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💦🍆🤤 goojjooo

Chapter Two

Part 2 of Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

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Word Count: ~6.7k

Disclosure: I do not own any of the JJK characters or plots. Those belong to Gege Akutami.

Author's Note: Sorry for the long hiatus. Life caught up with me, but I'm back and ready to write again. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings: Lots of emotions, Gojo is Gojo, possibly OOC (Let me know if I missed any)

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Tsk.

Gojo Satoru. The Strongest. Hell, he’d heard them all, but here he was waiting. Gojo hated waiting. If anything, others should be waiting for him. Did being the strongest mean nothing?

As Gojo stared at the clock above the chalkboard, his eyes rolled back into his skull. Each painfully long click of the minute hand ticked by. The harder and longer Gojo stared at the damned thing, he realized one thing. He’d never wait again. Everyone would wait for him. It’s the least they could do to make him wait for them all.

Finally, a veil of cursed energy approached the door as if by divine intervention. Gojo tilted his head, observing the energy. It was a dark purple, and he had only seen the finest and oldest wines. He was never allowed to partake of it, but still, he longed to try it. The cursed energy was rich with dark hints that alluded to something more, something hidden. Whoever the user was, they were strong. Gojo smiled. Maybe he’d find an equal of sorts in this classmate. Not that anyone could be as strong as him.

Once the door for the classroom had slid open, Gojo had already assumed the position: calm, collected, and one that screamed, “I’m the best.” There was one final detail. A smug smile. But it never appeared. A head of dark hair towered over Gojo’s sitting figure. Maybe I should have been standing. Gojo’s eyes trailed over his classmate. Their uniform was well-fitted and prim, without a wrinkle plaguing the cloth. Gojo watched as his classmate offered him a small smile before plopping into the seat beside him.

In silence, Gojo directed his attention away from his new companion and towards the window. The sun was peeking through the clouds that littered the sky, hiding away the clean blue that eased everyone’s day.

“I guess we’re both here early,” his classmate noted, slightly leaning over his desk.

“Tsk,” Gojo muttered, pulling his chair back to rest his feet on his desk. His long, bony legs lay like twine blowing through the wind. His hands were cinched together behind his head to offer his neck support. “I arrive when I want to.”

Gojo felt the dark purple eyes of his classmate watching his every move. With an inhale, they sat up and extended their hand. “I’m Suguru Getou.” Gojo only itched his nose, returning to his position. He knew he needed no introduction.

The clock above the board chimed one o’clock, the allotted meeting time. As the minute brushed past the hour hand, a pattering of footsteps echoed through the hall. Two pairs. Gojo turned his head towards the door: one familiar, the other not. The dark brown, almost green, cursed energy belonged to Yaga-sensei. The second cursed energy, alongside Yaga’s, was a yellowish green, bright and blaring. Gojo scrunched his nose, and his tongue tensed. Sour.

First stepped in Yaga-sensei, stern and stiff. Following behind him was a small girl. Her hair was a warm brown that barely brushed her shoulders. Her dark and bright eyes scanned the room, spotting the remaining two empty seats. She beamed at her classmates before hopping in the seat next to Suguru. Gojo sighed. She was weak.

Yaga-sensei placed his materials on the large wooden desk in the front of the room. His stern eyes scanned the classroom, stopping on the empty chair beside Shoko. Slowly, he looked down at his watch. The furrow between his brows grew with each passing minute.

Gojo internally groaned. What was Yaga sensei waiting for?

Suddenly, a burst of warmth enveloped his senses. A warmth melted over him like chocolate on his tongue. Sweet. It had been so welcomed that Gojo was startled as a figure darted past and ran into the classroom. Cocking his brow, Gojo leaned over his desk to look at her–the final classmate. He couldn’t see her face as her back arched, but what he did notice was her uniform. It was white, unlike their dark blues or blacks. Her shoulders shuddered with labored breaths. Gojo watched as she stuck out a hand to stabilize herself. Finally, she stood up and sheepishly grinned at the class. Her face was bright red and getting pinker by the minute. Gojo snickered, brushing off his momentary lapse.

“Forgive me, Yaga sensei, I got lost,” she heaved, slinking into the seat beside Shoko. Yaga sighed, and for a moment, Gojo thought he’d scold the girl, but it never came.

Instead, Yaga sensei cleared his throat and stood up straighter than before, announcing, “Now that you’re all here. Let your first year begin.”

Suddenly, the classroom door burst open. Gojo groaned as the apparent trend grew before his eyes. This was getting bothersome. “Yaga, the principal needs a word with you,” one of the other teachers huffed.

Yaga’s jaw clenched. “Why–fine, I’m coming. You four,” he turned his attention back to the class. “Introduce yourselves. I’ll be back.” Without another word, he left the room to their own devices. For a moment, none of them spoke. Gojo made no move to begin. There was no need for introductions. He was the Gojo Satoru. The strongest, and everyone knew it.

“Geto Suguru,” Suguru smiled, looking at his classmates, finally breaking the silence between them all. “I’m a cursed manipulation user and currently a special grade.” Gojo’s ears twitched with intrigue. His six eyes were right. Glancing around the room, Suguru’s violet gaze landed on Shoko, who introduced herself next. Then, following her was the late one.

“Hi, I’m L/N Y/N,” she said before letting out a nervous chuckle. “I’ve been told I’m a cursed energy manipulation user.” At once, all three classmates' eyes were on her.

“You’ve been told?” Shoko questioned. L/N gulped and nodded.

“I was scouted a week ago, so I guess I’m sort of new to this whole Jujutsu sorcery thing.” In response, all Suguru and Shoko could do was stare. Y/N gulped under the pressure. She pulled back the collar of her uniform. Was it always this tight?

“What grade are you?”

“What does your technique do?” Suguru and Shoko exclaimed at the same time.

“Um…,” pulling out her student ID, she read, “ I’m a grade three? Yeah, grade three.” Gojo scoffed and slouched deeper into his seat. “As for my technique, I guess I can manipulate cursed energy. Um, let me remember what they said…Oh, yeah. I can amplify and decrease the presence of cursed energy and absorb it, but I’m still working out the kinks, cause–” Gojo’s laugh interrupted her, stealing her attention. Instead of a stunned reaction, like Gojo was expecting, she only apologized. “Sorry, I forgot I’m not the last to introduce myself.” Then, turning the floor to Gojo, she asked, “Who are you?”

The classroom fell deathly silent as eyes bulged and gasps were stolen. Gojo blinked and then blinked again. “That’s Goj–,” Suguru tried to explain, but the sound of Gojo’s chair screeching cut him off.

Within an instant, Gojo stood above her, eyes casting down upon her. She peered at him, taking in his pure white hair and sparkling eyes. “It makes sense that a weakling like you wouldn’t know who I am.” Her eyes narrowed at his comment, making a smile twitch onto his face. “I’m Gojo Satoru–the strongest.”

“The strongest?” She scoffed. “Wanna bet?” Behind them, Suguru and Shoko insistently shook their heads, begging her to abandon her vendetta.

“You’re on,” Gojo gleefully grinned.

It was surprisingly easy for four students to slip out of the classroom unnoticed by the staff. Gojo and his challenger marched onward to the training field. Behind them lagged Shoko and Suguru. Shoko wriggled her fingers and wrists. Worry grew in her stomach at the thought of the upcoming fight. Knowing Gojo’s reputation, she’d have to break out her reversed curse technique sooner than she hoped. She just hoped Gojo would leave something left of her classmate to heal.

By the time Suguru and Shoko reached the outskirts of the training field, Gojo and L/N stood on opposite ends of the field. They watched as Gojo tilted his head side to side, emitting a sharp crack from his neck. Taking a deep breath, Gojo couldn’t help but laugh at his opponent. He knew that the battle would be over before she could even exhale. He was the strongest, and she was weak.

“Oi!” Gojo commanded. “Give us our mark, Suguru!” Suguru sighed before hesitantly raising his hand in the air. His violet eyes glanced over at L/N. She stood confidently, unaware. Innocent and peaceful. The complete opposite of Gojo, who practically itched to put her in her place. With reluctance, he swiftly brought his hand down. The battle has commenced.

Gojo grinned and vanished from his spot on the opposite end of the field. As if by magic, he appeared in front of her. Fists were raised—a dangerous and cocky gleam in his eyes. His fist fell. His speed slowed. His limbs went weak. The gleam dispersed as confusion filled the pools of his eyes.

Her hand was on his cheek. She held it so tenderly. Why was she smiling? Suddenly, the smooth darkness of her cursed energy burst into light as a crystal clear beam of light coursed through her. No. It was his cursed energy. She was taking it from him. She was–

BOOM!

When Gojo came to, he’d been blown back farther than when he started. Every part of his body ached. He was in pain. So much pain. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes as his cursed energy slowly returned to him. Something wet trickled down his face, running down the expanse of his cheek. Was that blood?

Beyond the yard lay Suguru, his back embedded into the ground, leaving a snow-angel-like imprint. His long midnight hair, torn from its bun, cascaded around his face. Shoko’s arms covered her face. The fabric of her uniform was scorched. Where Gojo and the girl once stood was a dark crater. The surrounding grass and plants burned with flames of cursed energy. Once the smoke cleared, there stood the girl. The weak one. His classmate. She smiled at him. She was glowing with an ethereal light of cursed energy. Slowly, the light faded, seeping back into her body. Then he heard it. Her voice echoed over the silence of the chaos as if she were whispering in his ear.

“Looks like I beat you, Gojo.” Then, as if all time had slowed, her eyes blinked closed, and she collapsed to the ground.

It was only when Yaga-sensei stepped outside to hunt down his students that reality came crashing back down, hitting Gojo a million miles per second.

“Alright, who did this?” Yaga-sensei tensed, and Gojo could swear he saw a vein in his teacher’s head bulge. Weakly, Suguru and Shoko raised their arms and pointed their fingers. Yaga followed the direction of their fingers and honed in on the culprit. “Gojo…” Yaga sensei growled.

Great, just great.

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“SUPPAI!” Gojo sang through the barrier of her office door. “SUPPAI, I’ve got a surprise for you. Why don’t you let me in?”

Shoko banged her head against the top of her desk. “Fuck off, Gojo.”

“Too bad,” Gojo grinned, popping up beside her. Shoko absently flung her fist toward Gojo as if she were swatting a pesky fly away.

“I already gave you a drink. What more do you–”

“Suppai?” That voice. Shoko gasped, her eyes widened, sending a migraine through her skull.

“Shit,” she growled into her fist. Lifting her head off the desk, Shoko glared up at Gojo; however, instead of finding a head of white hair, she found Amai. The glass bottle of sake slipped through Shoko’s fingers, shattering against the ground. Shoko’s dark eyes trailed after the liquid as it cradled around Amai’s feet, molding to its surroundings. “You’re really here?” Shoko muttered under her breath.

“Suppai,” Amai’s eyes started to water. “I miss–”

“I’m too sober for this,” Shoko scoffed, clutching her head as her free hand reached for another bottle of alcohol.

“Now, now, Shoko,” Gojo chastised. “Is that how you greet a long-lost friend?”

Shoko popped open the bottle and chugged it down till it was empty. “More like a long-dead friend.”

Amai watched Shoko drink bottle after bottle, bickering in silence with Gojo. A wave of shock overcame her again. An icy cold touch crept up her legs, freezing the nerves in her knees to her heart. She was numb. It wasn’t until a warm hand covered hers that Amai focused back into reality. Slowly and gently, Gojo led her to an empty chair and sat her down. Pulling away his hand, all warmth in Amai faded with him.

Her eyes filled with giant pools of tears until they couldn’t be contained anymore. Each salt-filled drop burned her skin with its warmth. She was so cold, tired, and out of place in a world that had moved on without her. She watched as Gojo pulled out his phone and gleefully chatted with someone on the other end. Then her eyes moved to Shoko, who was drowning herself bottle after bottle. A sickening gulp pulsed in her throat. They, too, had moved on. Her family. Her friends. Her everything. They had left her behind. They had grown up. People she once knew and cherished with every part of her soul were strangers and aliens to her. Crumpling in on herself, Amai let the tears fall until they became an ocean at her feet. Suffocating under the weight of her tears, Amai hardly heard the door to Shoko’s office slide open.

“What’s it now, Gojo?” Nanami questioned. Annoyance flickered in his eyes as he narrowed in on Gojo. “There must be a good reason why you interrupted my–” Nanami felt his voice slip away. His eyes widened as he spotted the figure on the seat nearby. And suddenly, there was an ache in his soul. He didn’t need Gojo or anyone to tell him who was sitting there. He’d know her anywhere.

“Amai,” Nanami reverently whispered. He winced at the sound of his voice. It was so foreign and much older than he remembered it ever being. He stepped forward, whispering her name again. Fearful that if he spoke louder, he’d startle himself awake from this dream. “Amai,” her name rolled off his tongue like a mantra. Nanami was standing in front of her chair now. Slowly, he crouched down and raised his hand. His fingers froze above Amai’s shaking head. She was still sobbing. Tenderly, Nanami brushed back her hair. He gasped. He touched her.

“Amai,” Nanami cooed once more, finally gaining Amai’s attention. She sniffled and blinked open her eyes. Warmth filled her face as Nanami wiped away her tears. “Amai. You’re alive.” A soft smile etched itself onto his face. Then he lunged, enveloping Amai in a hug.

In the haven of his arms, Amai’s soul sighed in bliss. She’d know his hug anywhere. “Nanami?” Amai muttered. Nanami nodded, pulling himself back. Tears continued falling from her face, and Nanami quickly caught each one. “What happened to your hair?” She asked, observing her friend in more detail. “You’re not emo anymore?” Gojo failed to stifle his laughter. Nanami shook his head. “I guess it was a phase then,” Amai smiled, leaving Nanami only one choice. Pulling her back in, he hugged her. His hand found the back of her hair, pulling her closer to him.

“Such a tender reunion,” Gojo exclaimed, wiping away fake tears from his blindfold. Shoko only groaned, finally succumbing to the haze of an alcohol-induced blackout. Nanami turned to face Gojo, a bomb of annoyance ready to explode. But before they could speak, Amai’s quiet words stole their voices away.

“When’s Suguru and Haibara coming?”

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“Here,” Suguru chuckled as L/N jumped out of her skin.

“Cold,” she yelped, turning around to peek up at Suguru. A white metallic sheen caught her eye—milk tea.

Placing a cold bottled milk tea into L/N’s hands, Suguru explained, “Thought you might like a drink.” Quickly, she thanked him, cracking open the drink and taking a sip. Then, motioning beside her, she offered Suguru a seat, one he gracefully took.

“So–” Suguru began, brushing back the bangs that covered his face. “Have you always been able to…”

Now it was L/N’s turn to chuckle. Her eyes swerved to the side, searching for a satisfying answer. “I guess so.” A bashful blush crept up her cheeks. “Honestly, my exploding was how I got scouted. So I guess I have that to thank for this.” Suguru’s brows raised in intrigue. “Oh, it’s a boring story,” L/N muttered.

Suguru shook his head. “It’s not every day your classmate blows up.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “Hell, it’s not every day Gojo is beaten in battle.”

A sheepish wince crunched up L/N’s features. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I should have warned you all about it, but he was just so…” She raised her hands in the air. Her fingers wriggling around in frustration before groaning into the palms of her hands. “Now, I’ve got a headache, owe Shoko a new uniform, and detention.”

Suguru shrugged. “It’s not the worst. Besides, you still owe me a story.”

L/N’s head dropped. Her eyes found the beetle that crawled beneath their feet intriguing. “Yeah, I guess so.” Sucking in a breath of air, her lungs inflated, stitching her spine straight with a burst of confidence. “There was a curse plaguing my neighborhood. Sorcerers were sent to exorcise it. However, they found me accidentally draining the curse’s energy and then exploding the nearby area. My parents…” She paused. “They weren’t happy, but, hey, I got accepted into this cool school, learned I’ve got superpowers, and that I’m not crazy for seeing creatures in the shadows.” Then, facing Suguru, she beamed with the tensest smile he had ever seen. Her constricted aura seeped even onto him.

Shivering, Suguru opened his mouth to comment but decided against it. “Hey, how old are you? I just remember Yaga-sensei saying something.”

The smile faded into a relaxed expression. “Oh, seventeen.” Suguru’s eyes widened. She was older than he was. Older than everyone.

“And you’re a first-year?” He questioned. L/N nodded before wincing into the palm of her hand, her shoulders twitching in pain. A wave of concern fell over Suguru. “Are you–?”

“Yeah,” She gritted. “Just a side effect of the going boom thing.”

Swirling the remnants of his drink, Suguru lifted the can to his lips. “Then let’s maybe not do the boom thing. Don’t you have other abilities? Maybe focus on those,” he suggested.

Lifting her head to the sky above, she sighed. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

“What does your technique do?” Suguru popped out his next question. “You never got to explain before–” he trailed off, earning a grin from L/N. The two of them stared at each other; the vision of her explosion, Gojo on the ground, Suguru on his back, and the crater that was now the training field flashed before their eyes. Giggles heaved themselves out of their lungs.

“Yeah,” L/N muttered, collecting her breath while her hands wiped away tears of laughter. “I can amplify and absorb cursed energy. Actually,” she smiled, sitting straighter. “They said I can increase and decrease my own cursed energy, and then I can do the same for others, curses, and cursed users. Or at least, that’s what I’m supposed to do. Not really sure why I explode when I absorb others’ cursed energy. Oh yeah, and I guess my technique makes it easier for me to sense where other curses and cursed users are. Like pinpoint their location.”

“So you can sense others cursed energy?” Suguru repeated.

“Yeah, and also tell who it’s from.” She leaned in close to Suguru. “For example. I can tell you that Shoko’s in her room. Yaga-sensei is in the dining hall with some other teachers and one of the third years. Gojo…” she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder.

“Gojo?” Suguru followed her gaze down the hall, but no one was there.

“... never mind. But it only works for a certain distance. I can’t sense anything too far away.”

Suguru chuckled, standing up. His hand extended down towards her. “Well, I won’t believe it until I see it.” She placed her hand in his. “Let’s go see if you’re right.”

Once she had balanced her weight on her feet, Suguru let go, shoving his hands into his pockets. Immediately, Suguru’s feet briskly skipped down the hall. Intrigue, like a lighthouse, flashed in his violet eyes.

Chasing after him, L/N stopped. Crouching down, she picked up the laces of her shoes, deftly tying them. Tie, make the bunny ears, loop around, and tie. Again, with the other foot. Tie, bunny ears, loop around, and tie.

“Hey, Gojo,” she whispered. His cursed energy shone brightly in the classroom beside her. “I promise not to explode on you again.” She softly smiled, spotting Suguru waiting for her down the hall.

“Hurry up, slowpoke.”

“I’m coming.” She responded. “Just tying my shoes.” Then, whispering once more to Gojo. “You’re still the strongest in my eyes.” Pushing down into the ground, L/N came to a stand. Her pace picked up, her breath trying to match the desire for oxygen as she chased after Suguru.

Beyond the walls, in the classroom, sat Gojo. His head banged against the wall behind him, and her words echoed in his head.

Tsk. As if I’ll ever let you beat me again.

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Her bed never felt stiffer. The mattress no longer molded to her weight and enveloped her body. Although Amai realized it was no longer her bed. This probably was not even the same mattress; twelve years is a long time for a mattress. Sitting upon the bed, Amai wondered who else had called this room theirs?

Beside Amai sat boxes all labeled with her name in Gojo’s nearly illegible writing and silly doodles. Once upon a time, those doodles brought some joy into her life as Gojo drew them in their shared notebook. The one they passed notes around in. Amai wondered if that very notebook was somewhere buried deep in the mass of boxes. Gojo told her everything she had was in there, although, knowing Gojo, some things might have conveniently gone missing. The weight of the boxes felt like it was caving in on Amai. The past and present are all waiting to be unpacked and no longer sitting in a dark corner collecting dust. However, Amai couldn’t bring herself to open them. The very thought of moving was too much for her mind, already caught up in the turmoil of reality.

Closing her eyes, Amai leaned back against some of the boxes. Their jagged corners jabbed deep into her spine, a painful reminder that what was packed away in these boxes was not the only thing from her past left behind.

Geto Suguru and Haibara Yu. Her friends and a part of her family were gone. Nanami was the one who broke it to her. He deemed Shoko too gone to deal with the emotional fallout, which would be Amai’s reaction. Gojo was the second option, but the silence that radiated from his being after her question was enough tell. Amai reacted just as he had thought, disbelief followed by guilt, and then came the grief. Nanami could only tell her they were gone. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about Haibara’s demise and Geto’s downfall, into everything they were taught to fight against. It was the only mercy he could offer her. Nanami knew the truth would further break her.

Now, sitting on her bed, finally left alone, Amai sobbed, with her head tucked between her knees. She felt small, smaller than she had ever physically been in life. Her shoulders caved in, crushing her lungs and shortening her breath as even more tears fell down. She cried for those twelve years she had lost. She mourned Haibara, her twin in sweetness. They were both grouped under the name Amai. Both were too sweet and a light in their group’s lives. Amai sobbed for Suguru, her Umami. She remembers his smile as he’d drop off whatever snacks and drinks he got for her. She remembered his comforting presence. She remembered what once was and what never could be again.

