#mourn for the character(s) lost

[aparticularbandit]

given the length of these dr1 end rewrite fic chapters, this one is maybe halfway done, too.

which feels about right. this scene is about wrapping up, and then when it's done, there should be one with. the people hiro would get while he's panicking.

and then that should be the end of this set of chapters i think.

[ichatake]

Uchihas reacting to “I hate you”s

Request are open! Request rules here!

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Obito Uchiha, Madara Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Shisui Uchiha

Warning: slight angst, nothing else.

Obito Uchiha (Villain)

✧ “I hate you,” he stood there, his expression unwavering as your voice seethed with anger. Your voice could cut through thick glass as you shouted at him, but he felt nothing whatsoever. Even as your eyes bore into him, filled with a hatred so intense it could burn a hole through his soul, it wasn’t directed towards him. No, not ever. Yet despite the venom in your words, he didn’t flinch. Instead he listened intently, his expression indifferent. “That’s okay,” he responded, his voice devoid of any apparent emotion. In any other scenario, he would’ve crumpled under the weight of your vitriol, weeping and pleading for an explanation as to why you might hate him. But not now, because he already knew why.

✧ He knew how you mourned him for years, believing him dead and gone, only to find out the hard way the reality. He knew you visited his grave, and wished that you were in his position. He knew that your trust—your perspective of reality had been shattered the very moment his mask fell from his face. With a heavy heart, he continued “I would too,” his gaze never left yours, watching as tears streamed down your reddened cheeks. It had been years since he’d seen you this close, yet you looked young and pretty. The prettiest he’s ever seen you, even with tears glistening on your pretty face.

✧ “I hate you so much,” your voice cracked with pain and resentment as you spoke to him. Your Obito. The revelation that he was still alive, but causing so much pain and suffering shattered your world, leaving you emotionally fractured. “Why? Why do all of this? Why hurt so many?” You ask, searching his face for remorse but finding none, “Because this world is broken,” he answers steadily, his voice awfully gentle to you. “You have nothing in this reality,” his arms open, showing you the distress and chaos that is currently occurring around you. He wanted you to see how your comrades laid lifeless—to make you understand that you lost your friends, your family, your ‘happy ending’. “ Let this happen, and you will be forever happy,” he pauses briefly, searching for the right words to say. He chose his words carefully, locking eyes with you, “With me. With a better version of me. One that will keep you happy for the rest of your life,” Despite your heart-wrenching cries, he did nothing to stop this war. As you wept before him, he knew your pain would be temporary. He knew that once his plan took action—the infinite Tsukuyomi—you would find happiness. Even if you hate him now, he reassured himself, you wouldn’t think the same after his plan was completed.

Obito Uchiha (Shinobi)

✧ Obito, a strong and beloved jonin from the Leaf village, stood there, his chest tightening at the words that just came out of your mouth. His expression shifted as his mind struggled to comprehend what you had said. Suddenly, without a second thought, his words slipped through his lips as he tried to make sense of what you told him, “What… did you say?” he asked carefully, his eyes frantically darting over your face as if searching for an answer. You met his gaze, repeating your words with unwavering conviction, “I said, I hate you,”

✧ As you repeat yourself, Obito’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, his throat constricting as it became harder to breathe. He could handle any other response, any other thing you could have said, but hearing your harsh words was almost too much for him. “Why? What did I do? I don’t understand,” he manages to ask in desperation, trying his best to move closer to you. His heart clenched and turned inside his chest, and he boiled with fear. He loves you! He loves you to the moon and back! Why would you say that you hate him when he eats, sleeps, and breathes for you? You were his everything, so how could you hate him when he loved you so dearly?

✧ “Because you never notice how much I try for you. You’re always looking for Rin’s approval, and what about me? I’m left in the dark with nothing. I’m done with you. I’m done with trying to make you realize I’ve been in love with you for years,” you pour your heart out to him, desperate and hurt, and that’s when he realizes what this was about. Though his heart slightly fluttered at your revelation, he still felt awful for the way you were feeling all this time. The tingling sensation in the back of his mind kept bothering him as he examined every inch of your expression. “That’s… why?” He asks with a drop of his shoulder, sighing in pure relief at your confession, which only fueled the burning anger inside you. “I thought it was for something else I might’ve done… (Y/N), I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I’m in love with you,” his confession caught you in surprise, his voice revealing his true feelings with no hesitation. What once was nervousness and anxiety had now been replaced with determination as he yearned to seek for a solution. It was true, he was deeply in love with you, but people still thought he had something for Rin when he didn’t. However, he did hide the fact that he liked you out of fear of another rejection. With Rin, he handled it well, but with you? He wouldn’t be able to take it. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel horrible. I’m sorry I never noticed, and I’m sorry I hid it from you for so long. I love you, over anything there is in this world. The only thing I want is you, always and forever you,”

Madara Uchiha

✧ “I hate you,” your words felt like a slap to the face, making Madara turn around to face you swiftly. Although his face was deemed expressionless, his body tensed and tightened the more he processed your words. He had obviously been taken aback by your audacity to say such things, but he tried his best to hide his discomfort. With arms crossed over his chest, he scoffed and parted his lips, ready to give you a piece of his mind. “Get over it, woman,” he snarls at you with authority, and slight annoyance. You, his wife, should never say that to him. He’s given you everything; a home, a family, and more importantly, love. “You are acting like a child over something that should have never pestered you in the first place,” although your words had not hit him hard when you first spat them, they started to annoy him the more they set in, “If you hate me, why even decide to say yes when I proposed? If you are going to bother me with such nonsense, I will not bother with you,”

✧ His words were meant to hurt you as much as you hurt him, and when he notices the pain in your eyes, he’s satisfied… until he’s not. Until that annoying tingling feeling lingers under his skin as he watches your eyes brim with tears. The tingling feeling that pulled on the tendons of his heart any time you cried was crawling under every inch of his body. “Oh please, do not start with the tears,” he groaned in annoyance, but the salty tears were already streaming down your puffy cheeks. Despite this, he didn’t move an inch to comfort you, but watched you as you cried for a couple of minutes until he released an exasperated sigh. “Why? Why do you care so much for those people when all they have done is hurt you?” He asks with irritation, referring to your clan members who’ve hurt you in the past. He has said something out of line, and you argued with him about it, which ended you two up here.

