. “But they make it easy.”

Her expression softened briefly, but then she leaned in, her tone turning teasing. “So, you and Jinx, huh? Gonna make it official or keep tiptoeing around each other?”

You scoffed, the tips of your ears burning. “I don’t even know what we are. But… it’s something. She’s something.” You hesitated, your voice dropping as the words spilled out before you could stop them. “They both are. Isha and Jinx, they make me feel… like I belong. Like I finally have something worth holding onto.”

Sevika’s teasing grin faltered, her usual tough exterior replaced with something quieter, almost understanding. “Yeah, well… don’t screw it up.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Her mood shifted abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “Speaking of screwing things up… you know Caitlyn’s been sniffing around, right?”

That caught your attention. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen her,” Sevika said, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. “Gathering troops, barking orders. She’s definitely on a mission, and I’m guessing it’s to find you. Word’s out, Spark. She knows you’re alive.”

You frowned, your mind flickering to Caitlyn and the weight of your history with her. But before you could dwell too much, you changed the subject, unwilling to let the conversation linger there. “What about you, Sev? When are you gonna stop babysitting me and get yourself a love life?”

She barked a laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, because brooding loners with bionic arms are a hot commodity these days.”

“Hey, I’m proof it works.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, shoving your shoulder lightly. “Shut up and go get those goggles, sap.”

The teasing put a smile on your face as you ducked into a dimly lit shop tucked into the corner of the street. The air was thick with grease and the metallic tang of machinery. Rows of mismatched tools, gadgets, and gear lined the shelves, but it was the sleek pair of goggles hanging near the back that caught your eye. You reached out for them, turning them over in your hands, when a voice from the shadows made you freeze.

“Well, well… if it isn’t the lost one.”

The voice was low, measured, and carried an unsettling familiarity. You turned slowly, your eyes locking onto a tall, gaunt man stepping out from the shadows. His face was pale, his sharp features shadowed by a hood, and his eyes gleamed with a cold intelligence.

“Singed,” you said cautiously, your grip tightening on the goggles.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he said, his tone almost amused. His gaze flicked over you, lingering like he was studying a specimen under glass. “But it’s me who knows you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

“Don’t you?” His lips curved into a thin, cruel smile. “Oh, you’ve forgotten. But that’s to be expected, isn’t it? The past buried so deep, you don’t even recognize the name you were given.”

You narrowed your eyes, but before you could speak, he said it—a name you hadn’t heard with that voice since you were a child. The sound of his tone–it sent a jolt through you, like a trigger and for a brief moment, your vision blurred.

The purple flash. It came unbidden, your body reacting to the name like a spark to a fuse. Your heart raced as you blinked, forcing yourself back to clarity, but Singed had already noticed.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, his smile widening. “It’s still in you. Buried, yes, but not gone. I was right to be patient.”

“What are you talking about?” you demanded, but your voice wavered.

“Oh, you’ll understand soon enough,” he said cryptically, his words slipping into a language you couldn’t place. The sound of it was almost hypnotic, a strange rhythm that made your head swim and your body feel weightless.

You stumbled back a step, gripping the counter for support, your eyes unfocused. The world around you felt hollow, distant, as his voice echoed in your mind.

“Don’t worry,” Singed said, his tone almost mocking. “I’ll find you again. When the time is right.”

And just like that, he was gone, slipping back into the shadows as if he had never been there at all. You stood there for a moment, your breath shallow, your mind racing with questions you couldn’t answer.

The lair was dimly lit, the hum of machinery in the background blending with the occasional clink of metal tools on the workbench. You sat on a battered old chair in the corner, your hands clasped tightly, your elbows resting on your knees. It had been hours since you’d spoken. Since you’d even moved.

Your reflection in a nearby cracked mirror caught your eye. You barely recognized yourself. The sharp confidence you once carried felt dulled, replaced by something hollow, something unfamiliar.

His voice. That name.

“Spark.”

The word echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. It wasn’t just the name—it was the way he said it, the power it held over you. Your fingers twitched as you recalled how your body had responded against your will. A primal reaction you couldn’t control, one that made your stomach churn with disgust.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” you muttered under your breath, your voice hoarse.

Jinx’s light steps barely registered until she plopped down on the floor beside you, cross-legged and watching you closely. Her usual manic energy was subdued, replaced by something softer, more curious.

“Alright, what’s eating you, Big Shot?” she asked, tilting her head. “You’ve been sitting there looking like someone stole your favorite gun.”

You glanced at her, your jaw tightening. You wanted to brush it off, but the weight of the encounter was too much to carry alone.

“Do you know someone named Singed?” you asked, your voice low and strained.

Her expression shifted immediately, her playful smirk vanishing. “Yeah… I know him. He worked with Silco back in the day. Creepy guy. Always muttering, always experimenting. Why?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly. “I ran into him earlier. He… he called me by that name, Jinx. A voice I haven’t heard since I was a kid.”

“What name?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Spark,” you whispered, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “And when he said it… it was like… like I wasn’t in control anymore. Like I had to listen.”

Jinx’s expression darkened. “What do you mean ‘had to listen’?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “It was like I wasn’t myself. My body just… responded. I felt feral, like there was something buried in me that he was pulling out. I wanted to fight it, but I couldn’t. I felt… hopeless. Submissive.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jinx’s fingers tapped against her knee, her gaze fixed on you but distant, as if she were piecing things together.

“I don’t like this,” she finally said. “I don’t like any of this.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “I need help, Jinx. I need to figure out what’s happening to me, why I reacted like that. And I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Jinx hesitated, biting her lip. You could see the conflict in her eyes. She hated the idea of you being vulnerable, hated the thought of you needing anyone but her. But she wasn’t blind to the truth.

“You’re saying this is bigger than the Undercity,” she said quietly.

You nodded. “I think it is.”

She ran a hand through her hair, groaning in frustration. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but… you’re right. If Singed is messing with you, and he’s tied to whatever happened to you as a kid, we need someone who knows how to deal with him. Someone with resources.”

Your heart sank as you caught on to where she was going. “Jinx—”

“It has to be Caitlyn,” she interrupted, her tone firm despite the reluctance in her eyes. “She’s the only one who can help you figure this out. I hate it, but if it’s between that and losing you to whatever freaky science Singed is pulling, then I’ll deal with it.”

You looked at her, surprised by the resolve in her voice. Her loyalty was fierce, but this level of sacrifice was new, even for her.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, searching her face.

“No,” she admitted with a wry smile, “but I’m sure about you. If Caitlyn’s what it takes to keep you safe, then fine. But I’m not gonna let her take you without a fight. Got it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the weight on your chest lifting slightly. “Got it.”

She reached over, taking your hand in hers. “We’ll figure this out. I don’t care how many towers we have to burn down. You’re not going through this alone.”

Her words settled deep in your heart, and for the first time since the encounter with Singed, you felt a flicker of hope.

Caitlyn’s quarters were dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. It was eerily quiet, save for the occasional sound of her shuffling papers or the creak of her chair. You stood in the shadows, watching her as she slumped at her desk, her head resting in her hands.

Her once pristine space was unrecognizable. Papers were scattered everywhere, drawers left half-open, and an empty teacup sat forgotten on the edge of the desk. She exhaled deeply, her body trembling as she fought back tears. But eventually, the dam broke.

“I hate this,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice shaky. “I hate how much I care. How much I miss you. And you’re probably out there hating me after everything I did to you.”

You shifted in the shadows, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“I trusted you. I loved you. Still love you, even though I shouldn’t.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her hands to her face. “Even if you don’t love me back… I can’t stop. I can’t let go of you.”

You clenched your fists, emotions swirling inside you. You felt deeply for Caitlyn, more than you were ready to admit, but now wasn’t the time to explore those feelings. There was too much at stake, too many questions that needed answers.

Still, seeing her like this broke something in you.

Leaning against the doorframe, you spoke lightly, trying to mask the weight in your chest. “You know, your security’s terrible. Anyone could just waltz in here.”

Caitlyn froze, her tear-streaked face snapping toward the sound of your voice. Her wide, disbelieving eyes found you as you stepped forward, your lips quirking in a teasing smile.

“Hello, Commander,” you said softly, the playfulness in your tone betraying the tension in your heart.

She didn’t hesitate. Caitlyn launched herself out of her chair, her boots thudding against the floor as she closed the distance between you. You barely managed to catch her as she threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a desperate embrace.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice muffled against your shoulder. Then, louder, as if saying it would make it real: “You’re here!”

Her hands found your face, her thumbs brushing against your jaw as she held you at arm’s length to look at you. Her fingers were trembling, her breath hitching. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I… I’m so sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For not trusting you. I’ve missed you so much.”

You let her hold your face, her warmth grounding you in the moment. “I’m here now,” you said softly, your hands resting on her waist. “But I need your help, Cait. I really need your help.”

She blinked, her tears slowing as she searched your face. “Anything,” she said quickly. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Just tell me.”

You stepped back, reluctantly breaking her hold, and removed your coat. Then, with a steadying breath, you lifted your shirt over your head, exposing the tattoos that snaked across your torso.

Her eyes widened, her gaze tracing the intricate lines and symbols etched into your skin. She reached out instinctively, her fingers hovering over one of the symbols near your ribs.

“These…” she whispered. “You’ve never explained them to me before.”

“They’re a map,” you said, your voice low. “My so-called family gave them to me when I was a child. I didn’t understand what they meant back then, but… Singed does. He called me by a name, Caitlyn. ‘Spark.’ And when he said it, I wasn’t… myself anymore.”

Her fingers brushed against one of the symbols, and you shivered at the contact. “He did something to you?” she asked, her voice tinged with anger.

You nodded. “I don’t know how or why, but it’s like… he has some kind of control over me. I need to understand what these tattoos mean, what he’s after. And I need you to help me find out.”

Caitlyn’s eyes softened as she looked up at you, her hands still tracing the lines of your tattoos. “We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “I’ll do everything I can to get you through this. You’re not alone.”

She pulled you into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around you. For a moment, you let yourself sink into her embrace, her warmth chasing away the lingering cold left by Singed’s voice.

You held her close, your cheek resting against her hair. “Thank you, Cait.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at you, her blue eyes filled with determination. “Whatever it takes,” she promised.

You nodded, a small flicker of hope igniting in your chest. For the first time in days, you felt like you had a chance to take control of your fate.

The dim glow of the desk lamp illuminated the worn records of Silco’s operations scattered before you. You sat hunched over, elbows propped on the table, flipping through the faded pages. Caitlyn had been quiet for some time now, seated across the room with her own stack of documents, but you felt her gaze lingering.

You glanced up, catching her staring. She didn’t look away.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at your lips.

Caitlyn blinked as if pulled from a trance. “No, I just…” She trailed off, setting her papers down and folding her hands in her lap. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “You’ve changed me.”

Her words caught you off guard. You tilted your head, waiting for her to elaborate.

“I mean, the way I see the world,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. “I used to think everything was so black and white. Good and bad. Piltover and the Undercity. But you… you made me see the shades of gray. The hope. The humanity I ignored in the people I was supposed to protect.”

Her blue eyes softened as they met yours, and something in her expression made your chest tighten. You tried to brush it off, turning your attention back to the records in front of you, but her voice drew you in again.

“You gave me hope,” she admitted. “You made me believe things could be better, even when I was at my lowest.”

You were about to respond when you realized she wasn’t across from you anymore. Somehow, she was beside you, her presence warm and steady. Her fingers brushed against your arm, and your breath hitched.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the moment. “Cait, I…” you hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I’m seeing Jinx. And… I have feelings for her.”

Caitlyn froze for a second, then nodded, her expression unreadable. “I know,” she said quietly. “And I understand. I’m not trying to come between you two.” She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting slightly. “But I need you to know how I feel. How much you mean to me.”

Her voice wavered, and before you could react, her hands were on your face, her touch gentle but firm. You froze, your heart pounding as her gaze locked with yours.

“Cait…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Stay on task,” you added quickly, trying to redirect the moment. “We need to focus on what Singed is planning.”

Caitlyn sighed, her hands falling away as she pulled back slightly. “You’re right,” she said, though her eyes lingered on you a moment longer. Then, as if something clicked, her gaze sharpened, and she leaned closer again, her eyes catching on the faint symbol etched onto the side of your neck.

“What’s this?” she asked, her fingers brushing lightly over the mark.

You frowned. “It’s part of the map. Why?”

Caitlyn stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she crossed the room. She rifled through a stack of papers, muttering to herself until she pulled out a crumpled sheet. Her eyes darted between the paper and your neck, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“This symbol,” she said, holding the paper up for you to see. “It’s tied to Hextech. There’s someone who might be able to help us. They’ve worked on experimental tech, mapping neural pathways, and… well, they might know how to decipher this.”

You stared at the paper, the symbol on it eerily similar to the one on your skin. Your fingers brushed over the mark on your neck as unease and curiosity warred within you.

“Who are we talking about?” you asked, your voice steady despite the knot forming in your stomach.

Caitlyn looked at you, her resolve clear. “Heimerdinger,” she said. “If anyone can help us, it’s him.”

The faint, persistent hum of that voice had been tormenting you all evening, like a needle threading through the fabric of your thoughts. You tried to ignore it, to push it back where it belonged, but its grip only tightened.

The teacup slipped from your trembling hands and shattered against the floor, porcelain shards scattering like stars across the wooden boards. Your knees buckled, your hands flying to your head as a scream tore loose from your throat—a sound that was raw, primal, and animalistic.

Your vision spun, flashes of fragmented memories—or perhaps illusions—assaulting you. Faces you didn’t recognize, voices layered over each other in chaos, the faint glow of a strange symbol seared into your mind. And the voice. That commanding, icy voice calling you by a name you hadn’t heard in decades.

“Spark,” it whispered. It echoed, again and again, rattling inside your skull.

“Y/n!” Caitlyn’s voice cut through the haze. Her footsteps were quick as she rushed to your side, dropping to her knees beside you. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You couldn’t answer her. You couldn’t see her. Your eyes were wide, flickering between their natural gray and an unnatural, glowing purple. Caitlyn froze, her hands hesitating in midair as your gaze snapped toward her.

Her breath caught. “Your eyes…” she whispered, fear lacing her voice.

Your breath was ragged, shallow, as if something deep and primal was clawing to the surface. The world blurred, your senses heightening in unnatural ways—every sound sharp, every scent piercing. You were becoming something unrecognizable, something feral.

Through sheer will, you found a sliver of control. With trembling hands, you fumbled into your pocket and pulled out the emergency flare Jinx had given you. Your hands shook as you thrust it toward Caitlyn, your voice a low, broken rasp.

“Go,” you managed.

She stared at you, stunned for a moment, before the severity of the situation sank in. Without hesitation, Caitlyn grabbed the flare and sprinted to the nearest rooftop. The night swallowed her footsteps, and moments later, a sharp hiss filled the air as the flare ignited.

The smoke rose thick and red, a stark beacon against the starless sky.

->

Jinx sat at her workbench, goggles perched on her forehead as she tinkered with a delicate trinket. She worked with an uncharacteristic focus, her tools clicking against the small device. A faint smirk played on her lips as she muttered to herself, occasionally shooting Isha a glance.

Isha sat nearby, her small frame rigid and tense, her wide eyes darting between Jinx and the object in her hands. The girl’s expression said everything: curiosity, apprehension, and admiration, all swirling together.

Jinx noticed the look and wagged her finger, a teasing grin curling her lips. “This little beauty? It’s not gonna bite, kid. Unless I screw up. Then…well…” She mimicked an explosion with her hands, laughing as Isha’s eyes widened further.

Isha’s head snapped up, though, her gaze fixed on the window. Her lips parted slightly, her brows knitting together in concern.

“What is it, gremlin?” Jinx asked, not bothering to look up. “I swear if it’s another—”

Her voice died as her eyes followed Isha’s line of sight. The flare burned bright in the sky, its red smoke twisting like a serpent against the black.

Jinx froze. The world seemed to stop around her. Her breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. Without a word, she sprang to her feet, her stool clattering to the ground.

Her workbench became a blur of movement as she scrambled to grab her weapons, tools, and anything she might need. Every motion was frantic, precise, desperate.

Sevika was making her way to Jinx’s lair when the chaos hit. The red smoke was unmistakable, its ominous glow visible even through the smog of the Undercity. She turned the corner just as Jinx barreled into her, nearly knocking them both over.

“What the hell—” Sevika began, but Jinx’s hand gripped her collar before she could finish.

“It’s Spark,” Jinx blurted, her voice unsteady, her eyes wide and wild. She didn’t need to explain further; the desperation in her tone said it all.

Sevika hesitated for only a heartbeat before she nodded. Her hand moved instinctively to her weapon, her expression hardening.

“Let’s go,” she said, and the two of them took off toward the flare, their footsteps echoing through the labyrinth of the Undercity. Neither of them spoke, their shared urgency driving them forward into the unknown.

<-

The room felt impossibly small as you clawed at your mind for control. Your breaths were shallow and ragged, each inhale jagged like broken glass scraping your lungs. The voices—taunting, commanding, relentless—coiled around your thoughts like venomous snakes.

The table in front of you cracked under your tightening grip. Your strength betrayed you as it splintered and gave way, collapsing in two with a deafening crash. Your hoarse scream tore through the room, raw and primal, echoing against the walls.

You stumbled to your feet, your body swaying like a marionette with severed strings, and found your way to Caitlyn’s bathroom. The tile felt icy under your bare feet, but you didn’t notice. Your trembling fingers twisted the faucet handle, and steaming hot water roared from the showerhead. Without hesitation, you stepped under the cascade, letting the searing heat soak into your skin.

The world blurred as the water streamed over you. Memories began to rise, vivid and haunting, like waves crashing against the walls of your mind.

You were small again, no more than a child. The bridge stretched before you, cracked and broken, its foundation trembling with each explosion that rocked the air. Smoke choked the sky, and screams pierced your ears.

A man knelt in front of you, his face obscured by the haze, his voice calm despite the chaos around you.

“Sparky,” he said, his hands cupping your tear-streaked cheeks. His tone was warm, protective, but tinged with desperation. “Listen to me. You’re strong. Stronger than you think. But you have to go. Run.”