Suddenly, Amai found herself in a puddle of her own tears, each one merging into the other until it became one string. Twelve years and those who remained became strangers. Gojo’s eyes seemed colder like the frozen seas of the north. Shoko was too far gone in her drinking and smoking, and Nanami seemed so formal and mature from his teenage self. Looking at her friends now, Amai only saw aliens. Husks of her former friends, if she could still call them that. Finally, her tears grew too much. She needed familiarity in the unfamiliar. Harshly coming to a stand, Amai ripped open the boxes. Their contents spilled all over the room, but she didn’t care. She needed to be back home, back with her family, and these things were the closest she’d get.

Littered across the floor were clothes of all colors and stuffed animals won from silly games or gifts given to her by friends. Photos and Polaroids of the past flew about the air as books and journals plunked to the ground. Their pages were bending from the force of their collision. One by one, Amai emptied the boxes until there was nothing stored away. Staring at her entire life on the floor, Amai collapsed once more. Her hands fluttered over her dusty possessions, eventually clasping around a large black sweatshirt. It had been Suguru’s. One he had loaned to her after a mission they had done together. She never had a chance to return it, and she never would. Bringing the fabric over her head, she tugged it down. Rolling up the sleeves, Amai searched for the next memory. A teddy bear with a button eye that was half-hazardly sewn caught her eye. It had been a gift from Haibara. The eye popped out just before he gave it to her, and in a panic, he sewed it up. Next was a book of poems she borrowed from Nanami. Then, a little jar of lip gloss that Shoko had given her one night. Soon her lap began to fill with memories, each one simultaneously easing and flaring the pain in her chest.

Scanning the floor, Amai’s eyes froze, and a hollow laugh escaped her mouth. It was a paper, laminated and bordered in gold. Picking it up, she observed the precisely calligraphied letters. “Gojo Satoru, the modern day Plato.” It was dated, signed, and stamped with an official-looking seal. He had kept his promise. A smile crept onto Amai’s face, but that smile soon faded as her eyes were pulled to a foreign object on her floor.

For this, she had no memory. Frowning, Amai brushed off some of the momentos of her past and reached for the small slip of paper. Pulling it to her, she froze. Everything felt hollow. The memories that brought comfort now weighed her down.

“Celebrate the life of Y/N L/N with us,” read the eulogy. Amai could read it despite the wear and tear from the twelve years she’d been dead. It was real. She had been gone. She died. Amai shook her head, wiping away the fresh set of tears that lined up to cascade down her face. She’d cried enough for one lifetime. Still, the tears fell and dampened the paper trembling between her hands. This eulogy was proof. Amai, Y/N L/N, or however else she was known to the world, died. Yet, it was only yesterday. To her, those twelve years had never passed. To Amai, she was still in school with her friends, and twelve years later, she still was, yet those friends had grown up, felt the brunt of time, and left her behind.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Amai’s finger crumpled into fists. Her nails dug into the paper, leaving crescent holes behind. No, she muttered to herself. This was all an elaborate prank from her friends. Her curse technique was supposed to make her blow up, not time travel. Of course, sometimes it’d malfunction and she’d end up in a nearby building, one she wasn’t in before, but never for twelve years. Never gone. Tossing the eulogy to the side, Amai cursed herself, her technique, the world, whatever she could think of. Why me? It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair, Amai knew that well as a girl in a world of curses and jujustu sorcery. She just thought it’d always somehow be fair for her and her makeshift family.

Suguru’s sweatshirt suddenly felt as if it was swallowing her whole. Yanking it off, she tossed it onto the bed. Hell, everything around her was doing the same. Curling back into a ball, she summoned her cursed energy, amplifying it out of her, creating a shield that pushed everything back. In the dark of her force field of curse energy, Amai willingly let the tears fall. Suddenly, her room was too small. The walls leeched in, trying to constrict her. She had to get out and get off campus. She needed to be somewhere that wasn’t a reminder. Standing up, she tugged on some of her old clothes, enough to keep her warm from the chilly night, and faltered to the door. Reluctantly, her feet dragged her away from the place she called home. Eventually, she ended up in a cab that took her to the first place she could think of. Somehow, Amai ended up in the rows of graves. It was a place she had never visited before, something she considered herself lucky up until now. After all, it was not every day that the first time you visit a cemetery was for your own grave. With her hands clutching the fabric of her pockets, Amai wandered through the lost and fallen, a frozen picture in time of what once was. She wondered if her casket was buried alone or alongside others, maybe her parents. She hadn’t seen them since their falling out years ago. Not just a few years, Amai corrected herself, over a decade. Either way, she didn’t care much about whether or not they were buried with her, or even mourned her. Instead, she looked for Haibara and Suguru. She wondered if they had a place beside her. She wondered if the dead could even feel in the grave. If Haibara and Suguru felt she wasn’t really there. Amai choked down a sob as she passed by an elder man visiting his wife. She wasn’t there to bury them. She never got to say goodbye.

As if on instinct, her feet carried her to the grave. Her grave. Amai couldn’t really place the feeling. She wasn’t quite sad, and also was not quite confused as the irony of the situation sat with her. She was in between all of these feelings and even more. Anger and frustration also flowed inside her, as well as shame. It was a tangled mess she didn’t want to think about, and so she didn’t. Instead, she stared at the school photo she had taken for her ID. The very one that was still in her pocket. Slowly, her eyes moved from the photo to the momentos that covered her grave. Narrowing her eyes, she slowly realized that they were all the things Gojo had taken. Things he’d sworn he never touched. Beside the trinkets lay crinkled flowers. Amai picked them up, bringing them to her nose to sniff before gently laying them back down. Lastly, her eyes fell on the rubber duck. Picking it up, she carefully caressed the rubbery surface. Squeezing it, Amai hurriedly bit her lip as her eyes began to water again.

“I was looking for that,” Gojo said, appearing behind her. Amai sniffled and whirled around, eyeing his lanky figure. Leaning down, Gojo grinned as his hand came up to snatch the duck from Amai’s hand, but she was too quick for him.

“Why’d you leave it here?” Amai questioned, her voice growing quiet as she turned back to her grave. “Why’d you leave all of it here?”

For a moment, Gojo stayed silent. Then, crouching down to sit beside Amai, he said, “Thought you might want a reminder of my amazing presence.”

Amai scoffed. “Even in death, you wouldn’t give me peace?”

“Nope,” Gojo replied. “Not that you would want that.”

Amai huffed, knowing he was right, which earned a smile from Gojo. Looking at the duck in his hand, Amai muttered, “Well, you can take him back. No need to leave him on an empty grave.”

“Nope.”

“No?” Amai repeated.

The tone in her voice brought back a playfulness Gojo hadn’t felt in a long time. Sitting a bit straighter he cocked his head to the side and clicked his teeth together. “No.”

Rolling her eyes, Amai threw the rubber duck. It pitifully flung through the air before bouncing off of Gojo’s infinity and hurled to the ground, bouncing a few more times. Gojo gasped and quickly snatched up the rubber duck. His fingers gently pet the top of its head as his eyes narrowed at Amai.

“How dare you hurt duck Satoru?” He whined, continuing to pet the duck as if it were a living and breathing thing. “Fine, if you don’t want him. I’ll keep him.”

“I gave him to you in the first place.”

Gojo let out a hmpf before placing the duck into the pocket of his jacket. “And I gave him back. It’s rude to refuse a gift, Amai.”

“And it’s rude to regift a gift,” Amai retorted as frustration boiled to the surface. She had come here to confirm and grieve her death-of-sorts, not to argue over the custody of a rubber duck that she made in Gojo’s image. However, a life with Gojo in it was never predictable. It was the same twelve years ago and the same today. “Can’t you let a girl grieve alone?”

“What’s there to grieve? You’re alive, right?” Amai glared at him, and it took everything in Gojo not to snicker at her puffed-up lips and narrowed eyes. “Speaking of,” Gojo trailed off as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small paper bag. “Here ya go, Amai. Happy being back from the dead!” Then ungracefully, Gojo plopped into her lap.

Amai peered at the bag and then up at an ever-eager Gojo. He sat there with a proud smile on his face, and if he were a dog, she was sure his tail would be uncontrollably wagging.

Opening the bag, Amai pulled out a necklace. The chain was thick silver with a small clasp in the back. In the middle of the chain hung a charm. It was half a heart and a blaring blue with the writing “Ties VER.” Amai frowned and peered over at Gojo, who wore a proud face as he held out his half of the necklace. “You got me a best friend necklace?”

“It’s not just a best friend's necklace. It’s Besties 4EVER,” Gojo explained. “After all our friendship’s beaten death.”

“Right,” Amai muttered as Gojo eagerly took the necklace out of her hand and placed it around her neck. Once he pulled away, Amai glanced down at the tiny metallic charm. Her fingers ran over the letters as a small smile found its way onto her face.

Crouching beside her, Gojo observed his long-lost friend. He hadn’t really had the chance to look at her. Her cursed energy, once dampened due to her discovery of the truth, brightened back to its original deep red. He didn’t realize how much he ached to see that color again, to feel her presence. It had been a constant weight on his shoulders. The guilt, the struggle of what if? Why couldn’t he just have gone with her? What if she never disappeared? Would Suguru still be here? Haibara? Shaking his head, Gojo adjusted his blindfold. Amai was the glue that kept them together, kept them sane in their school days, and having her back soothed something in Gojo that he thought was long dead.

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until Amai’s voice pulled him out of his trance. “Huh?” He asked her.

“Take a photo, it lasts longer.” Her voice chimed as some shivers erupted from her body.

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “You’re right.” Pulling out his phone, he tugged Amai to his side. Raising the camera, he offered his signature grin as the camera flashed. Glancing down at the photo, Gojo chuckled. The flash had blinded Amai, causing her to have a squinted and annoyed expression, while Gojo remained ever photogenic. Behind them was her gravestone. “Perfect.”

“Delete that now,” Amai growled, rubbing her eyes to soothe them from the flash.

“Too late,” Gojo said as a chime echoed from his phone. Amai frowned as she reached for his phone before successfully pulling it to her.

“You sent this to everyone?” Gojo nodded. “Gojo,” Amai questioned, “Why is the photo captioned ‘A selfie with Jujustu Jesus?’” A wave of laughter burst from Gojo’s stomach.

“You came back from the dead. Just like Jesus,” he clarified as responses from Nanami, Shoko, and a few other of his contacts trickled in. Nanami did not find the photo amusing and scolded Gojo for the impropriety of the situation. Shoko left him on read, and the other messages turned blurry as Gojo stole his phone back.

Shoving Gojo away and coming to a stand, Amai shoved her hands in her pockets, walking away. Gojo stumbled before wrapping his arm over her shoulder.

Mumbling, Amai commented, “If anyone is Jujustu Jesus, it’s you, you blue-eyed freak.”

Gojo leaned back as a thought popped into his head, pulling Amai with him as they walked away from her grave. “Wait…” Gojo trailed off, earning a groan from Amai. She had seen that face many times before and knew it was not a good one. “You’re right. I am the heavenly one after all.”

“I swear to god, Gojo, I’m gonna kill you.”

Gojo chuckled in response before pulling Amai tight against his side. “Good luck,” he said before leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “Just like you, I have a hard time dying.”

Cocking her head away, Amai tried to shove Gojo away, but his grip was too tight. “God damn it Gojo.” Eventually, she gave in and their steps fell together in a tandem. Soon enough, Amai found herself leaning into him. Leaving her grave behind with Gojo by her side, she felt a relief she hadn’t felt since popping out in that apartment. Her friends may have grown up while twelve years had passed, she’d still always have Gojo by her side, not that she would be able to get rid of him anyway.

“Thanks, Gojo,” Amai muttered, peeking up at Gojo.

Lifting his blindfold to peer down at her, Gojo softly smiled before using a free hand to mess with her hair. The strands fell down into Amai’s face, giving Gojo a head start to run ahead of her.

“Gojo Satoru, I swear to God–”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

A few moments earlier…

Gojo stands in a touristy supermarket looking at the friendship necklaces. Besides him stands a little girl.

Gojo: Hey. Which ones of these do you think are best?

Little Girl: Huh?

Gojo: The necklaces. I’m getting one for my friend.

Little Girl: *pauses for a moment, thinking. This one. *She points to a bright blue one.

Gojo: Thanks. Here, *drops a few yen into her hand. Thanks.

Little Girl: *looks at the yen in her hand before running off. Mommy, a strange man gave me some money for doing him a favor!

Mother: What?!

Gojo: *excuses himself to go buy the necklace.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

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gojosatorubedframe · 2 months ago

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A Sinner's Redemption Part II

Synopsis: Joel, Ellie, and Piper have all returned to Jackson to start their new lives together as they learn to cope with and heal from the sins that scar their pasts.

Author's Note: TLOU Season 2 is out, and my bones have been itching to revisit these lovely characters, and luckily, the urge won. I don't know how long this fic will be, but I hope to showcase our little family's journey for the 5+ years they're in Jackson. Also, I'd love to hear your input on what you'd like to see from Joel, Ellie, and Piper while in Jackson. I'm running off of pure delusions at this point and am willing to include your thoughts :)

꧁_____________꧂

Chapter One: Coming Soon

More Chapters to follow...

꧁_____________꧂

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gojosatorubedframe · 4 months ago

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The Great Game (Finale)

Part 22 of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: ~7.5k

Author's Note: This has been a long time coming. Man the AO3 curse has really gotten to me, but I refuse to let it defeat me. Finally it is done. I've done a few revisions and drafts of this chapter and have come up with something I am finally happy with. I will admit it's not to par with my other works, but it is done. I started my fanfic writing journey with Sherlock Holmes and here I am finally closing a chapter in my book. Hopefully, I'll be back writing again one day, but for now I'm going to take a break and focus on some original works. Anyways, I just want to say thank you for being along for the journey and all the patience you all have had. Without further ado, here it is. The final chapter of Arbitrary Lives.

Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of stalking, Moriarty is a creep, bombs, threats on character's lives, guns, violence, language, Sherlock is Sherlock, murder, canon typical stuff (let me know if I have missed anything)

Fury.

Anger.

Frustration.

No there was not a word for it. Whatever it was it burned through John like an inferno, every trace of his usual calm soaked deep into his pores was now scorched by a searing anger. His face, contorted between emotions as he watched the scene unfold before him. Y/N and Sherlock. Sherlock and Y/N. Once you had stormed out, John was left alone with what boiled beneath the surface. He stood still. Words still flickered through his mind as he sought to find a meaning, a purpose, a reason, but there was none, especially when it came to Sherlock. His friend, however ,that word did not sit right with him anymore. Friend. However, friends don’t do anything close to what Sherlock had just done to her.

Wrath.

Livid.

Irate.

Still, those words were not enough for John as he glared at the tall detective who curled back into his chair ignorant of John’s wrath.

“What the hell was that?!” John roared with a volume that shook the very walls of 221B. His anger echoed deep within the rickety floorboards.

Sherlock’s eyes drifted to the side, avoiding John’s gaze. His long lean arms draped lazily over his chair. Sherlock waved a hand dismissively, his expression unreadable as his eyes finally met John’s. “What was what?” Sherlock muttered.

John swore even Mrs. Hudson who kept the volume of her telly on max could hear the way his teeth ground against each other. His fists were clenched tightly, leaving curved lines embedded into the palms of his hands. “Don’t you dare. You know what.”

Sherlock tore his eyes away from John. Despite Sherlock’s calm exterior, John could see the shift in his blue eyes. It reminded him of a puppy avoiding retribution. The chair beneath Sherlock creaked as he shifted to his seat and assumed his familiar pose of thought.

“No. No, you don’t get to ignore me,” John barked. His voice trembled. “Not after what you did to Y/N.” Sherlock closed his eyes in response. “Sherlock!” John yelled.

Exhaling heavily, Sherlock’s eyes rolled open and upward. This outburst of John’s was an inconvenience. Sherlock knew he’d have to face John’s anger with his decision, but he couldn’t falter. If he cracked. If John saw the breaking of his soul, his heart, he’d lose. This was a game he couldn’t forfeit. He had to protect you. Protect everyone. It was safer to protect his team than let them get taken by his opponent, M.

John’s vision began to blur. He sniffled, sucking in a tight breath. “She loved you,” John’s voice breaking. “She—”

Sherlock closed his eyes, fighting off tears of his own. He knew. He loved Y/N too. She quickly became worth more than his games, his boredom, his everything. Sherlock bit his lip. John needed to stop before he broke through Sherlock’s guise. He needed to–“She was a nuisance,” Sherlock growled, his tone clipped and cold.

The words hung in the air. For a moment, John stood still as if he’d been slapped in the face. Suddenly, his face grew red. John surged forward. His breath came in quick, angry bursts. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare talk about her like that. She’s my friend, Sherlock. Your friend. ..And you destroyed it. You destroyed her. Didn’t you see how you–.”

Sherlock groaned, reaching for the remote to turn on the television. The screen flickered to life, and the volume cranked high enough to drown out John’s fury.

It was the final straw.

“I can’t stand you,” John spat, his voice dripped with venom. He raked his hands through his hair, as his frustration grew with every second of Sherlock’s indifference. “You know what? Forget it. You don’t care.” John unclenched his fists. The palms of his hands ached. Turning over his shoulder, his voice low, John asked, “Does anything matter to you?”

There came no response from Sherlock. Scoffing, John stormed toward the door, his boots heavy against the creaking floorboards. He didn’t look back, unsure if he even wanted to see a reaction on Sherlock’s face. Would he care? Could he care?

The questions clung to John’s mind, gnawing at his thoughts as he descended the stairs. His anger simmered beneath the surface, but something heavier now edged its way into his chest. A weight. A dread. Worry and concern for Y/N coursed through him. He recalled her words about leaving for good. His pace down the rest of the stairs picked up in speed. He didn’t want her to leave. Y/N was his friend. He thought about all the late-night runs for coffee and food, the grocery trips Sherlock refused to attend, and the movie nights where Bjorn would curl onto his lap.

Turning down the hallway, John froze. His breath was trapped deep within his lungs. The door stood ajar, creaking softly as it swayed in time with the faint draft. A warning bell sounded in John’s mind, his instincts honed from years of service in the war–danger. It was screaming at him that something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Y/N?” he called out, stepping cautiously closer. His voice cracked, hoarse and unsteady, the fury from earlier evaporating under the cold, creeping realization that she wasn’t answering.

He pushed the door open fully, the hinges groaned as he stepped inside. The scene that greeted him hit like a punch to the gut.

The room was in disarray, the usual warmth and order gone. Tea had spilled across the floor in the dark, spreading the stain. Beside it, a porcelain cup shattered into jagged shards. A chair lay overturned, the air thick with an eerie stillness.

“Y/N?” he called again, louder this time, desperation threading through his voice. His pulse thundered in his ears as he scanned the room. The silence that followed was deafening.

John moved further in, his chest tightening with each step. His practiced eyes noted every detail, his mind cataloging the scene like a battlefield. The overturned chair, the unwashed plate on the table, the scarf she’d left hanging by the door—all signs of a life interrupted.

His breath hitched as a thousand scenarios flashed through his mind, each one worse than the last. He turned sharply, searching for any sign of her, any clue that she was safe.

“Come on, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. “Be here. Be okay.”

The back of his neck prickled. It was a sensation he couldn’t shake, like unseen eyes watching from the shadows. The feeling made his movements more urgent, his hands trembling as he reached for his phone. He needed to call someone—anyone.

But before he could press the button, a sharp, searing pain exploded at the base of his skull. The world tilted violently, the edges of his vision blurring into darkness. He staggered, grasping the wall for balance, but his legs gave out beneath him.

The last thing he registered was the cold, hard floor rushing up to meet him and the faint, acrid scent of something chemical lingering in the air.

And then, nothing.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the dim, cold light of the bathroom flickering above her. She groaned in pain. Everything hurt. She tried to rub the pain from behind her eyes, but no hands came. Looking up she saw handcuffs. They shimmered under the dull light of the room. The handcuffs dug into her wrists. Red began to swell out from underneath the cool metal. Panic surged through her as she tugged futilely at the handcuffs. However, the chain would not yield.

Glancing around the room, the shapes and colors began to focus. Lockers tall and a pale blueish grey towered over her. They encircled her, save for one opening. Across from her, a familiar figure lay draped against the lockers. His hands, she could see it was a man, was also cuffed to the lockers. As the man’s face became clearer, a new wave of fear coursed through her.

“John?” she called out. Her voice was shaky and hoarse. Leaning forward towards John, she felt bile rise in her throat. Swallowing it, she caved back into the stiff lockers. Tears threatened to burst out of her eyes as memories came flooding back in. The tea. James. Moriarty. Sherlock. The Game. The truth.

Across from her, John groaned. His head was pounding, and each motion his body took to arise from its unconscious state made it throb even more.