✧ “Because we should be better people than them. Violence should never be the answer,” you sniffle with clenched fist, “But that is something you seem to never stop thinking about,” you admit, trying to hold in your tears. You didn’t want to keep crying like this in front of him. You wanted to be strong, “And if you think I am such a burden, then why keep this ring on my finger—,” you were surprised when his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from taking off the ring he had gifted you the night he proposed, “Because I know who I married. The same nagging woman I am with now, is the same nagging woman I fell in love with. If I had any regrets of marrying you, you would be back in your clan,” he scoffs and pulls your head to his chest with an annoyed expression “I love you, you stupid woman,” to any other person, your relationship might’ve seemed strange, but to you, this moment showed you just how much he truly loved you. Even if he has weird ways of showing it.

Shisui Uchiha

✧ Wait, he didn’t quite hear you well. Wait, what did you say? He turned towards you with a raised brow, his mouth slightly parted as he tried to figure out if you had said what he thought you said. Noticing his lost expression, you had no choice but to repeat yourself, much to your annoyance “I hate you,” this time, he did hear you. Loud and clear. To him, it felt like he took hours to respond to you, but in reality, his answer left his mouth almost immediately, “No you don’t,” It wasn’t meant to be cocky, it just sounded like it was. At least, to you it sounded cocky, and it made you even angrier with him. It annoyed you that he never took you seriously, “Oh, so now you think you know how I feel, do you?” you spat at him, hands clenching into tight fists as your eyes locked intensely, “You never care about anything! You come home and sleep and don’t even have time for me. I know you have a hard job, and I don’t expect you to be there at my beck and call, but at least asking me how I am would be enough,” you stressed, waving your arms frantically around you in desperation. You had been like this all week, stressed and unable to talk to anyone, because the only person you could ever rant and banter about things that bothered you in life was barely there for you, and when he was, it was like he wasn’t! He would barely listen to you anymore, and would expect you to listen to him. And you did, you always did. But you wanted something in return, and that was a sliver of his attention.

✧ “You're telling me you hate me over something so little?” he asks with furrowed brows, making you even more annoyed, “Over something so little?” You repeated through gritted teeth. His face, for once, contorted into one of annoyance, something you had never seen on him before, “Yes! Little! Because you know how my line of work is! You know that I barely have time to sleep, let alone waste my time with useless banter!” You were left speechless, standing in front of him with hurt eyes. “Yeah, useless. You’re right. Because my feelings don’t matter,” you scoff, “That’s not what I—” you interrupt him by turning away, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as realization finally hits him. You weren’t trying to waste his time, you just wanted to spend time with him. He had been so lost in his work, so busy caring for himself that he completely neglected you.

✧ “Oh darling,” he takes your hand again, a frown painting his face, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I’m just stressed out. Everything's happening so fast, and the clan isn’t helping at all.” he sighs and pulls you in towards him, engulfing you in his tight embrace, yet you didn’t say anything, “I know I’ve been neglecting you, and you deserve better. Please, let me make it up to you,” he whispers into you hair as he lowers down to kiss your head, “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t have you by my side,”

Itachi Uchiha

✧ “I hate you,” you mumble under your breath as you look at your lover. No, he wasn’t your lover anymore. He had left the village years ago, leaving you behind with a broken heart and a broken image of him. He was a monster who murdered his entire clan, and even though he had left years ago, he still looked the same as when he was still in the village, with only one difference. Those eyes. Those red eyes that stared deep into your soul. They terrified you. The eyes that you once loved and cared about so much looked down at you with no emotion. They were empty. They were dark. They were hurt. “I hate you, for everything that you did,” you pushed him, backing away from him with angry eyes. His cloak told you everything you needed to know. He was part of the Akatsuki, he was the enemy now. He was a traitor, and although your words were meant to hurt him, he closed his eyes and nodded, understanding your hatred towards him. “I understand,” he says in such a soft voice. His voice that you missed so much.

✧ You didn’t understand why he came to visit you. Why come in the middle of the night to see you? Why? Why waste his breath coming back to see you when he knew you wanted nothing to do with him? Because this would be his final goodbye. There were only a handful of people Itachi cared for—Two, to be exact. His brother, and the love of his life. He knew that soon he’d perish, and this was the final time he would ever see you again. Not that it mattered. He tried not to think about it, thinking it would make things worse. It would be better if he never came to see you, but his heart got the best of him, and so he sat there at your window, looking at you for one final time.

✧ “You don’t,” you clench your fist, hurt by his mere presence, “I don’t want anything to do with you, and I will report you to the higher ups. Unless you came here to kill me, which I don’t doubt,” you were defenseless, but you wouldn’t go out without a fight. Never. You would fight until the very end, but soon you realized he wasn’t there to kill you. “I have no need for that,” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “I came by my own selfishness. I don’t expect you to understand, and I accept your hatred, which I deserve,” he looks at you, red eyes burning into yours, “I simply wanted to see you for a final time,” he smiles and reaches out for you, pushing your hair out of your face, “My love,” and with that, your vision goes black as your consciousness slips away from you. You would wake up the next day tucked into your bed with a necklace tucked tightly in your hand.

Sasuke Uchiha

✧ Words never hurt this Uchiha, he was used to every awful thing anyone could throw at him. He cared too little about anything and everything, and that's what you hated the most about him. He barely cared about anything you did or said, at all times. He didn’t care how you looked because he never complimented you, he didn’t care how you acted because he barely spoke to you. You felt like you were in a relationship with a ghost, in fact, the comparison was not even close, because dating a ghost would be ten times better than this. And with every passing day of being emotionally neglected by your partner, today was no different. He was back in the village, and instead of coming to you first—to his home—he decided it was better to meet with Naruto and Sakura over seeing his wife who waited patiently everyday for him. You questioned if the ring on your finger meant anything to him at all at that moment. Despite this,

✧ When he got home, you were so happy, yet he showed no sign of interest in anything you did for him. You cooked and he ate, saying nothing about the taste of your new recipe. In fact, he seemed like he didn’t notice that you had learnt to cook a new dish just for him. Even so, you shrugged his annoying attitude off and asked about his day instead. Your question seemed to annoy the tired man as he became uninterested in mid conversation. When you asked him what was wrong, he shrugged you off. You kept questioning him until he snapped at you, telling you how you were annoying him with all your worries. This had been the final straw. You always gave everything in the relationship. You understood he wasn’t the best at showing his emotions, but it didn’t mean he could act like he didn’t care about you. Like you were nothing. The argument got heated and it ended up with you opening your mouth without thinking. “I hate you!” After your words fell out of your mouth, the room fell silent. He who had been looking away from you, had now turned his full attention towards you, “You don’t mean that, stop being dramatic,” the sight of him rolling his eyes hurt you more than it ever did. “You don’t care about anything, Sasuke. I do everything to try and please you. I could even say I live for you, but it’s never enough! You don’t take a sliver of your time to appreciate me. You think I have to be there for you whenever you need me, but can just leave whenever you want!” you yell, hitting the wall in frustration.