“I don’t want to leave you!” you cried, clutching at his arms.

He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll find you. I promise. I love you, kid. Never forget that.”

Another explosion roared behind him, the shockwave forcing him to let you go. His body shielded you from the debris, but the force sent you stumbling backward.

“Go!” he shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the chaos.

You turned and ran, your legs heavy with fear. The bridge groaned beneath your feet as more explosions rattled its structure. Then, the sound of splintering metal tore through the air, and the ground vanished beneath you.

You screamed as you fell, the world spinning into a blur of smoke and sky. The man’s distant cry of anguish echoed after you.

The memory collided with the present as your scream ripped from your throat once again. You stumbled back against the shower wall, the water now unbearably hot, but you didn’t care. Your hands gripped your head, nails digging into your scalp as you slid down to the floor of the shower.

Jinx burst into Caitlyn’s residence, her face flushed with urgency. Her mismatched eyes darted around until they locked onto Caitlyn, who had already armed herself and was braced for confrontation.

For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension. Caitlyn’s sharp gaze met Jinx’s defiant one, both women silently acknowledging what neither wanted to say aloud: they both loved you, and they both knew it.

Jinx clenched her fists but broke the silence first. “She’s in trouble. You know it, and so do I.” Her voice was steady, but there was a crack in her tone, a vulnerability she rarely allowed.

Caitlyn nodded reluctantly, her grip on her weapon loosening. “I know.”

Sevika, leaning against the wall, smirked. “Well, isn’t this cozy? Two sides of a war teaming up over a girl. Feels like I’m stuck in a bad romance novel.”

Neither Jinx nor Caitlyn acknowledged her quip, but they both shot her sharp looks before heading down the hallway.

As they approached the bathroom, Caitlyn noticed the steam curling out from under the door. Her chest tightened.

“Stay behind me,” she said firmly, motioning for Jinx to wait.

But Jinx ignored her, shoving past and throwing the door open.

The sight that met them was chilling. You lay slumped in the shower, the hot water pouring relentlessly over your face and body. Your skin was pale, your lips parted as shallow breaths escaped you.

Jinx was the first to move, skidding to her knees beside you. “Hey! Come on, don’t do this to me now!” Her voice cracked as she shook your shoulders gently.

Caitlyn followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She crouched next to you, her hands trembling as she reached for your face. The heat of your skin against her palm was alarming.

Your eyes fluttered open, but they weren’t the gray she knew. They glowed an unnatural purple, their intensity sending a shiver down her spine.

“Y/n?” Caitlyn whispered, her voice barely audible.

You stared at her blankly, as if you didn’t recognize her. Then your lips parted, and a guttural growl escaped, low and feral.

Caitlyn turned to Jinx, her expression grave. “I need to detain her. For everyone’s safety.”

Jinx bristled, her hand already reaching for her pistol. “The hell you will!”

“She’s not herself!” Caitlyn snapped.

“Like I care!” Jinx yelled back, her voice breaking.

Sevika lingered in the doorway, her expression unreadable. “Oh, this is gonna end well,” she muttered under her breath.

The tension in the bathroom was suffocating, Jinx and Caitlyn standing inches apart, their heated argument escalating.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jinx hissed, her voice sharp. “She’s not some wild animal to be locked up in your tower like a damn trophy!”

“She’s a danger to everyone, Jinx!” Caitlyn fired back, her tone equally biting. “If we don’t control this, people will die. You can’t just ignore that because you—”

“Because I what?” Jinx interrupted, stepping closer, her mismatched eyes blazing. “Because I love her? Like you don’t?”

Sevika, leaning against the doorframe, let out a frustrated growl. She’d been watching you the entire time, noting the way your body tensed and twitched, your breath ragged, your purple eyes flickering faintly as if battling something unseen.

They didn’t notice the moment you stirred, your body beginning to rise from where you lay. Sevika did.

“Enough!” she barked, stepping forward just as you fully began to sit up, your glowing purple eyes locking onto the nearest target. With a single motion, Sevika’s mechanical fist slammed into your temple.

The metallic sound of the impact echoed in the room as you slumped forward, unconscious.

“What the hell, Sevika?!” Jinx shouted, rushing toward you.

Caitlyn froze, her face pale as she watched Sevika lower her arm, her expression dark.

Sevika turned on them, her voice sharp and unwavering. ���You two were so busy fighting over who loves her more that you didn’t even notice she was about to tear both your throats out.” Her voice cracked slightly as she muttered, “And then Isha would be alone.”

Jinx’s mouth opened to argue, but nothing came out. Caitlyn lowered her gaze, guilt washing over her.

“You think this is a game?” Sevika snapped, her glare shifting between them. “You think any of this is about your feelings? It’s not. If she goes feral again, it won’t matter who she loves or who loves her back—none of us will make it out alive.”

Caitlyn stepped forward, composing herself. “We need to detain her. Somewhere safe.”

“Not the tower,” Jinx said immediately, her tone defensive.

Caitlyn frowned. “Jinx—”

“She’s not going there,” Jinx growled. “Ambessa’s there. You think I trust her anywhere near Spark?”

Caitlyn hesitated but relented with a nod. “Fine. Somewhere secluded.”

Sevika sighed heavily, bending down to lift your unconscious body over her shoulder like a sack of flour. “Let’s move. We’ll figure this out on the way.”

_________________

Well...

[ba9go]

i don't care if you're contagious

bakugou katsuki x gn!reader (zombie apocalypse au)

in which katsuki promises to never leave your side.

katsuki trudged through the wreckage strewn about the street, the chaos of the apocalypse swirling around him. he had seen countless horrors, but none compared to this.

he sees a young boy sprinting away from a twisted, zombified woman. his mother. the child is sobbing, and katsuki's first instinct is to rush in and protect, but one of the other pro-heroes beat him to it.

'fuckin' hell,' katsuki thinks as he continues down the ruined street, steps heavy with disgust and frustration. his stomach twists and katsuki feels sickened at the cruelty of it all.

his eyes darted from one horror to another — crumbling buildings, abandoned cars, the unsettling sight of undead creatures stumbling, crawling, lying amongst the wreckage.

after days of this god-damned apocalypse, katsuki's gotten somewhat used to it. the stench of decay. the incessant groaning ringing in his ears. it was sickening.

and worst of all? you were missing.

it's been roughly 72 hours since katsuki's seen you (yes, he's keeping track), and katsuki's frantic.

katsuki knows you're strong, knows how capable you are. but even so, the situation has only gone from bad to worse, and anything could happen.

katsuki doesn't know what he'd do if he lost you.

katsuki knows he can't afford to dwell on things like that. each time he feels himself worrying about you, he shoves it all aside, because he knows — if he lets himself think about it, his mind would simply spiral, until it drove him completely crazy and to the brink of breaking down.

and only god knows how bad katsuki wanted to break down every passing moment without you, without knowing that you were okay.

katsuki doesn't think too much about what could happen. the thought of you lost in this madness, possibly hurt (or worse), was simply too unbearable.

instead, katsuki thinks about your sweet voice, telling him to stay strong, reassuring him that things will all be okay.

sometimes, in the quiet moments between the chaos, katsuki would close his eyes and let his mind drift back to the last time he saw you.

"katsuki," you murmured, reaching up to hold his face. your touch is always so gentle, and yet katsuki swears that it's the only thing keeping him grounded in this fucked-up situation.

"y/n'," katsuki exhales with a shaky breath. he leans down and presses his forehead against yours. his hands tighten their grip on your waist as he pulls you in as close as he can get. "i don't know if i have it in me to let you go, darlin'."

"i know, katsuki," you sighed, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs, and katsuki's chest tightens as your eyes start to water. "i'll be back later, alright?"

"i'll be waiting," katsuki thinks you already know this, but he tells you anyway. "i swear to god, i ain't lettin' go of ya when ya come back to me."

"sure took your sweet time comin' back to me, didn't ya?" katsuki chuckles as he approaches the familiar figure staggering through the debris.

it was you.

the infection had twisted you into one of them, with deathly pale skin and jerky, unnatural movements. yet even in your zombified state, katsuki knew it was you.

slowly, you turned around to look at katsuki impassively. katsuki's heart clenches at your empty stare, but he can't bring himself to walk away from you.

"been lookin' for ya, ya know?" katsuki laughs, even though it's strained. "had me lookin' like the clingy one, sweets."

you stumble towards him with outstretched hands, and all katsuki can think is that you're reaching out to him, and he's rushing to you in an instant.

before he reaches you, you sway on your feet and fall to the ground on your knees. katsuki curses under his breath and he kneels in front of you, holding you by your shoulders to steady you.

"are you okay?" is what katsuki wants to ask, but he realises with a shudder that it would be futile. instead, he closes the distance, his hand gently cupping your face.

"damn it, y/n," katsuki voice breaks. "i've been looking for you. i looked everywhere." katsuki searches desperately in your eyes for any trace of emotion, of recognition.

you let out a weak, garbled noise, but you don't lean into his touch, and katsuki thinks for the first time since this shitty apocalypse that his world might finally be crashing down around him.

'no,' katsuki thinks. he finally found you. this was no time for him to break down. he had to be strong, for you.

"i'm sorry i took so long," katsuki forces a small smile. "m'here now, yeah?"

katsuki wraps his arms around you and pulls you in towards him like he's done countless times in the past.

katsuki closed the gap between them, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss.

katsuki doesn't pull away until your hands are on his shoulders, pushing him away as if in protest. it was so like you, and katsuki couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him.

"i told ya i wouldn't let go of ya, didn't i?" katsuki smiles, even as he feels himself growing faint. "a promise's a promise, darlin'."

bbbbrrrrrraaaaiiiinnnnnnsssssssssss...

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss @crimsonrubie @babylambdietcoke @suki0

[aemondapologistfrfr]

What the Gods Gave Us

fancast!benji blackwood x targ!fem!reader

apocalypse asoiaf/f&b au 

Summary: The Gods chose their own side during the dance of the dragons and decided to cast the realm into winter and death. Only three dragons remain alive to see the fruition of Aegon the Conquers dream. 

Warnings: 18+ mentions of death, death, swearing, blood, fingering, p in v, heavy au, plot heavy

Authors Note: a request from @chainsawsangel that I absolutely got carried away with :) in reality I should’ve made this multiple parts but fuck that we gots to see it thru

Word Count: 9k just be chill about it 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

When the dance began the Gods looked down upon us and frowned. They cast the world into winter and allowed death to come from above the wall. No one was spared from what broke down the barrier in the north and came flooding through. It didn’t happen slowly. In under a week the entire realm was cast in snow and bitter winds. Sicknesses wiped out entire houses. Noble and low born families alike were torn apart and scattered across the wastelands that used to once be the great seven kingdoms of Westeros. 

Winter took our entire family and most of our dragons. The only remaining Targaryens in this world are me and my two brothers. When the snow started sticking our mother sent us and our dragons to hide within the crumbling walls of Harrenhal. The only place that seems to be untouched from decay here is the weirwood. Its eyes follow us as we walk across the grounds as it pours buckets of blood from its eyes. There’s an old kind of magic about this fallen castle that deters the white walkers from entering. 

The only other living creature here is Alys Rivers who only speaks in riddles and hides herself away in her chambers with her potions and ramblings. We try to avoid her but we’ve made her an honorary member of our family. She cooks and cares for us and we offer her protection and go out and get supplies. Today’s supply run has us traveling to Ironmans bay. She’s seeking a specific plant that only grows on the coast of the Iron Islands. 

“Why must I stay here with her?” Luke whines pleading with me and Jace to come with.

“You are young and so is your dragon. We’re not risking it. Taking two dragons out is as big of a calling card that we can deal with.” Jaces voice does not falter as he orders Luke to stay. 

“Mother said we’re supposed to stick together.” Luke looks between the both of us with sad eyes. 

“We always come back.” I cup his cheek hoping to offer him comfort.

“Please come back.” Luke’s eyes water as he pulls us into a hug. 

It’s never my want to leave him behind but I would much rather have him here than out there with us. Jace and I cover ourselves with white fur and leave the main hall. Our dragons chuff to us as we mount and take to the skies. We always fly in the clouds if we’re able. We don’t want to announce our moves during these trying times. We fly over countless pyres. I’m thankful our word got out that the one way to kill these things is fire and we have the biggest weapon against them. 

The flight to the coast is quick and freezing. We land on the shores and pull out a rough drawing of the plant that Alys gave us. Jace curses under his breath and kicks the snow away. It took a lot of convincing on my end for him not to kill or kick Alys out of Harrenhal when we first arrived. He’s been so angry at the world and I get it. I’m living in this frozen hell with him and I’m slowly losing hope as the moons pass. 

“I don’t care about her stupid fucking plants. We could be using our time differently.” he crosses his arms standing next to Vermax. 

“Using our time to do what Jace? What else could we possibly be doing? If you want to go sulk around that crumbling castle then go.” my voice rises with my anger. 

His breath clouds in front of him as he sighs and begins to look for the plants we’re here for. I hear a groan of string and wood and fall to the ground as I hear the arrow coast through the breeze. I turn and see Jace rising from the ground unsheathing his sword. I turn and see a handful of men running towards us and another bursts out from the tree line and starts cutting them down one by one. Jace and I look to each other before we turn back to the man who was so ready to lay his life down for us. 

“That’s close enough.” Jace raises his blade to the man walking towards us who stops and falls to one knee. 

“I swore fealty to your mother and that extends to her children as well. My sword is yours.” he bows his head and I turn to Jace. 

“What do we need your fealty for? What do you think we’re ruling over? Death and decay?” the man’s head pulls up as he looks beyond as at our dragons. 

“If anyone could bring the realm back together it would be the dragons. It was word from your mouths that fire will kill them no?” he rises to his full height. 

“What is it that you want?” Jaces voice calls over to him. 

“Shelter and safety. These Bracken cunts slaughtered the last of my men. I’ve been hunting them down for days now.” he turns to them and lets sparks rain upon them as their bodies go up in flame.

“And what is your name?” I raise my chin looking him over. 

“Benjicot Blackwood.” he bows his head once more. 

“What is it that you can offer us if we take you with us?” I ask assessing him. 

“I have no dragon or dragon flame but I have a sword and flint and they offer the same results.” he holds his sword out with both hands offering it to us. 

“I say we burn him and leave.” Jace says from my side and my eyes bulge. 

“Why would we do that? He’s just one person. Surely we can use his hands and sword.” I try to reason with him. 

“I’m sure you would like to use his sword.” he sneers at me and it takes all my strength not to punch him in the face. 

“I will cut your tongue out if you speak to me like that again.” I hiss back to him. 

“If you want him then search him and see if your dragon will allow him to ride back with you. I’m not dealing with this.” he waves me off and walks back to his dragon. 

“Alright, let’s go.” I nod my head for Benjicot to come to me. “I will search your pack and person and then we will see if my dragon will allow you to ride him and then we’ll go back to where we stay.” I hold out my hand expectantly. 

“Where is it that you stay?” he hands me his pack and my hands stop searching as I see the plants Alys is looking for. 

“What are you doing with these plants?” I look to him with scrunched brows. 

“They help staunch the never ending hunger.” he tilts his head. 

“Very well, do you have anything on your person that I need to be concerned about?” I close the bag and toss it back to him. 

“You can come let your hands roam all over me and find out for yourself.” he smirks unabashed. “The only thing you might find concerning is how much you enjoy it.” I gasp at his words as a laugh falls from my lips. 

“You are very bold.” I offer him a smile of my own as I feel my body heat. “Let’s see if you get to come home with me or become a meal for my dragon.” I hum and he chuckles lowly walking to my side. 

My dragon looks over him licking his teeth. I don’t know if it’s boldness or lack of care for his life but he walks up to my dragon and holds his hands out. My dragon seems as taken aback as I am and looks to me and huffs. I shrug my shoulders and walk past Benjicot to his wing. 

“Well are you coming, Benjicot?” I turn raising my eyebrow to him. 

“You can call me Benji.” he smiles walking to my side with confidence in his step. 

Vermax and Jace shoot to the skies and we’re close behind them. Benji holds onto my sides tightly and I welcome in the extra warmth. The chill goes to the bone once the sun begins to set and I’m thankful for our quick flight back to our crumbling fortress. Benji slides down after me and Jace scoffs before strutting into the main doors. 

“You’ve found the plants.” she looks to Benji and I look to her confused but not surprised that she knew of Benji from all her self proclaimed premonitions that I’m starting to believe more of everyday.

“This is-“ 

“Benjicot.” Alys nods her head taking his pack and disappearing with it leaving us confused. 

“She’s an interesting woman.” Benji says chuckling. 

“Who is this?” Luke bounds down the stairs and looks to Benji.

“Benji Blackwood. We found him wandering.” I offer. 

“Jace isn’t happy.” Luke says looking to me. 

“I’m well aware.” I roll my eyes and turn to Benji. “Come let’s find you a room.” he trails after me as we walk deeper into the castle. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It has been just over a moon since we brought Benji back and Jace hasn’t gotten anymore welcoming. Luke on the other hand has taken a liking to him and it warms my heart to see Luke smile and laugh again. I want this for Jace but I don’t think he wants it for himself and that’s why he closes in on himself. I keep wanting to talk to Jace about Benjis words to us when we first met him. How us and our dragons could bring the realm back together. I talk about this a lot with Benji and he’s told me that there are survivors out there who believe this as well. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop and even have entertained the idea with Alys. 

“What do you propose?” Alys hums as I sit at the stone table while she’s crushing plants. 

“I don’t know. Something. We can’t possibly live like this forever. There has to be something we can do.” I try to search her eyes for any clue of to what she’s thinking. 

“The Gods are angry.” she offers me an unsettling smile. 

“They’ve taken it out on the realm what else is there left for them to take?” I ask exasperated. 

“They can take anything they please.” she hums moving around the table. 

“There has to be something we can do to change the tides. Are we not of the line that is supposed to end this war? Is the song of ice and fire truly just a tale?” I nibble on my bottom lip and she turns quickly to me. 

“So you know?” she raises an eyebrow. 

“Of the dream, yes, but what are we to do? There’s only three of us.” I sigh rubbing my forehead. 