“Y/N? Are you—” John began to ask, but stopped upon noticing his new attire. They had seen it before. The bomb. The jacket. Instead of it being strapped to a voice over the phone, it was now attached to him, like a leech.

“John!” Y/N cried out.

“It’ll be alright, so long as we’re smart. We’ll get out.” His words did little to reassure them both.

“Oh my god! I know who M is. Jim is Moriarty. M. My–” Y/N’s voice broke as tears began to flood down her cheeks.

John’s brows pinched together in confusion. “Jim? Your–?”

Before either could say more, a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room. The sound sent a chill down Y/N’s spine. Slowly turning her head, she watched as a pair of sleek shoes stalked closer.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely little reunion?” The voice jeered. As her eyes trailed up, Y/N choked on a sob. Her eyes met with Jim’s dark ones. They were alive and terrifying in a way she had never seen before.

“Who the hell are you?” John growled, his body tensing despite the obvious threat strapped to him.

A predatorial grin etched itself onto Moriarty’s face as he spun to face John. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal. And, as it happens, Y/N’s boyfriend.” A sob slipped out of Y/N’s mouth. Jolting his head to the side, Moriarty crept closer to her. His gaze fixed on Y/N. “Oh, darling, you look dreadful. Have you been crying already?” He crouched down to his feet to wipe away a few tears. Y/N flinched as his hands grazed her cheeks, making Moriarty smile. “We’re just getting started,” he whispered in her ear.

“Why…” Y/N whimpered, her voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

“Leave her alone!” John spat.

“Oh, Johnny-boy, don’t be rude,” Moriarty said with mock disappointment, wagging a finger at him. “Don’t forget there’s a bomb strapped to your chest. And guess who holds the controls? Come on,” Moriarty tormented. “Guess.”

“You,” John muttered.

“Me.” Pushing off his feet, he came to a stand. His shadow towered over both John and Y/N. “Oh, forgive me. I’m being rude,” sarcasm dripped off his tongue. “Why don’t we tell John, how we met?” He twirled his head to look at Y/N. “We go way back. Isn’t that right, darling? Much farther than our adorable little meet-up in the airport.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Her breath came out in short puffs as she shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Jim, stop this. Please.”

Again Moriarty crouched in front of her, his dark eyes gleaming. “Oh, I think John deserves to know the full story. Don’t you? Besides who wouldn’t like a memory refresher?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a sickening whisper. “You’re going to love this.”

Pulling back, he began. “We were friends. Remember those summer holidays. We’d play in the woods? Although, we met long before that. In school. You’d cling to my side. Shared the same class.”

Y/N’s lips trembled as memories flashed before her eyes. No. No this couldn’t be. No.

“Remember dear James?” Moriarty asked before opening is arms up. Y/N paled and Moriarty beamed. “So you do remember. Now can you remember a particular Carl Powers? I’m sure you can.”

Y/N froze, her breath hitching.

“Carl Powers?” John repeated in his confusion. His mind jumped back to the first case the monster before him set them on.

“Ah, yes. Y/N’s childhood tormentor,” Moriarty cooed, his tone dripping with faux sympathy. “Poor Y/N, always the target of that nasty boy. Always so sweet, so helpless. And me?” He grinned, his teeth gleaming. “Well, I couldn’t stand to see her treated that way. Y/N is mine. So I did something about it.”

Moriarty began to pace around Y/N and John. His voice rose with each step. “Oh, how satisfying it was. A pair of stolen trainers, a little dosage of fatal drugs, and a swim in the pool…” He snapped his fingers. “Then, just like that, Carl Powers was no more. All for you, darling.”

Y/N’s sobs grew louder, her head shaking violently. “No… no, you didn’t…”

“Yes, I did,” Moriarty said, almost lovingly. “I made sure you were safe. I sent a little letter to your mummy, didn’t I? Told her what I did for you. But it seems she didn’t like that. And off you went, far away from me. But I always kept an eye on you, Y/N. Always.”

John lurched forward, his movement yanked back by the handcuffs.“Leave her alone! She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t want you.”

Moriarty turned on him, his playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. “Careful, Doctor Watson,” he hissed, his voice venomous. Then, just as quickly, his smile returned. “But I digress. We’re on a schedule, after all.”

He checked his watch, his grin widening. “I’ve got a meeting with your flatmate, John. And you’ll be joining me. But don’t worry, I’ll take excellent care of Y/N once this is all over.” Moriarty stepped toward Y/N, brushing a tear from her cheek with sickening tenderness. She tried to recoil, but the cuffs kept her rooted in place. “You’ll never have to see Sherlock again, darling. Just you and me.” Y/N let out a whimper.

“Say goodbye to Johnny,” he whispered. “We wouldn’t want him to miss his appointment.”

“Please,” Y/N peered up into Moriarty’s eyes for any semblance of the man she thought she knew. “Please don’t do this.”

Moriarty let out a sharp tsk, before motioning for someone. From beyond the shadows of the locker room, a large man dressed in all black stepped out. In one swift motion he had unlocked John’s cuffs and began to haul him out of the room. John began to struggle, but a wave of the remote in Moriraty’s hands stilled him.

“Y/N,” John called out one final time. His voice echoed off the tiled walls and then he was gone.

Moriarty turned back to Y/N, his grin softening into something almost tender. “Goodbye, my love.” He leaned down. His breath ghosted over her lips. Y/N whimpered, clenching her eyes tight and turning her head away. For a moment his breath stayed. A sickening heat that warmed her chilled cheeks. Then with a dull force, he pressed a kiss to her lips. She twisted away, tears streaming, a sickness growing in her stomach, to which he only laughed.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone. She was alone. Chained, broken, and beaten. Y/N was left alone in the silence, with only her sobs for company.

____

The air was thick with chlorine as Sherlock stepped into the pool room, his coat billowing behind him. His sharp eyes scanned the area, taking in every detail: the tiled floor slick with moisture, the faint hum of overhead lights, and the figure standing at the other end.

In his hand, Sherlock held the memory stick high, the faint smile on his lips not reaching his eyes. “Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present,” he began, his voice calm, calculated. “Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance—all to distract me from this.”

A figure stirred in the shadows, and Sherlock stiffened as John stepped into the light, his expression unnervingly neutral. Sherlock cocked his head to the side. His eyes followed John’s stiff and robotic movements.

“Evening,” John said flatly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Sherlock?”

Sherlock’s blood ran cold. No. It couldn’t be. “John... What the hell—?”

“Bet you never saw this coming,” John continued, his words strange, stilted. His lips moved, but something about his voice was wrong. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “What... would you like me... to make him say... next?”

“Stop it,” Sherlock hissed. He twirled around looking for a sight of another. The true voice behind the commands.

Then John’s voice took on an eerie singsong tone, stopping Sherlock in his tracks. “Gottle o' gear... gottle o' gear... gottle o' gear.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched, his fists curling. “I said, stop it!”

John’s hands twitched at his sides, his body rigid. “Nice touch, this,” he said, gesturing faintly to the pool. “The pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart.”

Sherlock took a step forward, his mind racing. His eyes scanned John’s body. From the outline in the large coat, he could see the bomb. There was no injury besides the redness of John’s wrist. Each detail Sherlock noted. He’d get John out. He just needed time and time was always something on Sherlock’s side. “Who are you?” Sherlock questioned.

The sound of the door creaking open behind him drew Sherlock’s attention, and an eerie voice cut through the tension like a knife. Smooth and mocking it spoke.

“I gave you my number,” the voice said casually, almost amused. “I thought you might call.”

Out from the shadows concealing a corner of the room, sauntered Moriarty. He wore a grin as sharp as the razor-thin line of his suit. “Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket,” he drawled, “or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Both,” Sherlock shot back, his voice steely.

Moriarty laughed, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. “Jim Moriarty. Hi!” He gestured grandly, his gaze flicking between Sherlock and John. Sherlock made no hint of recognition. It wouldn’t have given him time.

“Jim? Jim from the hospital? Did I really make such a fleeting impression? Although, I suppose that was the point.” He paused, his smile sharpening into something darker. “Or perhaps you know me better by another name: Jim Moriarty. Y/N’s boyfriend.”

The shift in Sherlock’s demeanor was instantaneous as the words struck their way into his ears. For a moment, his icy composure cracked, replaced with raw panic. He took a step forward, his voice trembling with urgency. Pulling out the gun in his pocket her aimed it at Moriarty.“Where is she?”

Moriarty’s grin widened with the success of his words. He reveled in the detective’s show of emotion. “Don’t be silly, Sherlock. She’s safe—Although, I wouldn’t say the same about Johnny-boy.”

Suddenly, a red laser dot appeared on John’s chest, tracking his every movement. Moriarty chuckled, as Sherlock’s aim faltered. “Someone else is holding the rifle, of course,” Moriarty continued, his tone almost bored. “I don’t like getting my hands dirty. But I’ve given you a teeny, tiny glimpse—of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see… like you.”

"Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister? Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" Sherlock’s lips curled in disgust. “Consulting criminal. Brilliant.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Moriarty beamed as if Sherlock had just handed him a trophy. “No one ever gets to me... and no one ever will.”

Sherlock cocked his gun, his voice low. “I did.”

“And you’ve come the closest,” Moriarty admitted, leaning in with mock sincerity. “But now you’re in my way.”

Sherlock’s expression didn’t waver. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay, fine,” Moriarty said with a theatrical sigh. “But the flirting’s over, Sherlock.” His voice rose to a sing-song taunt. “Daddy’s had enough now!”

Moriarty’s polished shoes clicked against the wet tiles as he stepped closer, his smile morphing into something sharp and predatory. His voice dripped with mockery, every word designed to provoke Sherlock to his very core. “I’ve shown you what I can do, Sherlock,” he began, his tone laced with feigned affection. “Cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million quid—poof!—gone, just to lure you out to play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off.” His grin widened as a glint of malice lit up his eyes. “Although, I have loved this – this little game of ours. Playing Jim from I.T., playing gay. Did you like the underwear bit? Quite cheeky, don’t you think? And then there’s Jim, Y/N’s boyfriend. That part?” He paused, tilting his head. “That wasn’t pretend. That was real.”

Sherlock’s lips pressed into a thin line, his composure cracking ever so slightly at the mention of Y/N. Internally, he cursed himself. This game they were playing, this game of chess where the players were real, and the stakes were high, he had just sacrificed his queen. He sent her away and got her off the board where the monster could snatch her. Sherlock had led Y/N right into his arms. He thought he had planned it all–a way to win the game and keep everyone safe, but in the end, he lost her. He lost John. Both were now in the clutches of his enemy. It seems they had been for a long time. He was just too blinded to see, to caught up in the game.

“People have died,” Sherlock bit out, his voice low, vibrating with restrained fury.

Moriarty clapped his hands once, the sound echoing in the room. “That’s what people do!” he shouted, his laughter bubbling up, harsh and jagged.

“I will stop you,” Sherlock said, his words measured but heavy with promise. A promise to himself, to her, and to John. He loved Y/N. Sherlock wouldn’t deny it anymore. He wouldn’t deny it to anyone. He loved Y/N. Those simple words, that promise, he’d save her, even if it meant sacrificing everything else. He wasn’t an angel or a hero who’d let the world burn. No, they might say he was. He solved cases and helped people, but he’d let it all burn if he could protect those he loved, forever preserving his haven of 221B Baker Street and the arbitrary lives they lived.

Moriarty’s amusement didn’t waver. “No, you won’t.”

Sherlock turned his gaze to John, his expression softening for a moment. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, let him talk!” Moriarty gestured dramatically. “Go on, Johnny-boy. Say something clever. Entertain us.”

Sherlock ignored him, taking a calculated step forward and holding out the memory stick. “Take it.”

Moriarty glanced at the item with disinterest as if it were a piece of lint. Snatching it out of Sherlock’s hands he peered at it.“Huh? Oh! That!” He waved dismissively, before tossing it into the pool. The water rippled from its impact. “The missile plans. How dull. I could have gotten them anywhere.”

Suddenly, John pounced. His arms flung out and coiled around Moriarty’s neck in an unyielding grip. Then John’s voice cut through the air, urgent and desperate. “Sherlock, run! He’s got Y/N in the locker room, you can—”

Moriarty’s laughter erupted, sharp and cruel. “Good! Very good, Doctor Watson. You’re learning.”`

“If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up,” John said, his voice steady despite the danger.

“Isn’t he sweet?” Moriarty cooed mockingly, his tone saccharine. “I can see why you keep him around. So loyal. So... touchingly sentimental.” He leaned forward, his smile widening into a smirk. “But, oops! You’ve rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson. Gotcha!”

A new red laser dot flicked onto Sherlock’s chest. John’s face fell and backed away from Moriarty–the red dot unmoving.

Moriarty’s voice dropped, his playful tone replaced with cold menace. “You know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, his voice hissing. “Oh, let me guess: I get killed.”

“Killed? Oh no, Sherlock.” Moriarty’s expression darkened, his grin fading. “Don’t be so obvious. I mean, I’m going to kill you someday, of course. But I’m not rushing it. I’m saving it for something special.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “If you don’t stop prying, I’ll burn you. I’ll burn the heart out of you.”

Sherlock’s face remained impassive, but his voice cut like steel. Y/N and John’s words echoed through his head. “I’ve been reliably informed that I don’t have one.” With each word, he spoke the more time he got. Sherlock would speak for as long as needed. He’d save them. He just needed to think. Time to think.

Moriarty’s grin returned, more sinister than before. “But we both know that’s not quite true.” He leaned in closer, his voice turning sing-song. “See, I’ve asked our dear Y/N myself. She told me everything. The little argument you two had? Quite nasty.”

A piercing melody broke through the tension as a phone buzzed in Moriarty’s pocket. He glanced at it, his brow furrowing. Upon looking at the phone, Moriarty pulled back, glancing at his watch. “Well, I’d better be off. Can’t keep her waiting. I’m going to take her far away, and it’ll be just the two of us. Isn’t that romantic?” He gave Sherlock one last mocking smile. “So nice to have had a proper chat.”

Time. He was out of it. Cursing his mind to think, Sherlock found his body moving first. He lunged forward. His aim with the gun was never clearer. Sherlock’s voice was sharp, laced with threat. “What if I were to shoot you now? Right now?”

Moriarty spread his arms wide as if inviting the bullet. “Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.” His grin stretched wider, his eyes gleaming. “I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really, I would. And just a teensy bit... disappointed. And, of course, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long.” His dark eyes motioned to the bright red dots lingering on John and Sherlock’s form.

He gave a mock bow, stepping backward toward the door. “Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock’s voice followed him. “Catch... you... later.”

Moriarty laughed as he exited. “No, you won’t!” The door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the empty pool room.

And Sherlock was left standing there, his mind racing, his heart pounding, and the weight of Moriarty’s threats pressing heavily on his chest.

____

Y/N’s wrists burned as she strained against the cold, unyielding metal of the handcuffs. Her breathing was shallow, panic threatening to overtake her, but she forced herself to focus. In her mind’s eye, she could see Sherlock’s face that rainy evening at 221B Baker Street. His sharp eyes had glinted with mischief, but his voice had been calm, almost soothing as his hands encased hers.

“It’s all in the angle. Precision, Y/N. And patience,” he had said, his long fingers demonstrating the technique with an air of effortless confidence.

“Patience,” Y/N muttered under her breath now, though it felt like a cruel joke. The seconds ticked by, each one an eternity, as she fumbled with the trick Sherlock had shown her. She twisted her wrists, wincing as the metal bit into her skin. Her hands were shaking, but she forced them to steady.

Finally, with a sharp click, the cuffs sprang open. She stared at them for a moment, almost unable to believe it. However, relief was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not yet. She rubbed her wrists to soothe the angry skin. Pushing herself off the cold tiled floor, she stood. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her.

The locker room was dimly lit, the fluorescent light flickering overhead, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Her breath quickened as her change in direction twirled the shadows around. Quietly she crept towards an exit. With trembling hands she reached out for the handle. Her finger wrapped around the cool metal. With ease and caution she turned it and pulled it open. Peeking out of the door, she felt her heart pounding in her chest. The hallway stretched out before her. Silent and empty.

Everything felt too quiet as her footsteps echoed off the walls. Every breath and rustle of her clothes was deafening. As she crept forward, every nerve in her body was on high alert. She had made it halfway down the hall when a sudden noise froze her in place.

Boots. Heavy, purposeful.

“Hey!” a voice barked, and Y/N’s stomach dropped. One of Moriarty’s men had spotted her.

Panic surged through her, and she bolted, adrenaline propelling her forward. The hallway became a blur as she ran, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps. She could hear the man’s footsteps pounding behind her, his curses echoing off the walls.

Y/N turned sharply, darting into a staircase. Each step she took was like a leap in the air. Her lungs burning, her legs screaming in protest. At the top, she sprinted down another corridor, her mind racing. Think, Y/N. Think!

She spotted a small alcove and dove into it, pressing herself against the wall. Her chest heaved as she tried to quiet her breathing. The footsteps grew louder, then slowed.

“Where are you, sweetheart?” the man called, his tone mocking. “You can’t hide forever.”

She clamped a hand over her mouth, her body trembling. The man passed by, his shadow stretching across the floor. Y/N stayed perfectly still, waiting until the sound of his boots faded.

After what felt like an eternity, his footsteps receded. She waited a moment longer before slipping out of her hiding place, her movements careful and deliberate. She crept down the hall. She had to find a way out, but first, she needed to find Sherlock and John.

When she reached the end of the hallway, the quiet commotion of two voices made her heart leap. Peeking through the windows into the pool room, she saw Sherlock and John. Their figures were unmistakable as John flung off the bomb and vest far away. Relief washed over her, giving her the strength to push the door open.

“Sherlock! John!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion.

Sherlock spun around, his expression hard and calculating, but the moment he saw her, it softened. She was alive. For a moment Sherlock forgot how to breathe or how to beat his heart. Things so innate fell apart at the sight of her.

Y/N ran to him, collapsing into his arms. The tears she had been holding back spilled over as she clung to him.

The weight of her against his body brought him back to life like the shock of lighting that reanimated Frankenstein’s monster. His arms instinctively enveloped her, drowning her figure with his. A wave of relief washed over Sherlock as he held her trembling body. Pulling back, his crystal blue eyes scanned over her. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though his hands betrayed his worry as they roamed over her, checking for injuries. His fingers trailed her skin and the outline of the clothes that adorned her body, stopping at her wrists. Wrapping his fingers gently around her wrists, Sherlock pulled them close. His lips ached to soothe the ache she felt.

“I... I think so,” she managed, her voice cracking. With teary eyes, she peered at Sherlock. His harsh words from earlier all but seemed to vanish.

John approached his face a mixture of concern and relief. “Christ, Y/N. How’d you get out?”

“The... the handcuff trick. The one Sherlock taught me,” Y/N explained, her voice shaky but proud.

John let out a breathless laugh. “Of course. Trust Sherlock to teach you that.”

Sherlock’s grip on her tightened, his jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, but Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him. He had been scared—truly scared. He thought he had lost his queen. The most vital piece to his game, to his team. Yet here she was quivering in his arms. She was alive. She was with him and no Moriarty in sight.

John glanced toward the door where Moriarty once emerged. “How about we get out of here before Moriarty decides to come back?”

Y/N nodded, her shaken eyes following John’s line of sight. Slowly, the three of them turned to leave, but before they could reach the exit, a chilling voice rang out.

“Y/N!” Moriarty’s tone was sharp, almost furious. The toxic vileness struck terror deep within Y/N. With trembling hands, she clutched onto Sherlock’s sleeve, grasping the fabric as tightly as possible. She watched as Moriarty’s face softened, becoming almost affectionate. “Y/N, come back, dear.”

Sherlock immediately stepped in front of her, his posture protective. “No,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Moriarty stepped into the room, his smirk sharp as a knife. “Oh, Sherlock. Always so predictable.”

He pulled out a gun, twirling it lazily in his hand. “Sorry, boys! I’m just so... changeable! It’s a weakness, but my only one, I assure you.” Moriarty’s tone turned deadly. “You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t.” He cocked the gun, his smile widening. “Everything I could say has already crossed your mind, Sherlock.”

“And probably my answer has crossed yours,” Sherlock replied coolly, his voice steady as he positioned himself to shield Y/N completely. John followed suit.

“Stop! Jim!” Y/N’s voice broke through the tension. Stepping past Sherlock and John, she raised her arms out in front of them. “Please! If I ever meant anything to you—”

Moriarty’s gaze shifted to her, his expression pooling with the cruelty of obsession. “You are everything, Y/N.” With his gun still raised, he stepped closer to the three. The barrel was directed to Sherlock. He wanted the pleasure of killing him. The others could handle John, and then he’d have her. Just as it was supposed to be. Before he could act, his phone buzzed. Moriarty frowned, glancing at the screen. Whatever he saw made him hesitate. His eyes twitched with annoyance.

“Well,” he said with a forced smile, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “It seems I’m needed elsewhere. But don’t think this is over.”

He pointed at Y/N. “I’ll have you. One way or another.”