✧ “You don’t care about me! You don't love me anymore!” you were in a current state of pure anger, letting out everything you ever wanted to say to him. This makes him stand up and walk towards you, taking your wrist in his hand. You look up at him, tears of frustration prickling in the corner of your eyes. “If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have married you. You mean a lot more to me than you think. I… I’m sorry if I don’t show it,” he sighs, “I love your cooking, I love your stories—I love hearing about everything that happened throughout your day. You’re the only thing I can think about when I’m away,” he lets go of your wrist and places a hand on your cheek, “Don’t hate me, because you’re the only important thing in my life. You’re my wife, and I…” he stops himself, trying to build the courage to complete his sentence. A small blush decorates his cheeks before he sighs, “I care for you a lot,” your husband wasn’t perfect, but you still loved him a lot, and you knew he loved you too.

[oepionie]

HIS COMPLETE DEVOTION: THE AFTERMATH. malleus draconia

Synopsis: A week after the spell incident, Lilia tells Malleus about all the things he's done to you when he lost his memory. Horrified at his actions, Malleus locks himself away in his room to brood.

Character/s: Malleus Draconia x GN! Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Crack-Fluff, Malleus is really dramatic, Intense love, Lilia drags Malleus' ass, Lilia turns into his true form, Malleus has gargoyle bedsheets lol, Flustered Malleus, Malleus kneels for u

A/N: Might have went a little bit overboard here loll, I just read a bunch of sagau zhongli fics and it inspired me eheg

WordCount: 800+ | 💌Masterlist | PART I HERE

Malleus Draconia was in love with you. There was no doubt regarding that.

Every bit of your affection, no matter how small or big makes Malleus melt. In the aftermath of your love, he has trouble keeping his heart still as it bounces and dances around his chest. His face blossoms a bright red and a wide silly smile remains on his face for hours, leaving his cheeks burning and strained.

The dragon fae always clung onto you, standing by your side like a devoted knight - so vigilant and attentive that it would put his own retainers to shame.

Though, why is it now that you find yourself eating lunch all alone, with your dragon nowhere to be found?

Well…after the incident last week, Malleus dared not to show his face to you.

Lilia had told him about everything that had transpired that day and oh, how he hated to hear about the sorrow of his cherished treasure. It trod on, tore at, and beat at his poor heart. Even more so once he found out he was the cause of your pain. Such an unpardonable act that Malleus, overcome with grief, shut himself in his room.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't visit him. Every time you entered the area around his room, a push of wind magic would always carry you away; it was gentle enough to never hurt you but firm enough to never let you get past.

After days of trying, you decided to simply give Malleus his space, hoping that he wasn't taking it too seriously…

Guilt.

Such a twisted, dreadful feeling which gnawed at his bones and mauled his conscience.

Malleus sits in his bedroom, glaring down at his feet. After locking himself up, the young prince refused to speak to anyone and only came out when it was time for class.

When he was in school, he avoided you like the plague; immediately teleporting away as soon as he caught sight of your figure.

It was safe to say that he wasn't taking the situation so lightly and after a week of his dramatics and Sebek's mourning, Lilia eventually had to step in.

"No!" Malleus growls, tugging his gargoyle themed blanket away from Lilia's grasp and burying his head underneath it.

Lilia sighs and yanks it away from him once more, glaring at Malleus with a stern look. "Do you plan on going about the entire month sulking like this?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Malleus huffs, a puff of fire floating into the air before dissolving into ash and smoke. He turns his back to his guardian and shuts his eyes tight. "Leave."

Silence falls over the room as the two stay still. Lilia squints his eyes, slowly rolling the sleeves to his shirt up. His hair grows, draping over his shoulders and cascading down his back. Malleus turns to glance at him, eyes ripping wide open as he recognises Lilia in his true form.

"I may be old but that doesn't mean I've grown brittle." Lilia rushes forward, tackling Malleus in a vice grip. The dragon writhes in his arms but Lilia's hold doesn't falter one bit. He carries the wriggling fae out the dorm, along a path Malleus was all too familiar with.

"Now, let's go to that darling treasure of yours."

Despite Malleus' protests, the bat fae dragged the poor withered dragon all the way to your dorm.

Once they arrived, Lilia made sure to switch back to the form that you were familiar with.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Malleus stood uncomfortably behind him as the bat fae rapidly knocked on the old rickety wooden door.

There you appeared, disheveled and drowsy with Grim hanging off your shoulder. For the first time in weeks, Malleus' eyes fell upon your figure, and his heart hammered heavily in his chest. Lilia pushed him towards you. "Go on Malleus, I believe you wished to tell them something."

You looked up at him in anticipation, a bright smile on your face. With a trembling sigh, Malleus strode forward.

"I-I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees and bowed deeply, his head striking the ground hard. His shoulders were locked and tensed in a straight line, posture stiff and rigid.

"Malleus!" You gasped, rushing forward. Despite your hasty attempts to urge him to stand, he remained anchored to the ground like stone.

The dragon fae grabbed onto your ankles, his forehead pressed against your feet. "My treasure, I a-am so sorry."

"Oh Malleus, love, you're being a bit too dramatic. It's okay." You shushed him, stooping down to take him into your arms.

Almost immediately, he melts into your embrace, curling up against your chest. His head lay against your shoulder, an arm draped over his eyes. Apologies flowing out of his mouth in an uncommon display of vulnerability.

Sighing, you cast a glance at Lilia who only shrugged as if to say 'Well, he's your problem now.'

"I'll make it up to you." He whispers, throat burning after his numerous confession of guilt. You smiled, burying your face into his hair. "I know, Tsunotarou, I know."

" Though I must say…" You trailed off, and Malleus peered up at you, his eyes wide with curiosity. "That locket you had of me was really lovely."

Malleus coughed, his cheeks turning slightly red. "I hadn't intended for you to ever see it."