“Return to Dragonstone and retrieve the glass.” her words ominous. 

“What glass?” I ask tilting my head. 

“Beneath the castle. You’ll know it when you find it.” she waves me off. “Bring both of your brothers and Benjicot.” she adds as I exit. 

As I walk up the stairs to find them my mind races with the confirmation Alys just gave me. I know Jace is going to scold me but I truly believe this with my being. I find Jace and Luke lounging in front of the great hearth. Benji is sat on the other side of the room near the window gazing out. I call Benji over near the fire and begin to tell them of my conversation with Alys and what we must do.

“You’re just as mad as her if you think I’m coming with you.” Jace scoffs at me.

“This is our chance to try and set things right. We’re the last dragons. Mother told us of the song of ice and fire and you want to ignore that? Winter is here. She chose you as her heir for a reason. Start acting like it.” I rise along with my temper. 

“You think a story will save us now?” he tosses his head back and laughs. 

“There’s no harm in trying, we either sit here and starve to death or try to do something. We can find the other survivors, unite the realm once more. We can kill these things, brother. We can set the realm back to how it was supposed to be, together, as a family.” I plead with him trying to show him reason. 

“Do you include your stray in our family now?” he shoots Benji a dirty look. 

“My stray has a name and he has been nothing but kind to you. Why do you despise him so much?” I shake my head at his ridiculousness. 

“Because he feeds your obsession about saving the realm when it’s already a frozen wasteland beyond repair.” Jace turns to Luke for support who avoids his eyes. “Oh you believe this too?” he chuckles to himself at a loss.

“What harm will it cause to go home for one day. Remember what used to be, what could be again.” Luke speaks softly. 

“One day.” Jace says looking to me. 

“Just one.” I nod my head. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The stone walls have never felt more cold than they do now in this abandoned castle. The wind seems to whisper as we pass through the empty halls sharing the story of our downfall. This once great castle brimming with life and happiness now offers us a cold embrace. Our dragons rumble beneath the floors from the pits and I allow myself to remember how lively these halls once were. Our home taken by fate.

“I’m going to my chambers. Let me know when you’ve found what you’re looking for so we can get off this freezing rock.” Jace bounds up the stairs out of sight. 

“Go after him.” I nod to Luke not wanting Jace to feel so alone and unheard. I sigh pulling my furs around me. Benji walks over to me and rubs his hands on my arms trying to warm me up some.

“Do you think I sound crazy, Benji?” I look to him with furrowed brows.

“We walk alongside death, Princess. I don’t think there’s anything crazy about wanting for something better.” he offers me a reassuring smile. 

“Then we must go to the pits.” I turn walking to the stairs. 

I hear him a step behind me and smile. Benji stops to light a torch for us and we enter the dark cave. I get us quickly to the bottom and we start through the small tunnels. I plunge us deeper as the air gets cooler. The torch catches on an opening showing us something dark and glossy. A smile spreads across my face as I take in the shimmering rock. 

“Dragon glass.” I turn to Benji. 

“How much does she want?” he asks looking at the massive trove in front of us.

“I’m assuming as much as us our dragons can carry.” I crane my neck to see the extent of the obsidian walls. 

“Do you think Jace will carry some?” he asks my thoughts out loud.

“I will make him. I believe in this and him. He is King even if he doesn’t speak it.” my voice hushed. “Do you think if he calls the survivors will answer?” I look to him as he looks at me with admiration. 

“Who would be bold enough not to answer the dragons call?” he chuckles. “I believe in what you say. You are a good sister, a good person, to keep faith in him when he doesn’t even have it for himself.” his words have me thanking Alys  for sending me to find those plants. 

“Thank you, Benji.” my voice barely a whisper as I look to him. 

“You are strong and resilient and any smart man knows there’s always a woman holding the realm together.” his words cause a welcome warmth to my cheeks. 

“I fear the realm has fallen apart.” I look away.

“You didn’t set that in motion. You are helping reclaim and rebuild. You will never have to carry that weight alone as long as I breathe.” my eyes see the sincerity across his features. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I cup his cheek before leading us out of the caves once more to find my brothers. 

They both groan at diving into the pits with me and Benji but follow nonetheless. Their eyes alight with wonder as they look around the obsidian cave. Jace places a hand on one of the rocks jutting from the ground and a warm breeze comes from deep within the ground. Just as quick as the warmth spreads it is replaced with ice. 

“What is it you want me to do?” Jace turns to me. 

“We need to mine as much of this as we can and bring it back with us.” I search Jaces face to see his mood. 

“This seems as if it will take more than the day I was promised.” Jace sighs. 

“We can figure it out. We can get you and Vermax loaded up first and you can go back to Harrenhal tonight if you want.” my eyes pleading. 

“I can stay and help.” a smile starts to spread across my face. “Don’t get too excited.” he glares at me and I have to bite my lip from smiling even wider. 

“Let’s go find some tools and start moving this out of the caves.” I nod my head leading us to the armory. 

As I push the doors to the armory open the castle seems to let out a breath it was holding since before this never ending winter. We all walk in and look around to find tools and carts. On the center table I spot two swords and a dagger with a parchment containing our mother’s handwriting. I call Jace and Luke over as we read her last words to us. 

My sweet children- 

Should you find this letter and our family blades it means you know what must be done now. My father always believed the song of ice and fire to be true and now I see that it is. The realms fate is left to you three. Jacaerys, I leave you Catspaw, the blade passed down to heirs over the years. Luke, my sweet boy, I leave you Blackfyre, do not allow anyone to underestimate you. Y/n, I leave you Dark Sister, that has been wielded by the strongest of us. Get the dragon glass and call the realm together. I’m sorry I’ve left this burden on you three. I love you, you were always the best of me.

-Mother

We look to each other with tear filled eyes and hold on to one another tightly. We sniffle and settle our breathing before nodding to one another. As we all grab for the blades we feel another warm breeze kiss across our faces. We turn and see Benji staring at us in awe. He shakes his head at a loss and falls to his knee. 

“The remaining dragons shall save us and cast the winter out of the realm.” he bows his head to us. 

“Rise, Benji. We have work to do.” Jace nods his head and I try to hide my smile that he called Benji by his name for the first time. 

We begin to pick up axes and shovels and toss them into carts. We make our way back down to the caves with a new sense of purpose. The next couple of hours are filled with grunts and curses at the hard rock. We take turns carting it to our dragons who look at us curiously as they curl up together. The energy we’re exuding actually has us hot for once and we take a break to walk the grounds. We end up standing in front of the weirwood as it stares back at us. The blood tears seem to still be ever flowing but less than what we’ve seen at Harrenhal. 

We decide to rest for the night and go about sourcing wood for a fire. After splitting up the frozen soup Alys sent us with we heat it over a fire in the main hall. We eat silently and quickly ready to sleep and start tomorrow anew. We each grab some wood and part ways and head for our chambers. As I’m making my way to my chambers I notice Benji is still trailing after me. 

“Where are you going?” I turn and raise an eyebrow to him. 

“To your chambers?” he tilts his head as if it was obvious. 

“I don’t remember inviting you.” I chuckle shaking my head. 

“It’s cold. We should share a bed. It’s the smart thing to do.” the smile that spreads across his face is serpentine. 

“Where is this concern when we’re at Harrenhal?” I smile before continuing down the hall to my chambers. 

“Are you asking me to move into your chambers with you?” he purrs quickening his pace to walk at my side. 

“We’ll see how tonight goes.” I hum as I push my chamber doors open and sigh at the familiar sight. 

“If there’s anything you need or want of me don’t hesitate to ask.” he says lowly before going to the stone hearth and starting a fire.

“Let’s move the mattress next to the hearth.” I toss the wood on the floor along with my bags. 

“Mm, how romantic.” he rises from the hearth and looks down to me. 

“It’s so we can be warmer.” I glare up at him. 

“I’ll keep you warm, don’t worry.” he strokes the side of my cheek before stepping around me and walking to the bed. I turn to him with red cheeks and cross my arms. “Stop pouting and come help me.” he chuckles. 

I flare my nostrils and walk over to my bed. I push my blankets and furs to the center and grab the edge of the bed to lift it. Benji lifts his side and we drop it on the ground a couple feet back from the hearth. I turn and look around my chambers taking them in. I never thought I would see these walls again. I pull Dark Sister from its sheath and place it on the table and look upon it. 

“A powerful weapon for a powerful woman.” Benji comes from behind me and looks over my shoulder. 

“I hope I’m not sending us all to our doom.” I whisper turning to him. 

“If you are, I will gladly stand by your side.” his voice doesn’t carry its usual playful demeanor. 

“Do you think we can do it?” I search his eyes. 

“I do.” he nods his head. “It will be hard but we’ve endured this far.” we slowly begin to lean into each other’s body heat. 

“Thank you for believing in me and not thinking I’m crazy.” I look up to him as our chests are almost touching. 

“I never said I didn’t think you were crazy, I said your idea wasn’t crazy.” a smile splits across his face and I push him back. 

“You’re such an asshole, you can-“ 

He pulls me into a rough kiss and I completely forget why I was angry. He pushes his tongue into my mouth and my arms wrap around his back holding him to me. One of his hands tangles into my hair holding my lips against his. His other hand holds my lower back molding me to him. We stay tangled in each other until we both pull back panting. 

“What were you saying?” he says lowly with his smirk back on his face. 

“Now I’m saying you’re an arrogant asshole and you can find somewhere else to sleep.” I glare up to him before looking at his lips and he chuckles catching the movement. 

“Want to try again and sound like you mean it?” his words taunting me. 

“Benji,” I warn huffing. 

“Hm?” he licks his lips and I roll my eyes at him brushing past him to the mattress. 

His hand reaches out and grabs my arm. He turns me towards him. I look up to him expectantly waiting for him to say or do something. I relent and start to reach up to capture his lips once more, over his games and he tips his head up making me chase his lips out of my reach. 

“I didn’t take you as such a tease. Or maybe you can’t get it hard?” I try to pull my arm out of his grasp but he just tightens his fingers. 

When he captures my lips this time it’s bruising and takes my breath away. His hands begin to pull off my clothes. When his rough hands meet my flesh I gasp into his mouth. I start to push off his clothes and he helps quicken the process. When our skin presses together I sigh at the warmth. We don’t separate as we fall to the mattress in a clash of tongues and teeth. He kisses down my jaw and I arch up into him gasping as I feel his hardened length slide against my wetness. 

“Benji,” I mewl as he rubs against my bud. 

“Hush,” he says before pushing into me. 

My breath catches at the stretch of him. He chuckles looking at my scrunched brows as I squirm beneath him. He slowly starts to rock into me until my moans become broken. His hips snap into mine and I feel my pleasure begin to coil. As he wraps my legs around his waist he starts a brutal pace. I throw my head back into the pillow as my hips meet his. I come undone around him and he grunts but keeps his pace. 

“Is my cock hard enough for you, Princess?” he dips down to whisper in my ear as he continues to rut into me. 

“Yes, Benji please,” I cry out feeling my high quickly approaching again. 

Our breaths come out in pants as we chase our highs. He rolls his hips into me and I whimper as he brushes against my sensitive bud. His trusts begin to falter as I start to pulse around him. He stills as I feel his warmth fill me. He brings his lips to mine as we still try to catch our breath. He rolls off of me placing one more kiss on my forehead. He pulls the furs over us and pulls me to his chest. 

“Do you still think I’m an asshole?” I roll my eyes and turn over putting my back to him. 

“I must’ve not fucked you hard enough if you’re still pouting.” he pulls me back to his chest. 

“I’m limited on options.” as the words leave my mouth his hand lands on my backside hard making me jolt into him. 

“Go to bed before I decide you don’t need any sleep.” his voice low as we hold each other tightly to ward off the cold.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Over the past three days we’ve been able to collect as much dragon glass as our dragons can carry. I’m thankful to finally get back to Harrenhal because we’re low on food and supplies. As we make our way to our dragons my brother and I look back at our home. None of us are brave enough to say goodbye or even to express hope to return again someday. We know the path ahead now is victory or peril. 

The flight back to Harrenhal feels as if it takes forever. Once we land Alys sweeps out through the main gates and looks us all over. She assesses the dragon glass and nods in approval at the amount we got. She ushers us inside and pours us tea and hot soup. 

“I’ve begun sending word around the realm that their King calls for them.” she says this as if it’s just another daily task. 

“Alys,” Jace sighs. “What was the message? We should’ve planned this together.” he shakes his head. 

“This has been planned long before you were born, boy. I’ve been waiting for you to stop throwing your tantrums to start moving the plans into place.” Alys turns to him with a motherly tone. 

“And where are you calling these survivors to rally?” Jace sets his spoon down completely abandoning his soup. 

“Winterfell, of course.” Alys tosses over her shoulder before returning to her poultices.

“Are there any survivors that far north?” Luke asks shaking his head.

“The one who carries Ice still lives.” she doesn’t even deign to turn around.

“How is it that you know all this? The ravens don’t carry messages anymore.” I ask my eyes boring into her back.

“There’s another raven that still carries messages if you know how to listen. The trees whisper too, I’m surprised you haven’t heard them.” she hums absentmindedly. 

“I need proof that there is reason for us to pack up and go north. The winds are surely deadly that far up.” Jace takes a sip of tea.

“Then follow me.” Alys’ skirts swish out of the hall and we all get up and trail after her. She takes us out to the Godswood and we stand in front of the crying weirwood. “Do any other of you have a lack of faith in the song of ice and fire?” she turns and assesses us. 

I turn to look at Luke and Benji and they both seem contented that the song is absolute certainty. We all turn to Jace who has a pout back on his face still not convinced. Alys smiles and gestures for him to come closer. She reaches for his hand and he reluctantly gives it to her. When she places his hand on the tree it feels as if the sun is shining on us for the first time in moons. When I look up I still see the same overcast sky and sigh.

Jace has gone completely still as the blood flows over his hands. His eyes are watering as his features go blank. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain but I’m still concerned for him nonetheless. I go to rest my hand on him and Alys stops me. 

“Do not interrupt this. He’ll be fine.” she whispers and I step back to Benji and Luke. 

Luke clings to me as we wait for Jace to come back to the present. The minutes drag on for what feels like hours. Benji comes to my other side and rests his head on my shoulder and I drink in his warmth. We huddle together and our spines straighten as Jace inhales deeply.

“It’s true.” he turns to us with tears streaming down his face as he pulls us into a hug. 

“What happened?” I pull back so I can assess him.

“I saw.” his voice still far off. “I saw everything.” he pulls Catspaw from his belt and holds it between us. 

“To Winterfell?” I search his eyes.

“To Winterfell.” Jace nods and walks past us back into the crumbling castle with a new found sense of purpose.

“What of you, Alys?” I turn to her and she smiles. 

“I will be there should you need me.” she hums walking past us into the castle after Jace.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

We stop every night on the way to Winterfell. Our dragons can only handle the chill for so long. We have them scorch the lands around us encircling us in a wall of flame. We are hoping to see some of the survivors Alys has talked about but the road has been silent. We curl up on the frozen ground clinging to one another for warmth. Sleep only offers us a reprieve for a couple of hours before we’re back in the wind. 

“How much longer?” Luke whines as he hugs onto Arrax. 

“If we push through we could make it a couple hours after moonrise.” Jace hums trying to see how we feel. 

“We can load up on furs. If Arrax can support him I’ll send Benji with you to help keep the chill off.” I nod trying to get us to Winterfell as soon as possible. I don’t know if we can survive another night outside in these temperatures, no matter how much fire our dragons supply. 

“You don’t have to baby me, Y/n.” Luke groans rolling his eyes at me. 

“You are a baby, Luke.” Jace laughs and I look to him with a smile of my own. I haven’t heard his genuine laugh in so long.

We decide on giving Luke as many of our furs that he could wear and still see. Arrax didn’t take too kindly to Benji and we didn’t want to stress anyone out. I give him more furs than Jace because I’ll have Benji behind me to help retain my heat. We mount the dragons and push forward to Winterfell. 

As the sun sets behind the clouds the temperature drops almost instantly. My muscles tense as I lean back into Benji. He opens his jacket and pulls me against his chest. He buries his head into my neck and I feel my body heat as his hair tickles me. He offers soft kisses to my neck that help distract me as the wind bites. 

As the hours drag by my body begins to shake trying to make its own heat. I look worriedly to my brothers who are probably in the same state and they don’t have someone to offer them extra warmth. I bury my head in my hands trying to regain feeling on my cheeks and nose. 

“We’re about an hour out. Once we’re in our chambers I’ll make sure you’re so hot you’ll be begging to go roll in the snow.” his words brush my ears and my entire body heats. I lean back appreciatively and excited about the warmth he’s offering. 

I fill my mind with thoughts of the man behind me and soon the blush on my face is heating my extremities. His arms wrap tighter around me as if he’s doing the same thing. Our bodies mend together pulling heat from one another. The walls of Winterfell finally come into view and I let out a choked sob. I see there are torches lit and it looks as if the integrity of this castle has still remained intact. Our dragons land inside the gates and burn the ground before us and I sigh in relief at the warmth as it licks at us.

“Welcome back, Your Grace.” a northern man with a large sword down his back approaches us.

“Lord Stark.” Jace nods his head before they laugh and hug each other.

“I’mglad that you guys are reunited but I would like to be reunited with warmth.” I say with a bite in my voice as Benji laughs next to me.

“Of course,” Cregan nods his head and we enter the warm halls quickly. 

“How is this the warmest place we’ve been in moons?” I sigh bringing my hands to the fire. 

“It was built to withstand the winter. After all, it’s always winter up here, Princess.” Cregan smiles to me. “We also have hot springs that should help you defrost and if that doesn’t help I’m sure we could find another way.” he chuckles as my red cheeks and Benji comes up to my side promptly. 

“We would love to try the hot springs.” Benji smiles to Cregan before wrapping his arm around me. Cregan brushes this off and walks back over to Jace and Luke. He leads us to the guest chambers. Benji tells him that he’s sharing with me and I roll my eyes at his dramatics. 