With that, he turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing ominously.

The three of them starred, unmoving, awaiting another threat, another attempt on their lives. But nothing came. Their feet ached, and still, they hadn’t moved, even after the red dots faded. It was John who spoke first. “What happened there?”

“Someone changed his mind,” Sherlock muttered. His mind was a wire, prepared to protect and run.

Y/N’s legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, her body finally unable to carry the weight of the fear and adrenaline that had driven her forward. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, the exhaustion suddenly overwhelming. Her mind was too shaken to fully understand what had occurred: Jim was Moriarty, John nearly died, and so did Sherlock, but now they were safe. She wasn’t alone now. Sherlock was there. He always was.

Without hesitation, Sherlock dropped to the floor beside her, his arms wrapping around her as though he couldn’t bear to let go. He pulled her tightly against him, his fingers trembling as they clutched at her like a lifeline. Y/N buried her face in his chest. Her nose filled with his scent, and she thought of one thing only: Home.

John sat nearby. His presence was a comfort on the stiff tiles of the floor. They had survived, solved the mystery, and beat the game. However, the unease never left his chest. What was the cost?

Neither of them spoke at first. There were no words for this—this raw, unspoken understanding between them. Sherlock’s heartbeat drummed in Y/N’s ear, steady and comforting, even though his own breath was uneven. He was afraid, too. They all had been.

They must have stayed like that for an eternity, caught between the relief of being alive and the dread of what they’d just escaped. But eventually, the sounds of sirens and shouting in the distance pulled them back to reality.

The police arrived first, followed closely by EMTs, their presence a blur of movement as they rushed in to assess the situation. John was ushered away. While Sherlock didn’t budge, he held Y/N tighter as medics approached, glancing over at the situation with his typical detached air, but his hands remained protectively around her, not ready to let go.

The EMTs ushered a reluctant Sherlock and Y/N out of the building and into the back of an ambulance with orange shock blankets at the ready. One draped over Y/N’s shoulders, the other over Sherlock’s, and he didn’t refuse it this time. However, the moment he saw Y/N still shaking, he shifted closer, gently placed his blanket over her, his fingers brushing against her skin, and settled it carefully over her body.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes soft with exhaustion, and a small, tired smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Sherlock's gaze met hers, but the usual coldness in his eyes was gone. There was a vulnerability there now, something raw and honest.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it. The words were so rare from him that it felt like the air had changed.

She blinked at him, confused for a moment before her mind caught up with his apology. “Sorry?” Her voice was a soft rasp. The weight of what had happened had drained her of all her strength.

“I... ” he stuttered. His jaw was tight as he struggled with the words. “I pushed you away, thought I could keep you safe, but all it did was put you in more danger. I…I’m sorry.”

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, letting his words settle in her mind. Then, she lifted a hand and gently cupped his face, her fingers brushing against the length of his jawline. “You can’t protect someone, by pushing them away,” she said softly, her voice hoarse from the tears she had shed earlier. “Promise me, Sherlock... never do that again. Promise me you’ll let me in. John too. We’re here for a reason. You aren’t alone in this.”

He nodded, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable as his hand cupped hers. He wasn’t alone. A small smile crept onto his face. “I promise,” he murmured, head leaning into her touch.

Y/N managed a weak smile, though there was a sadness in her gaze. “And... I’m sorry too,” she added quietly. “For the cruel things I said.” A small smile shifted onto her face as her eyes peered into Sherlock’s shimmering ones. “Although I know I was right,” earning a chuckle from Sherlock. “But that doesn’t mean I should have said them.”

Sherlock’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, the edges of his usually distant features softening. “You were right,” he said with a hint of amusement, though it was tempered with the weight of everything they had just survived. “You often are.”

Placing her hand to her side, Y/N let out a soft laugh, the sound surprisingly light despite everything. Sherlock found himself yearning for her touch.

“Wow, Sherlock admitting I was right. I’ve got to get this written down or recorded so I can play it back later,” she teased. Slowly her tone regained its seriousness. “You know you’ve got a lot of making up to do?”

Sherlock nodded his head. “I do.” As the sound of his voice died, an unspoken feeling settled between them. Their eyes locked, something deeper than just words filling the space between them. Something vulnerable. Something neither of them could deny. Y/N found herself unable to look away. Sherlock drew her in. His faintly quivering lips were chapped and red, and eyes were hesitant.

Slowly, her hand trailed up, cupping the side of his face, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. For a moment, they shared breaths, the air of one sustaining the other. The breaths were warm. Closing her eyes, Y/N savored the moment. They were here. Together. The blood warming the skin beneath her palms grounded her to him. She was alive. She was safe and most of all she wasn’t alone. She doubted she’d ever be again, however, the thought thrilled her. What better way to live life? A new fear pumped into her mind, but she didn’t mind. It was a welcomed one. After all, love is the greatest terror of them all, one she’d give into willingly. A sentiment Sherlock agreed with her on. Bringing her lips up to meet his, the world around them fading into nothingness as they closed the distance. The kiss was tentative at first, as though they were both afraid to move too quickly. But then, as if they couldn’t stop it, the kiss deepened, their emotions spilling out in a way words never could. Y/N’s heart pounded, and she wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s neck, pulling him closer. It was everything they hadn’t said before, everything they had kept hidden for so long, and yet, it felt so right.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, neither of them spoke. The world outside the ambulance could continue as it would, but at this moment, nothing else mattered. They had survived. And they had each other for the first time in a long time.

In the distance, observing the scene from afar, Greg begrudgingly passed John a 50 quid, one the man gracefully took. After all, he owed half of it to Mrs. Hudson, something he pay up later.

____

After what had felt like a lifetime of interrogations and checks with medical professionals, John, Y/N, and Sherlock, had finally made it back to the familiar comfort of 221B Baker Street. The tension in the air, which had clung to them through the ordeal, seemed to melt away as soon as they stepped inside. The walls plastered with faded wallpaper invited them in, enveloping them in a comforting hug. It was late, the clock ticking toward the early hours of the morning, but none of them had the energy to do anything but collapse.

John had looked at the short distance to his room and the shorter distance to the armchair in the corner. Dragging his feet behind him he sat down in the seat, curling into himself. His eyes closed almost instantly after the chaos, and his steady breathing was quiet and still.

On the couch, Sherlock and Y/N sat together, both exhausted beyond measure. Like John, neither had the strength to move far. Y/N, her body still lingered with trembles from the aftershock of their ordeal, had slipped into Sherlock’s arms, finding solace in his presence. Sherlock wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as he allowed himself to relax finally. Silence, too, overcame them as their eyes closed one after the other.

The room was bathed in soft, golden light from the flickering lamps that cast gentle shadows on the walls. Quietly, Mrs. Hudson trekked up the stairs. A hushed creaking followed in pursuit as her soft slippers barely made a sound on the floorboards. She peeked into the room, her eyes softening as she took in the sight of the three of them. She had always worried about Sherlock, but seeing him like this—so still, so uncharacteristically at ease—made her heart swell with a quiet sense of relief. And then there was Y/N, nestled against him. Mrs. Hudson’s smile grew bigger thinking of the money John now owed her, but she’d collect her payment later.

Mrs. Hudson paused momentarily before moving to the cupboard and retrieving the thick, woolen blankets from the shelf. She carefully draped one over John, who stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Then, she moved to Sherlock and Y/N, gently placing a blanket over both of them. Sherlock shifted a little, pulling Y/N closer to him.

As she finished covering them, Mrs. Hudson turned to look at Y/N’s cat, Bjorn, who had padded silently into the room and was now perched beside her, watching the scene with his usual quiet curiosity. His normal distaste for Sherlock faded. There was always the morning to resume one’s hatred for a lanky detective.

"Come on, Bjorn," Mrs. Hudson murmured with a soft smile, her voice filled with affection. "Let them sleep."

The cat meowed softly in response as if agreeing before strutting over to the rug and curling up into a ball, content in the warmth of the room. Mrs. Hudson took one last glance at the trio before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving them in their peaceful slumber.

The flat was still now, the hum of the city outside barely audible as the sounds of soft breathing and steady heartbeats filled the space. For once, there was no danger, no threat looming. Just the quiet comfort of being home and the solace of their arbitrary lives as the occupants of 221B Baker Street.

____

THE END

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#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock bbc #sherlock cares #sherlock is sherlock #sherlock fanfic #sherlockbbc #female reader

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gojosatorubedframe · 9 months ago

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A Heart for a Dream

A Series Master List

MAIN MASTER LIST

Spotify Playlist: To Come

AO3 Link: To Come

“I’ll give you my heart, in exchange... show me your dreams.” – Pochita

Synopsis: A Slice of Life AU of Chainsaw Man. Follow Denji, Power, and Aki as they navigate high school life, budding relationships, and much more.

Chapter Index

Chapter One: Starting Today, You Are a PS High School Student!

Chapter Two: Attack of the Lady Fox!

Chapter Three: Beware the Upcoming Exams!

Chapter Four: The Sun and The Sea!

Chapter Five: A Challenge from Class 1C!

Chapter Six: A Day in the Life of the Hayakawa Family!

Chapter Seven: Big Brother is a Whore!

Chapter Eight: Power's Three Bitter Days

Chapter Nine: Aki in Wonderland!

Chapter Ten: Operation Spy on the First Date!

Chapter Eleven: Until the Day It Becomes a Devil!

Chapter Twelve: Denji's Unwitting Depression!

Chapter Thirteen: Ringing in the New Years!

Chapter Fourteen: The Refreshing Battle of Chocolates!

Chapter Fifteen: Our Friendships Forever!

PS: There will be more...

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#chainsaw man denji #power chainsaw man #aki hayakawa #basically ouran host club #pochita #nayuta #chainsaw man fix it fic #chainsaw man kishibe #chainsaw man #aki chainsaw man

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gojosatorubedframe · 9 months ago

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Chapter One

Sugar Spice and Everything Nice

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: ~6.4k words

Author's Note: I am so excited to be writing again! I've typically written works for non-anime shows and fandoms, but I'm letting myself geek out a bit and exploring my favorite animes. This is a reader fic, but reader goes by the nickname "Amai" which is what the characters will be referring to her as. I am also unsure as to how long I want the fic to be, so I'll be writing and updating until I'm ready to finish it off. Without further ado, please enjoy "Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice."

Disclosure: I do not own any of the JJK characters or plots. Those belong to Gege Akutami.

Warnings: Mentions of death, sick (throwing up, but not graphic), lots of emotions, Shoko is an alcoholic, mentions of cigarettes and drugs, Gojo is Gjo, language, etc. (let me know if I missed anything)

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“Okay, hold on, hold on. Let me get this straight.” Amai took a sharp inhale, forcing down the urge to burst out in laughter. Tears already threatened to seep from the corners of her eyes as her fists clenched tightly around her chopsticks. The table beneath her hands trembled with her stifled laughter. “You consciously think about what it would be like to…you know….do the deed with various types of food?”

Gojo rolled his eyes. His chopsticks plopped down into the remnants of his ramen, the brown broth spilling onto the table. “Not various types of foods. I said "an onion.” He raised his hands. He bent his fingers together to make a circular shape and poked through the hole with another of his pale digits. “You know, you’d just stick it—“

Amai couldn’t contain it anymore. Laughter filled the halls of the school, summoning straying eyes. Suguru’s long black hair cascaded over his face as he sighed into the palms of his hands. However, the tell-tale signs of his shaking shoulders gave him away.

“Umami, don’t tell me weird thoughts like this is a guy thing,” Amai whined, worried that she’d be hearing more things that reminded her daily that Gojo and Suguru were boys.

Suguru shook his head, struggling to pull himself out of his laughing fit. “Well,” he corrected. “At least not to that extent.” Both Shoko and Amai let out a disappointed groan as Suguru’s signature smile flashed across his face.

“You guys just don’t have what it takes to think of genius thoughts like me.” Gojo huffed, his ears turning pink as he sank behind the shades of his glasses. “Call me the next Plato,” he confidently resurged.

“You are not the next Plato,” Shoko chimed before stirring the noodles in her bowl. Gojo rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. “Exactly my point.”

Throwing his head back as if he were in a cliche hair commercial, Gojo flashed a mischievously playful grin.“You can laugh now but just wait,” Gojo claimed. I’m gonna get an official certificate naming me the modern Plato.”

Biting back an outburst of laughter, Amai patted Gojo’s back. “Alright, if you get an official certificate,” she clarified, “ Then I’ll call you Plato, Tsurai.”

Gojo’s eyes widened at the challenge, and he grinned at her. “You’ve got a deal, Amai.” Suddenly, he jumped out of his seat and hooked his arms around Amai’s and Suguru’s shoulders. “I can see it now. Gojo Satoru, the world’s greatest philanthropist since Plato.”

“He was a philosopher, Satoru,” Suguru corrected. “Not a philanthropist.”

“Ah, the same thing,” Gojo grinned, brushing his hair from his face and sending Amai a concealed wink to confirm his promise.

Shoko groaned. Her hands carded through her hair, pulling at the ends. “Dang it, Amai, you got him started.”

“What….?” Amai cooed. “I’m just encouraging a budding philosopher. Who am I to deny someone the joys of thinking?”

Gojo’s smile faltered for a moment as his brain processed her words. “Hold on…”

Beside Amai, Shoko snorted. Ramen broth shot up through her nose, leaving her with a scorching sensation. Meanwhile, Suguru couldn’t help but lean into Amai’s side. His head gently rested on her shoulder as he laughed into the crook of her neck. Gojo puffed, blowing some stray strands of hair off his face. He sat watching his friends in their bubble of merriment. Despite the wave of embarrassment, Gojo beamed. His quiet snickers grew alongside everyone else. Soon enough, they all were keeling over with laughter, unsure of why they were all laughing in the first place.

It was through memories like these that he looked back on. These were the days of pure, unbridled joy. His most treasured thoughts were from then. In the days before that mission. The days before everything went wrong.

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Long and never-ending rows of gravestones lined the narrow pathways of the cemetery. Each a window into the hotel for the dead that reminded the living of what once was and what could have been. Pouring rain beat down on the smooth surface of each headstone. Each droplet eroded away what remained of the dead. Standing amidst it all, like a living grave stone, Gojo wondered how long it would take for Amai’s grave to be washed away. Would the water chip away ever so slightly so that what remained of her would be gone before he realized it would ever be breaking? Or would the grave just cease to exist, just like how she died?

It had been twelve years since Amai disappeared on that mission. Gojo had been assigned to share the case with her. It was a simple grade 1 curse—easy enough for him to take down, and Amai was just there along for the ride to do what she did best–stealthy reconnaissance. Not that Gojo needed her help with his six eyes, but she needed more field experience, and he was happy to help.

However, he had gotten too cocky. Underestimated what would happen if he sent her in there before him. She was supposed to locate the curse, and then Gojo would come in and save the day. As he watched her head up the stairs of the abandoned construction site, Gojo couldn’t help the unsettling current in his stomach. Five minutes after she vanished from his view, he couldn’t sense her anymore. He felt ill at ease, shrugging it off. It was just a part of Amai’s cursed technique. She could hide her cursed energy from anyone, including him. Five minutes became ten. Ten became twenty. Amai never came down.

Darting up the staircase, Gojo scoured the area for any trace of Amai. He knew she couldn’t hold the disguise for longer than fifteen minutes. He should be able to sense her. He should be able to see her. But his six eyes came up empty. It didn’t take long for him to find and exorcize the curse. Even after the curse vanished from view, he couldn’t find her. Amai was gone. Yanking off his glasses, Gojo whirled around, desperate for a sign. Even if that curse had gotten to her, there’d be a body. Bodies always have residual cursed energy, but there was nothing—no Amai. For the rest of the day, Gojo tore apart the building and surrounding areas in search of her. Amai. Amai. Amai–

Suddenly, he sensed Shoko’s cursed energy creeping up behind him. It was distinctly Shoko: sour, a pale yellowish green that had only grown more muddled with the copious amounts of cigarettes and alcohol she consumed. It was very different from hers. Amai’s was always like a raspberry dark chocolate: silky, sweet, and dark red. Her cursed energy didn’t blare at him like most others did. Desperate to be seen and acknowledged.

Coming to stand beside him, Shoko let out a huff of smoke under the cover of her midnight umbrella. “You’re here early,” she coarsely muttered. The sound of the pounding rain nearly drew out her sound. Shoko’s fingers twitched, and she brought her cigarette to her mouth. The glow of her cigarette glimmered like a fire on the mountainside as she inhaled.

“Suppai,” Gojo muttered, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Rain trickled around him, falling onto his barrier of infinity before cascading down to soak her grave. Shoko scoffed and tapped the butt of her cigarette. The ashes fell on Amai’s grave beside the picture of her beaming with a toothy grin.

“I told you to stop with that nickname.” Gojo crouched down and brushed the wet ashes away. “She’s the only one who got to call me that.” Shoko’s eyes fell on Amai's photo, letting out a somber chuckle. “That day still gets to you, doesn’t it?”

Rain pattered down onto the surface of Amai’s image. Each clear droplet trickled down Amai’s face like a tear, drowning out all her features. On instinct, Gojo reached out to Amai’s photo, wiping away the water. He didn’t want Amai’s sweet smile to sink under the grief and vacancy caused by her absence. Sweet. Amai. That was what they decided to call her.

“Screw my stupid parents. You know what? You’re going to be my family. You, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, and Geto. All of us.”

“A family, huh? Then I guess we need a family name,” Gojo teased.

A gleeful light shone behind Amai’s eyes. “Yeah! Something that fits us all.” You glanced around at all her friends loafing outside under the shade of trees. The summer sun was unbearable this time of year, but being with them made everything easier.

“I doubt you’d find something like that,” Shoko mumbled. “We’re a flavorful bunch.”

The light blazed as a huge smile popped onto her face. Suguru couldn’t help but smile along. He always found Amai’s smile the sweetest.

“Flavors! We’re the flavor family.”

Nanami looked up from his book and pursed his brows. “The what?”

“You know,” She explained. “Amai (sweet), Tsurai (spicy), Suppai (sour), Umami, and Shiokarai (salty). That’s us.”

Suguru chuckled. “You’re Amai,” he concluded, and everyone nodded in agreement. “Always too sweet to us all.”

She couldn’t help but blush. “No, I’m just the perfect amount.”

Gojo exhaled, and a nostalgic smile appeared. “She always said she was never too sweet. That she was just the perfect amount.”

“The perfect amount,” a third voice finished.

“Nanami,” Shoko and Gojo acknowledged the newest addition to their mourning party. Nanami nodded in greeting. His fist tightened around the umbrella, shielding him from the rain. “Or should I say Shiokarai?”

Quietly, Nanami peeled off his glasses and tucked them into his breast pocket before pulling out a thin book. It was blue with wave-like patterns. Shoko eyed the book in Nanami’s hand. “More poems?”

Nanami nodded and looked down at the book. “Amanda Gorman’s Call Us What We Carry. I thought she might like to hear some.”

Shoko took a long inhale of her cigarette. “Well, that’s my cue to go.” Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a few flowers and laid them across the smooth stone of the grave. The petals lay squished and crinkled against the others. The ends of the stem were already turning a decaying brown. “Here ya go, Amai,” she whispered. Fighting back a sniffle, Shoko stood up and turned to Nanami and Gojo. “I’m gonna have some drinks in Amai’s honor if you two want to join.”

“You’re just going to be drinking anyways,” Gojo said, noting the rectangular-shaped imprint in Shoko’s breast pocket—her flask.

Shoko’s shoulders shrugged. “Might as well drink to her tonight rather than drown myself in the stuff just because,” she replied.

Nanami shook his head and politely declined. Shoko found her vice in empty bottles, never-ending headaches, and tarnishing smoke. He’d let her have that. After all, all sorcerers had some way to cope. If not, you’d go mad. For Nanami, he found between the vanilla-scented pages that crinkled underneath the gentle touch of a fingertip. Ink-spotted pages filled him with ease, carrying him far away from the world he despised. With each word, he could imagine he was somewhere else. Free from the burden that came with his birthright. Free from the grief and loss that followed him everywhere. Amai had found a home in the pages of novels. It was something the two of them shared. Shiokarai, Amai, and their hoard of books. That hoard kept on growing even after her death. That’s just the way the world worked. It never stopped. Always working overtime to keep pushing ahead. Nanami knew it was wistful thinking Amai could hear him from beyond the grave reading to her, but still, he’d read to her—every year. Something he was going to do until he couldn’t any longer.

“Gojo?” Shoko questioned, offering her proposal to him.

For a moment, Gojo thought the bottle's power might help ease whatever was inside—a drink to her–to Amai. The object in his pocket suddenly felt like it was pulling him to the ground. Hesitantly, he pulled out the small rubber duck. It was a carbon copy of the one Gojo Satoru. Custom-made. Amai had made it. His signature messy white locks and striking blue eyes were atop the plastic head. Of course, it came with miniature glasses that sat atop its beak. Hugging the duck close, Gojo squeezed it, listening to it emit a pitiful wheeze. Then, rubbing his hand over the faded paint, Gojo gently placed the duck beside Amai’s photo. From now on, the duck Gojo would be by her side, protecting her grave and spirit while he was gone.