"Khee hee~ Ah yes, the locket." Lilia sniggered, grinning impishly. "Prefect, did you know he had a box of true gold specifically custom made for it?"

"Lilia."

"He was so protective of it, always growling if someone dared to touch what was his."

"Lilia, please."

"There was even an enchanted silk pillow! He would always place the box atop it. I'm quite sure both the box and the pillow were embedded with a protection spell.

"I beg of you, stop."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas , @spadecentral , @crypticbibliophile ⤷ (want to be added?)

[indigovigilance]

The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person. 

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard. 

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry. 

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling. 

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

[mononijikayu]

die with a smile — geto suguru.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me." You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?" He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone." There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - apocalyptic world (zombie take over), isolation, hurt, physical touch, illness, loneliness, sadness, pain, pining, getting together, unhappy ending, character death, depictions of apocalyptic world, depiction of mourning, depiction of isolation, depiction of apprehension, depiction of romance, depiction of illness, depiction of chracter death, depiction of taking one's own life, mention of apocalytic world, mention of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, mention of pining, mention of character death, mention of taking one's own life.;

WORD COUNT: 7.5k words

NOTE: i wrote this a long long time ago, but i feel like now it's seeing the light of day and im just excited for you to read it. i'll be working on plans for my first ever kinktober and other ideas i have in between. i hope that you're always well and that you enjoy this!!! love you <3

masterlist

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┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST NOW. The world had become a wasteland, overrun by the dead. Every day was a fight for survival, every night a battle against the darkness that crept into the mind as much as the world around.

You had been on the move for what felt like an eternity, traveling alone, scavenging for food, and fighting off the relentless hordes that had once been people. You had become a ghost in your own skin, haunted by memories of a time when the world was alive.

It was by chance that you stumbled upon the compound—a fortress of steel and stone, hidden deep within the woods, far from the crumbling cities and the walking dead. Exhausted and on the verge of collapse, you approached cautiously, knowing that desperation made even the living dangerous. The compound's walls were tall and unyielding, and it seemed impossible to breach. But desperation drives people to do reckless things, and you need safety, if only for a moment.

You had barely stepped into the clearing when you heard the unmistakable click of a rifle being cocked. You froze, heart pounding, every muscle tensing as you slowly raised your hands in surrender.

"Don’t move." The voice was low, firm, and edged with the kind of cold precision that came from years of surviving on instinct alone. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him—a tall figure, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees, with a rifle trained directly on you. His eyes, dark and unreadable, never wavered as he took you in, calculating, deciding.

"I’m not here to cause trouble." you managed, keeping your voice steady despite the fear tightening your throat.

"That’s what they all say." His words were clipped, distrust lacing every syllable. He took a step closer, still keeping the rifle leveled at your head. "Turn around, slowly."

You did as he ordered, moving slowly, deliberately, until you were facing him fully. He was closer now, close enough that you could see the weariness etched into his features, the hardened lines of someone who had seen too much, lost too much. But there was something else, too—something in his eyes, a flicker of recognition, as if he saw a reflection of himself in you.

"How long have you been out here?" he asked, his voice rougher now, less controlled.

"Long enough." you replied, your gaze locked with his. "Long enough to know when I’ve met someone who’s been through the same hell."

He frowned, his grip on the rifle tightening as he studied you, weighing your words against the danger you might pose. But then, slowly, the suspicion in his eyes gave way to something softer, something that looked almost like… understanding.

"What’s your name?" he asked, the question coming out more gently than you expected.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you want to live." His tone was blunt, but there was a trace of something more behind it—a quiet offer, a tentative step toward trust.

You swallowed the weight of the past weeks, months, pressing down on you. "I’m just trying to survive."

He nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible motion. "So am I." He let out a slow breath, lowering the rifle slightly but not entirely. "Suguru. Geto Suguru."

You didn’t dare move, watching him carefully as he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re lucky I found you before the dead did."

"Maybe." you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Or maybe you’re the lucky one."

He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "We’ll see about that." Then, after a long pause, he sighed, finally lowering the rifle completely. "Come with me. But if you try anything, I won’t hesitate."

You nodded, relief washing over you despite the lingering tension. "I won’t."

As he turned and motioned for you to follow, you could sense the caution in every step he took, the way he moved with the fluid grace of someone always prepared for the worst. And yet, there was something else—a strange comfort in the fact that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone.

He took you in, but it was clear that trust was not something he gave easily. The compound was his sanctuary, built with his own hands, and he guarded it with an intensity that bordered on obsession. The first few days were tense; you were wary of each other, moving around each other like predators unsure of whether to fight or flee. He was quiet, watchful, and kept his emotions locked away behind a wall of suspicion.

But you were no stranger to walls, and slowly, brick by brick, the two of you began to dismantle them. It started with the small things—shared meals, the exchange of supplies, moments of silence that were less about fear and more about understanding. You discovered that beneath his tough exterior, Suguru had a passion for music. In the evenings, when the world outside grew too dark to bear, he would pull out an old guitar, his fingers strumming out melodies that spoke of a time before the end.

You, too, had your own love for music, and in those quiet moments, the two of you found a connection. The songs you shared became a language of their own, one that spoke of loss, hope, and the fragile bond forming between you. Music was your refuge, a reminder that there was still beauty in the world, even if it was buried beneath layers of fear and grief.

The days began to blur together, a steady rhythm of routine and survival. Each morning, you would wake to the faint light filtering through the thick curtains of the compound, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the walls that separated you from the chaos beyond. The danger was always there, lurking just beyond the gates, but within the safety of Suguru’s compound, life had found a different pace.

At first, your interactions with Suguru were brief and cautious, a necessary coexistence born out of mutual need. But as the days turned into weeks, the initial wariness between you began to fade, replaced by a tentative friendship. The man who had once held a gun to your head now greeted you each morning with a nod and a hint of a smile, a gesture that brought a surprising warmth to your otherwise cold and uncertain world. His presence, once a source of tension, had become something you looked forward to, a strange sense of peace in the midst of madness.

One of the few luxuries you both shared was a love of food—a small pleasure in a world where every meal had become a fight against starvation. In this new reality, the art of cooking had taken on a different meaning. It was no longer about indulging in flavors or crafting elaborate dishes, but rather about survival, about making the most of what little you could find. And yet, even in this, there was comfort.