“Then I guess I won’t offer you a place in my chambers.” Cregan leans down and whispers into my ear. As he pulls back my cheeks are tinted and Benji is fuming next to me. “Someone will be up here shortly to bring you to the hot springs.” he smirks at me before shutting the door.

“Are you serious?” Benji turns me towards him.

“What?” I tilt my head still flushed from Cregans words.

“You’re lucky I didn’t take you in front of him.” he growls pulling me to him. 

“Benji,” I gasp as he starts pulling my furs off. “It was harmless.” he starts to pull off my shirt and I bite my lip as his hands find my skin.

“Harmless? He all but asked you to fuck in front of me.” he says through his teeth as he lifts my shirt off. 

“He did not.” I say hushed as his hands slide up my bare skin.

“What did he say that had you blushing?” he fingers brush against my nipples and a whimper falls from my mouth.

“He said,” I gasp as he pinches one of my nipples. “He said he was going to offer me a place in his chambers.” my hands rest on his arms as he continues to fondle across my chest.

“Is that what you want?” I shake my head at his words. “Tell me whose bed you want to be in.” his voice low as his hand dips beneath my waistband. 

“Benji,” I cling to him as his fingers spread my wetness. 

“Go find a robe.” I whine as he removes his hand. “Someone should be here to bring us to the hot springs soon.” he leaves me squeezing my thighs together. 

I huff and walk over to the wardrobe hoping there was something left. I sigh thankful that there are some robes left over. I slide my trousers down my legs and quickly wrap myself in the robe. I turn and toss Benji a robe and try not to let my eyes linger on his exposed torso. He starts to unlace his trousers and I look to him with low lids as he chuckles at me. He slides them off and I squeeze my thighs once more taking in the length of him. There’s a knock on the door and Benji is quickly slipping the robe on and walking to the door. 

“It seems as if I’m the only one left awake to take you both.” Cregan takes up our doorway and I internally groan. 

“Mm, of course.” Benji exhales grabbing my hand and pulling me to his side. 

The walk through the castle is silent and I can feel Benjis frustration pouring off of him. I squeeze his hand to try and get him to focus on anything else but he keeps his eyes focused on Cregans back. We start down a stone staircase and as we enter the cavern I sigh as the warm air kisses my face. I see that there’s more than enough space for the three of us to be here comfortably. I walk past them both and begin to dip into the water. Once my bottom half is in the water I slip off my robe and sink beneath and let out a breathy moan. 

I close my eyes as I let the hot water soothe my muscles. I sink lower into the water and I feel it ripple next to me. I peek an eye open and see that Benji has claimed a seat next to me. The water shifts again and I see that Cregan has also gotten in. I sit back up and feel the tension in the water and roll my eyes. Benjis hand falls to my thigh and my head snaps to him. 

“So are you guys together?” Cregans voice carries across the stone walls and I groan knowing this will set Benji off.

“Yes.” he says as his fingers grip on my thigh spreading them open. 

“Mm, how long?” Cregan looks to me as Benjis fingers slide to my core.

“Couple moons now.” I try to keep my voice steady as he swirls around my bud. 

“Where did you find her?” Cregan shifts to Benji and I’ve never been more thankful as he dips a finger into me. 

“Near the Iron Islands. I saved her and Jace from some Bracken beasts.” Benji narrows his eyes at Cregan as he pushes a second finger into me and a moan slips out. I try to cover it by clearing my throat but I can tell Cregan caught it. 

“Do you both need some privacy?” Cregan chuckles at my red cheeks and Benji keeps pushing his fingers into me. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Benji uses a patronizing tone. “She’s been begging for my cock since we started the journey here.” he chuckles and I snap my head to him ready to scold him until his thumb rubs against my bud and I’m hoping that Cregan will leave soon because I can’t contain the whimpers leaving my lips. 

“Treat her well. Or I will.” Cregan chuckles again before standing out of the water unabashed. Benji starts moving his fingers faster and I try to close my legs around his hand. 

“Benji.” I mewl as he continues with his motions.

“She’s content here.” Benji chuckles waving Cregan off. 

“Are you done now?” I pant at Benji.

“Not even close.” he growls as he flips me so my chest is against the cool stone. “Gunna fuck you here because I know he’s listening on the stairs.” he breathes into my neck as he lifts my hips.

“You sound paranoid.” I turn to look at his dark eyes as I spread my legs open for him. 

“I don’t care.” he pushes into me in one movement and I rest my cheek against the stone. 

Moans begin pouring from my lips as the water laps against us. His pace is quick and I have no hope of covering the curses and whines that fall from my mouth. The second his fingers brush against my bud my body goes taught. He continues to push into me as my high spreads through me. My hips push back into his as I continue to chase more pleasure.

“You like when I fuck you like a common whore?” he pulls me up against him and wraps his fingers around my neck.

“Fuck, Benji, please,” I whine as my chest heaves. 

The hand that he has supporting my waist goes to my bud and I contract around him as my pleasure washes through me. I feel his thrusts get sloppy as he begins to fill me. He slips out of me quickly pulling a moan from my lips. I brace my hands on the stone as I catch my breath. 

“When you’re ready we’re going back up to our chambers and I’m gunna fuck you until he knows you’re mine.” he sits back and I nod to him with flushed cheeks.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s been almost a moon since we’ve landed in Winterfell and the amount of survivors showing up is astonishing. We have a large camp circled around the walls that grow larger by the day. As more people arrive we give them dragon glass to shape into weapons of their choice. We’ve had confirmation dragon glass works on the white walkers and everyone seems relieved to have finally confirmed this theory. 

“When do we march north? Or are we staying here? What is the plan?” I look to Jace as I sprawl across his couch. Benji and Luke are sat at the table and look to Jace ready for his commands. 

“We fight here. He will come to us in the end.” Jace nods and goes to look out the window at the growing host around us. 

“Who will come?” Luke asks nibbling his lip.

“The night King. We kill him and this ends. We go home.” his voice seems far away and we look to each other with confused brows.

“You’re starting to sound like Alys, brother.” I chuckle and he turns to me with a smile. 

“Surprisingly, I don’t take offense.” he smiles sitting on a chair across from me. “I saw him beginning to march here. He has a large host of white walkers with him that he has no care if they live or die. We’re fighting for something. We have a reason and purpose. Fate is on our side. He will be here during the hour of the wolf.” he turns to look at Luke and Benji. 

“Tonight?” Benji asks taken aback.

“Yes, so get some rest. We either come out victorious or die.” Jace rises nodding to us. 

Benji, Luke, and I leave Jaces chambers to go and find a couple hours of sleep. We drop Luke off at his chambers and I hug him tightly and kiss his head. We make our way back to our chambers and collapse to the bed. We simply hold each other and curl up under the covers basking in each other’s warmth.

I sit up in bed as a loud horn is blown. Benji is looking out the window and I rise and go to his side. The castle seems to be surrounded by flame as I see a white mass headed for us. I turn back to the chambers trying to wake myself up quicker. I start to pull on my armor and sheath Dark Sister at my side. I turn back to Benji who is holding his hand out to me. 

“Are you ready?” I ask him slipping my hand into his. 

“I am. With the three dragons burning from above we will be able to be victorious on the ground.” he nods to me. We make our way to the main hall and see the remaining leaders gathered. On approach I see Alys coming out of a dark hall.

“What are you doing here?” I look to her confused.

“Making sure you both were awake for this war. They need you.” she nods us over to the conversation being held. 

“My siblings and I will be in the skies burning as many as we can without burning our own men. This is our last stand. We have all of the tools we need to succeed. It’s now or never. May the Gods choose our side.” Jaces voices carries throughout the hall and I tear up hearing him speak so confidently.

“A word sister?” Jace nods his head to the corner where Luke is waiting for us. “I wanted to tell you what I saw when I touched that tree. I saw us all here. Making the prophecy come true. Everything we have done has led us right here. We can reclaim this realm and break it free from the icy grasp of the Gods. It will be a new age for us. These men and women believe in us and will follow us even to their death.” his words cause my heart to tighten knowing no matter how much dragon flame and glass we use we will still suffer losses. 

“I will follow you even if it means my death, my King.” I lower my head and I see Luke do the same at my side.

“You both will live. I can’t do this without you. Together we will revive the Golden Age.” his words capture my breath. 

We all embrace and begin to walk out of the hall. Benji returns to my side and walks with us to our dragons. I make sure he’s armed with as many dragon glass weapons as his person can carry. I look up to him unable to help the worry written across my face. He smoothes my brow before placing his lips softly on mine. 

“If you die tonight, I won’t let them burn you. I’ll keep you as my white walker pet or something.” I pull back and look to him with furrowed brows and he barks out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best to stay alive.” he smiles down at me. “But it seems as if I’ll see you after regardless.” he kisses me once more and disappears into the sea of men and women. 

I sigh and turn to my dragon and see my brothers also talking to their dragons. I hug around my dragons neck and he lets out soft chuffs. Jace looks to Luke and nods and offers me the same motion. I begin to mount and once I’m settled and clipped into my saddle I turn back to my brothers once more. Jace and Vermax shoot into the sky and his dragon alights the sky with dragon flame. Luke and I fly up in unison our dragons spitting flame and washing the world in red for a couple moments. 

Our dragons cry out and we dip down aiming for the approaching white hoard. We all separate and bathe the undead in a fiery bath. A horn is heard from behind us and we hear the war cries from our host as they clash with the dead. A cool wind sweeps down from the north and I gasp as the world is cast in a blizzard. Our dragons cry out at being blinded and spit fire around the skies hoping to find a break. 

My heart beats wildly as my dragon and I try to find our way to the ground. He dives down spraying flame to clear our path and once we land we’re engulfed in flame as Luke lands next to me. White walkers approach us an instant later and our dragons call out as we’re surrounded. Luke and I dismount and pull our blades. There’s no time for hesitation as we begin swinging. Where our blade lands death follows and our dragons finish them with flame. I risk a glance into the skies for Jace and shake my head as I see nothing.

This has to work. It couldn’t have all been for nothing. All of the death and loss had to have meant something. My emotions pour into Dark Sister as I begin to court death. I hear Lukes grunts from a couple feet away as he’s engaged in a dance with two white walkers. I gape as he cuts them both down and doesn’t falter before he moves to the next. Pride surges in my chest as I focus on the walkers in front of me. As I swing my blade the blizzard begins to let up and I can finally see the host around us and see we’re not too far from the walls. 

The sun begins to rise washing the word in the normal gray as we continue to fight. I take small glances at the force around us and allow myself to smile as I see that a majority of us are still standing. I push off the walkers and run to Luke. 

“Mount Arrax and find Jace and then come and get me.” I take over the walkers he was dealing with as he shoots to the sky. I watch him fly north and turn my focus back in front of me. My dragon picks off the walkers that try to get to me when I’m further engaged. Arrax gives out a cry above me and I’m quickly mounting and flying after him. I follow him to the weirwood inside the walls and land running to the tree. There I spot Jace standing in front of a man made of ice. This clearly has to be the night King. 

“Jace,” I breathe out as I see the two Kings standing off. 

Jace lunges and their bodies are too close together to see what’s happening. Luke and I stand there frozen not knowing what to do. I hear a blade cut against flesh and I gasp. Jace staggers back hand still wrapped around Catspaw that is sticking out of the Kings chest. He twists and pulls it out swiftly and the King falls to the ground. Jace turns to us, blade in hand, and the sun begins to break through the clouds. It casts across Jaces face and the weirwood behind him. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s been six moons since the sun shone upon our faces again. The losses the realm endured were too many to count. Rebuilding has taken time and will take longer than our own lives allow. Jacaerys was coronated in Winterfell before we flew to Kings Landing to see what remained. We all have been slowly healing and moving forward. Today in the peak of summer as the sun is its highest Jacaerys will be coronated again before the masses in Kings Landing. 

The remaining Lords and Ladies of the realm stand on the dais beside us as a crown is placed on his brow by the new High Septon. This crown has been forged with dragon glass and valyrian steel and named after him as the Reclaimer. Jace smiles and nods to us before he turns to the crowd and they erupt in cheers. 

“Jacaerys Targaryen, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, the Reclaimer.” the High Septons voice reverberates off of the walls of the dragon pit as the crowd continues to cheer.

“I told you that the dragons would be able to reclaim the realm. I always believed in this outcome.” Benji whispers in my ear and I turn to him with a wide smile. 

“Stay here with us.” I look up to him with pleading eyes. “With me.” my voice soft.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.” he dips down and places o kiss on my forehead.

“I should hope not or I would have to marry Cregan.” I smile up to him.

“Do not start.” his voice low as he pulls me against him before he pulls us off of the dais and he’s leading us into a carriage back to the Keep.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌

this literally took over my mind for the past couple of days fr

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @p45510n4f4shi0n @anaviieiraaa @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

3.7k / 38 / post-apocalypse au, part 2

...

You emerge deep in the city. Deeper than you should be.

You traveled on foot via the drainage tunnels connecting Amsterdam to the forest. This city was busy and beautiful once, the way unpolished amber is beautiful, but now it's overgrown and empty except for the undead roving the streets.

Staying underground is the best way to avoid the undead. Especially in the daytime. So when you creep through the streets in the open nighttime air, you know you have to be fast. You must find what you came here for.

You stick to the buildings and skulk in the shadows to take advantage of their poor eyesight to buy as much time as you can. You move in the shadows, turning corners to break line of sight and keeping yourself moving away from the few that see or smell you. But the undead—zombies, runners, biters, muties, whatever they’re called—will catch your scent eventually. And they do. Soon, too many lurch after you in mindless pursuit. They begin to stagger in your direction, stumbling over one another. Their howling voices echo off the walls of the abandoned buildings around you.

As you try to evade them, a few stragglers—those less decayed, those who can catch sight of you more easily and stumble in your direction to feast—begin to give chase. The city is so much more crowded than you feared, and you're quickly overwhelmed with nowhere else to run besides the open streets.

Running in the open is a death sentence. You have to get back underground. With your pumping heartbeat shooting adrenaline through you, you can't remember exactly which way leads back to the forest.

You get the horrible feeling that this city will become your tomb before morning comes. No, focus. You need to keep moving until you find a drainage tunnel. They all lead out of the city. Just go where the rain would go, you tell yourself.

You snake through the streets until you glimpse another stone-walled drainage ditch cutting between the street and walkways. You drop in, pressing yourself to the wall. You try to hide your tracks, hoping against hope that the undead might not realize you've slipped away and lurch off elsewhere, but no. No such luck. The undead are on you already.

You curse and take off in what you hope is the right direction. You push your panic into your legs as you try to outpace the zeds on your tail, but they're as fast as you are even in their undead state. They're not tiring the way you are as your body screams for rest. Your throat burns. You can't outpace them for much longer. They're persistence predators.

When you see the drainage ditch veer and dip into what looks like an underground spillway, your heart soars. The undead can't navigate sewers as well as you can. If you can just make it underground, you can slip away--

Then it comes into view and your heart drops. The spillway is blocked by the remains of a collapse. Piles of concrete and rubble block the way. It's a dead end. You're trapped.

The infected, though unintelligent and uncoordinated, are relentless and ravenous. And they're closing in on you fast.

You don't stop. You can't. You grip at the sharp concrete edges of the rubble blindly, pulling yourself up. The chunks of concrete are huge and ragged, overgrown with grass and slick with dew.

There's no time for fear as you try to claw your way to an exit you hope desperately isn't blocked. It's a small hope, but right now it's all you have.

The infected come up behind you, screeching and howling in pursuit. They're coming.

You climb as high as you can. Sure enough, there's no way through to the other side of the tunnel. Not that you can fit through, not with zeds at your back. On both sides, the walls of the drainage ditch loom over you. The railing at the top is almost high enough for you to climb, but when you try to get closer, stepping over the broken concrete, a loose piece slips and almost takes you with it. It rolls down the pile of debris and knocks past one screaming runner’s shoulder as it goes.

The undead aren't coordinated enough to climb as easily, but it’s only a matter of time. With the sheer number of them and a little more luck, they’ll reach you soon. Or you’ll step on a loose rock or slippery patch of grass and slide right back down into their clutches.

With nowhere to go and no exit in sight, your only option is to either fight, or wait out a slow descent into madness and death like everyone else.

You pull out Soap's gun and load it.

…

Dawn is breaking by the time Soap and his team make it to you, following the sounds of your gunfire.

Soap whistles—a signal to you. The piercing sound makes you flinch through your adrenaline high. You clamp your shaking fingers around your—his—gun. There are still dozens of undead, many now with bullet holes and arrow shafts sticking crookedly out of them. Your quiver is empty. You’re crouched, gun in hand, aiming at one as it draws closer. You don’t have the bullets to waste otherwise—not with your wounded arm.

It lurches forward.

But it’s not your bullet that strikes it through the head—it’s his, and it's a clean shot. The runner's head splits like a peach, chunks of bone and brain flying across broken stone. You turn your eyes up to see Soap lining up a third shot atop a nearby building, and you glimpse his squadmates heading toward you. God damn are you happy to see him. Before another zed can take the mulched one’s place, Soap fires again, reloads, and again. He takes out another with his second bullet before lining up a third shot.

A shout interrupts your line of thought. You look up and see a man stretching his hand toward you, startlingly close, bridging the gap between the safety of the railing and where you stand. One of Soap’s teammates—a man with a black scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth. Ghost, you think his name is. You grab his hand.

Something else catches your attention in the rubble, too—long swaths, claws marks, carved under the mass of something much bigger than you or the undead. They disappear into the rubble and, conceivably, into the tunnel behind.

This is the lead you’ve been searching for all these days in this godforsaken place.

“Distance and cover!” Soap shouts, all focus.

You hear him. But if you withdraw now, you might not be able to follow those claw marks and search the tunnel. Half the undead in the city will be here before long, following the gunfire and howling. If you make the plunge back down into the depths, you might be able to find what you came for and get out intact before the undead get there forst. This could be your only chance.

Before you can move, Ghost yanks you by the hand, dragging you almost entirely up the sheer rocky wall. You bite down on a gasp, scrambling to keep your footing as he hauls you up and over the railing.

Soap’s rifle cracks again. Another biter, this one now trying to scale the wall after you, drops. Its upper torso explodes with a wet thwack.