The rubber duck glowed like a beacon amidst all the other trinkets left upon the grave. Each one was a new addition Gojo added. They were once Amai’s things, things that Gojo borrowed from her room each time he’d sneakily visit. A simple prank, he promised himself he’d return them to Amai one day. He never thought it’d be when he stood six feet above her.

Satisfied with his twelfth offering, Gojo stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets. He quietly followed Shoko from the grave to Ichiji's car. Just tonight, he’d indulge and drink to help fill the hole Amai had carved out of his heart.

As Gojo’s and Shoko’s footsteps faded, Nanami crouched down to the ground and cracked open the book. Clearing his voice, he began to read. “Surviving: These words need not be–”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

The melodic hum of the car’s tires echoed throughout the vehicle. Offering all the respite to hide away from conversations and meaningless words. Through it all, Ichiji sat behind the wheel, his finger incessantly tapping on the leather's surface to ease the anxiety buzzing in his mind.

“Stop it,” Shoko groaned, placing the heel of her palm against her head.

Crimson blood immediately flooded into Ichiji’s face. The tapping stopped. Sighing in contempt, Shoko finished the last cigarette by putting it on the edge of her seat. Ichiji opened his mouth to refute her action, but it was too late. Smoke fizzled up into the air, contaminating the fresh air. Shoko expertly reached into the hidden breast pocket of her coat. No longer finding a vice in her cigarette, she revealed a small polished flask. She quickly unscrewed the lid, tilted her head back, and took a huge gulp. With an expressionless face, she swallowed and then drank again.

“It’s no wonder you have a headache, Suppai,” Gojo teased.

“Shut it,” Shoko growled before drowning herself in the rest of the flask. Gojo couldn’t help the snicker that escaped his mouth, earning another groan from Shoko. “Don’t make me regret inviting you to drinks.”

“When have you ever regretted anything with me, Suppai?” Gojo questioned with a superficial grin splashed across his face.

“Everything. I’ve regretted everything,” she hissed in response.

Glancing out the window, Gojo sniggered. Letting his head hang heavy, he plopped against the foggy window of the car. The world flashed by him. Each new scene merged with the other as if it were all one giant kaleidoscope of life, and he was just dashing by. With each new exhale, the window fogged more, creating a blank canvas of water moisture. A playful smirk appeared, and he was creating his masterpiece before he knew it.

He loved to recreate it whenever he found himself on the verge of boredom. However, if Gojo had been honest with himself, when would he have gotten bored? Turning towards Shoko, he raised his hands to present the drawing. “Suppai, tada,” he sang. Shoko took in a deep breath before glancing over to view the window.

“Wow,” she sarcastically spat. “A dick.”

“I know it’s a great depiction. Although, I feel like I should make it a bit bigger.”

“Like the one you drew on our faces?” Shoko muttered. “ I still wanna kill you for that.”

This got Gojo laughing. “What do you mean? I thought the sharpied dick on your cheek suited you very well.” In response, Shoko raised her empty flask, hoping there’d be a droplet more. There wasn’t one.

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Again, Gojo’s laughter filled the air as he settled back into his seat. A wave of memory crashed over him as the car rolled closer and closer to campus. It had been his birthday. His first one was as a student at Tokyo High. It was a momentous day, one he had to mark as special, and he had the perfect idea.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

It was easy enough to sneak into all his classmates' rooms. Most of the time, they were out cold under the blanket of sleep, unwilling to vacate their beds' warm and comforting haven. Uncapping the black marker, Gojo expertly avoided his sleeping friends' drool and mumblings as he brought the felt tip to their cheeks. Hours later, in the acceptable minutes of the morning, his friends emerged one by one. Each of them stretching and yawning away the sleep. One by one, they filtered into the bathrooms. And one by one, they discovered Gojo’s little gift.

Out of all his friends, Gojo would say Shoko’s reaction was the best. Oh, how he cherished her anguished scream as she tumbled out of the bathroom and charged him. In an instant, her hands grasped the collar of his uniform. Gojo couldn’t help but laugh as she scolded him.

“Shoko, relax,” Suguru hummed, sipping his morning tea, unfazed by the commotion. “It’ll wash off.”

“Wash off, huh?” Shoko scoffed. “You don’t think I already tried that?!” She turned her glare back on Gojo. “Well?”

“Hey, you’re screaming at an innocent man here.” Gojo innocently bashed his eyes at her and turned his cheek to reveal the dick on his face. Shoko’s eyes narrowed. “Besides, it’s my birthday. Even if it was me, you can’t get mad.”

“What’s going on?” Amai’s groggy voice chimed. She stood at her dorm room door, wiping the sleep from her face and unknowingly smearing the tip of the dick drawing. Gojo stifled a snicker. To which Shoko hit him.

“Ow!” Gojo whined. “Stop hurting the birthday boy.”

“Birthday boy, my ass–”

“It’s your birthday?” Amai and Shoko gasped at the same time. Gojo nodded in response to Amai as he crawled out of Shoko’s grasp.

“Yep! I’m officially–”

Suddenly, a sorry expression spilled from Amai’s eyes. “I forgot to get you a gift…”

Gojo’s eyes widened momentarily before brushing off the guilt in her voice. “It’s alright. I already got what I wanted.”

“But still,” Amai tried to refute, insisting she’d get him something.

Shoko groaned. “Just go look in the mirror and see if you still want to get him a gift.”

Hesitantly, Amai snuck into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. It wasn’t even a second later that the door flung open. “Gojo Satoru!”

“Told you,” Shoko smiled.

After chasing down Gojo and giving him a proper birthday beating, Amai and the group snuck away from the bundle of chaos that was Gojo. The birthday boy didn’t mind spending a few hours alone while his friends hurriedly prepared a celebration. Finally, when Gojo was led into a dark classroom, he didn’t need the lights to see everyone. Their cursed energy was potent enough that he could spot them all in the dark. However, he couldn’t help but smile as the lights flickered on as cheers erupted.

“Happy Birthday, Gojo!” A brightly colored banner read. It was hung above the chalkboard in the front of the classroom. All along the walls were party streamers that seemed to be hanging on their last strand as the heat in the building circulated through the room. Desks were reorganized to accommodate a birthday party better.

Immediately, the party commenced. Candles were blown out, cake was eaten, and now the four of them huddled together by the box television on one of the desks. Shoko reluctantly had given Gojo the honor of picking a movie to watch. Out of the entire pile, he chose the goriest slasher of them all. One that made them all regret eating the cake from before.

“Alright, that’s it. Pause the movie,” Shoko interrupted. She shoved herself off the cushions and stood up, clutching her stomach. “I need a moment in the ladies room.” Without another word, she darted out of the classroom. Gojo chuckled at her escape, calling her a coward. Beside him, Suguru squeezed Amai’s shoulder and whispered something in her ear before excusing himself to grab more snacks from the vending machines.

The buzz of the television seemed to scream in the silence that Suguru and Shoko left behind. It was a pleasant quiet that allowed Gojo to bask in the love of his friends. A shuffle of cloth beside him alerted him to Amai’s sudden apparition beside him. He cocked a brow at her as she scoured her pockets for something.

Unfurling her fingers, she peeked up at Gojo with a sheepish smile. “Happy birthday, Gojo.” Gojo found a stunning absence of all words. In Amai’s hand was a rubber duck. One that looked just like him. In the increasing silence, Amai felt her cheeks heat up. “I know it’s not anything fancy or expensive, but–”

“It’s great!” Gojo grinned, snatching the duck out of her hands before she could take it back. “Even as a duck, I look handsome.” Amai laughed.

“What’s so funny,” Suguru asked upon entering the room. His hands were full of sugary sodas and greasy chips. He plopped back down on his seat, dropping the snacks in a big heap on the floor.

With great pride, Gojo presented the rubber duck. “Behold, Duck Satoru.” Suguru’s brows pinched together. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“Even as a duck, you’re ugly,” Shoko chimed as she stalked back into the room.

Gojo’s eyes widened as he covered the duck’s metaphorical ears. “Watch your language, Shoko. There’s a child present.” Then, lifting the duck to his face, Gojo began to whisper words of comfort to the plastic bath toy.

Leaning into Amai’s side, Suguru popped open a bag of chips. Both pairs of eyes were glued to the operatic drama of Gojo and his rubber duck. The flickering movie was long forgotten as a source of much better entertainment was found.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Shoko’s alcohol drawer in her desk lay bare as all the bottles and cans littered the desk and its surrounding area. Gojo had said he wanted a variety to choose and try from, to which Shoko rolled her eyes. Gojo Satoru was a lightweight of the highest ranking. He barely finished the single can of beer he had picked up before his face flooded with various shades of pink and red. Altogether, he looked like the tackiest Valentine's Day card. If Shoko hadn’t been knee-deep in the bottle alongside him, she'd have taken out her phone, snapped pictures of Gojo in this state, and sent them to his students just to remind them what an idiot he was. Instead, Shoko shoved the delirious Gojo out of her office before his extreme teasing and moods could kick in. Like a fish out of water, he flopped down on the ground of the hallway, his weight leaning against Shoko’s closed door, begging for one last drink and her somewhat tolerable company. Shoko refused to budge, barricading her door in case Gojo got any ideas.

Admitting defeat in his intoxicated state, Gojo stumbled to a stand, begrudgingly moving in the direction of his room on campus. Even drunk, Gojo knew teleporting to his apartment in the city would be a disaster. He’d tried it once before and ended up falling through the screen of a movie theater. It was a cheap fix, but Gojo would still save money for better things like souvenirs and sweets. Not that he needed to be worried about money.

Placing a hand to brush against the hallway walls, Gojo trekked underneath the canopy of the night sky. It had stopped raining, allowing the stars to shine brighter than he had ever seen them before. His hand brushed against the corner of the wall. The sharp crease twirled left as he embarked down a new hallway. The sudden motion jolted a dull pounding behind his eyes. Gojo rubbed his hands over his blindfold to soothe the pain.

“God,” he grumbled. His attempts to ease the pain were fruitless. With each caress, the hurt surged, spreading through the rest of his body. His heart pumped the pain through each vein and muscle as if it was trying to get it as far away from his head and heart as possible. Then it stopped, and Gojo froze.

No. All signs of drunkenness fled from Gojo’s body. It was so subtle he almost missed it. Sweet, soft, and a soothing dark red. Standing up straight, Gojo raised his fingers to lift the corner of his blindfold. No. Everything around him stilled. There is was. After twelve years, it was her cursed energy. It was getting closer, about to turn onto the other end of the hallway. No.

From the shadows, she emerged. He couldn’t mistake the dirtied sneakers and signature custom uniform. It was Amai. No.

“Gojo Satoru! I swear I’m going to kill you!” Amai hollered from the other end of the hallway. Her voice echoed through the trees.

No.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Darkness covered every inch of Amai’s body. It was all she could see. Then, like a jab from a needle, a warm light pierced through her vision, blinding her. Amai sank to the floor, her knees scraping against the ground as she tumbled. She emitted a groan, grabbing the sides of her head. Every inch of her trembled, and her cursed energy went crazy. Amai felt like a soda shaken up and immediately opened it, only to have a Mento plopped inside.

Scrunching her fingers along the floor, Amai felt something smooth and polished beneath her. She cracked open her eyes and found hardwood floors. The added confusion wasn’t helping with her distorting state. It wasn’t until the clattering of silverware on glass that she was alerted to the presence of others. Slowly, peeking up from her position on the floor, she found four pairs of eyes on her. Amai froze. The shadows of the corner that once enveloped her faded as the light in the room shone brighter.

The circumstances of her scenario hit Amai like a train, and everything in her stomach jostled in a very unpleasant manner. Scrambling to her feet, she ran towards what she assumed was this family’s bathroom. Fortunately, she had been right; quickly slamming the door behind her, she leaned over the toilet and hurled.

Outside, the family sat as still as dolls, listening to the sounds of Amai emptying her stomach. Their eyes heavily blinked as their brains tried to process what had happened. It was supposed to be a typical family dinner. They had finally got their eldest son to come out of his room to join them. He was a university student, and instead of living on campus or in an apartment, the young man loafed around in his family’s home. However, the success of a full attendance was rebuked with the sudden intrusion. A girl sank through their wall like a ghost, then proceeded to puke up in their bathroom.

A hefty chuckle escaped the eldest son as he happily dug into his food. The very dish he had been reluctant to consume moments prior. “That’s where the rest of my stash went,” he muttered, stuffing himself full.

Again, his family became even more lifeless as a cold sweat broke out on his parent’s faces. That was it. They wouldn’t have a family dinner again, and their son would move out.

The horrific sounds of retching ceased, followed by the deafening flush of a toilet and the creaking of a door. Amai stepped out of the bathroom; her hair was frizzy and unkempt. Her eyes and cheeks looked hollow, and her skin looked deathly pale. The family turned their heads to look at her. Scratch what they had thought before. They were all moving out of this haunted apartment.

Without acknowledging the dumbstruck eyes following her every move, Amai wiped the corners of her mouth and shuffled out the front door. The family still hadn’t moved after hearing the lock chime.

Her head was pounding with each step she took alongside the busy streets of Tokyo. At least she knew where she was. Cars honked, people talked, and hundreds of thousands of footsteps echoed across the city. It was all too much. Where was Gojo? Reaching into the pocket of her trousers, she pulled out her phone and flipped it open. Hitting the speed dial, she called her white-haired friend. With each ring of the phone, Amai practiced her words. She’d mention how sorry she was about leaving him at the mission site. She didn’t mean to disappear. In fact, Amai still wasn’t sure how she got into the family’s apartment in the first place.

The last thing she remembered was being at the construction site with Gojo. He sent her upstairs to find the curse and then told him where it was—not that he needed her to find it. Well, she found it, and before she knew it, the curse swiped at her. She barely had time to call out to Gojo when she fell back and was encased by the shadows of her cursed energy.

However, she did not need to rehearse her apologies and explanations. Gojo never picked up, so Amai called him again. There was no answer. Frustrated, she dialed Suguru’s number. Nothing. A frown formed on her lips. Suguru always answered when she called. She tried it again, but Suguru didn’t answer. Her next option was Shoko, but Amai got nothing from her. Desperately, she tried Nanami and Haibara’s number. Just like the others, she got no response. Clenching her fists to still the trembles that coarse through her, Amai fought back tears. Why was no one answering her?

Sinking away in a quiet street, Amai crouched down and cried into her arms. She felt awful. Her cursed energy was still bouncing off the walls, nipping at her nerves. The sick in her stomach still churned. She thought she had gotten it all out. Worst of all, no one was picking up. Her family and friends seemingly disappeared, and Amai was alone. The only way things would get worse was if it–The sky rumbled above her—a warning of the shower to come.

“Great,” Amai cried along with the heavens. The rain poured down on her, soaking her to her bones. Shivers erupt over her entire body. Common sense flushed through her. She had to get out of the rain. She had to get home.

“Hey, hey!” The taxi driver cried, seeing Amai’s drenched figure sit down in the back seat. He peered up into the rearview mirror. Guilt flooded his form. Amai’s eyes were red and puffy; tears quietly flowed down her cheeks. Clearing his throat, the driver began again. “Where to, miss?”

Amai sniffled, wiping away some snot. “Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School,” she mumbled.

“That religious school?” Amai nodded, and then they were off.

Heat circulated through the vehicle on high, fighting off the chills that threatened to emerge from underneath Amai’s skin. She was grateful for the considerate taxi driver. The rolling hum of tires against the paved roads of Tokyo lulled Amai into a sense of comfort. She’d be home soon, back in bed and surrounded by her family. Even if they were pissing her off at the moment, Amai couldn’t wait to see them soon. Before she even knew it, heavy eyelids drew to a close, and rest overcame her.

A gentle hand and voice shook her awake. “Hey, kid, we’re here.” Amai groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. After apologizing for falling asleep, she pulled out her wallet to pay the driver. The driver shook his head, explaining that he was just helping a kid in need before driving back into the lively downtown area of Tokyo.

Turning towards the school, her home, Amai sighed, taking in the welcomed sight. It had stopped raining, leaving a clear night sky. Amai softly smiled, peering up at the sky. She’d have to drag Suguru out after she scolded him for ignoring her calls. They all would get a stern talking to, but first, she needed to rest and shower. If Amai knew one thing, she looked and felt like a mess. Her feet dragged behind her as she lugged herself to her room. The door held no resistance as it creaked open. Taking a deep breath, Amai stepped inside, her body reaching for the bed. She flopped down on it, and confusion filled her being. Pushing herself off the uncovered mattress, Amai glanced around the room. It was empty. There were no polaroids of her friends covering the wall. There were no books shoved onto the bookshelves. No pile of dirty laundry. There was nothing.

Her mind burned as a culprit for her room's vacancy surged through her mind: Gojo Satoru. He’d taken her stuff before, but it was only a cute pencil, her slippers, a dress, and other small things—not everything in her room. An anguished cry escaped her mouth as she charged out of her room to search for the criminal. An idiot would look in Gojo’s room, but Amai wasn’t an idiot. Gojo was like a cat. He liked to roam around and sink where he was most comfortable—most of the time, that was the most inconvenient place for others.

Fury fueled each step as she scoured the hallways for his lurking figure. Gojo, when I get you, Gojo. Amai made no effort to conceal her charge against Gojo. She wanted him to know she was coming. Using her technique, she reached for Gojo’s obnoxious cursed energy. He wasn’t far away; any moment now, she’d pounce on him. Turning a corner, Amai’s eyes narrowed on the head of snow-white hair.

He stood at the end of the hallway, seemingly taller, but Amai just chalked it up to the distance. Her eyes scanned his figure. A line in her forehead formed. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. Then she watched him pull up the corner of the blindfold. Her burst of angry air faltered at the sight of his crystal blue eyes. Shaking her head, Amai scolded herself. She wouldn’t let his stupid six eyes stop her pursuit of justice.

“Gojo Satoru! I swear I’m going to kill you!” Amai marched forward, judgingly pointing her finger at him. Gojo made no move to run. Instead, he shook his head and laughed to himself. His shoulders bobbed up and down.

Amai rolled her eyes and ground her teeth together. “Oh, sure! You probably find it hilarious sneaking into my room and taking my stuff, but seriously? Everything? That's new for you. I don’t know if I should congratulate or punch you where it hurts. Also, the phone calls. How much did you bribe everyone to change their numbers? You rich asshole.”

Gojo’s laugh made Amai’s charge still. Snorting in anger, she folded her arms and glared at him. “Yeah, go ahead and laugh, you bastard.”

“You’re here,” Gojo managed to say amidst his laughter. Amai’s eyes narrowed as her jaw clenched. “You’re here.”

“Ya,” Amai hissed. “You just said that.”

Suddenly, the laughter stopped. An eerie quiet filled the air between them. Gojo stood up straight, tearing off his blindfold. His eyes glimmered under the faint light of the night sky as if they were twinkling stars. “Why?” Amai shivered. She had never heard Gojo’s voice so low.

“Huh? Satoru?” Amai mumbled, taking a few steps closer to his cold figure.

Before she knew it, he appeared right in front of her. “After all these years, you’re here.” A gasp left Amai’s mouth at the sudden intrusion. Gojo was furious. “Why?! Why now?!” He was angry at her. Amai was supposed to be the tempered one. Scoffing, Amai pushed him back, except her hands didn’t touch him. Her eyes darted up to his. Gojo was using his infinity. Why was–

“Twelve years and eight hours, and you decided to pop up now…you little shit.”

“No,” Amai yelled back. “If anyone is the little shit, it’s you, you, you…ugh!” With each “you,” she pounded her finger against the barrier between them. “Tsurai, you spicy asshole. I understand I left you alone on the mission, but I’m sorry. Hell, I’m not even sure what happened, but I spilled out my guts in some family’s apartment, got rained on, no one is answering their phones, my room is empty, and I’m fucking tired. Just please, give me my stuff back. I’ll do anything.” As the fires of Amai’s anger dissipated, revealing exhaustion, her head plopped against Gojo. Instead of hitting his Infinity, she fell against his chest.

For a moment, the two of them stood still. Amai’s cheeks grew wet, and even more tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. She sniffled, attempting to wipe her cheeks and snot on Gojo’s uniform. But two gentle hands stopped her. Lifting her heavy head, Gojo smiled—a hint of a giggle on his lips. “You’re as tiny as the day you left me.”

Amai’s eyes twitched under Gojo's scrutiny. “Tiny?” She huffed, shoving him back. “Just because I’m a little shorter than you doesn’t mean that—” Amai was cut off as Gojo’s arms enveloped her. He yanked her close, his grip tightening with each second as if he let go, she’d vanish again. “Satoru, what are you…?” Amai flailed around in a failed attempt to escape. Sighing in defeat, she let her arms slither around Gojo.“Just because you hug me doesn’t mean I forgive you–”

“My Amai. Back from the dead,” Amai froze. “Typical,” Gojo continued. “If anyone were to do it, it’d be you.”