Together, you would scour the surrounding areas for supplies, salvaging whatever you could from the abandoned homes and overgrown gardens. It was a slow, careful process—one wrong move could attract unwanted attention, and resources were scarce. But the shared task brought a sense of camaraderie, a quiet understanding that neither of you had to face this alone.

In the evenings, when the world outside grew dark and foreboding, you would gather in the small kitchen, working together to prepare your meals. The ingredients were humble—canned goods, dried beans, the occasional fresh vegetable from a patch of land Suguru had managed to cultivate—but it didn’t matter. The act of cooking became a ritual, something that grounded you both, reminding you that life was more than just surviving day to day. 

Suguru was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen, his movements efficient and precise as he chopped vegetables or stirred a pot over the fire. He had a way of turning the simplest ingredients into something comforting, something that made the compound feel more like a home. You would watch him sometimes, marveling at the way he found solace in such a small task, and slowly, you began to join him, contributing your own skills to the process.

"How did you learn to cook like this?" you asked one evening as you worked side by side, your hands busy preparing a stew from the last of the potatoes you had found.

Suguru glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Necessity, mostly. My parents weren’t around much, so I had to fend for myself. Turns out, I’m pretty good at making something out of nothing."

You nodded, stirring the pot as the aroma of the stew began to fill the room. "It’s a useful skill, especially now."

"Yeah, I suppose." he agreed, his tone softer now. "It’s one of the few things that still feels normal."

The meals you shared became more than just a way to stave off hunger—they were moments of connection, brief respites from the harshness of the world outside. As you ate together, you found yourselves talking more, sharing stories of the lives you had left behind, the people you had lost, and the hopes you still held on to, however fragile they might be. These conversations, once stilted and brief, grew longer, more personal, as the walls between you crumbled bit by bit.

Each meal was a small victory, a reminder that despite everything, you were still alive, still human. The warmth of the food, the sound of your voices filling the silence, and the flicker of the firelight against the walls—all of it made the world outside seem a little less bleak. And in those moments, you realized that within the confines of the compound, you had found something precious: a sense of normalcy, a connection with another person that transcended the mere act of survival.

One evening, as the sun dipped low in the sky, you both sat by the fire in the small living area. Suguru was strumming his guitar, the soft melody filling the space between you. The sound of the music was soothing, a rare comfort in the chaos that surrounded you. You found yourself watching him, the way his fingers moved deftly over the strings, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Where’d you learn to play like that?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Suguru glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Picked it up a long time ago. It helped… before all this." He gestured vaguely to the world outside, the unspoken horrors hanging heavy in the air.

You nodded, understanding what he meant without needing more words. "I used to play too, back when things were different." The memories were bittersweet, but they didn’t hurt as much as they used to, not here, not with him.

Suguru looked at you with a hint of curiosity. "What did you play?"

"Mostly piano. But I messed around with the guitar a bit too." You shrugged, trying to sound casual, but there was a lingering sadness in your voice that you couldn’t quite hide.

"Maybe you should give it a try again." he said, holding out the guitar to you.

You hesitated, your fingers itching to touch the instrument but also afraid of what it might bring up. Suguru noticed your hesitation and added softly. "It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought… maybe it would help."

His words, spoken with such gentle understanding, made something inside you soften. You took the guitar from him, your fingers awkwardly finding the chords, the muscle memory slowly returning. The notes came out shaky at first, but as you continued, the music began to flow more naturally, filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Suguru watched you, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. "You’re good." he said quietly, and for a moment, the world outside seemed distant and unreal, like a bad dream you could wake up from.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile that felt strange on your face after so long. "Thanks. It’s been a while."

He nodded, leaning back against the wall, his gaze still on you. "It’s nice, having someone to share this with." His voice was low, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you.

You met his eyes, something unspoken passing between you. "Yeah, it is."

With each passing day, the bond between you and Suguru grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of shared moments and growing intimacy. The days, once filled with routine and duty, now held a deeper meaning. You found yourself eagerly anticipating his presence, whether it was during the long, often monotonous hours patrolling the perimeter or in the quieter, more serene moments spent together in the kitchen.

During these patrols, the silence between you was no longer uncomfortable but rather a comfortable companion. You’d exchange glances and smiles, the unspoken understanding adding warmth to the cool, night air. These simple interactions became a cherished part of your day, a reminder that even in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, there were small, precious joys to be found.

Cooking together was a ritual that both of you cherished. Every meal you prepared was more than just sustenance; it was a shared experience, a small victory over the harsh realities of the world outside. Suguru, with his surprisingly deft culinary skills, brought an element of surprise and delight to these moments. His laughter would fill the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of whatever you were preparing, creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie.

These cooking sessions were more than just about the food. They were about the small, tender moments that punctuated your days—Suguru's playful teasing as you fumbled with ingredients, the quiet, shared satisfaction of a well-made meal, and the deep conversations that flowed as easily as the spices you mixed. Each meal was a testament to the connection you were nurturing, a symbol of your growing closeness.

In these shared moments, whether in the midst of patrols or while cooking, you found solace and joy. The simple act of preparing food together became a grounding ritual, reminding you both of the warmth and safety you had found in each other’s company. Through the laughter, the shared tasks, and the quiet companionship, your relationship deepened, finding strength in the everyday moments that brought you closer together.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me."

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?"

He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone."

There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "We’ve both lost so much, you know?" he said quietly. "But maybe… maybe we can find something here. Something worth holding on to."

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were something precious, something worth protecting. "Suguru…" you began, but the words caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You don’t have to say anything." he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that took you by surprise. "Just… stay with me."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as the world outside seemed to fade away. "I’m not going anywhere, Suguru." you promised, your voice barely more than a whisper.

And in that moment, as Suguru’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you knew that despite everything you had lost, you had found something here—something real, something worth fighting for. The world outside was still a nightmare, but in his embrace, you felt safe. You felt… home.

The fire crackled softly and the scent of a simple stew filled the air, you sat together in the small kitchen. Suguru’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a bowl, the brief contact sending a jolt through you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was no fear, no death—only the warmth of his gaze, the unspoken understanding that had grown between you.

You reached out, your fingers gently grazing him, and this time, he didn’t pull away. The kiss that followed was soft, tentative, as if testing the waters of a new reality. It wasn’t born out of desperation or fear but something genuine, something that had been building between you since the day you met. In that moment, you realized that amidst the ruins of the world, you had found something worth fighting for—each other.