You double back almost before you know what you’re doing and boost yourself back over the railing. You need to get into that tunnel.

Ghost grabs your arm again before you can jump. “Are you mad?”

“Let go!” you bark.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

God damn it. There’s no time to explain. Or maybe there is, but the adrenaline running through you makes it impossible to find the words.

When it’s clear he won’t back off, you bite him. Just sink your teeth into his hand hard enough to make him let go. He curses and rips his hand away, more in surprise than pain. You take off, vaulting over the railing, rushing to the very middle of the heap. The top of the tunnel. Loose chunks of stone roll under your feet. With Soap’s squad focused on taking out the zeds, you can focus for the first time on breaking your way through these stones.

You wedge your bow under the loosest, topmost piece and wrench it up as if wielding a crowbar. The rock tumbles. You do it again, and again, and again until you feel a steady stream of warm air rise from underneath. You follow it, ignoring the chaos behind you, until you’ve torn open a big enough gap to slip through.

You tuck into a slide, letting gravity take you down into the darkness and out of view.

“Bloody animal—get back here!” echoes after you.

…

You find what you’re looking for within minutes. Roach—he’s alive, but caught in what looks like a trap. A man-made trap. Your heart clenches when he sees you and his tail thumps in a weak greeting.

You’re at his side in moments. “Easy, busy. Don’t move. I’m right here.”

It doesn’t take long for Ghost and Soap to catch up to you.

The scathing words on Ghost’s tongue die at the sight of you crouched next to Roach. They can only stare in shock. Saying Roach is a dog would be an understatement. Roach is massive. Megafauna. He might have been shaped like a wolfhound breed except for his massive, maned shoulders and elongated muzzle full of too-large teeth. You’re on your knees under the huge beast’s jaw, dagger sawing at the contraption holding him. Even laying on his belly, he towers over you.

Roach locks eyes with Ghost and Soap. They stop, standing completely still.

Ghost glances over his shoulder. “Think the big mutt can take care of himself,” he tells you, scanning for encroaching zeds in the dark.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur to Roach, totally ignoring Ghost. You’re still trying to soothe him, but your voice is frantic. “Almost got you out. Just stay still—”

The trap groans under your knife, but it holds fast. Then Roach growls—a loud, deeply unsettling sound that vibrates through the cave walls. His yellow eyes don’t leave the men behind you.

You hear Soap’s voice. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Is this what you were looking for when you…” He shakes his head and walks toward you. From his belt, he pulls out a large hunting knife. “Let me.”

“You should stay back,” you call over your shoulder. “He doesn’t know you. Don’t make him feel cornered.”

“Sound advice,” Ghost says.

Roach stares at Soap intently. Roach shifts a paw closer to you.

“Leave the dog alone, Johnny,” Ghost says. “It’s tryin’ to protect her. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re not a threat. You’re as good as dog chow.”

But Soap hesitates. “It’s our trap,” he admits. “If you’d let me help, I could show you how to free him quicker. We need to move.”

As if in response, Roach growls again.

You shoot a frustrated look over your shoulder. “It’s your trap? Why the fuck would you have a—"

There’s a loud crack and the trap splits under your knife. Roach lurches free. Instantly, he limps around you, getting between you and the two men.

“Easy!” you cry. “Roach, heel.” You bury your hands in the fur on his flank. He’s enormous. Your head doesn’t even reach his shoulder. You can’t stop him physically. You need him to listen to you.

Roach steps closer to Soap, staring him down. His breath blows Soap’s hair back.

Soap doesn’t back down just yet. He’s not a threat, right? He proved it to you, now he can prove it to your dog. He hates dogs. Goddamn hates them. Why’d it have to be a dog you were looking for? Big fucking bastard of a dog.

Ghost speaks quietly from just over Soap’s shoulder. “No sudden moves.”

“Easy,” Soap says, raising his hands slowly in what he hopes is a peacemaking gesture. The rifle is slung over his shoulder, out of sight as it can get, and he tries to relax his posture.

You duck around Roach and stand between him and Soap. “Calm down, Roach,” you say again, like you’re talking to a misbehaving terrier instead of staring up at an animal three times your size. “They’re friends. See?”

You grab Soap’s arm and lace your fingers together with his. He tenses in surprise, but you ignore it. Roach goes quiet and looks at you, cocking his head. You hold your joined hands up to his nose to sniff.

Soap looks from you to the dog and back to you. Underneath the tension laced through his whole body, he’s impressed.

Roach sniffs Soap's fingers with yours and seems to relax. You reach up and scratch the fur under Roach’s chin—or as close as you can reach, standing on your toes—and you bring Soap’s hand up to do the same.

"Looks like you're approved,” you say with a little too much surprise in your voice.

Soap swallows as he touches his fingers to Roach's tangled fur, trying not to think about those stories of dogs being able to smell fear. But he forces himself to unclench, just a bit. He's glad you're both okay. And glad he's not about to get snapped in half by a giant fuckoff hellhound.

Roach takes another massive, curious sniff of your hands. Then he moves on to sniffing the top of Soap's head. Then he lowers his enormous maw and licks Soap with a giant tongue.

Soap grimaces. He looks more grossed out than defensive, at least. You smirk.

Ghost makes no move to join the handholding circle. "Not the strangest travelers we've seen, but close," he says. He glances over his shoulder, shifting his rifle impatiently. The others are cleaning up the group of zeds, but the quicker they can get out of here, the better. It’s never a good idea to be out in the city for too long. Especially not somewhere any shambling creature could wander up in the dark.

Soap shoots Ghost a look before glancing back at you. You're still standing close. He lets go of your hand. It's calloused, he notes, like his. It wasn’t like that before. "You've got a way with beasts."

You walk down Roach’s flank, checking for injuries. “He’s not a beast. He’s my dog. You’ve seen what the mutagen does to animals, right? The ones it doesn’t kill. Changes them.” You pat Roach’s flank fondly. “But I adopted him before all this started, back when he was just a normal dog.”

"No one gets to be normal anymore," Ghost mutters.

Soap chuckles. "Well, he's a bloody tank now, isn't he? Big lad. How the hell you keepin' him fed?"

Ghost examines the bite mark you left on his hand. "Got a hunch.”

"I'd apologize, but you shouldn't grab people who don't want to be grabbed," you tell Ghost. "You're lucky I didn't go for my knife instead.

Ghost gives you a flat look. “I’d say you’re the lucky one for deciding against it.”

“Easy, LT.”

Ghost scoffs. "She's just much a beast as the hound.”

You finish your inspection and find nothing major. Just scrapes and bruises. Nothing bleeding. No open wounds to attract more zeds, thankfully. Relieved, you return to Soap and Ghost again, giving Roach another scratch under the chin. Then you notice blood on Soap’s leg, soaking into his jeans. “Is that blood yours?” you ask him.

Soap glances down. "Aye. Took a swipe from one of those undead bastards. It's nothin’.”

"Doesn't look like nothing," Ghost says.

"It's just a little blood. I'm fine," Soap says. He steps away, but staggers on his injured leg. Ghost appears instantly to support him at the shoulder.

You step back, grimacing. Open wounds are risky. There's always risk of infection. Worse, the smell of blood attracts muties.

"I said it's fine," Soap says, but his voice is strained. He's in more pain than he wants to let on.

"Let me see that." Ghost kneels and pulls Soap's pant leg up to examine it. Then he grunts and stands back up. "It's a bad gash, but it's not life-threatening."

"Mm," Soap agrees, obviously trying not to cause more worry for his teammate. "I'm fine. Just gotta walk it off. Be peachy tomorrow." Blood drips around his boot heel.

"You'd better get going," you tell them. "Sun's coming up."

"You'd better find somewhere safe yourself, hen," Soap says. "It's a horror show out here in the daytime. Runners clusterin’ in packs--"

"She'll be fine," Ghost mutters. "Take care of the log in your own eye before you worry about the splinter in hers."

You pat Roach. "Found what I came for. Thanks for that, ah... for your help, Soap."

"Aye. You're a scrapper, that's for sure. Good to know you've got a lot more muscle with that one backing you up." He nods at Roach.

Ghost helps him stand up straight. The three of you make your way back to the entrance of the tunnel. By now, Soap’s crew has cleared away enough that they can help Soap out as Ghost boosts him up. They offer the same to you, but you refuse. They hurry out of the way as Roach shoulders his way through the comparatively tiny passageway. He squeezes through, widening it, and you follow easily. More soldiers than you expect—all dressed and outfitted like Soap and Ghost, armed and armored to the teeth—watch from behind buildings and over rooftops. You get the feeling that they have eyes on every zed in this half of the city. Several of the soldiers converge on you, moving like shadows, to help Ghost heft Soap along.

You tread with the group until you reach the edge of the city. Or maybe it’s the edge of the forest. The tree line half-swallows the streets and homes.

“Look after yourself out there,” Soap calls over his shoulder. You salute wordlessly in reply, and his eyes linger.

You watch them make their way out of the city, disappearing into the enormous trees and tall grass. Once they’re gone from view, Roach nudges you gently.

"I know, I know," you mumble.

He sits on his haunches to let you to climb up and take your seat on his back. You take off running to the east, leaving them behind.

That would have been the end of it. Except it's not long before pass by more runners—more than two dozen of them. They don't bother with Roach, smelling the mutagen affecting him and missing your smell completely smothered in his—but the direction they're heading, they'll run head-on into Soap’s party for sure. And with Soap injured, the smell of blood, being outnumbered...

Dread and guilt coil in your stomach. It doesn't matter how good they are. They'll be overwhelmed.

But it doesn't matter, right? You have what you came for. You should keep going. Mind your business. Stay alive.

Roach paws at the ground, agitated, and you realize you’ve unconsciously pulled him to a stop. You glance up, checking the sun’s distance from the horizon. You owe them. They helped you. Wouldn’t you be dead without them?

You let out a long, irritated groan. Then you nudge Roach to turn around. “Let’s go get them,” you mutter.

Roach bounds off into the trees, his nose leading you both back to Soap, Ghost, and the others once again.

A few of the men almost jump out of their skin when they see the shape and size of Roach bounding toward them.

Roach pulls up beside them in a flurry of grass and dirt clods. “There’s a group of maybe thirty zeds heading this way,” you say, looking at Soap from your high mount. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world for you to be doing. “You’d better hurry or they’ll swarm you.”

Soap and Ghost exchange a look. “We’re moving as fast as we can,” Ghost says. “If they catch up, we fight like we always do.”

“You won’t be able to fight them all. Not without a few of you getting picked off.”

“We won’t abandon your own.”

“She’s just tellin’ us what she’s seen,” Soap says. “Wouldn’t have come back otherwise. Best to leave me out here and hustle back to camp. Easier to hide one person than a whole group. Can’t have you all dying just because I was a right idiot and got myself hurt."

Ghost glares at him. "That's not up for debate.”

Soap smirks back. "You sayin' I can't handle myself?"

"No one's leaving you here. You're coming with us, one way or another.”

"Hell," Soap mutters. He groans from the pain. "Amnae riskin' the team over my injury."

You listen to them bicker, shifting as you try to calculate how much time they have before the muties get here. Not long.

You should just leave now, right? You told them what was coming, which is more than they'd usually get. They can fend for themselves, right? They've done it before. A hundred times, probably. And if you stay, you're putting Roach at risk too.

But Soap's leg... that happened to him because he was helping you. God dammit. You can't just let this go. That's another favor you owe him.

You have Roach lay down and hop off him.

"Hey," you bark over their arguing. "Get on. Hurry."

They both pause. Soap narrows his eyes at you. Getting sniffed at by that big bastard is one thing. But riding him? He gives Roach a very wary look.

Ghost picks up on your plan immediately. He jerks his chin at Soap. "Get on."

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3

more Soap / masterlist

[sardar106]

This is for anyone who wants to make/find any Sherbverse, Fable SMP, Bound SMP and Mer SMP roleplay accounts! …Queue56 character rp accounts too

The characters who have more than one account will also be added

I will put the Sherbversions in their specific world too, but both but Midas and Charles will be only on the sherbverse list

The list will go alphabetically (hopefully)

Tell me if I missed any and if new ones are made!

Not that I’ve seen any, but I should have said this before. Do not, and I mean do not make an rp account of anyone who stated that they aren’t okay with them.

Sherbverse

Sherberts:

Ashril: pigeon-prince-or-something, run-run-roadrunner Ajax: ajax-lightning-zephyr, lighting-in-my-veins Caine: the-better-coyote Cedar: cedars-potionshop EP-S110N56 (Epsilon): error-404-location-not-found Helix: hidden-amongst-the-dark, eyeblood-engineer Icarus: icarus-morningstar, icarixis-morningstar, icarus-m0rningstar, a-little-tragedy-arent-you Krithos: kritos-dawn Midas: colorful-shades-of-gray, quixis-midas, your-guardian-this-millennia Reo: armoured-fighter Ripley: navigating-spectral-seas Sherbert: elf-lad-says-things Sherwood: sleepy-pirate-person

Sherbverse misc:

Azalea: local-herb-lady Charles: charles-and-no-one-else Emma: emmie-ocie-golden Graeme: the-betterstellam Haley (Events): archer-of-the-dark Haley (GMS): silly-swords Hayraen: hey-a-skyrate Helios: helios-event Lily: the-lil-lady Rae (Among Us): scientist-in-orbit Rael: shifting-through-the-void Rayko: host-of-curses Rondael: rondael-richard Theia: flowers-by-a-different-name

Sherbverse AUs:

Band AU: - Icarus: songbird-soars  - Midas: under-rainbow-spotlights Hero Villain AU:  - Icarus: the-forgotten-alchemist, the-reluctant-angel - Midas: abnormal-realities, snowy-rainbows Arcane Icarus: golden-smokebomb Corrupt! Icarus: wilted-feathers Decaying! Icarus: decayed-wings-of-gold Epic AU! Icarus: i-miss-my-husband-tails Evil Midas: drowning-in-the-light Icarus as young Quixis: lost-in-the-bright-lights Icarus raised by Fable: prince-of-the-gilded ^^^ + younger than Rae: im-prince-icarus Icarus raised by Ulysses: bird-underwater Icarus raised by moms: icarus-mindstar Icarus with wither sickness, wack, and decay: protector-of-decay Midas as new Quixis: rainbows-of-flashing-lights Midas with Malitae: rainbow-decay Racer AU! Icarus: winged-alchemist Sherbert as Quixis: the-fading-purple Werewolf Icarus: howling-feathers

Fable SMP

Characters:

Aax: thebesttesttubeuncle, tiny-perseus Arisanna: the-librari Athena: athena-morningstar, small-athena Caspian: caspian-solcrect Centross: centross-mistvale, baby-reaper Easton: easton-pine, professorpine Fenris: fenris-nightingal Icarus: icarus-morningstar, icarixis-morningstar, icarus-m0rningstar, a-little-tragedy-arent-you Jamie/Bruin: bruin-pine Momboo: momboo-pine, rain-and-rotting-flowers Oceana: ocean-bringer Rae: rae-m0rningstar, vessel-of-wonder, rae-morningstar13, little-rae-morningstar13 Seven: that-one-robot-guy Ulesses: ulysses-themist Ven: reclusive-author, notafakeginger, wet-fox-artist

Gods and NPCs:

Alerion: little-space-major Aurelius: wealthiest-god-alive Calypso: seashore-princess Cari: cari-morningcrest Casus: casus-luck, siren-of-luck Enderian: enderian-morningstar Epros: the-void-of-the-end Everett: everett-morningstar Fable: fable-creation, king-of-the-overworld Hope: hope-pup Isla: isla-morningstar Jerry: jericho-cree Kinaxus: protectorofenergy Lennarius: the-silent-undead Malitae: x-malitae-x, god-of-expression Netherum: nethrum Oscar: oscarlittleguy Perix: perix-illusion Soul: goddess-of-souls Raemond: raemond-morningstar Terry: the-best-cree-brother Vaeh: thebestestnightingstar, loyalty-goddess-pt2 Vikesh: vikesh-moon Vorago: vorago-god-of-depths, god-of-depths and also Fable pets cus why not: fable-pet-collective

Fable AUs:

Arcane AU: - Athena: flameof-zaun - Caspian: piltovers-solcrest - Centross: timeless-reaper - Icarus: golden-smokebomb - Rae: zauns-morningstar, the-undercity-scientist Band AU:  - Aax: drum-olm - Arisanna: songs-of-the-allay - Athena: flame-sings - Caspian: cas-chord - Centross: song-reaper - Fenris: singing-wolf - Fable: creation-records - Icarus: songbird-soars  - Isla: orchid-morningstars - Malitae: artist-on-the-stage - Rae: void-star-singer - Ven: wet-fox-artist Corrupt AU: - Centross: the-violet-reaper - Fenris: vengful-danger-wolf - Icarus: wilted-feathers - Momboo: rain-and-rotting-flowers - Rae: the-skulked-puppet Epic AU:  - genderbent Centross: queen-of-ithaca - Icarus: i-miss-my-wife-gods Hero Villain AU:   - Alerion: shattered-space-and-stars - Arisanna: allay-of-memories - Athena: prince-of-the-flames - Calypso: seashell-crowns - Cari: young-villain-of-memories - Caspian: villian-of-memories - Centross: reaper-offline - Enderian: listener-of-the-mind - Fable: gilded-hand-of-gold, hero-chronicle - Fenris: lost-star-wolf - Haley: the-forgotten-oracle - Icarus: the-forgotten-alchemist, the-reluctant-angel - Isla: wilting-orchid - Malitae: the-masked-artist - Momboo: poisoned-pine-tree, underground-blooms - Netherum: ashes-of-a-god - Ocie: ocean-maker, hero-of-the-tides - Oscar: golden-artificer - Perix: cracked-mirrors - Rae: void-drake, heroendprince - Seven: hero-in-code - Soul: taken-by-the-darkness - Ulysses: scientist-or-monster - Vaeh: stars-and-paws - Ven: vigilante-of-poets - Will: travler-of-writers Racer AU: - Caspian: racer-of-the-wind - Centross: violet-racer - Icarus: winged-alchemist - Rae: racing-through-the-stars - Ven: the-writer-racer Skulked AU: - Aax: decaying-test-tube - Ocie: polluted-ocean Decaying! Icarus: decayed-wings-of-gold Evil(er) Perix: sculk-eternal Fable be good dad: guiding-gilded-light Fable if Icarus became Quixis young: creation-by-a-god Icarus as young Quixis: lost-in-the-bright-lights Icarus raised by Fable: prince-of-the-gilded ^^^ + younger than Rae: im-prince-icarus Icarus raised by moms: icarus-mindstar Icarus raised by Ulysses: bird-underwater Icarus with wither sickness, wack, and decay: protector-of-decay Rae if he took Enderian’s deal in s1: prince-of-the-court Rae raised by Enderian after Ic’s “death”: son-of-mind Rae raised by Fable after Ic’s “death”: never-his-son Royal AU! Alerion: lucenare-of-space Werewolf Icarus: howling-feathers Withering! Athena: withering-alliums Wither! Soul: wither-soul