“What?” She whispered to no one in particular as she pulled away from the hug to look at her friend. Her eyes widened as all the blood in her body ran cold. His hair was longer than before. It can’t have changed that much within a day. She noticed the smell of alcohol on his breath. Then, it all made sense—her empty room. No one would ever be able to answer her calls. They were all miles away. Hell, years away. Twelve years away. Her knees buckled beneath her, and her weight would have crashed to the floor if Gojo hadn’t been holding her up.

I died?

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list. Also comments and reblogs are very appreciated. They help me get motivated to write the next chapters. Thanks.

Tag list:

@gojosatorubedframe

@j-eryewrites

@afigisnotalwaysafruit

@forget-me-not-my-dear

#jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo saturo fic #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #nanami kento #ichiji jjk #jjk haibara #jujutsu kaisen

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gojosatorubedframe · 9 months ago

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Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

The Series Master List

MAIN MASTER LIST

Spotify Playlist: To Come

AO3 Link: To Come

Synopsis: Amai (reader) vanishes on a mission. Presumed dead for twelve years, she comes back, confused, out of place, and with everything and everyone she knew having changed.

Chapter Index: 1/?

* (I'm not sure how long this fic will be, but I'll update as I go.)

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter One

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list.

Tag list:

@bartokthealbinobat

@gojosatorubedframe

@forget-me-not-my-dear

@j-eryewrites

@afigisnotalwaysafruit

#jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #ichiji jjk

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gojosatorubedframe · 9 months ago

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Main Master List

Welcome to my blog! My main is @j-eryewrites, but here I'll be writing my anime fics. Below is my AO3 link as well as my requests list At this time my requests are not open. Thanks!

Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice (A JJK x reader fic)

A chainsaw man Slice of Life AU fic (cause my babies deserve happy endings)

Taglist:

@gojosatorubedframe

@forget-me-not-my-dear

@j-eryewrites

@afigisnotalwaysafruit

#chainsaw man #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #masterlist #chainsaw man denji #aki hayakawa #power chainsaw man #meowy #gojo satoru

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gojosatorubedframe · 10 months ago

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next victim is ume

here is ur other bf @kaiser1ns 😘

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gojosatorubedframe · 10 months ago

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Imagining traveling with Shadowheart during winter. She had been opening up about her time as a Sharran, more her memories trickled in the longer the traveled together. The first snow fall, she recalls how the Mother Superior had forbade her from playing in the snow as a child. She longingly stares off as she wonders if she would’ve even had fun doing so, watching as a fresh sheet of snow covers the landscape they travel. And you leave it like that, too caught up in being adults and adventuring.

It had been a long day, having completed another quest that somehow ended up with chasing some yeti’s away from a couples cabin. Both of your felt exhausted and just wanted to relax by the fire. You hadn’t immediately noticed that she had fallen behind, too tired to realize that she wasn’t following behind you like she had a few seconds ago.

Then you feel something wet and cold hit against your back. Turning back, you see Shadowheart, smirking as she looks away, as if she had nothing to do with the snowball melting on your jacket. You notice that her mittens has a suspicious amount of snow clinging on them, the evidence slowly melting away from her body heat. You can’t help but gasp, feigning shock at her actions. She turns around, unable to stop laughing, cracking up at your reaction. Until she feels a snowball hit her back. It’s quiet, with both of you staring at the other, smirking. You both can’t help bursting out laughing at each other before breaking out in a full blown snowball fight, not caring about how tried you just were mere minutes ago.

Perhaps she would’ve liked to do this as a child. But she knows for a fact she loves it as an adult.

#shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #shadowheart x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #shadowheart bg3 #maddy writes

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gojosatorubedframe · 10 months ago

Note

I've been planning class for two days and i haven't finished, my brain is tired of making up ideas... so i have a little messy sherlock prompt haha... it goes like Sherlock can't sleep as he sits on the edge of the bed, he has this difficult case in his head, trying to connect the dots and the reader sleepy kneels in bed hugging him from behind asking him if he wants her ti sing for him to help him sleep and that makes him smile because she cannot sing but he knows she does it on purpose to make him laugh or relax, maybe she stars singing "don't go breaking my heart" and he giggles laying in bed with her and they sing a few lyrics from the song until she says something like "You will solve it, it will be fine"

MAIN MASTER LIST

Okay, this idea is so adorable. I literally squealed as I was writing this prompt. @selcouthangel Thank you so much for this idea. I hope you like it. Here is the song the blurb is based on: Don't Go Breaking My Heart

Word Count: (I had a bit too much fun with this prompt) 1,197

Warnings: Major Sherlock Fluff, domestic Sherlock

_____

Your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Warm breath tickled his cheeks as you exhaled, and he couldn’t help but smile. Sherlock’s eyes gazed at your face lax from the brightness it held when you were awake. A piece of your hair fell onto your face, draping over your brow and cheek. Your lips pursued as you furrowed your forehead. Sherlock couldn’t but bring his hand to your face to brush the hair aside to smooth out the lines on your forehead. Slowly he gently brought his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before he arose.

He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. It was this case. Despite his years of experience, Sherlock felt stuck. If it was a few years prior, he would have slapped on a few nicotine patches and entered his mind palace for the next day or two. But now he had you. He had your smile to wake up to. Your soft hands rub away the stress. He had your love…and you had his. He wanted to do better for you. Which met discarding his regular coping methods for “healthier” ones. Some of which included more physical options, not that he minded.

The bed creaked underneath him as he stood up and left the comfort of his bedroom. Returning shortly back to the warmth of his bed with the case files in his hands. He didn’t dare sit back down next to you, knowing the sound of papers would soon wake you up. You were already running around enough as it was assisting him and John with cases. Instead, he sat on the edge bed and turned the bedside lamp on to its lowest setting. Sherlock paused to listen into your breath. It hadn’t changed, so he cautiously flipped open the file that you had so carefully organized for him earlier that day. Well, yesterday he corrected peering at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

His eyes perused the text in front of them taking extra time to regard the statements and crime scene photos. There was something he was missing. He was sure of it. Sherlock hadn’t noticed he began to mumble his thoughts aloud. It was his little comments of disdain that had woken you up from your slumber.

You reach up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. A light crept into your view and you sigh–Sherlock. The blankets rustle as you slip out from under them. Crawling across the bed to where he sat, his shoulders tense. You came to a stop and wrapped your arms around his back, enveloping Sherlock in a hug. Your legs coming to rest next to his. While his feet touched the floor, yours only dangled a few inches off of it.

He continued to work away. His mind running a hundred miles per minute. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched and the muscles in his back contracted.

“Sherlock,” your voice cooed. It had suddenly become quite hard to hold up your head, so you rested your chin on his shoulder. He hummed in response. “The case can wait until tomorrow.” You yawned.

He placed the papers in his lap and turned his head to peer at you resting on his shoulder. He smiled. Your eyelids were heavy with the absence of slumber yet you fought to keep them awake. Determined to be awake when he was.

“It is tomorrow,” Sherlock clarified as he motioned to the alarm clock.

You groaned. Then you playfully punch his back. “You know what I mean.” Sherlock only nodded in response. “Please?” You begged, peering up at him with wide eyes. The look you know he could not resist.

Sherlock chuckled and removed the files from his lap and onto the ground. “Alright. Back in bed, firefly.” Your laugh was akin to a melody Sherlock would play on his violin. The memory of the nickname flashes in your mind.

“I told you they weren’t called lightning bugs,” you mumbled as he gently laid you back into bed. Tucking you underneath the covers before he joined you, turning the lamp off.

You wrap an arm around him pulling yourself closer to his body. Sherlock happily snuggled back into you. It was perfect…yet he still couldn’t sleep. He sighed, and his chest heavily sank underneath your arms.

“Do you want me to sing to you?” You ask him softly. He almost didn’t hear it.

You take his silence as a yes, take a deep breath, and begin. The song had been stuck in your mind since you had heard it on the radio the other day. You had heard somewhere that the best way to get rid of a melody was to sing it, so that’s what you did.

“Don’t go breaking my heart…” You paused waiting for Sherlock to continue. You smile softly to yourself as Sherlock continues his act of pretending to sleep. “I couldn’t if I tried…” You chuckled as your voice wavered on a high note. You weren’t a singer and Sherlock knew that. Yet your voice, when you did sing, held an endearment to it that Sherlock adored.

Still no response from Sherlock. You nudged him slightly and began to sing a bit louder. “Honey, if get restless. Baby, you’re not that kind.”

Reluctantly, Sherlock turned around to face you. His baritone voice rang out, continuing the next few lines. “Don’t go breaking my heart. You take the weight off of me.” He reached out to touch your cheek. His thumb rubbed small circles feeling the blush that crept onto your face.

“Oh, honey, when you knocked on my door,” you sang.

Sherlock felt your shoulder doing a little dance and he chuckled. “Ooh, I gave you my key,” he found his voice chiming back.

Then your voice merged together. You had some difficulty staying in the correct pitch, but Sherlock didn’t mind. “Ooh-hoo, nobody knows it.”

“When I was down,” you raised your hand up as if you held a microphone and sang. “I was your clown.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh. You never failed to bring a smile onto his face.

“Ooh-hoo, nobody knows it (nobody knows)” You two sang.

You brought the imaginary microphone to his lips, urging him to sing his lines. Instead of singing in the mic, he clasped his hands around your hand and brought it to his chest. You could feel the beating of his heart.

Even though it was dark, your eyes met his and he slowly sang, “Right from the start

I gave you my heart…Oh, I gave you my heart…”

You smiled and leaned into him. Brushing your lips against his in a loving manner. Pulling back you snuggled deeper into his side and mumbled an incoherent goodnight and words of comfort.

“You’re gonna solve it, Sherlock. Everything will be fine,” you whispered.

Sherlock brought his arm to hold you close and kissed your forehead one more time. Your calm breath matched his as his eyelids fell heavy. Everything would be fine, so long as he had you by his side. At last, his eyes closed, giving in to the pleasant call of sleep.

____

Taglist: @biggerthancalli13 @themartiansdaughter @starlightaurorab @silversword7000 @selcouthangel

#sherlock bbc #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes #i am sherlocked #sherlock x reader #sherlock fluff

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gojosatorubedframe · 10 months ago

Text

Look for the Light

The final part of A Sinner's Redemption

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: ~9.8k

Author's Note: Agh, I'm honestly crying. It's all too bittersweet. I started this fic over a year ago, and now it's over. I'm happy with how it ended and I'm glad you were all there along for the ride. Thank you for all your support for "A Sinner's Redemption". I hope you all enjoy the conclusion to Ellie, Joel, and Piper's story.

- With much love, the author.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, spoilers for the last episode and game, Joel goes full momma bear, mentions of death, suicidal ideation, mental health, explicit language, major angst and hurt (with comfort), deceit and lies, gun violence, mentions of gore, description of gore, Joel kills a whole bunch of people, mentions of surgery and medical procedures, mentions of infected, descriptions of child birth, mentions of trauma and coping mechanisms, mentions of injuries and scars (let me know if I missed anything)

Look for the Light (the Final Chapter)

Piper seemed to hit every low branch as she was dragged along. The warm hand holding hers was sweaty. Her mother’s long fingers tightened its hold.

“Ow, mommy,” Piper whined. She looked up at her mom, who quickly apologized, fighting off a painful groan.

“Baby, let’s keep going. Come on.” Anna, the girl’s mom, tugged her child along. A distant howl made her blood run cold. Everything was going wrong. Contractions constricted her body’s muscles. A runner was after them. She’d been running for who knows how long with Piper in tow. Despite the overwhelming surge of fear, Anna knew one thing. She had to keep her sweet girl safe. Both of them, now that the other one was fighting to come out into the world.

“Mommy, I-“

Anna pulled Piper along. “I know, sweet girl. I know. Once we get to the house, we’ll be safe. I promise.”

Heavy huffs of breath fall from Anna’s mouth. The pains were getting worse. She couldn’t keep the sound in—the sound the monster used to track them.

“Fuck,” Anna cried, using her free hand to clutch her round stomach.

“Mommy?” Piper peered up at Anna with worried eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Anna softly smiled down at her daughter. “Mommy’s okay, Pipes. Mommy’s okay.” She knew Piper didn’t believe her. Three-year-olds were brilliant, especially when it came to their mothers.

“Look, Pipes.” Anna pointed to the tall gray house up ahead. “We’re here.”

Anna hastily waddled her and Piper along into the house. The door swung open. “It’s me!” Anna announced. No one answered. Frantically, she looked around. “Anyone?!”

“Mommy?”

“Not now, sweetie.” A screech pierced the air. “Shit!” Anna cursed, pulling Piper up the stairs and into the farthest room. “In here, sweetie.”

Letting go of her daughter’s hand, Anna closed the door, locked it, and dragged a chair to barricade the room.

“Mommy?” Piper whispered. Her tiny finger pointed to the puddle of water underneath Anna’s legs.

“Oh…” Anna grasped her stomach. “Sweetie,” Anna winced. “Help mommy sit down.”

Piper ran to her mom’s side, reaching for her hand. With a thump, Anna collapsed against the floor. Gently, she wiped some of the grime off of Piper’s face.

“I love you; you know that, right?” Anna asked. Piper nodded.

Suddenly, glass broke. It came from downstairs. Anna bit her lip to stifle her groan. “Baby, go hide in-,” Anna howled in pain. “Go hide.”

The chair against the door thumped. Growls seeped through the cracks. It found them.

“Piper! Go-“

The door flung open. The infected charged into the room. Its sights were set on Anna’s little girl. Except it didn’t attack Piper. With a swing, the girl was tossed to the side. The infected’s actual target was revealed as it lunged at Anna.

Piper screamed, and Anna fought. With a switchblade, she swiped at the monster, fighting it off as her body fought to push a baby out. The creature gnashed its teeth, searching for something to bite. The rotten bones found home in Anna’s thigh. She cried out in pain, bringing down the blade into the Infected. She grunted with each slice of her weapon until it dropped dead.

A new cry filled the air. It was the baby.

“Oh…oh…” Anna cooed, lifting her baby. She was tiny. Her frail arms flailed in the air. Her dark eyes crinkled open.

“Mommy?” Piper’s voice called to her mom.

Anna glanced up. “Piper, come meet your sister.”

Piper tip-toed over to her mom and new baby sister.

“Hi…hey…” Anna cooed. She turned the baby over to Piper. The young girl brought her face as close as possible to her new sister.

“She looks funny,” Piper muttered.

The baby started to cry again. Anna held her close. “Did I make her cry?” Piper sniffled. Anna shook her head and chuckled.

“No, sweet girl. Babies just cry.” Then Anna turned to the baby. “Yeah, you tell ’em. You fuckin’ tell ’em, Ellie.”

“Hi Ellie…” Piper whispered. Baby Ellie grew quiet. Her bright, wide eyes looked over at her mom and sister. “I’m your big sister.”

“Do you want to hold her, Pipes?” Piper nodded. With her tiny arms, Piper held Ellie close.

“Hold her head like this, and-“ Anna adjusted Piper’s arms. “Just like that.” Anna sank deeper into the wall. Her eyes watched over her daughters, the view growing blurry.

“Yeah, it’s okay…” Anna whispered to herself. The pain in the thigh crawled its way around her body. She could feel the infection spread.

“Piper,” Anna said. “Can you take your sister and sit in the corner over there?” Piper looked confused but did as her mother said.

Anna bit back a growl. “Fuck,” she quietly cursed. She prayed that Marlene and the others would be back soon. She prayed the last thing her daughters would see was their mother become a monster.

“It’s okay.”

When Anna opened her eyes next, crickets began to chirp outside. Silently, she scolded herself for closing her eyes. Beside her, Piper sat, curled up around her baby sister, the two of them fast asleep. Anna lovingly smiled even if Piper had left the corner.

Taking a hand, she began to run her fingers through Piper’s hair. Her voice croaked but quickly smoothed out as she sang to her baby girls.

♪ Hold me ♪

♪ Close to your heart ♪

♪ Touch me ♪

♪ Give all your love to me. ♪

“Anna?” Marlene’s voice called out. Anna sat up straighter as the door to the room creaked open. Bright white lights momentarily blinded her.

“Oh god,” Marlene cursed, noticing the bite on Anna’s thigh.

With a calm voice, Anna looked up at her friend. “It’s not your fault.”

“We were delayed getting out of the zone. I’m so-“

“They’re hungry,” Anna said, looking down at her girls. “The baby needs to be fed, and I…I didn’t wanna nurse her.” Marlene furrowed her brows in skepticism. “I cut it before I was bit, and it never got to Piper. Marlene,” Anna begged.”Before.”

Sighing, Marlene lowered her gun and approached Anna. Her hands gently reached for the baby in Piper’s arms. Unconsciously, the young girl’s grip tightened around her sister.

“Sweet girl,” Anna whispered, rubbing her finger gently up and down her daughter’s nose. “Piper, I need you to wake up.” Piper stirred and snuggled deeper into her mother’s side. “Baby, please.” Piper awoke. Bringing her hands to the sides of Piper’s face, Anna smiled. Her eyes fought back tears. “There’s my sweet girl.”

“Mommy?” Piper said groggily.

“Yeah, it’s mommy. I need you to promise me something, Piper. Can you do that for mommy?” Piper nodded. “Can you promise to watch over your sister?” Again, Piper nodded, wiping the sleep away. “I need you to be a big girl and a big sister.” Tears began to flow out of Anna’s eyes. “I need you to promise me you’ll always be with her. Piper and Ellie forever. Okay?”

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Piper’s hand reached up to her mom’s face. Her tiny fingers wiped away tears. Anna struggled to peel off her daughter’s hands.

“Piper, remember Aunty Marlene? She’s gonna take you and Ellie to a new home.”

“Where are you gonna go, mommy?” Piper asked, and Anna wanted to break in two.

“I want you to…” Anna’s voice trembled as she looked at Marlene. “…take them with you to Boston… find someone to bring them up, and make sure that they’re safe.”

“I can’t do that,” Marlene breathed, but Anna ignored her.

“And I want you to give her this.” Anna handed over a small switchblade.

“Anna.”

“Her name is Ellie,” Anna explained.

“I can’t,” Marlene sternly said.

“How long have we known each other?” Anna asked. Her eyes held strength even as her mind fought the monster crawling within.

“Our whole lives,” Marlene answered.

“So you pick her up right now…take Piper, and then you kill me.”

“I can’t kill you.”

“Please, please, please.” Anna cried as Marlene stepped away with her daughters in tow. “Please!”

“Mommy?!” Piper began to cry, seeing her mother so distressed.

Anna groaned as a growl grew from her chest. It was coming—the monster.

“Marlene!” Anna screamed. Tears poured freely from her face.

“Mommy!” Piper flailed around as Marlene drew her back from her mom. “Mommy!!”

Suddenly, Marlene’s hand withdrew and was replaced by another.

“Here,” Marlene instructed the Firefly. “Hold her head… There you go.” Ellie cooed in the man’s arms. “Cover her ears.” Then she crouched down to Piper. “Cover your ears for me, Piper.”

Piper shook her head. Her only thought was her mother. “Mommy!” She cried. Anna’s sobs followed the sound.

Marlene clenched her jaw and stood up. The gun felt heavy in her hand as she marched back into the room. She had to make it quick. Anna nodded and closed her eyes. Thoughts of her daughters flashed before her as the bullet tore through her skull.

Piper’s ears rang. Ellie cried, and her sister screamed. Piper didn’t stop screaming for her mother until sleep overcame her petite body. Even when she woke up, she still cried for Anna. But she’d never come. Instead, Piper clung to her baby sister. Although memories faded with time, one thing remained clear. Piper promised. It was her and Ellie. Sisters forever.

꧁_____________꧂

A smile beamed from Joel’s face at his surprise find. Pulling himself away from the car, he called out to his girls. There was no response. He sighed.

“Ellie! Piper!”

No reaction. Joel walked closer to the truck the girls sat on. Their eyes glazed over, stuck in their own heads.

“Girls!”

Piper blinked, her ears ringing as Joel’s voice called out to her. With a gentle nudge of her elbow, she pulled Ellie out of her trance.

“D’ya hear me?” Joel asked the girls.

“No…,” Ellie shook her head. “What?”

“Well,” Joel began, “found this in there. Beefaroni. Chef Boyardee.” He proudly grinned at them.

“Oh, cool,” they muttered at the same time. Their postures shrank back down.

“And have you ever played this?” Joel blurted, regaining the girl’s attention. “Boggle? It’s a word game.”

The girls shook their heads.

“Well, if you wanna beat me at somethin’, it would be this.” Ellie’s ears perked up at Joel’s words, but she didn’t speak. Neither of them did.

With each moment of silence, Joel felt his heart tear in smaller and smaller pieces. “Well, all right then. We’re gettin’ close.” He strolled over to the girls, packing away his finds.

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie hummed.

“Hospital that way.” Joel pointed over their shoulders. “May be the one we’re lookin’ for.”

“Got it,” Ellie muttered, hopping off the back of the truck.