Suguru was still the survivalist, still cautious, still guarded. But with you, he was different. He let you in, allowed you to see the man behind the walls, the one who had survived not just the apocalypse, but the loneliness that came with it. And in return, you gave him the one thing he had lost faith in—hope.

In the silence of survival, you and Suguru found a new life, not just as survivors, but as something more. The world outside was still a nightmare, but within the walls of the compound, there was music, there was food, and there was love. And that was enough.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

THE WORLD CHANGED IN A BLINK OF AN EYE. The years passed, and in the midst of the crumbling world, you and Suguru had found a fragile but undeniable happiness together.

Despite the constant fight for survival, the fear, and the uncertainty, you had managed to carve out a life within the walls of his compound—a life filled with small moments of peace, warmth, and a deep bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

The two of you had become each other's anchor, weathering the storms of the world outside and the storms within yourselves. There were still fights, of course—heated arguments born out of the stress and the pain that never quite left—but they always ended the same way: with apologies, with understanding, with the reassurance that no matter how much the world tried to tear you apart, you would find your way back to each other.

You wanted to stay together, no matter what. The future was uncertain, but you had each other, and that was enough.

Or at least, it had been. Until the day you found out.

The sickness began as a dull ache, a persistent discomfort that you initially attributed to the everyday strains of fatigue or stress. You tried to dismiss it, telling yourself it was just a part of the routine hardships you faced. But the pain didn’t relent. Instead, it began to spread, a creeping malice that invaded your very bones, draining your energy and will.

As the days turned into weeks, the ache evolved into a relentless torment. Tasks that once seemed trivial became monumental efforts, and the weight of the pain became increasingly unbearable.

It was as if every step you took, every breath you drew, was a reminder of the encroaching shadow that threatened to envelop you. Eventually, the denial you clung to was no longer tenable. The truth, harsh and unyielding, crashed down upon you with the force of a relentless storm.

The diagnosis was a devastating blow—terminal, with no hope for a cure. It felt as if your world had crumbled, leaving you in a hollow space where hope once resided. The words of the doctor reverberated in your mind, each syllable a brutal reminder of your fate.

You struggled to process the enormity of what was unfolding before you, your mind overwhelmed by the realization that the future you had envisioned with Suguru was slipping through your grasp.

The dreams you had nurtured—of a shared life, of enduring together through the hardships of this cruel world—were now tainted by the bitter reality of your diagnosis. The vision of growing old side by side, of finding solace in each other amidst the chaos, seemed like nothing more than fragile, shattered illusions. The life you had carefully built, the hope you had cherished, were being torn away by a fate you could not escape.

Each day became a battle, not just against the encroaching illness but against the crushing weight of despair. The future that had once seemed so vibrant and full of promise now appeared as a distant, unreachable horizon. Your heart ached with the knowledge that the time you had left was no longer measured in hopes and dreams, but in the stark reality of counting down to an inevitable end.

In this bleak landscape, the love you had with Suguru became both a source of immense comfort and profound sorrow. It was a bittersweet reminder of what you were losing and what you still cherished.

And as you faced the unbearable truth, you clung to the moments of shared love and companionship, knowing that while the future was uncertain and fleeting, the bond you had forged with Suguru was a source of strength in your darkest hours.

Telling Suguru was the hardest thing you had ever done. When the moment came to share the news, you felt a heavy weight pressing on your chest. Each word felt like it was tearing apart the fragile fabric of hope that had been woven between you. You struggled to find the right words, but the gravity of the situation rendered you almost speechless. Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, you uttered the truth.

As you spoke, you could see the light in Suguru's eyes dim, his once-vibrant gaze becoming clouded with an overwhelming sense of despair. It was as if your words were a heavy fog rolling in, obscuring the clarity and warmth that had once defined his expression. The impact was immediate and devastating. The hope and dreams you had shared seemed to drain from him, leaving a hollow, heart-wrenching emptiness in their wake.

Suguru’s reaction was one of stunned silence. He didn’t say anything at first. His gaze was fixed on you, but it was distant, almost as if he were looking through you rather than at you. His expression was frozen, a complex mix of disbelief, shock, and profound sadness. It was as though the words you had spoken were so unfathomable that he struggled to process their meaning, as if accepting them was too great a burden for his heart to bear.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with unspoken words and emotions. You could see him grappling with the reality of what you had just revealed, his mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of your situation. The anguish etched on his face was a mirror to your own, reflecting the profound sense of loss and heartbreak that had suddenly become your shared reality.

"No." he finally whispered, his voice cracking. "No, this can’t be happening."

You reached out, your hand trembling as you took his, squeezing it tightly. "I’m so sorry, Suguru. I wish there was something we could do, but—"

"But there has to be." he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening almost to the point of pain. "There has to be something. We’ve survived so much… we can find a way through this too."

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "I wish that were true. But this… this is different. There’s no fighting this."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly that it almost hurt, as if he could keep you with him through sheer force of will. His breath was ragged against your hair, and you felt the way his body trembled with the effort to hold back his tears.

"We were supposed to be together, baby." he choked out, his voice thick with grief. "We were supposed to make it."

"I know, I know." you whispered, your own tears spilling over. "I wanted that too. I still do. But…"

"But what?" he demanded, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes desperate. "We can’t just give up."

"I’m not giving up, Suguru." you said, your voice trembling with the effort to stay strong. "But we have to face the truth. This is happening, and we can’t stop it."

The devastation in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you saw the way he struggled to keep himself together, to be strong for you even as his world fell apart. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice small, almost childlike.

"We keep going." you said, trying to sound more certain than you felt. "We make the most of the time we have left. We keep fighting, but… we don’t fight each other. We spend every moment we can together, and we make them count."

He nodded, though the movement was slow, reluctant, as if he still couldn’t quite accept what you were saying. "I don’t want to lose you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can’t lose you."

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "You won’t lose me, Suguru. Not really. I’ll always be with you, even if… even if I’m not here."

His eyes squeezed shut, and he pulled you close again, his grip almost desperate. "I love you. I love you more than anything in this world." he whispered, the words heavy with all the emotion he had been holding back. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, my love. My Suguru." you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. "I always will."

And so, in the midst of the overwhelming sorrow, you held each other, finding solace in the warmth of each other’s embrace. The world outside still raged on, but in that moment, you had each other, and that was all that mattered. You would face the darkness together, hand in hand, and whatever time you had left, you would make it count.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

BY THE TIME SPRING CAME, EVERYTHING UNRAVELED. The sickness had steadily worsened, each day stealing more of your strength and vitality, chipping away at the life you had fought so hard to hold onto. The once-manageable discomfort had evolved into a constant, gnawing ache, a relentless companion that shadowed your every move.