Mer SMP

Bite: the-last-exorian Faye: shark-biter Krithos: kritos-dawn Raylen: raylan-dawn Theodore: theo-sealan, theosealan

Bound SMP

Skybound Characters:

Armor: winged-warrior-1 Ashril: pigeon-prince-or-something, run-run-roadrunner Gavrien: fashionable-bird Marcel: cardinal-north Mojave: the-onewinged-artist Rune: engineer-lad Sylph: zip-zap-sylph Vast: ranger-of-the-sky, the-remaining-cadere13

Skybound misc:

Castrel: castrel-is-hunting Jade: littlebirbie Jasper: stringtheif

Skybound AUs:

Pokemon AU! Vast: ranger-of-the-sky

Queue56 - Fandom

Altair, by lxvenderfrog: bright-fallen-star Casper, by whosthere54: casperrambles Cazeri, by dreamystarlive: little-snowy-fox Chronicle, by water-nightmare: book-of-a-fallen-king Echo, by bug-be-gaming: echoqueue56 Expyr, by xwidezmaz: the-experience-eclipse Gilded, by emberunderscore: your-golden-hubris Gray, by does-a-nein-hit: notes-from-the-void Jade, byp rayfire456: bird-with-an-axe Kairos, by kai0sunflower: once-a-traitor-always-a-traitor Niki, by rima-niki: eepy-crab-with-a-knife Lumi, by luminescentaura: jewel-within-a-burning-fire Lunar, by lunar--iris: queued-in-code Milo, by thepersonwithoutaname: milo-the-nearest-light-source Pine, by lynxthewolf1: phantombirbinapinetree  Rowan, by rotheworm: rowanqueue56 Rowan, by ShokoNicole (on discord): q56rowanblack Saranya, by sardar106 (me): a-fallen-eos Skye, by remithedestroyer18: thecorruptedlittlewolf Sparrow, by sage-is-in-fact-very-tired: running-can-only-get-you-so-far Whisper, by whisperinglore: whispering-in-the-wind Zei, by linxmc-27: dragon-without-wings-and-claws

ohhkay. this took a lot of brain cells /pos and as stated in the beginning, tell me of other accounts!

I thought I’d add this here too; make sure to use #roleplay on every post/reblog and the corresponding rp tag when roleplaying any of them!

also! I have made a google docs with the same exact list, but with the links of each account intro if you press the username link to that!

[xesnox]

Minecraft Wither.

Reupload from my Bluesky.

This was specifically a concept for my Minecraft game theories AU, I’m still figuring things out but I think this might come close to a final design,

It’s supposed to be the Wither, the one that wiped out a large chunk of the ancient builders. Might make it look more Devine / significant as a result but this is what we‘re rolling with for now.

Lore below cut.

About the Wither.

The Wither is an amalgamation of deceased human flesh and bone, ashes, biomechanical engineering and the souls of the soldiers who fell in the process of moving colonies to the nether. it is a product of said horrible dimensions way of harnessing death as a natural power source, and a result of a gone wrong (or perhaps divinely punished) resurrection attempt. It was called to life by an enormous wave of grief, hate, agony, death and mass hysteria following the discovery of soul magic and the first massive loss of one of the many strikes the Ancients made against the Piglin in a greedy attempt to conquer land.

The thing about the Ancients is that even though they appear to be just slightly less primitive than the average modern day builder in thought, they were, at some point, blessed by the gods, wich caused a strange process wich, if enough of them were present, had (sometimes physical) effect on the environment around them, and could lead to manifestation of whatever they believed. Wich ended horribly for them as all it took was a single bad event for an endless spiral.

The Wither was the first creature born of hate, not one wich was given life by the desire to progress as a society, but one that was born of pure unadulterated hate, grief and agony.

And it reflects its birthplace as such.

As it does nothing but spread just that like a plague, withering the ground below it and sending particles of decay flying, wich, if they were to touch you, would curse your skin to burn and rot wherever it made contact. It absorbs the death it causes, growing stronger the more destruction it spreads, but never loosing its goal: to hunt and kill all those responsible for summoning it.

But it, eventually, vanished completely alongside its creators, and has never been seen since.

If anyone in the modern day for whatever foolish reason decided to summon it, a disclaimer should be given that it is not entirely possible, at least not to our knowledge. You can recreate such a being in rough shape, size and behavior but no amount of intention can ever recreate the society wide wave of panic that summoned the creature that wiped out 87% of the overworld in the blink of an eye.

The creature you’d find yourself eye to eye with if you did succeed would be a lesser version of the one your ancestors had to face, three heads, each owning a white pair of eyes filled with concentrated soul energy, boney body, spreading death and decay across anything it touches; as it is a reflection of your own anger, ache and loss; but always, always primitive, and broken, lesser and incomparable. The creature they discovered was a virtually unkillable beacon of doom, the one you can is a personal shadow.

Still the introduction of such a massively destructive foe into an (especially a closed off) ecosystem of any kind is strictly prohibited, as it is extremely harmful for our still recovering Dimension as a whole.

@your-ne1ghbor @pennysucks

[shintin]

Forbidden Flames

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Satoru Gojo receives a letter, inviting him to a secluded cottage in the forest. Is it a trap by curse users or a haunting memory trying to scratch his wounds?

Or a story about how You and Satoru Gojo fucked after years.

Word count: +11 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, reader-insert, no Y/N, post-breakup, soft Satoru Gojo, curse user reader, no death, too much fluff and kissing, cunnilingus, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex (c’mon! we all want this), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, tear licking, emotional trauma, emotional sex, no manga spoilers.

Notes: Hey there! I wrote this because Gege Akutami left an emotional mark on me. So, you know...

You can read the "Disclaimers" at the end.

Song Recommendation: Forbidden Flames Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

Back to masterlist

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the dense foliage, a mysterious man with stark white hair and a black blindfold stepped into the heart of the desolate wilderness. Satoru Gojo. The air hung heavy with the earthy scent of wet soil mingling with the musty aroma of decaying leaves, a reminder of the rainstorm that had visited the night before.

Every step he took got lost between the giggles and hisses of harmless curses hiding behind the trees with fear. The ground beneath his feet was carpeted with a mosaic of fallen leaves, their vibrant red, orange, and gold colors now muted and lifeless, as if drained of all vitality. Some of them, with still a breath to take, crunched beneath his weight, the sound of a heartrending dirge that reverberated through the desolation.

Tall, gnarled trees stood sentinel on either side, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers as if yearning to trap the unwary. Their towering forms were shrouded in darkness, their essence reduced to withered remnants. They whispered mournful laments in the wind, their voices carrying tales of forgotten sorrows.

The forest, once flourishing and thriving, now seemed like a tragic tableau frozen in time. The canopy above formed a suffocating barrier that only got disturbed by the man's ethereal presence. Wild ferns brushed against his legs, leaving behind a trace of dew upon his black trousers. The moist ground yielded beneath his every step as if reluctant to release its grip from his boots' footprints.

As he pressed further into the jungle, the darkness deepened, the path twisting and turning like a labyrinth of despair. The shadows grew longer, stretching out like grasping tendrils as if eager to ensnare his soul. The silence became oppressive, broken only by the occasional painful cry of a distant creature.

The cottage he had received its address stood as a solitary figure amidst the gloomy jungle, a crumbling monument to forgotten dreams. Its dilapidated walls whispered of lost hopes and shattered promises, its windows veiled with white curtains.

With his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he watched the scene before him, a twisted smile playing upon his lips. He thought it was a perfect place, a trap waiting to spring him. But who would be foolhardy enough to challenge the strongest of all times?

But wait!

He couldn't feel any cursed energy! His six eyes were dumb. There was only one who could blind their watchful gaze.

So, when Satoru Gojo approached the house, his heart quickened after a long time, anticipation and anxiety coursing through his veins. The stage was set, the elements conspiring to test his resolve. Would he emerge from this shadowed encounter unscathed, or would the jungle claim yet another victim, lost to the depths of its sorrow-laden clutches?

Satoru's focus fixated on the doorknob, a slight gulp revealing his hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he turned and pushed open the door. The scent of something sweet enveloped his nostrils, a reminiscent embrace that momentarily distracted his senses. However, as his eyes met the sight that awaited him, an unexpected revelation struck him with a force that resurfaced long-forgotten memories.

The inside resembled an aged hideout, with wooden walls and colorful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting warm, dappled patterns on the worn tatami floor. In the center of the room, a round table took its place, adorned with a vase of delicate forget-me-not flowers. Flanking the table were two chairs. And then, in the small kitchen stood the person who had left a void in his heart.

"You're late," your voice rang out in a cheerful tone, beckoning him forward. "Come inside. It's chilly out." With your back facing the door, you stood at the counter, appearing preoccupied with unwrapping something.

Caught in a maelstrom of emotions, Satoru's thoughts fragmented like scattered puzzle pieces, their intended purpose obscured by the inner turmoil. His hand held the doorknob tightly, trapped in a state of ambiguity, unable to release its grip.

Was this a mirage? How could it be that when you seemed precisely the way he had traced the outline of your body in the air while lying in bed, unable to sleep?

Yes, of course, there were nights when the desire to run his fingers through your hair filled his dreams. It was inevitable; your scent permeated everything, even riding on the breeze. There were days fatigue misled him, mistaking weariness for the embrace, he craved, only to discover the hollowness within his very bones. Your body was no longer curled around him, no comfort, and in your absence, each day left him icy, with lips turning blue and hands yearning for the warmth of your touch. He felt adrift in a blizzard, seeking the faint flicker of a fire you had extinguished.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Satoru? Think! Is this a manipulation technique?

And then, as if compelled by an unseen power, you turned your head, causing his heart to skip a beat—countless beats. You were undeniably real.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Seeing you was akin to being hit in the knee with a bullet. Satoru's legs nearly gave way, his heart raced, and his hands turned clammy, almost causing him to collapse. He had never felt this urge to tear off his blindfold before, as your departure had happened so abruptly that he didn't have a chance to see you. Although he had committed every detail of you to memory, but this…this… witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience.

He stepped back, feeling the heaviness of the past, necessitating some distance. The harsh truths loomed, threatening to engulf him as he wrestled with the profound effect of your presence. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his mind struggling to comprehend the unfolding situation. The reality was so surreal, making it difficult for him to grasp that it was really occurring.

"Why are you just standing there?" you asked, holding a pack of his beloved Kikufuku mochis in your hands. A radiant smile graced your face, illuminating the damp room with its brightness.

He couldn't give two fucks about mochis when your face had that effect on him, always causing him to lose track of where he was, who he was, and what he might say or do. And that familiar smile, it killed him a little. His gaze remained there, lingering for too long, his concealed eyes giving away his thoughts. "Why do you have that look on your face?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity and stepping closer to him.

As you stood before him, the closeness amplified the wave of emotions within him. Joy and disbelief raced through his veins. The fragrance that surrounded you, so hauntingly acquainted, sparked a rush of nostalgia.

Satoru Gojo was born with a specific purpose, a set of perfect eyes, and the weight of his lineage on his shoulders. He was reserved and calculated. When he mastered the Limitless technique, he concluded that infinite solitude was the only way to survive. Because how he could describe the experience of seeing everything, for when you see everything, you see nothing. An excess of color turns into pure black, an infinite void.

Yes, he was born with those six eyes. People never let him forget. But to you, his eyes were simply eyes. He recalled the first time you teased him about them and how his heart caught in his chest because he had never seen someone as vibrant and colorful as you.

It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that. The first time he saw you, he felt it. An ache. Like a little electric burn. He felt his life changed.

Gradually, his loneliness began to dissipate. He found a place for himself in this chaotic world. With you, he could laugh, cry, joke around, and even be a brat. It was something no one could genuinely grasp—the feeling of finally being alive as a person. Before you, he felt he hadn't truly existed, merely scattered atoms in an indifferent universe following a predetermined path. But you changed everything. You dismantled and rebuilt him anew. You molded him, nurtured him, and despite him being the strongest, you kept him safe.

Without a noble title or material wealth, you were everything that went against the expectations of the Clan Elders. Yet, you stood faithfully by his side, precisely where he believed you belonged. Or at least, that's what he presumed.

Then, on that fateful day, the day he desperately wished was nothing more than a dreadful nightmare, reality unfolded before him. How could it be real? He stood there, confronted by the lifeless bodies of two Higher Ups and their protectors, with you covered in their blood. It was inconceivable. He couldn't accept that you were responsible for such a gruesome scene. Yet, you showed no remorse. You firmly believed it was the only solution, fed up with their destructive actions that brought ruin upon sorcerers deemed insignificant. You had accepted the notion that a problem without a remedy should be eradicated like an unwelcome weed.

On that day, he considered shaking your shoulders and demanding that you deny it all. He even contemplated going against everyone because what was the fucking point of wielding such power if he couldn't safeguard the woman he loved? The thought of quitting and escaping with you crossed his mind, too. He was willing to sacrifice everything: power, wealth, status, even his own life. However, you didn't desire any of those things.

His friend, Suguru Geto, once posed a question: Was he Satoru Gojo because he was the strongest, or was he the strongest because he was Satoru Gojo? At that time, he had no answer. A 17-year-old couldn't possibly find a response to such a profound question. However, when you entered his life, everything changed. Being the strongest lost its significance. He was just Satoru Gojo, and he was who he was because you loved him. His existence held meaning because you touched his life. He saw because he needed to gaze upon you. He spoke because he longed to hear your voice.

And then, similar to his best friend, after causing a bloodbath, you also walked out of his life. Yet, this time, it wasn't solely loneliness that engulfed him. It felt like one of his lungs had been taken away, and he heavied without you by his side through each passing moment. He became nothing once more. There was a hole in his life where you used to fit perfectly, and no matter what he did to try and fill it, nothing worked.

It was a strange anguish, a pain he never anticipated or conceived of. It consumed him from within, setting him ablaze with a profound emptiness. Then, defying the assumption that someone as formidable as him could experience sorrow, he was burdened with the task of erasing you. It was as if you were deemed nothing more than a blemish, a dishonor.

"What... what look?" he struggled to say, his voice tinged with a desperate yearning. Regret lingered in his tone as his words fell short. With a touch of vulnerability, he shut his eyes beneath the comforting confines of his blindfold, seeking refuge in the veil of darkness. Taking a deep breath, he consciously filled his lungs, using them as an anchor amidst the swirling storm of sensations enveloping him.

"That look," you remarked, your voice carrying a mischievous tone that floated in the atmosphere. "It's as if you don't trust me," you added teasingly. A few playful strands of hair escaped their intended position and delicately framed your face, casting a bewitching allure. An irresistible urge welled within him, compelling him to extend his hand and tuck those strands behind your ear—stupid muscle memory. However, he restrained himself, his hand suspended mid-air, resolute in resisting the magnetic pull of his desires.

"Why did you invite me here?" Satoru voiced, his grip on the doorknob loosening as the impact of reality settled upon him. The initial shock transformed into a lucid understanding. He wasn't oblivious. He knew that you were aware of his assignment to eliminate you. So, why? Was it because you recognized your unstoppable nature? Was it because you had realized that the blackhole existed within you, devouring everything you once held dear unless someone intervened?

"You could have refused to come, yet here you are," you whimsically remarked, a devilish glint in your eyes as you punctuated your words with a wink. You strolled over to the weathered table and set the pocket upon its aged surface.

"Cut it out!" Satoru snapped, his frustration mounting. "You know, I had no idea it was you!" His heart thumped in his chest, urging his feet to move forward, even as his mind screamed at him to flee. A sense of unease gripped him, acknowledging the futility of engaging in a battle he felt ill-prepared to win.

You turned towards him, a hint of a smile gracing your lips as your hands stayed concealed behind your back. Leaning against the chair, you arched an eyebrow, your eyes locked on him. "I have a feeling you knew it was me as soon as you arrived at the house," you declared, a jovial tone lacing your words. "After all, I'm the only one capable of concealing my cursed energy from you."

"We both know that I shouldn't be here. I—" Satoru's sentence dissolved, left unfinished, as your hand reached out, bridging the gap between you with a gentle touch. Infinity never worked with you. Even the very essence of the cursed energy recognized that you posed no threat to him. Furthermore, he would gladly provide you with any justification to touch him.

Lost in his reverie, Satoru suddenly became acutely aware of your presence. The magnitude of his longing and the depth of his yearning surged within him. In that instant, he recognized the immense emptiness you had left and how much he had missed you. Emotions swirled together, blending past and present, uncertainty and desire, in a delicate dance that would shape your fates.

"Why are you here, then?" you inquired, and his eyes met yours, reflecting the same yearning that dwelled in his heart. "Tell me, did you come in to kill me?" With a deliberate movement, you folded his fingers, molding them into the shape he would use to unleash his hollow purple. Bringing his hand close to your heart, you held it there. Despite the gravity of the situation, a soft smile adorned your lips.

He couldn't do this.

Taken aback by your unexpected gesture, Satoru swiftly withdrew his hand from your grasp. Anger and heartbreak swirled within him, entwining in a tumultuous storm. The realization hit him like a relentless wave, crashing against the shores of his consciousness. How had you drifted so far apart? When had the divergence between your paths become so profound that he failed to notice? The weight of your choice, to embrace the life of a curse user, to tread a road stained with blood, bore down upon him with a heavy burden. The pain on his face mirrored the fracture within his heart, a sense of loss mingling with a flicker of betrayal.