Slowly, Piper placed her feet on the ground. Her hands clutched tightly to the metal of the vehicle. Joel’s eyes flashed with pity, looking at the teen.

Scars had littered her body. The biggest one was found on her face like a crevice carved by tears from her now pale eye. She couldn’t see out of it anymore. A consequence Joel blamed himself for. Joel had done his best to help her heal, but it was never enough to stave off the bouts of pain that would arise from time to time. He knew even more scars were hiding deeper under her skin—for both of them.

“Take this for me?” Joel asked Piper, holding up his gun. She held it as Joel slung the backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks.” Piper nodded, brushing her hair behind her ears.

It had grown out since they’d left Jackson. Her dark curls were tucked beneath her chin. The length helped hide some of the more minor scars that lined her face.

“They had a guitar in that RV,” Joel announced as they passed an abandoned RV on the highway. The girls nodded with false amusement. “It was all smashed up but got me thinkin’, maybe I should find one. I haven’t played in forever.” Joel turned to look behind him at Ellie and Piper. “In fact, I was thinkin’ maybe I could teach you two. I bet you guys be great at it. Maybe make our own little band.” A slight chuckle left Joel’s mouth as he thought about a band of the three of them plucking away at guitars. “Do you two wanna learn how to play guitar?”

Piper shrugged before tripping over some rubble. Thankfully, she caught herself before falling to the ground.

“Ellie?” Joel muttered.

“Hm?” Ellie’s brain quickly recovered. “Oh, yeah. That’d be great. A little guitar band.”

Joel smiled at his girls. His grin was big enough for the three of them when neither of his girls felt like smiling.

The birds chirped louder and louder as they entered Salt Lake City. Even in late spring, the city emitted a ghastly heat.

“Okay, so this is what I’m thinking…” Joel began, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Cut through that building to get around that stuff, find the skyscraper, go up and look around,” Ellie vacantly finished.

Joel’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly collected himself. “Uhh, actually, this time, I was thinkin’ we blast our way through that rubble.” The girls looked up at him with expressions of pure confusion. “I found some dynamite in that RV back there,” Joel said, fighting off a telling smile.

“Really?” The girls cocked their brows.

“No,” Joel teased. The smile exploded on his face. “So we’re gonna cut through that building, find a skyscraper, go up and look around. But I had you goin’, didn’t I?”

Piper rolled her eyes and bit back a smile. Ellie scoffed and continued on walking.

“Look at this place,” Joel muttered, peeking around the abandoned construction site. “Talk about bad luck.” Ellie sent him a questioning look, and Joel answered. “Military drops bombs… not one of them hits the building you’re trying to demolish.”

“No way up,” Piper mumbled. Joel peered around, discovering she was right. Spotting the edges of a ladder above, Joel turned to the girls.

“I get you two up there. You guys can drop that ladder down; maybe we go through that way,” Joel proposed. “Come on. I’ll give you a boost.”

Piper stepped up. Her hand clutched onto Joel’s shoulder as he hoisted her up. He could feel her legs shaking in hesitation as she reached for the edge. Suddenly, her legs buckled beneath her.

“You okay?” Joel asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just my leg.” Piper’s hand rubbed the area where she got shot. “Get Ellie to do it.”

“Alright.” Joel nodded. “Ellie?” The girl didn’t answer him. “Ellie?”

“Els!” Piper yelled.

“What?” Ellie said, whirling around. Her attention had been taken away from the flapping construction sheet.

“You alright?” Joel questioned. “It’s just you kinda seem extra quiet today, so.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Ellie apologized.

“No, it’s fine,” Joel reassured her. “Did you hear what I…”

“Yeah, boost. Got it.”

Marching over to Joel, Ellie copied Piper’s earlier motions.

“One… two, up.” Ellie stood up tall and reached for the edge. A grunt escaped her mouth as she pulled herself up. The ladder clattered as Ellie slid it down to Joel.

“Ya got it?” Ellie asked.

“Yeah,” Joel huffed, trying to latch onto the ladder. Suddenly, the ladder dropped. The metal clambered to the floor. Joel narrowly dodged the object.

“God damn it, Ellie!” Joel cursed and picked up the ladder. “Shit.”

“You stay there!” He instructed Ellie.

She didn’t listen. Joel heard her voice echo off the walls of the building as she moved away from the ledge. “You gotta see this!” She exclaimed with excitement.

“Ellie?!” Joel yelled. Climbing up the ladder. Upon reaching the top, he helped Piper come to her feet before they ran after Ellie.

“Up here!” Ellie announced.

“Ellie!” Joel reprimanded.

“C’mon!” He could practically hear the young girl jumping up and down with joy. “C’mon, slow pokes.”

“Just wait. God damn it,” Joel grumbled. His knees ached as he trekked up the stairs and after Ellie. When he got to the top, his breath stilled.

His feet didn’t move. He stood there watching Ellie admire a giraffe. Piper stopped beside him, catching her breath before she approached her sister and the animal. Joe wanted to freeze time as the girls stared in awe at the peaceful creature. But time didn’t work like that.

Slowly, Joel stepped forward.

“Don’t scare it,” Ellie whispered.

“I won’t.”

His hands deftly snapped some leaves off the tree the animal was munching on. He passed the leaves to his girls.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asked, taking the leaves.

“It’s all right.” Then Joel stuck out his hand, feeding the giraffe. He raised his brows and motioned for the girls to do the same. “Come here, hurry up. Come on.”

Ellie was the first to step up. Hesitantly, she stuck out her hand as far away as she could from her body. The giraffe sniffed the leaves before opening its mouth to munch on them. Its dark tongue licked around Ellie’s hand. Giggles erupted from the girl’s mouth.

“Ellie, give me a try,” Piper interjected, sticking her hand of leaves to the creature. The giraffe moved from Ellie’s hand to Piper’s and began to feast. Disgust and amusement contorted on the teen’s face.

“God, it’s wet and it tickles.” Piper felt a shiver go down her spine. Ellie laughed and teased her sister.

Scratch what he thought earlier. If Joel could freeze time, he’d do it now. His girls were happy. God, he hadn’t heard them laugh in so long. It was better than any music he’d ever heard in his life.

“So fucking cool,” Ellie muttered at the giraffe. Before the girls knew it, their hands were empty of leaves, and the giraffe had pulled back. Its lanky legs were taking it away.

“Aw, where’s she going?” Ellie hopped back before entering a sprint, determined to follow the giraffe. “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

Piper skipped after her, eager to spend longer with the animal.

“Okay,” Joel chuckled, chasing after his girls.

When he finally reached them, Joel couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of deja vu. There, Ellie and Piper stood, gazing out across a city. The sunlight reflected off the shattered windows of the skyline. Nature overcame the city. Vines and trees ensnared everything in sight.

“So… is it everything ya hoped for?” Joel repeated himself.

Ellie grinned. “It’s got its ups and downs… but you can’t deny that view.”

Joel laughed and then joined them. The view was lovely. His eyes scanned the scene and froze on what appeared to be a hospital.

“Look,” he turned to Ellie and Piper. “I don’t know exactly where this hospital is…”

“Yeah, we’ll find it.” Ellie didn’t remove her gaze from the view.

“Sure. It’s just…” Joel trailed off, thinking of his following words. “Maybe there’s nothin’ bad out there, but so far, there’s always been somethin’ bad out there.”

“We’re still here, though.” Ellie was facing him now.

“I know. I’m only saying there’s risk.” Taking a deep breath, Joel made sure he had both girls' full attention. “We don’t have to do this. I just… I want you to know that.”

Piper froze. All of a sudden, she felt like she was on fire. Did she want to do this? She knew what awaited her and Ellie. Sick boiled in her stomach, and Piper wished she hadn’t eaten anything that day.

“What do you mean? What else are we supposed to do?” Ellie questioned.

“Nothin’. We just go back to Tommy’s.” Piper could tell it was all he wanted to do by the way Joel spoke. “We forget about the whole damn thing.”

Ellie shook her head. “After all we’ve been through… everything I’ve done… it can’t be for nothing.”

With Ellie’s confirmation, Piper knew her answer. She could see the hope in Ellie’s eyes. Those eyes had been so void of anything since their entrapment with David. Piper had already failed Ellie once. She knew she couldn’t do it again. How would she live with herself if she let her sister mindlessly walk alone into death's hands?

“I know you mean well,” Joel began.

Standing straighter, Ellie interrupted. “I know you wanna protect me. You have. And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want. Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon.” Joel laughed.

Inside, Piper cried. Her dream flashed in her mind. She returned to it every night and almost stayed in her dream that day. God, Piper wanted more than anything to have her dream come true. But Piper had made a promise. It was her and Ellie until the end, and if Ellie wanted to march right into death's arms, so would she. After all, maybe then Piper could do something good. Maybe in her death, she’d finally be able to do what she always wished- then perhaps she’d be able to save someone instead of killing.

“I’ll follow you anywhere you go,” Ellie continued. “ But there’s no halfway with this. We finish what we started.”

꧁_____________꧂

Joel’s plan was a plan. That was all Piper could say. After they’d found a way around all the rubble, Joel decided they would just walk around. They’d stumble upon the hospital eventually. However, Piper saw through Joel’s confusion. It was hard to comment on anything over her pain.

The worst of it came from her leg. Getting shot wasn’t fun. It's definitely an experience Piper wouldn’t recommend. Next came the pain in her eye. About a day or two after they escaped from the cannibalistic cult, she started to lose vision until she became completely blind.

It was tricky navigating the world with a crippled leg and a narrower peripheral vision. Some days, it was too hard. Phantom pain from her other injuries nabbed at her, cutting deep into her mind. She was weak. Piper couldn’t even walk a few miles without her leg giving out. Most of their travels to Salt Lake consisted of Piper using Joel as a crutch. Eventually, Joel assembled one for her, but she refused to use it. She just couldn’t. Not when she knew how strong she could be. If anything, Piper would just suffer through the pain. After all, it’s what she deserved for failing her sister. Piper deserved it all.

“Was this a FEDRA thing?” Ellie’s voice cut through the torment circling Piper’s mind.

Joel shook his head as they entered the abandoned encampment. “No. Army,” he corrected. “They put these places up all around the first few days after the outbreak. Emergency medical camps. Obviously, it didn't last. They had me in one just like this.”

Looking back, Joel noticed Piper lagging. Her face clenched as her hand grazed over her leg. Nodding to Ellie, he led them to a makeshift bench. The tension in Piper’s face eased.

“Were you there with Sarah?” Ellie asked, resuming their previous conversation.

“No,” Joel’s face dropped as he looked at his hands. “She was gone already.”

“Oh,” uttered Ellie.

“So what did happened?” Piper piped up to distract from the lingering pain in her thigh.

“It was for this.” Joel pointed to the scar on the side of his head.

Ellie’s eyes widened with recognition. “Ah, the guy who shot and missed. I figured that would’ve happened later.”

“No. Second day,” Joel explained.

“Well, I’ve gotta hand it to the Army people,” Ellie sighed. “They were way better at stitchin’ you up than Piper was.” She peered at her sister, hoping her teasing comment would help distract Piper. It didn’t.

“It was me,” Joel admitted. “I was the guy who shot and missed.”

Piper gulped. “Oh…” She breathed. All thoughts of her pain were replaced with concern for Joel.

“There’s no story.” Joel began. He hated telling this story. He was at his lowest. His weakest. He had lost everything. “Sarah died… and I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that. And I wasn’t scared either. I was ready. I couldn’t have been more ready. When I… When I… went to pull the trigger, I-I flinched. Still don’t know why.”

Piper fiddled with her fingers, tracing the scars along her palms. She’d been there. Piper would have done it, and she wouldn’t have missed. In her mind, she saw the mall, the infected, and Ellie and Riley. Unconsciously, Piper trailed up to the scar of her bite mark. The mark was a perfect match to her teeth. She could still hear Riley and Ellie’s begs–asking her to kill them.

“Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all this…” Joel trailed off, looking at Piper’s, whose knuckles had turned white.

“I know why you’re tellin’ me all this,” Ellie interjected.

Joel turned to her. “Yeah, I reckon you do,” he smiled.

“So time heals all wounds, I guess.” Ellie jokingly rolled her eyes at the cliche.

“It’ll be fucking years then…” Piper mumbled, making Joel’s heart shatter.

“It wasn’t time that did it.” It was said so softly, but even through their trauma-induced daze, the girls heard it.

“Oh…” Piper softly said. A faint smile ghosted her lips.

“Well, I’m glad that… that didn’t work out,” Ellie muttered.

“Me, too,” Joel admitted.

Suddenly, he felt a gentle weight on his side. Joel’s eyes trailed over to Piper, who leaned against him. She avoided his gaze, but the gentle pressure said more than anything she could muster. Like a domino effect, he felt Ellie rest her head on the other side. There, they sat in silence, embracing each other’s comfort.

Just as fast as their moment started, it ended.

“We should probably get going,” Joel sighed, pushing himself up.

“Yeah,” the girl half-heartedly agreed.

“You know what I’m in the mood for?” Joel announced.

“What?” Ellie asked.

Joel smirked and peered down at her. “Shitty puns.”

A groan erupted from Piper’s mouth. “God no, Joel, why’d you have to-? “

“Oh-ho-ho.” Ellie chuckled, already flipping through the pages of the book. “People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow.” Joel winced. “Too soon?”

“No, it’s topical.”

Ellie giggled. “Oh, I love this one.”

“Moon rocks taste better than Earth rocks. Why?” She paused, wiggling her brows at Joel and Piper. “Cause they’re meteor.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Joel exclaimed.

“Fuck you,” Ellie scoffed. “That was actually good.”

“That’s a… That…,” Joel waved his hands in search of words. “That’s a zero outta 10.”

“All right, all right.” Ellie read a new joke. “What did the green grape say to the purple grape? Breathe, you idiot.”

“That was a three outta 10.”

Ellie shook her head. “Seven, minimum.”

“Uh-uh.” Ellie disagreed.

“I’m sticking with the three,” Piper added from behind the group.

“I’ll give it a five,” Joel settled.

“Five outta 10. Five?” Ellie dramatically gasped.

CLANG!

The trio whirled around. In between Ellie, Joel, and Piper sat a small flash bomb. Joel grabbed onto Ellie’s shoulder, pulling her close. Piper ducked and covered her ears.

As Piper’s head hit the ground, she couldn’t hear anything. She knew she was calling out for Joel and Ellie. It looked like they were saying her name if she squinted hard enough. Her head hurt, and it felt wet. She groaned and fell to her side. Two foggy figures loomed overhead. And then it was black.

꧁_____________꧂

“Is her head okay?” A faint voice tickled Piper’s senses.

Someone was touching her. Piper’s hand clasped around the person. Her eyes whirled open, and then she pounced. She fought until the poor woman lay on the ground. The teen could see the terror oozing from the woman, her hands raised.

“Piper?” A familiar voice commanded. “Piper! Let her go.” Piper tore her gaze off the trembling woman and onto Marlene.

“Marlene?” Realizing she still sat over the woman, Piper pushed herself off. She sent a silent apology, collecting herself. One thing was for sure. Everything hurt, more so than usual. “What happened?” She croaked, rubbing her aching head. Her hand felt sticky. It was covered in a clear ointment mixed with blood. Her blood.

Marlene dismissed the woman, who quickly left the room. “Patrol didn’t know you were coming. You got the worst of it.” The woman pointed to Piper’s head injury.

“Yeah,” Piper scoffed. “I could tell. Where’s Ellie and Joel?”

There was a pause before Marlene answered her. “Ellie’s fine. Been asking about you. Joel’s still unconscious.”

Ellie. The Fireflies. If they were here at the hospital, then… “Can I see Ellie?”

“Piper,” Marlene’s gaze grew avoidant. “All you need to know is that she’s safe.”

It was a bullshit answer. An answer Piper wouldn’t take. “Marlene, where’s my sister?”

Marlene sighed with a look that made Piper fear the answer. “She’s being prepped for surgery…” Piper shuddered, and a gasp left her mouth. She couldn’t look at Marlene. She couldn’t look anywhere. Piper couldn’t do anything as sobs choked their way out.

“You know.” Marlene stood straighter and marched over to Piper. Her eyes glared down at Piper. “Did Ellie-?”

“No,” Piper sniffled. “I…I couldn’t tell her. Not when I had- can I say goodbye?” Marlene shook her head. “Fuck…” Piper whimpered. Tears stung her skin as they trickled from her eyes down her cheeks.

“Piper, I’m sorry-” Marlene tried to comfort her.

“What about Joel?” Piper yelled. She stared up at Marlene. The pools in her eyes reflected the woman’s stern expression. “Can I say goodbye? Please, Marlene. Please.” Marlene didn’t answer her. Piper had to see Joel, she had to–“I’m saving the fucking world, and you won’t let me say goodbye?!”

Marlene took in a deep and steady breath that seemed to last hours. She raised her finger, and in came a Firefly soldier. “Grab her some paper and a pen.” The materials magically appeared. Marlene threw them into Piper’s hands. “Here, you’ll write your goodbye.”

Piper hurriedly placed the papers down and uncapped the pen. “Does Joel know?” She asked.

“Know what?” Marlene’s voice came out harsher than Piper had ever heard it.

“That you’re killing us for the cure.”

There was a deafening silence before Marlene answered. “No.”

“Are you gonna tell him?” Piper asked, tearing her attention away from the letter.

“Just hurry up and write that goodbye,” Marlene hissed.

Piper didn’t need another warning and scrambled to scribble on the papers. Her hands shook so much that Piper worried her last words would be illegible. She inhaled. She exhaled. She calmed herself, but only as much as could be expected from someone about to die. As she wrote, her vision grew sloppier. It was hard to see even with her blind eye. Still, she pushed through. With a trembling hand, she signed the letter. When Marlene snatched it out of her hands, a strangled sob scrambled out.

“Promise me he’ll get it,” Piper begged. “Promise me, Marlene.”

Marlene folded the letter and shoved it into her pocket. “Finish bandaging her up and get her prepped,” she instructed her fireflies. Then, turning on her heel, Marlene stepped out the door.

Behind her, Piper yelled. “Marlene, please! Please promise me. Please!”

꧁_____________꧂

“Welcome to the Fireflies” was the first thing Joel heard once his consciousness returned. Groggy, he pushed himself up to sit opposite Marlene.

“Easy.” Marlene gently spoke. “Ya got hit pretty hard. Patrol didn’t know who you were.”

Joel’s eyes scanned the room. Something was missing. Someone. His girls. “Where’s the girls?”

“Ellie wasn’t hurt,” Marlene began. Her answer relieved Joel, but it was not what he needed to hear. “Not even a scratch. Piper got the short end of the stick. My people are fixing her up now. They’re mostly worried about you.”

“Where are they?” He gruffly asked. His eyes stared down into Marlene’s, who remained calm.

“We lost half our crew crossing the country.” Joel frowned. She didn’t answer him. Why? She refused to answer him. “I had five men whose only job was to protect me. And I still almost got killed. How’d you do it?”

“It was all them,” Joel admitted. “Ellie and Piper fought like hell to get here.”

Marlene shook her head in disbelief. “They would’ve been dead on day one.” Sighing, she leaned back into her chair and crossed her arms. “You are the one person I never wanted to be in debt to. But I owe you. We all owe you.”

“Just take me to them,” Joel pleaded. His voice was soft, and in a tone Marlene had never heard from the man.

“I can’t.” Joel’s face contorted, and his jaw clenched. “Ellie’s being prepped for surgery. Piper soon after.”

“What surgery?” Joel questioned Marlene so slowly it sounded like a growl.

“Our doctor…,” Marlene explained, “he thinks that the Cordyceps in the girls have grown with them since birth.”

His teeth started to grind against the others. His tanned knuckles grew paler by the second. “Why is Ellie in surgery?”

“It produces a kind of chemical messenger. It makes normal Cordyceps think that she’s Cordyceps. It’s why she’s immune. He’s gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab, produce those chemical messengers… and then we can give it to everyone. He thinks it could be a cure, Joel.”

“A cure,” Joel scoffed. Then he froze.

No. No. No. No. No!

“Cordyceps grow inside the brain,” Joel stated.

Marlene gulped before confirming Joel’s fears. “It does.”

“Find someone else,” Joel gasped.

“There is no one else.” Marlene stood up and held out her hand to Joel. In it were wrinkled papers. He could see dark ink seeping through the thin sheets. “Here, this is for you.”

He snatched them from her hand and flicked them open. His hands gently straightened out any faults caused by Marlene’s mishandling. His breath shuddered, and his body trembled as he began to read.

To Joel:

I’m not really sure when and if you get this, but God, I hope you do. Marlene wouldn’t let me see you; she said you were out. She wouldn’t let me see Ellie either, and I’d rather get out one goodbye than never have said anything at all.

When we started this journey, we were just cargo, and you were our carrier. That’s how it was supposed to be. Then you did something I never thought would happen. You made me trust you. You made me feel safe. You made me feel at home, even when it was the last thing I ever wanted to feel. You reminded me how to live and not just survive.