The pain was unyielding, a dull throb that seemed to seep into every corner of your existence. Alongside it came a profound exhaustion, a weariness so deep it felt as if you were weighed down by a leaden blanket, sapping your energy and spirit.

As the days passed, you became acutely aware that your time was running out. The inevitable reality of your condition loomed ever closer, and the thought of leaving Suguru behind was almost unbearable.

The idea of him witnessing your slow decline, of watching you waste away, was a source of deep, unrelenting sorrow. It was a burden that neither of you should have to endure, and the thought of him bearing witness to such suffering made the situation all the more poignant.

One evening, as you sat together in the small, dimly lit living room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth provided a stark contrast to the heaviness of the moment. The flickering light danced across the room, casting warm, gentle shadows, but it did little to ease the weight of the decision that loomed over you. You glanced at Suguru, his presence both a source of comfort and a reminder of the pain you were about to inflict.

The warmth of the fire seemed to mock the cold reality you faced. Each crackle of the flames was a stark reminder of the life that was slipping away from you, a life that you had shared so intimately with Suguru. The room, once a sanctuary of shared joy and quiet moments, now felt suffused with a profound sadness. You could see the concern and love etched into Suguru’s face, and it made your heart ache even more.

You knew that making this decision was necessary, even though it would hurt him deeply. The thought of continuing in your current state—becoming a burden rather than a partner, an encumbrance rather than a companion—was untenable. The inevitable end was approaching, and you could no longer ignore the fact that your suffering was taking a toll on both of you.

As you faced Suguru, your heart felt like it was shattering with the weight of your decision. You had chosen to speak the truth, to acknowledge the unbearable reality of your situation. It was a choice made out of love and respect, even though it meant confronting the deep, painful truth of your own mortality and the heartache it would cause Suguru.

In those quiet moments by the fire, the decision was clear, but the pain of it was profound. The love you had for Suguru and the desire to protect him from further suffering guided your choice, even as it tore at your own heart. The warmth of the fire contrasted sharply with the chill of the reality you faced, a reminder of the fleeting nature of the life and love you both had cherished.

"Suguru, my love." you began, your voice weak but steady, "I need to ask you something."

He turned to you, concern etched in his features. "What is it? Do you need something? More water? Some painkillers?" He was always trying to do something, anything, to ease your suffering, even when there was little that could be done.

You shook your head, reaching out to take his hand. "No, it’s not that. It’s… I want you to help me end it. When the time comes, I don’t want to… I don’t want to linger."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, Suguru just stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. Then, he pulled his hand away, his expression hardening as he shook his head violently.

"No, baby." he said, his voice firm and almost angry. "No, I’m not doing that. I’m not giving up on you. We’ll find something—there’s got to be something out there that can help. We’ll go out tomorrow, search the surrounding towns. There has to be something… anything…"

"Suguru, my love. Please. Understand me." you interrupted gently, your heart breaking at the desperation in his voice. "We’ve tried. We’ve been searching for months, and nothing has changed. You know it as well as I do—there’s nothing left to find."

"I can’t!" he snapped, his voice rising. "I can’t lose you like this! We’ve survived so much together. We can get through this too. I’ll find a way, I swear."

You reached out again, this time cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Suguru, my love." you whispered, tears filling your eyes. "I’m dying. We both know it. Please… don’t make this harder than it already is."

He broke then, his shoulders shaking as he crumbled before you. "I can’t live without you, baby." he choked out, tears streaming down his face. "You’re all I have left. If you go… if you leave me… I don’t know what I’ll do."

"You’ll keep going. You must." you said softly, your own tears spilling over. "You’re strong, Suguru. You’ve always been strong. You’ll find a way to survive, even without me."

He shook his head, his hands gripping yours tightly, as if he could anchor you to the world through sheer force of will. "I don’t want to survive without you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not there."

You pulled him into your arms, holding him close as he cried against your shoulder, his grief tearing through him like a storm. "I know. I know that." you whispered, your own heart shattering with every sob that wracked his body. "I know it’s hard. But you have to promise me you’ll try. Promise me you’ll keep going, for both of us."

He clung to you, his breath ragged as he tried to pull himself together. "I don’t know if I can." he admitted, his voice small and broken. "I don’t know how to do this without you."

"You can, my love." you insisted, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "You’re stronger than you think, Suguru. You’ve already done so much. But before I go… There's something I want to do. Something that will give meaning to all of this."

He frowned, confusion flickering in his tear-filled eyes. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you gathered the courage to say the words. "I want to marry you, my love." you said, your voice trembling. "I want to be your wife, even if it’s just for a little while. I want to give meaning to this life, to what we’ve been through together. Please… let’s do this, Suguru. Let’s make it real."

He stared at you, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief as if trying to process the gravity of what you had just said. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken fears and raw emotions. You held your breath, the weight of his potential rejection pressing down on you. The thought that he might find the idea too painful to accept was almost unbearable, adding to the already intense sorrow that filled the room.

But then, as if struggling to come to terms with the inevitable, he began to nod slowly. The initial shock in his eyes gave way to a profound sadness, and his expression softened, becoming a mixture of resignation and tender understanding. The lines of his face, once tense with disbelief, relaxed as he reached out to you.

With gentle, deliberate movements, he cupped your face in his hands. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold reality of the situation, a soothing balm against the sharp edges of your sorrow. His hands, though trembling slightly, were steady in their tenderness, conveying a depth of love and acceptance that words alone could not express. 

As he held you, his gaze locked onto yours, searching for reassurance and finding it in the depths of your shared experiences and unspoken bond. The moment was both heart-wrenching and profoundly intimate, a testament to the strength of your connection and the pain of facing such a difficult decision together.

"Okay, baby." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Okay. We’ll do it. I’ll marry you. We’ll do it right here, right now."

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, a small, trembling smile breaking through the sorrow. "Thank you, my love." you whispered, your voice cracking. "Thank you, Suguru."

He pulled you into his arms again, holding you close as you both cried, the weight of what was to come hanging heavy over you. But in that moment, you were together, and that was all that mattered. You would marry him, give meaning to your lives, and in the time you had left, you would make every moment count.