He wished he could say something. He wished he could start yelling, expressing all the thoughts and desires he had harbored since then—whether shouting, pouring out his heart, or expressing frustration. However, he adhered to the predetermined script you anticipated because he loved you unconditionally, unable to deny you anything.

"I didn't think so," you murmured, closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his in a way that effortlessly eroded his resistance.

You tilted his face down, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling his blood with dangerous speed.

One of his hands naturally found its way to the back of your waist, holding you with a gentle yet possessive grasp, while the other securely clasped your arm, pulling you closer.

He felt incredible against you, your bodies fitting perfectly. Nothing ever came easier than kissing you. Every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

In that moment, his eyes, his legacy, his clan's name, and the orders given about you faded away. This was his true purpose.

As your tongues entwined, a surge of electricity coursed through his veins, his body responding to the intoxicating enchantment of your touch. Your fingers traced the outline of his blindfold while others clung to his uniform as if he were your sole fulcrum in a world spinning out of control. Your back arched, and he embraced you tighter, his grip firm yet tender, his long fingers leaving an indelible mark upon your skin.

Breathless, as if you had just completed a marathon, you reluctantly pulled back from the heated exchange. Drawing him nearer, he yielded willingly, allowing you to guide him wherever you desired because wherever you led was where he believed to be his destination.

"Take this off," you beseeched, desperation and sorrow permeating your words as your forefinger lifted his blindfold and let it fall to the floor. His tousled hair cascaded softly over his forehead, unable to hide the azure eyes that had once captivated your heart.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow.

He swallowed, and you shifted your hand to his ear, lightly grazing his earlobe with your pinkie before tracing down his jawline. There was no rejection, yet no clear confirmation either. Your hand brushed against his undercut as you continued.

"There you are," you whispered, your voice laden with kindness. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, a solitary droplet making its way down your cheek as you gently cradled his face in your hands. He looked down at you, counting each tear on your lovely cheeks.

He clasped your hand, kissing your palm before guiding it to rest upon his heart. It was the same foolish heart, steadfastly beating for you, never having faltered. Through teary eyes, you looked at him, and he remained struck by the sheer beauty that not even your tears could diminish.

As your bottom lip quivered beneath his touch, quickly, with a light sweep of his hand, he wiped away the tears that stained your stunning eyes. You missed him too, didn't you? Was it painful for you, too? Silly girl! You couldn't maintain your carefully constructed facades for more than ten minutes when it came to him.

The realization washed over him, dispelling any remaining doubts.

Without a second thought, he effortlessly lifted you, your legs encircling his waist while your hands secured around his neck. Engrossed in a fervent kiss, both of you surrendered to the moment as he clasped your back firmly, pulling you closer to himself, relishing the flavor of your lips.

Letting go wasn't an option when every fiber of his being had missed you.

Determined and resolute, he carried you out to a room he presumed to be the bedroom, even though it didn't matter whether there was a bed or a simple mattress; what mattered was the way your touch kindled a blazing fire within him, and he had no intention of bearing that flame alone.

Keeping you securely nestled in his arms, he forcefully kicked open the door and lowered you onto the welcoming comfort of the bed. The urgency to discard his black jacket left no room for delay. At the same time, your nimble hands deftly undid the buckle of your pants, but before you could remove them entirely, his hands moved with an instinctual hunger, swiftly stripping you of the garment and casting it aside as if propelled by an untamed fervor. The passion between you burned fiercely, filling the room with an all-encompassing energy that eclipsed any other thoughts or worries.

With a quick movement, he discarded his black t-shirt, revealing the well-defined curves of his chest that shimmered with a touch of sweat. His desire was tangible, his lust unmistakable as he straddled between your parted legs, his hands grasping your nape.

The taste of his lips met yours, initiating a sequence of fervent kisses that persisted without pause, each delving deeper than the last. The world around you lost its significance as your breaths synchronized in rhythm, the heat between your bodies escalating.

In the meantime, your hands moved swiftly, deftly unbuttoning your shirt.

As his lips briefly separated from yours, he uttered a whispered confession. "I hate how bad I want you," he admitted, his voice carrying a raw sincerity. However, before you could reply, his attention shifted to your neck, where his teeth gently grazed your sensitive flesh, leaving behind tracks of tantalizing nibbles and passionate kisses.

You couldn't help but release a gasp as pleasure and a twinge of pain electrified your senses, sending delightful shivers coursing down your spine. In the throes of passion, your hand curled into a fistful of his hair, a silent request for more. Call it masochist, but he loved it when you did this. He tenderly pulled at your hair in response, tilting your head back ever so slightly, baring more of your vulnerable neck to his hungry mouth.

Then, you did what came naturally to you. With a voice brimming with longing and ecstasy, you spoke his name, "Satoru," the sound slipping from your lips like a hushed prayer.

His actions came to an abrupt pause. His lips separated from your skin, and his grasp on your hair loosened as if a sudden realization had hit him like a splash of icy water. It was ironic how you still possessed this power over him, a power that could both thrill and unsettle him.

The sound of his name on your lips had become something he treasured, and damn it, he had missed hearing it again. Just like every fucking tiny thing he had missed about you.

With a sudden movement, he withdrew his head from the crook of your neck and brought his forehead close to yours. His hands found solace in brushing back strands of your hair with comforting strokes.

He shut his eyes, and in a whisper, his voice carried a hint of fragility, a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings. "Say it again," he pleaded, his voice breaking under the pressure of unexpressed sentiments. It was as if that simple word held immense significance, a lifeline to his heart that he desperately craved.

Without hesitation, you took a steadying breath, the name forming on your lips.

"Satoru."

"S-Say it kinder."

"Satoru."

"Say it slower."

"Satoru."

"Say it gentler."

"Satoru."

"Say it louder."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you wanna tell me you miss me."

"Satoru…"

"Say it as if you're annoyed that I eat so many sweets."

"Satoru!"

"Is this why you made the trip to Sendai just to get me those mochis?"

…

"Say it."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you ever cared, spared a single thought for me."

"SATORU."

"Say it as if when you lied in bed, you remembered something I once said."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if it hurt you too when someone said my name with yours."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if every time a door opened, you too expected me to walk out of it, that every time you cooked, you hummed my favorite songs."

"S-Satoru…"

"Say it as if you need me."

"Satoru."

"Say it again."

"Satoru."

"Again."

"…Satoru."

"Say it as if you want to tell me something important."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you won't stay."

"Toru."

"No. Not like this."

"Satoru?"

"Please."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you're gonna run away again."

"Satoru…"

"Huh. Better. Now say it as if you wanna tell that you slept badly without me, that you only dreamed of me, and in the morning, you woke up exhausted without having any desire to live."

"Satoru."

"You don't have a line, do you? No remorse. No regret. Not even a single thought for the man you left behind like a walking ghost. And you won't ever stop."

"Satoru."

"Once you were gone, they gathered all your belongings as evidence. See this hair tie on my wrist?" He lifted his hand. "This and your sweatshirt, which no longer carries your scent, are the only things I have left. Say it as if you still have that shirt of mine."

…

"Say it!"

"Sa-to-ru."

"Did you know that I actually thought if I messed myself up, went all self-destructive, and threw a massive tantrum, you'd come back? I mean, why should I bother taking care of myself? That was supposed to be your job, right?"

"Sa…toru."

"Oh, by the way, I completely wrecked that bench on the hill where you used to sit. And then I went ahead and destroyed the whole damn place, then just sat right there amidst the wreckage. I mean, why should I even give a damn when you stopped caring about me? Say it as if you get where I'm coming from."

"Satoru…"

"Yet you know what's funny? Ask me if I still love you like the first day?"

"Satoru?"

"It can't be just me, right? You can't be done with me. Tell me you love me."

…

…

…

"Okay. It's—"

"Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru…"

Everything he thought he knew flew right out the window. He had noticed the tremor in your breath and the shake in your voice, but the desperate murmurs of his name caused his eyes to flutter open. Your face was marked with the faint traces of tears, glistening in the light.

You blinked, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty unlike anything he'd seen before. The ability to convey so much with just a glance caught him entirely off guard.

Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips against the curve of your cheeks, softly caressing them. Nuzzling his nose against your skin, he lovingly kissed away the salty tears, his tongue delicately brushing your face with a soothing touch. Each tender movement provided a comforting solace during your emotional moment.

As he lovingly attended to your tears, you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. He paused, eyes widening in surprise. However, before any words could escape, you leaned in and kissed him. In that single gesture, you conveyed your desires, and he, in turn, found his answer within the depths of that passionate kiss.

As soon as his palms glided over your smooth skin, delicately capturing your erect nipple between his fingers, the bra was tossed somewhere amidst the bedding.

"Lie back," Satoru instructed. He then crawled onto you, your bare chests meeting. He supported himself with his arms on either side of your head to ensure he didn't crush you under his weight.

He positioned himself atop you, overwhelmed by the yearning that had built up in your absence. The thirst to have you beneath him had grown insurmountable. He had craved the sight of your body begging him to take you, the undeniable desire radiating from you.

He locked eyes with you, keeping you in his gaze as he absorbed every aspect of your beauty. The polished planes of your face shimmered with fresh tears, adding a new layer to the bliss. Your eyes were rimmed with redness, solely for him, and this sight rendered him speechless.

Because what if he accidentally stumbled upon the wrong words, and the magic vanished, snatching you away once more, leaving him with nothing but a pumpkin carriage and a single pair of shoes?

He didn't want his arms to be deprived of your warmth. Your touch. Your lips. God, your lips. Your mouth on his neck. Your body wrapped around his. He couldn't bear losing you again, and the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into him.

Blinking his white lashes, he swallowed back the fear building in his throat.

What an irony!

The strongest wasn't fearless.

With his knee between your thighs and his body pressing closer, he realized he was paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in his lungs.

"When we were together, I became you," he stated. "You became the reflection I saw in the mirror, and I liked it more. So, I stopped being myself. It was fine because I had you. But when you left, I lost myself along with you."

"Satoru," you called, your voice soft, so soft. He wasn't unfamiliar with the touch of women, but yours were gentler, yet deadlier than them all. "I'm sorry for bringing us to this point." You drew his form closer. The resonating beats of your heart were audible, pulsing deeply within your chest. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Your words unleashed a tumult of feelings within him. Goddammit. He wasn't lost before he met you, but he found himself after having you, only to get lost more after losing you.

Satoru's tears stung as they fell backward down his throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, and I'll forget everything," he uttered.

And you complied. You kissed him as if swimming through rivers of honey, as if being dipped in pure gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss, and he didn't realize you two were drowning because he was too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing held significance anymore—neither rules, nor the room, nor even the entire fucking Jujutsu society.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This very moment. These lips. This delicate body pressed against his, and these warm hands always discovering new ways to hold his heart.

Oh, My!

He wanted so much more of you. He wanted every part of you. And he kissed you back. Like a mild breeze. Like cherry blossoms. Like a blue spring.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Satoru drew away. It remained a secret, but piecing himself back together hurt just as much as falling apart. It felt like an ache that needed to be soothed.

You were the cure, so his finger lightly grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, curves, and subtle crevices. As he kissed the corner of your eyebrow, he whispered your name. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, causing a slight squirm in your body. He planted a kiss on your neck, just beneath your earlobe, and you tilted your head, inviting him in. Perhaps you resisted the urge to plead for more, for a faster pace.

You used to love this, remember?

His lips moved down the expanse of your neck, delicately tracing the sensitive skin of your collarbones. Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, roaming over his broad shoulders, pressing into his back dimples, and clutching his hips. With a handful of his hair, you pulled him closer, leaving small kisses on his neck, arms, and chest.

It was incredible. Being with you, touching you, having you like this. The adrenaline rush was so powerful and euphoric that it made everything feel within reach.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking.

He pressed his lips against your upper lip.

He ran his tongue along your lower lip.

He planted kisses beneath your chin, on the tip of your nose, along your forehead, temples, and cheeks across your jawline. Then he moved to your neck, behind your ears, and the space between your breasts. Delicately, he nibbled on your sensitive nipples, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly, his chest was hovering above your hips.

As his lips descended towards the hem of your underwear, he lifted his head right before crossing that boundary, locking eyes with you. His gaze carried a mix of intense reverence and a silent question.

You met his gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between you. Your nod conveyed an affirmation, a wordless permission to continue. With your approval, he lowered his head once again. Before you knew it, he skillfully used his teeth to remove that small piece of fabric while the captivating scent drove him wild with desire.

Having removed your panties, his lips continued exploring, leaving heated kisses and lingering caresses from your toes to your thighs. Firmly holding your calves, he parted your legs, creating just enough space for his head to fit between them.

Your thighs were lifted, obscuring him from your sight. All you could see was the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that view vanished as his lips closed around your clit, causing your head to fall back and muffled moans to escape your lips.

Satoru's large hands trailed down and up your exposed upper thighs and ribs, tightly gripping your hips to keep you in place. He delighted in how you squirmed each time his hair brushed against your groin, until his tongue slipped into your hole, and the taste of you made fireworks explode in the back of his head.

With his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue danced and teased, evoking ecstatic cries from your lips. His mouth explored the known territories you had never witnessed, yet he remembered them intimately.

While fully engrossed in eating you, he suddenly and intentionally slipped his middle finger inside, and his mouth fervently sought to suck the soul out of your essence as if seeking retribution for all the times he had jerked off thinking about you creaming around his shaft. That's why he left you on the precipice of climax, working his way up your body. Satoru was never cruel enough to deny you the release you craved, so his fingers remained ready.

With an eagerness to witness the pleasure etched across your face, he slowly ascended your body, his touch kindling a burning anticipation within you. Continuing his exploration, his adept fingers navigated their way to your most intimate region, gently pressing against the delicate entrance.

"Let me know if it hurts, alright?" he whispered, his nose caressing the skin of your stomach, placing sporadic kisses around your breasts and collarbones to alleviate any tension. His disheveled hair and moist lips were evidence of the indulgence in your sweet taste.

"Take it easy— ahhh!"

He wore a satisfied smile as two of his large fingers effortlessly slid into your slit. Your nails dug into the sheets, whimpers escaping your lips as his hand rhythmically moved up and down within your tight walls.

Your mouth opened in a soundless moan, and he peppered you with kisses all around. Tears glistened in your eyes, and tiny strands of hair clung to your sweaty forehead. When his thumb rubbed, and the fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You firmly grasped his free arm and tugged him towards you, bringing him closer until he was on top of you. You might have turned into a cold-blooded curse user, left dead bodies behind, or broken his heart apart, but you were still the same girl beneath him. The girl who would laugh with joy and steal his treats. The girl who would fiercely fight by his side and protect him. The girl who would easily surrender and moan in his ear.

He pressed his lips against yours, a reminder of the residual sweetness on his tongue. Just like in the old days, a soft moan escaped your lips as soon as you felt your own taste. If this gesture could convince you to stay with him, why not revel in it? He willingly opened his lips, inviting you to delve deeper, your tongues intertwining and brushing against his teeth.

The stinging bitterness of the past was long gone. He had forgotten everything. Although there was something he knew he shouldn't forget, he couldn't recall why or what it was. With his hard length suffering in his boxers and his digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

Seeing your desperation for his touch proved to be his downfall. He could die from this, he decided. From wanting you, from the pleasure of being with you.

He wore a smile as you locked eyes and reciprocated with your smile. He pressed his forehead against yours, his skin flushed with heat. With his other hand, he held your head steady while your hands clutched his neck, your palms gliding over the area just above his neckline, and your fingertips tenaciously pressing against his undercut.

"Sato..." you managed to utter, your voice quivering with pleasure as the orgasm washed over you, consuming your senses. Waves of euphoria rippled across your body, inducing uncontrollable tremors. Amidst your release, a single tear broke free, tracing a glistening path down your cheek, much like the cascade of emotions that flowed within you.

While he remained atop you, his voice reached your ears, his lips near your earlobe. "Can you sit up?" he whispered, burying his face in the curve of your neck, allowing your ragged breaths to brush against his shoulder.

Still struggling to catch your breath, you managed to mumble, "Yeah, but..." However, before you could complete your sentence, the bedding beneath you shifted as Satoru pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight.

He exhaled and looked at you, but this time, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things he had never told you. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a fraying thread—you.

He touched your flushed cheeks as if uncertain of your tangible presence. His four fingers caressed the side of your face with tenderness before sliding behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

He pondered the countless things your lips had done. They had touched, kissed, and pressed against sensitive areas of his skin. They had spoken lies and made promises, and the words they had formed, the shapes and sounds they had shaped, he yearned for them all.

Satoru inched closer, cradling you like you were made of precious crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands as if he couldn't believe you were real and truly there.

"I'm right here, baby. Look at me," you whispered, grasping his hands and kissing them.

All six of his eyes obeyed and stared at you. Gone was the curse user targeting Higher Ups. This woman before him had never done anything wrong. You were perfect and kind, untouched by the horrors of death.

He took hold of your hands and pressed your palms against his face, reclaiming the tears you had bestowed upon him. With an eternity of love, he whispered your name in the softest of whispers.

What if this was a dream?

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

He shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and you embraced him like no one had before. Overwhelmed by the intensity, he struggled to contain himself, but seeing you cling to him as you might never let go stirred something within him. It was a heady sensation, knowing that you were there, caring for him, desiring him, needing him in this way. It made him believe that this was indeed real.

Gently, you stroked his silvery locks of hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. Gradually, your arms became the arms around his neck; your lips became the lips pressed against his, your body the warmth he felt. Funny how the moment he felt your touch, it burned a hole right through his head and pulled all his thoughts out.

He wasn't even breathing, but he was alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. His hands fervently caressed the small of your back as he lifted you onto his lap, and instinctively, your legs wrapped around his hips.

Then, it was your turn to reciprocate. You planted kisses all over him—his cheeks, eyelids, chin, the tip of his nose, and the space between his eyebrows. You trailed along his forehead and traced his jawline, covering every inch of his face. These kisses conveyed more than words ever could.