God…I…there’s so much I want to say, but I can’t. Marlene’s getting impatient. Ellie’s going into surgery, and then I’m next. You came into this thinking we’d walk out, but we won’t. And it’s okay. It’ll be okay, Joel. Maybe now I can save someone. Maybe with me dying, I don’t have to kill anymore.

I just want you to know that when I go, I’m gonna dream of that farm. I’m gonna dream of Ellie and her puns, you playing guitar and yelling at some stupid sheep. Cause that’s my dream. A home with my family. A home with my sister and my dad.

Goodbye Joel Dad

- Piper Williams

With as much care as he could muster, Joel folded the letter and placed it in his breast pocket over his heart. A large tear fell to the floor, and Joel stifled a sob.

Marlene took Joel’s silence as a cue to speak again. “We didn’t tell Ellie. We didn’t cause her any fear; there won’t be any pain. Piper-she knows.”

Joel’s head started shaking. A physical sign of his rejection. He couldn’t let them do this. He wouldn’t lose his girls. Not when he’d just- “No. No, you take me to them. You take me to Ellie and Piper right now!” He stood up, all anger and fury, and lunged for Marlene. Joel was fast, but her men were faster. With a swift kick of the knee, Joel toppled to the floor.

“Please...” Joel cried. You don’t understand.” He kneeled in front of Marlene as if to pray. He needed the girls; he loved them. They were his redemption. “Please.”

“I do. I was there when she was born, Joel.” Marlene glared down at Joel. “I promised her mother that I would save her children. I promised. So I do understand. I’m the only one who understands. I’m sorry. I have no other choice.”

But he did. Joel had a– “I do,” he growled.

“Walk him out to the highway,” Marlene commanded. “Leave him there with his pack. Give him this.” Joel saw the glimmer of Ellie’s switchblade. His baby girl. “He tries anything… shoot him.”

The Fireflies nodded and nudged Joel off the floor with their guns. Joel scowled as Marlene watched him be escorted away. Each step farther away from the room, from his girls, was agony. In the dimly lit hospital hallway, Joel plotted. He was Joel fucking Miller, and he was going to get his girls back. The lights flickered, and Joel saw it. It was a sign reading “pediatric surgery: 6th floor.” The sixth floor. That’s where his girls would be.

“I didn’t hear anyone say, “Stop.” One of the Firefly men shoved Joel along.

“Which way?” Joel mumbled.

“Down the stairs.” They pushed Joel along.

As Joel stumbled down the staircase, he found his feet frozen. He refused to move any farther.

“The fuck are you doin’? Keep walking!” Joel stayed still. He waited. Marlene had only sent two men to escort him out—a mistake. Marlene should have known it would have taken much more to keep Joel away. “I said keep walk–”

Joel brought the heel of his palm into one of the men’s noses. CRACK! Blood poured out of the broken nose. The firefly tumbled to the floor, clutching his injury. Joel saw his chance and grabbed the gun. He cocked it and fired. The second man died. Shot right in the head.

“Where is she?!” Joel demanded, holding the gun to the surviving Firefly's head.

Through all the blood, the man looked up at Joel. “Fuck you.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

BANG! The Firefly fell limp. His radio blared to life.

“Shots fired. Shots fired!”

Joel frowned. They’d all be coming for him now, but he didn’t care. He had to save his girls. Marching up the stairs, Joel began his prowl. Expertly, his gun aimed and fired. The soldiers dropped like flies in the path of Joel’s protective fury.

BANG!

The sound of the gun followed Joel wherever he stalked along the halls of the hospital. Some of the people he came across fought. But like a bear in pursuit of protecting its cubs, they didn’t stand a chance. There was no such thing as mercy for Joel when these very people were out to kill his girls. He was swiftly making his way through the hospital–a trail of bodies in tow.

BANG!

And then silence. His breath stilled as the sign for pediatric surgery came into view. He scoured each room for any sign of his girls. But he found none. Still, Joel trekked. A faint light seeped from beneath a pair of doors up ahead. Quiet beeping sounds echoed louder than the shots from before.

“Do we have enough power?” Someone asked.

Joel pushed the door open with the butt of his gun.

“She’s ready,” a nurse said. Her hands hovered over Ellie.

The young teen’s hair lay long and brushed. All the grim from before had been washed from her body. She looked clean and peaceful as she lay on the surgery table.

“Unhook her,” Joel uttered. The nurses gasped at the sight of the gun, immediately raising their hands.

The surgeon, however, seethed with anger. In his hand, he held a scalpel. The blade glinted over Ellie’s scalp. “How did you get in here?”

Joel carefully watched the blade. “I said unhook her.”

No one except the surgeon made a move. The surgeon surged forward and stood between Ellie and Joel. In his hand, he defensively held the scalpel. “I won’t let you take her.”

BANG!

The surgeon dropped dead. Nurses screamed and cowered.

“Unhook her!” Joel yelled. “Move!”

Quickly, the nurses unhooked Ellie. Silently, they prayed to a god, to anyone to have mercy. The beeping monitor went silent. Blood trickled down Ellie’s arm from where the IV was placed.

“Cover her arm,” Joel commanded. “Fast.”

Within the blink of an eye, one of the nurses had covered the wound.

“Turn around.” Joel watched as the women quickly turned away. Just as fast, Joel lifted Ellie off of the table. She was cold but breathing. Her head flopped against Joel’s shoulder, and he worried. If Ellie was in this state, what about Piper? He didn’t have the arms and the strength to carry both girls out of the hospital. Joel held Ellie tighter. He’d have to do something he never wanted to do. Joel would have to get Ellie safe and then find Piper. He just prayed she’d be fine until he could rescue her.

Elevator doors closed in front of Joel. His arms ached from the unconscious weight of Ellie. He sighed, and Ellie snuggled closer to him. Soon, the silver doors slid open. Joel stepped out into the hospital’s parking garage. If the Fireflies had power, then they’d have cars. Working ones. The low rumble of a car engine drew Joel’s attention. He shuffled over to the vehicle.

CLICK!

“You can’t keep her safe forever,” Marlene taunted. Joel turned around. There stood Marlene with a gun. But it wasn’t pointed at Joel. No. It was pointed at Piper.

“Joel,” Piper sobbed in Marlene’s clutch. Relief flooded her body at the sight of Joel holding Ellie. She was alive. Her sister was alive.

“Piper…” Joel met her dark eyes. “Let her go.” He demanded.

Marlene shook her head. “No. I won’t let you take them, Joel.” Her hand pushed the barrel of the gun deeper into Piper’s head. The girl groaned from the pain.

“Let her go!” Joel yelled.

“Joel!” Piper gasped. “Take Ellie. Take her and let them have me. Save Ellie. Save her.”

Shaking his head, Joel fought back tears. No, he had made it this far. He was going to save them both. He had to save them. “No, Piper. No. I’m gettin’ you both out of here.”

“No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, they’re gonna grow up, Joel,” Marlene scoffed. “And then you’ll die. They’ll leave. Then what?” Marlene cocked her head. “How long till they’re torn apart by Infected or murdered by raiders?” Piper whimpered under Marlene’s grip. Her grasp tightened around the teen’s neck, making it hard to breathe. “Because they live in a broken world that you could have saved.”

“Maybe,” Joel agreed. “But it isn’t for you to decide.”

“Or you,” Marlene scolded. “So what would she decide, huh? ‘Cause I think Ellie’d wanna do what’s right. And you know it. It’s not too late. Even now…even after what you’ve done. We can still find a way.”

Joel gazed down at sleeping Ellie and then at Piper. They were his world. Maybe he wouldn’t be saving the world by taking them, but he’d be protecting his. It was selfish. He knew, but Joel deserved to be selfish, and so selfish he chose to be.

“Piper…” Joel muttered. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Piper whimpered.

BANG!

The world thrashed around Piper as the tight hold on her loosened. Marlene groaned. Her body was on the floor as blood flooded from her.

“Joel!” Piper screamed, running to him. Her feet tripped over her hospital gown as she ran. “Joel!” She collapsed at his side, clutching his shoulders. Sobs ransacked her body. Joel leaned his head against hers. It was the best he could offer with his hands full of Ellie.

“I got you,” Joel whispered. “I’ve got you, sweet girl.”

A guttural cough cut through their reunion. Joel’s softened face grew dark as his sight landed on Marlene. It was a pitiful scene. The woman’s hands clawed at the floor over to the discarded weapon. A trail of her blood trickled after her.

“Piper,” Joel calmly said. “Take your sister and put her in the car.” He passed Ellie’s body into Piper’s arms. Momentarily, she buckled under the weight. Regaining herself, Piper limped over to the vehicle. She braced Ellie against the doors before lifting her to lie in the back seat.

Behind, Joel stalked after Marlene.

“No, wait.” Marlene raised her hand. “Wait, wait, wait.” Joel peered down at her. “Please,” she begged. Her breaths had become pants as her body pumped more and more blood onto the concrete. “Let me go.”

“You’d just come after them.” Joel cocked his gun and aimed. “You’d come after my girls.”

꧁_____________꧂

They had left the city far behind. Now, the tall buildings were specks of dust in the wind. Piper sat with her head against the passenger window. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. One thing was for sure: Piper didn’t feel numb. After she danced with death in the smoke of the room, she was almost butchered in; Piper found it hard to feel anything but pain. A part of her only wanted to feel pain. It made everything easier: the guilt of failing Ellie, the guilt of leaving Joel in that basement, the guilt of– Piper hissed. Her nails had dug into the skin around the scar on her thigh. Damn, these hospital gowns for being so thin.

“You okay?” Joel asked, peering over at her.

Piper removed her hand and shrugged. “I’m…” fine. It was the easiest thing to say. She’d said it before, and Joel didn't push. But was it what she wanted to say? “No.” Joel stayed quiet. She was thankful for it. As long as she continued to look out the window, maybe she could trick herself into thinking she wasn’t telling anyone these dark thoughts–that she wasn’t telling anyone the truth. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay. Ever.”

Getting into a more comfortable position, Piper continued. “I was twelve when I first…when I first killed someone. I thought I could trust him, that he’d keep me safe, keep us safe.” Joel peeked at Ellie through the rearview mirror. “But his safety came with a price. One I couldn’t pay, so I–”

“Piper,” Joel interjected. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“But I do, Joel. I need to. Please?” Joel nodded and remained silent. “I killed him, and then FEDRA decided that if I could kill a man in self-defense, I could kill for them. So I did. That’s all I did for five years.” She stifled a sob. “I couldn’t–mess up, get sick, nothing, or else they’d leave Ellie all alone. It was my punishment. Then, one night, we ended up in the clutches of the Fireflies. They kept us chained in a room until you came along. Next thing I knew, Ellie and I were special cargo to be taken across the country.”

Piper sniffled and then chuckled. “You know when I first met you, I hated you.” She laughed again. “Funny how we ended up here, huh?” Joel gazed over at Piper. Her laughter died down, returning to sniffles. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied.

“When you said,” Piper hesitated, “you weren’t afraid of death, that you welcomed it, what did you–what did it feel like?”

Joel sighed. “It felt…easy. Every day after Sarah’s death was filled with pain. It still hasn’t gone away,” Joel turned to give Piper a comforting smile. “But it has stopped hurting.”

Piper nodded, taking in Joel’s words. “When I was trapped in that building, knowing I failed Ellie, that I’d failed you-” Joel desperately wanted to tell her she hadn’t failed. She had survived. They all had. “I wanted to give up. It was easy just to lay down and breathe in the smoke till I–” She looked down at her hands. “But, I didn’t…and some part of me still wishes I did. That’s why I didn’t tell you or Ellie. It was easy to keep quiet and march like a lamb to slaughter. I wouldn’t be in pain anymore. I wouldn’t have to feel all this guilt and hate. I wouldn’t have to be a killer. I wouldn’t have to be Piper.”

A warm hand encased Piper’s shoulder. Joel’s fingers rubbed up and down in a soothing manner. “Even if some part of me wanted the easy way out, the others didn’t. I-” Piper took in a shaky breath. “Thank you, Joel. For saving me. For saving Ellie.”

Joel knew that no simple “you’re welcome” would suffice. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Piper and pulled her to his side. “Always,” he whispered. “Always.”

Pulling back, Piper wiped tears and snot away from her face. “Joel?” Her quiet voice questioned.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“What are you gonna tell Ellie?”

Joel sighed. His hand holding the wheel tightened. “I don’t know, kid. I don’t know.”

As if on cue, Ellie groaned. Her body shifted on the back seat. Piper grew quiet and leaned back up against the window.

“What?” Ellie mumbled.

“It’s all right,” Joel cooed. “You’re with me.” Ellie pushed herself up but immediately toppled back down. “Take it slow. The drugs are still wearin’ off.”

“I was with the Fireflies, and then…,” Ellie groggily furrowed her brows. “What drugs?”

“They were runnin’ some tests on you…” Joel trailed off, finding his next words. “And some others. Turns out there’s a whole lot more like you… people that are immune. Dozens of ’em. And the doctors, they couldn’t make any of it work. They’ve actually…They’ve stopped lookin’ for a cure.” Joel heard Piper hold her breath at the lie.

“Where are my clothes?” Ellie wondered in her dazed state.

“Raiders attacked the hospital. I barely got ya outta there. We’ll find you some new ones on the way.”

Ellie laid her head back down, snuggling into the seat. “Were people hurt?”

“Yes,” Joel solemnly said.

“Is Marlene okay?”

Joel gulped. “I’m takin’ us home.” Ellie half-presently nodded before dozing off again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the young teen.

After Piper was sure her sister was out, she turned to Joel. “Joel?” She asked.

“You should get some rest,” Joel brushed off her inquiry. “You’ve been through a lot.”

Piper scoffed and shook her head. “I’m not tired.”

A knowing smile crept onto Joel’s face. “That’s what they all say, kid.” Piper wasn’t having it. Sighing, Joel compromised. “Just rest your eyes. It’ll be a long drive.”

“Okay…” Piper reluctantly agreed. She sniffled one last time before closing her eyes. The constant rumbling of the car’s tires rolling against the road beneath lulled her to sleep. Her breath slowed, matching the cadence of her younger sister's slow inhales. All the while, Joel drove. Strangely enough, he found himself feeling content. His girls were safe, and they were going home. Home.

꧁_____________꧂

“Well,” Joel’s hands slapped against his thighs as the car hood shut. Steam angrily fled into the air. “She got us close enough. We gotta walk the rest of the way.” He trotted to where the girls sat and leaned against the car's frame. “Probably about a five-hour hike… but we can manage that. Remember?”

“Yeah.” Ellie nodded.

Piper finished rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. Joel had found both her and Ellie new clothes. The hospital gowns weren’t the chosen attire for an apocalyptic world. “Yeah,” Piper chimed.

Joel flashed them a smile, and then they went off. Piper found herself welcoming their journey. She hated to admit that she missed trekking through nature. While driving in a car was nice, easy, and fast, it wasn’t what she was used to. Besides, Piper preferred feeling the ground beneath her own two feet.

“You know,” Joel huffed. The hike was getting to him. “Sarah and I used to hike like this all the time. I wouldn’t say it was her favorite thing. She wasn’t a fan of the mosquitoes and such. But she was a big climber… or scampering. That’s probably the right word. That girl… she’d see a big rock and just… pew.” He chuckled as a memory of his daughter appeared in his mind.

Piper nodded her head and playfully nudged Ellie. “Sounds like someone I know.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Sounds more like you–” Ellie countered.

“Well, you were the one who climbed up a tree and couldn’t climb down.”

“That was–”

Joel snickered at their bickering. “She woulda liked you two.” Piper and Ellie stopped arguing. “Not to say the three of you are the same.” Joel smiled as if he knew some inside joke the girls didn’t. “Definitely different kids.”

“How so?” Ellie wondered, stepping up beside Joel. Piper stood on Joel’s opposite side. Their attention was drawn to Joel.

“Well,” He began, “she was a lot more… I wanna say girly, and I’m not sayin’ that you’re not girly.”

“I’m not,” Ellie smirked. “If anything, Piper’s more girly than me.”

Piper wasn’t sure if she should take it as a compliment or an insult. However, responding to an insult was preferably much more fun. “Hey!” She feigned offence.

“Yeah, you’re not,” Joel agreed with Ellie. “She was taller. She had a killer smile. Again, not sayin’ that you two don’t.” Ellie smiled broadly at Piper and winked. Piper rolled her eyes but smiled back. Joel laughed. “But you know why I think she’d like you, Ellie?”

Ellie’s smile fell. “Why?”

“Cause you’re funny,” Joel stated. “I think you would’ve made her laugh. Anyway, I bet you would’ve liked her back.”

“Yeah, bet I would’ve,” Ellie muttered.

“And for Piper,” Joel said, not forgetting the other girl. “Sarah would love to try and make you laugh. And she’d look up to you.”

Piper paused, and a soft smile appeared on her face. “Thanks, Joel. Sarah sounds nice.”

“She was.” Joel concurred. Briefly, he looked down at the cracked watch adorning his wrist. Once he glanced up, he beamed. Ahead stood the faint outline of Jackson. Home. “Not much further now.”

Joel and Piper eagerly continued down the path. Ellie did not.

“Hey, wait.” Joel and Piper whirled around. Ellie’s eyes widened as if she didn’t expect them to respond. “Fuck,” she softly cursed. “Back in Kansas City, you asked me about the first time I killed someone.” Joel placed his hands on his hips. His ears listened as Ellie spoke. Meanwhile, Piper grew distantly quiet.

“When I got bit in the mall, I-It wasn’t just Piper and me.” Ellie looked away. Piper could see the tell Ellie tried to conceal. “My best friend was there, and she got bit, too.” Ellie sniffled. Piper felt her own eyes grow watery. Riley. Sweet Riley. “We didn’t know what to do, and she says, “We can just wait it out… be all poetic and just lose our minds together. And then she did. And I had to…” Piper wanted to draw Ellie into a hug, but she knew her sister had more to say. The comfort could always come later. “Her name was Riley… and she was the first to die. And then it was Tess. And then Sam and Henry.”

Joel shook his head. “That’s not on you.”

“I know, but…” Ellie tried to argue, but Joel continued.

“Look, sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope.” Joel peered over at Piper. He wasn’t just saying this to Ellie. It was a message for both of his girls. “You can feel like… like you’ve come to an end… and you don’t know what to do next. But if you just keep goin’… you find something new to fight for. And maybe that’s not what…”

“Swear to me,” Ellie interjected. “Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true.”

Piper looked away. She had never been more interested in her feet. Joel had an expressionless face as he answered her. “I swear.”

After a moment, Ellie spoke. “Okay.”

She had believed him. Piper let out a shaky breath and looked over at Joel. They shared a glance. Their eyes agreed to the lie. It was a necessary one. A lie that they both now concealed.

The rest of the journey to Jackson had been uneventful. Tommy had found them close to Jackson when he was on patrol. The reunion was sweet. Joel hugged his brother before breaking away, allowing Tommy to steal hugs from the girls. They hadn’t been expecting it by how brief and tight the hugs had been, but they had been welcomed embraces.

Maria smiled when they walked back into town. The streets had changed from the snow-covered, Christmas-decorated roads to colorful and lively bustling ones. People discarded their winter gear for lighter clothes. The summer sun and heat crept over the mountains, waiting to pounce. But for now, the air was at a pleasant temperature. As Maria showed them back to the house they had stayed in during their brief stay in Jackson, Piper spotted a familiar head of curls. Charlie. He amicably waved at her. By amicably, Charlie practically jumped where he stood, calling out her name. Piper flushed a deep shade of red and flipped him off. Joel laughed, and Ellie smirked. Her clever eyes darted between the two teens. She had something to tease her sister about.

The sun had begun to set as Joel, Piper, and Ellie settled back into the house. Each crawled out of their rooms after a long nap. Joel was the last to emerge. Age had made his cravings for naps extremely powerful. With a yawn, he pushed open the front door. A wave of deja vu fell over him.

There sat his girls on the porch. Ellie was teasing Piper about the boy they’d seen on the street. Piper rolled her eyes and denied everything, making it hard for Ellie to continue her interrogation. Instead, the young teen pulled out her pun book. Fingers flipped through the pages, landing on a particular joke. Piper dramatically groaned, and Joel realized he had seen this all before.

It was the dream. Joel’s dream. Here they were, his girls safe and sound with a whole life ahead of them. Joel felt a pleasant warm spread throughout his body. He stood and leaned against the door frame for ages, capturing this moment in his head. The girls had been his redemption–a sinner’s redemption. Now that he had his dream, Joel was content with just living it. This was why he missed that day. This was why he stayed. He, too, deserved a second chance. They all did.

꧁_____________꧂

Thank you all again for your support. If you enjoyed this series please comment and reblog so that more people can embark on this journey with Piper, Ellie and Joel. :)

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#tlou hbo #a sinner's redemption #i thought i was clever and used the title of the fic #joel miller comfort #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel x daughter!reader #joel the last of us #ellie and piper are sisters #what if ellie had an older sister #ellie williams x sister!reader

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