And you took your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he let out a gasp. It was a moment to relish. Your tongue continued to worship the hills and valleys of his well-defined arms, tracing the graceful curves of his collarbones. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin, you savored his taste. Your hands explored his abs, tracing along his navel and the delicate trails of hair beneath.

He broke apart with your small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at you dumbfounded. His mind remained hazy, unable to fully comprehend how your fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Tilting your head to a side, you pressed your lips against his again, seeking him with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. Your other hand threaded in his hair, your lips so soft, so urgent against his, like fire and cinnamon exploding in his mouth.

Satoru nibbled your bottom lip in a flash before pulling back slightly. You were flooding his body with so much heat and desire. You parted your lips to sigh in his mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove him to the edge of madness.

Just as he was about to bring his mouth to your nipples, your hand suddenly slipped into his underwear and encircled his erectness pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

He clenched his teeth, suppressing a groan. Oh God! He had fucking missed you holding his member in your palm. But you didn't stop at that. He gasped as you began to rub the tip with your thumb. His body ached everywhere as he tasted the colors and sounds that existed nowhere else. Your forehead rested against his chin as you continued to stroke his hardness up and down beneath his boxers. You were untamed, cruel, yet remarkably gentle.

"Take it off, Satoru," you whispered in his ear, your breath ragged. "I want you in me. Deep. Right. Now. Please."

He was beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way he was feeling right now. He was left with only this very moment: You on his lap, your warmth against his hands, and your lustful eyes fixed upon him, making him absolutely insane.

Satoru held onto your waist with a firm grip, lifting you slightly, and in the blink of an eye, his briefs glided down his long legs until their whereabouts became irrelevant in the heat of the moment.

The wetness between your thighs was no longer a hidden secret, just as his hardness was revealed when you surrounded each other everywhere.

He watched as you reached down and guided his erection against your slippery entrance, making a few strokes to ensure the perfect alignment. His racing pulse could probably be felt in your palm and soon inside you.

Using both hands, he gripped your hips and pulled you downward, drawing you closer to him. A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you, always surprised about his size. He intended to allow you time to adjust, but you fervently clung to his neck, hitching your legs around his waist, urging him to penetrate you completely. A scream escaped your lips as you bit into his shoulder blade, but he remained composed, relishing the sensation of stretching you. He cherished the feeling of your inner walls squeezing him and the weight of your body against his balls. To be honest, he would stay like this forever.

Feeling your readiness, his hold tightened, and he started moving your body up and down. You cried out as you nestled your cheek into the curve of his neck, and he felt like dying and somehow being brought back to life in the exact moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He raised your thighs, stifling a groan that threatened to rip his throat as your lips met his. It left him bewildered, pondering why he hadn't perished, burst into flames, or snapped in half.

The room was consumed by silence, punctuated only by the sound of your heavy breaths. Your chests pressed against each other, colliding with the rhythm of your pulses.

As he sensed your arms tightening around him, he reciprocated with heightened strength, lifting and thrusting you with an intensity that transcended the bounds of restraint. Each movement struck the place he knew too well.

His teeth captured your bottom lip, eliciting a momentary jolt of pleasure. Your nails pressed into his shoulder as his fingers ran through your hair, pulling you nearer, immersing you in the fervent abyss of his mouth. The taste of you was a captivating fusion of sweetness and passion, an intoxicating blend that left both of you craving for more.

He kept trying to say your name, but he found himself unable even to catch his breath, let alone speak a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down and traveling quietly down your cheeks. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, touching your tongue and the saliva within. It was as if he had discovered an oasis in the vast expanse of a desert, gazing at you with eyes ablaze like fire reflected in water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile and uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lasting essence of pleasure in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your heads spun into a blissful oblivion.

Your head rested against his, and as you delicately nipped at his earlobe, he felt stripped down to his very core, just as he had unraveled you from within. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Something inside him melted. Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You belonged to him. You didn't erase the pain you had caused. You didn't fix everything you'd broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. All he needed was you, and with you, everything would be alright.

He firmly grasped your buttocks, burying his face against your shoulder as he sped up. He was shattered to pieces, but with you, he got put back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. Gritting his teeth, he succumbed to the impending climax. His hands glided along your back as you shuddered, your inner walls pulsating around him so hard that he couldn't hold back his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice, until everything around you both turned to a world of vibrant colors and radiant light, where the sun shone, oceans sparkled, and Sakura trees bloomed.

*

Both of you were lying on a pillow, breathless and sweaty. Satoru's face was buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand had delicately weaved its way into his hair, fingers stroking the silky strands as you both sought to ground yourself in the aftermath of your orgasms.

You rested your cheek against his head, your voice carrying a hint of breathlessness as you began to speak. "How is Shoko doing?

"She's probably smoking even more now," he murmured, his lips grazing against your shoulder as he pulled you closer. Despite the physical closeness, a deep ache echoed within him, yearning for an even deeper connection that felt just beyond his grasp. The desire to merge both body and soul, to be completely intertwined with you, was tangible in his touch.

His arms tightened around you as if attempting to bridge an unseen gap that couldn't be seen, but he could feel it. Each hug and touch was an attempt to mend the distance that pained him. The depth of his need reverberated through his being. It was visible in the depths of his eyes. It sucked to be this close yet feel so far from someone. But he didn't want to worry. As long as you were together, he believed nothing terrible could happen.

"Why probably so?" you asked, your curiosity piqued as you turned your head towards him. Your lips touched his soft, silky white hair. "Is it because of the numerous missions you're taking?"

"You seem to know every detail of my life," he remarked, turning his head towards you, the closeness so intimate that your noses nearly touched. His hand found its way to your arm, his finger tracing a path down its length, lost in contemplation.

"I've always kept tabs on you. I'm not even ashamed of it," you declared, your attention fixed on his ocean-blue eyes.

He let out a shaky sigh. "There's no longer a reason for me to stay in Tokyo like I used to," he whispered, his voice hinting at wistfulness. The words floated in the air, pregnant with unspoken meanings. As he locked eyes with you, his gaze transformed into a sea of emotions, reflecting a profound depth of feelings that transcended mere words.

"What about your students?"

"They're doing well even without me," Satoru said, his voice filled with fondness and melancholy. As his hand gracefully slid into your hair, he tucked back the strands that obscured your face, revealing the beauty of your features.

His thumb stroked your cheek in a soothing gesture. "Megumi came close to expanding his domain," Satoru continued, his voice filled with a hint of excitement. "Yuji would be thrilled to—"

"No, Satoru!" you interjected, your voice resolute. Your firm interruption halted his sentence as your face displayed a frown, your eyebrows furrowing with determination. "The answer is no!"

Satoru's hand dropped weakly onto the sheets, his fingers losing their previous touch. When his gaze met yours, a deep sadness flooded his eyes, turning the serene ocean within them into a turbulent storm.

He struggled to find the right words to make his case but couldn't resist trying to reason with you. "Come back with me. I have enough power and privilege to protect you—"

"I don't want your protection!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying a sharp edge that cut through his being. The words resounded with a harshness reminiscent of the day you decided to leave, which had left an indelible mark on both of you. It was a day that Satoru had always blamed himself for, haunted by the belief that he had failed to notice you drifting away.

His eyes, filled with sorrow, locked onto yours, silently begging for understanding as he summoned the bravery to express his deepest desires. "Don't you want a life with me?" he questioned, his voice brimming with the dreams and aspirations he had envisioned for both of you. "What about living in a house with blue shutters, windows overlooking the ocean, and—"

"How are you still such a wide-eyed, dreamy little boy, Satoru?" you remarked, your voice tinged with tenderness and sadness. As you spoke, your hand extended, interlocking your fingers with his. "Stop living in a fantasy world," you urged. The words pleaded for him to accept reality and let go of dreams no longer aligned with his chosen path. "Even if I had the chance to go back, I wouldn't want to," you continued. "The Jujutsu society is a broken bone that won't set right, and no matter how much you try to mend it, it won't work. I started hunting Higher Ups because I have a purpose. I can't be by your side."

As you raised your head, a glimmer of compassion and understanding shimmered in your eyes. The pain etched on Satoru's face was evident to you. In a gentle tone, you encouraged him, saying, "We've made different choices. Don't judge me because I never questioned why you didn't follow me. Our approaches may differ, but we share the same dream of creating a better world. So, I don't regret leaving, but if there's anything I regret, it's not cherishing every moment I had with you. But I'm doing it right this time. I'm memorizing every detail, so I have something to hold onto."

Your words bounced around in the fog of his head, blurring his senses, misting his eyes, and muddling his logic. In his bones, there was just ice. His entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped him in the face, punched him in the jaw, and dumped him into the ocean.

Until today, he thought he had fully come to terms with everything. He believed he had adapted to living with your absence, like a disabled person learning to avoid putting weight on his injured leg. However, deep down, he knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble.

But with your answer, stacks of sorrow grew inside him, settling on his bones as if a cable had twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

He realized how foolish he had been to believe he could simply blend in and lead an ordinary life.

Satoru.

Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo, The Strongest.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification.

He shook his head, coughing as his lungs were tormented, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission. His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. With clenched fists, he fought against the misery, forcing it back down. Not again. Not again. Not again.

"Satoru?" you called out to him, and a thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. Realizing how deeply he loved you kept hitting him in the face, the skull, and the spine. He ran a hand across his face and through his hair, displaying signs of wanting to scream, to break something, as if he was on the verge of losing his sanity.

You hugged him, bridging the gap between your bodies and leaning your cheek against his rock-hard chest. Your hands caressed his stomach as your lips left random pecks here and there.

"It's not just your shirt that I have," you expressed. "I also have our shared blanket from our room and a collection of photographs I'm too afraid to look at. I fear that if I see them, I'll go right back to you and beg your forgiveness."

You dropped a kiss on his chin. Then, on the curve of his shoulder and his shoulder blades. Five kisses down his throat, each softer than the last. You kissed his cheeks, hands, and eyelids for every moment of loneliness he had ever endured.

You continued, "My body hasn't realized we are no longer together. It calls out for you at night, unaccustomed to not having you tightly enveloping me like a second layer of skin."

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "Why are you putting me through this?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "Why are you scratching my wounds?"

"Because I want to remake you again, Satoru. You should get broken apart and rebuild in a way that won't cause you pain anymore." You kissed the hand covering his mouth, not holding back. Keeping your head there, you leaned against his heart.

"It's not as straightforward as a simple yes or no," you said, your voice cracking as you spoke. "Let's just enjoy this moment together..."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with sadness.

He shifted his gaze towards you, his eyes open, jaw clenched tightly, and muscles tense. Breathing heavily, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful.

You lifted your head and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Love is the most twisted curse," you murmured as you tilted his chin toward your mouth. He blinked rapidly. Words were whispered upon his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "And we are the most cursed of all, aren't we?" you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him again. Tenderly.

Unable to find the right words, he relied on the language of touch, pressing his lips against yours. A sigh escaped into your shared kiss, and you responded by kissing him even more passionately, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. The taste of salt lingered on your tongues. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made his flesh burn. Unsure of whose tears they were, he continued to cling to you, even if it was almost for the final time.

The saddest world in this whole wide world was "almost." You almost came back to him. He almost had you. You two almost made it.

*

You woke up with a smile, feeling a pleasant warmth enveloping your skin, remnants of the memories from the previous night. The room was filled with a fresh ambiance, hinted at by the open window that welcomed a gentle breeze. The scent of damp earth filled the air, evidence of the rain that had visited during the night.

Letting out a sigh, you brushed your face against the pillow. Your hand instinctively reached out to where Satoru was supposed to be, but a pang of emptiness washed over you. He wasn't there, and your eyes flew open, a sourness clouding their once-serene gaze. Something felt wrong.

Suddenly, sitting up, a sense of panic pulsed through your veins. The realization dawned upon you—Satoru had left the bed, and his absence spoke volumes. Your glance darted around the room, searching for any signs of his presence, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

An agonizing grip took hold of your heart. Conflicting emotions wrestled inside you. You had voiced your decision to part ways, to not be by his side, yet the depth of your desire for him remained steadfast. The pain and the desperate desire for his warmth was a stark reminder that not wanting to be with him didn't mean you were prepared to let go of him completely.

The bitter yet undeniable truth surfaced: as much as you and Satoru were meant to be, fate had not deemed you to last.

You could still feel the lasting presence of Satoru's cursed energy, an invisible thread you could identify even blind. Simply by scent, you would recognize it. It was a power that transcends physical senses, one that would recognize it in death, at the end of the world.

You swiftly snatched your robe and hastened out of the room. And there he was, Satoru, fully dressed, his blindfold tightly secured, sitting still in a chair, facing the untouched mochis. The hair tie was also on the table, indicating that he had removed it from his wrist. You couldn't determine whether it hurt you deeply to see him letting go of a part of you or noticing that he had left his beloved treats untouched.

He wasn't looking at you, so you had time to observe things you hadn't noticed yesterday. He had visibly lost weight. His hair showed signs of splitting and thinning, probably due to stress. Nightmares didn't let him sleep. His uniform appeared wrinkled, and his breaths were unsteady. You knew it wasn't your place to worry about him anymore, but you couldn't help it. Taking care of him had become a habit. He appeared weary, displaying the same profound exhaustion you experienced, filling you with fear.

His shoulders quivered up and down, and you could tell he was crying even though he was silent as a corpse. Your heart quickened as you approached him. With trembling hands, you reached for his blindfold, a desperate attempt because, goddammit, you fucking loved his eyes.

"What are you—" you started to inquire, your voice fading as you recognized that your touch couldn't reach him. He had activated his Infinity. Manually. Deliberately. A wave of profound sadness washed over you, tears welling up in your eyes, yet you swallowed them back, resolved to keep your composure. Your hand hung suspended, mere inches away from him, a symbol of the unbridgeable gap that had grown between you.

Then, in a sudden movement, Satoru stood before you, donning a black jacket that draped his figure. His voice emerged raspy, filled with a raw intensity that conveyed the turmoil within his heart.

"I can't handle this anymore. I can't continue being whatever I am to you," he admitted, his words heavy with a sense of resignation. The understanding that the current situation was no longer viable had taken hold of him. "If you want things to remain this way, I can't ignore the fact that we are enemies at the end of the day." He subtly avoided meeting your gaze, averting his eyes from your messy hair and the persistent sadness in your eyes.

"Can you honestly believe that?" you questioned, your voice brimming with incredulity. You took a step forward, narrowing the physical gap between you. It was essential for him to grasp the magnitude of your anguish and directly witness the toll your choice inflicted upon your heart.

Satoru took a step back, his brows furrowing beneath the blindfold that veiled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what I believe," he declared.

Despite the barrier that prevented physical touch, you closed your eyes, driven by the overwhelming desire to bridge the divide. Ignoring the protective shield of his Infinity, you leaned in, your lips seeking his in a desperate act of defiance. Tears streamed down your closed eyes as he relinquished the barrier that kept you apart. You pressed your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to respond, to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his hand while his other embraced you tightly. He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy.

You held each other tightly, his arms enveloping you as his fingers intertwined with your hair. In that stolen moment, you caught a glimpse of the life you longed for—a life filled with love. Having this every day was within reach, but the harsh reality of the jujutsu world loomed, casting a shadow over your fragile dreams. The awareness that he would be exploited until his final breath burdened you deeply. Unable to witness his suffering, you knew you couldn't change your decisions. You had to reset this Jujutsu World. For him. For his students. For the happiness you owed yourself.

As your lips reluctantly separated, a bittersweet trace of saliva remained between you. Satoru gripped your shoulders, and as you glanced up, you noticed his blindfold was damp, indicating the tears he had shed.

You lowered your head. "I wish you had never crossed paths with me," you murmured, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground until he reached out and lifted your chin.

"I wouldn't take that chance. Not in a million infinities. Because there was love, even if it didn't change anything, even if it made the pain worse, love was there," he said, staring at your mouth. "I'll love you in this life. I'll love you in death and in whatever lies after. And likely even beyond that," he whispered. The words did something to you. They burned something inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "No matter what, I'll always love you," he declared, and pain filled your veins. You could feel it in your blood.

"Satoru," you whispered. Your eyes fogged up, but you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears away. You couldn't let a second of this be blurry. You couldn't afford to allow any of this to slip away. His absence felt like a missing limb, and his longing for you was a bullet in the head. How could he still love you? How could he find relief in your touch?

"But if we meet again," he said, his thumb brushing against your earlobe. "Just kill me. Because I'll be forced to kill you, and it's the same thing." As if the longer he held you, the more he would want you, he let go of you.

The enormity of his duty and the unyielding constraints of the jujutsu world, forcing him to make an unbearable choice, hit you like a cold gust of wind, leaving you feeling isolated and abandoned. The chill of that moment seeped into your bones, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had felt this same frigid loneliness when you had left him behind.

Satoru walked towards the door, each step carrying the finality of his decision that settled upon the room. Pausing at the threshold, a silent plea lingered in his words. "So, please, I beg you to stay away from me." With those words, he severed the last thread that had linked you, leaving you with a deep sense of loss.

The door closed behind him, leaving you in an empty and heavy space with unspoken regret. You were alone again, bereft without him, half dead without him. You opened your mouth and screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately so that you could escape this feeling.

No one ever warned you how men with such pretty eyes, who smelled like vanilla, tasted like rain, and talked like silver, were the reason behind tear-soaked pillows, half-finished poems, and so many sad dreams.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

It seemed like Satoru Gojo's story had peaked, and anything that followed wouldn't hold the same significance to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you. For some reason, he never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and he was in it. He would be in it forever.

Moving forward, he silently implored his bones to remain firm, to support him for the remainder of the day and beyond. He ventured through the forest, his steps disturbing the mud and leaves as his footprints gradually faded away until there was nothing but the empty silence of a long, lonely dusk.

Tag list: @istanuwow @anime-lover1234 @rentaldarling @enchantedforest-network

 Disclaimers:

This creation draws significant inspiration from the incredible artistry of @animaybi (TikTok) and features quotes from the captivating writings of @starlightonthewaves (TikTok). Both of these talented artists deserve immense praise for their remarkable contributions.

Art is created by me.

Are you cursing me for writing this? :D