Even as the darkness closed in, you knew that you had found something beautiful in the midst of the horror—a love that would last beyond the end, a bond that would never truly be broken.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SUCH A NICE DAY FOR A WEDDING. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room as you and Suguru prepared for the day that would be both your wedding and your farewell. It was a day you had both dreaded and longed for, a day that would bring a bittersweet end to the journey you had shared together.

Suguru had spent the early hours of the morning in the kitchen, determined to make this day as special as he could. He cooked you the best meals he could manage with the limited supplies you had, pouring his heart into every dish.

The aroma of roasted vegetables, tender meat, and freshly baked bread filled the small compound, a testament to the love and care he had poured into every bite. He even brought out the best wine he had been saving in the cellar—a bottle that had survived the apocalypse, waiting for a moment just like this.

When he returned to the bedroom, he found you dressed in your best—an old dress you had found while scavenging, simple but elegant, its soft fabric hugging your frail form. Suguru had dressed in his finest as well, his dark shirt and trousers clean and pressed, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of him took your breath away, and you smiled, despite the sorrow that weighed on your heart.

"You look beautiful, baby." he whispered as he approached, his voice thick with emotion.

"And you look handsome, my love." you replied, your voice trembling as you reached out to straighten his collar.

The two of you stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of each other, committing it to memory. Then, with a deep breath, you took his hand, and together you made your way to the small living room, where the morning light streamed through the windows, bathing the space in a soft, golden glow. There were no guests, no officiant, no flowers or rings. It was just the two of you, standing together in the light, your hands clasped tightly as you exchange your vows.

"I, Suguru, take you, my love, to be my wife." he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "In this life, and whatever comes after, I promise to love you, to hold you close, to cherish every moment we have together. No matter what happens, you will always be my heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you repeated the words, your voice trembling. "I, take you, Suguru, to be my husband. I promise to love you, to be by your side, to find joy in the little things, even in this broken world. You’ve given me a reason to keep going, and I will carry that with me, always."

With that, you both leaned in, sealing your vows with a gentle kiss, a promise made under the watchful eye of the morning sun. When you pulled back, there were tears in both your eyes, but there were also smiles—small, fragile smiles that spoke of a love that had endured the darkest of times.

The day passed in a blur of quiet joy and melancholy. Suguru insisted on dancing, and you found yourselves swaying together to the soft, nostalgic notes of Vera Lynn’s "We’ll Meet Again," playing from an old record player Suguru had somehow managed to keep running.

The song filled the room with its haunting melody, a promise of reunion in a world beyond this one. You held each other close, moving slowly, savoring every second, every touch, as if by doing so, you could make time stop.

As night fell, the reality of what was to come settled over you both. There was no turning back now, no more delaying the inevitable. You returned to the bedroom, where the bed had been carefully made, its soft blankets a welcome comfort against the cold that had settled into your bones. You climbed into bed, and Suguru followed, sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on yours.

You turned to look at him, your heart aching with the knowledge that these were your final moments together. "Suguru, my love." you began, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you to live. Even after I’m gone, I want you to find a way to keep going. Please… promise me you’ll try."

His grip on your hand tightened, and he shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What sort of life is that without you?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "You’re everything to me. I don’t know how to keep going if you’re not here."

"You’re stronger than you think, my love." you whispered, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. "You’ve always been strong, Suguru. You’ve saved me so many times… now, you need to save yourself. Please… for me."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his breath shuddering as he tried to hold himself together. "I don’t want to let you go, baby." he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how."

"You don’t have to let me go, my love." you replied, your own tears slipping down your cheeks. "I’ll always be with you. In every memory, every moment we shared. You’ll carry me with you, no matter what."

He nodded, though it was clear the idea of life without you was unbearable. "I love you, baby." he whispered, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that words could barely contain. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." you whispered back, your voice trembling. "Now… let’s make this last moment count."

With that, he leaned in, kissing you gently, as if trying to pour all the love he had for you into that one moment. You kissed him back, holding him close, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart—a rhythm you had come to know and love, a sound you would carry with you into the dark.

When the kiss ended, you settled back against the pillows, the familiar softness providing a modicum of comfort in the midst of your pain. Suguru lay beside you, his arms wrapped around you with a tenderness that spoke of his deep, abiding love. Together, you both faced the uncertain future, finding solace in each other's presence as the night stretched on.

The silence of the room was broken only by the soft sound of your breathing, a gentle rhythm that seemed to anchor you both in the present moment. Despite the gravity of what lay ahead, you felt an unexpected sense of peace settle over you. In those final moments, the relentless tide of fear and pain receded, leaving only the pure, unadulterated essence of love.

There was no longer any room for fear or anguish—only the profound understanding that you had found something truly beautiful amidst the horror. You had loved deeply, and you had been loved in return. That realization, though bittersweet, provided a profound sense of fulfillment. It was a reminder that, even in the face of the inevitable, the love you shared had given meaning to your time together.

As the night deepened, you clung to each other, savoring the last precious moments of closeness. Suguru’s presence was a comforting embrace, a final refuge before you slipped away. The world outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the cocoon of your shared love.

When the end finally came, Suguru was left with a heartache so profound it felt almost unbearable. He gazed at your lifeless body, the weight of your absence crashing over him like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down his face, each drop an echo to the depth of his grief. He struggled with the harsh reality of living without you, the very thought of continuing without you seemed inconceivable.

In a final, tender gesture, he brushed the hair away from your face, his fingers lingering in a gentle caress. A faint smile touched his lips, though it was laced with sorrow.

“I’m following you soon, my love. Forgive me.” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. He lets out a smile against the tears.

He takes a look at the drink you drank, laced with laudenum and whiskey. A last hurrah took you away. And he wants that too. He wants to be with you. He stands up to take it and tells himself that it would be okay. Soon, you'll be together again. He gives himself visions of paradise, where you aren't sick anymore. A paradise where you could enjoy life together.

He smiles again, wiping his tears with his free hand and drank the same drink. He puts away the glass and lays down beside you. Everything was going to handle itself somehow, he knew that well enough.

His left hand lingers against the tips of your hair, brushing them as he would have when you were alive. He would be doing that for eternity in the afterlife. Like he always wanted.

For the last moments of Geto Suguru's life, he catches a glimpse of the shine of his wedding ring and yours. As though the light leading him to the other side. He closes his purple eyes slowly for the final time and feels everything be in its place for the first time in a long time.

Years later, when survivors find your bodies lingering in the eternal warmth only both you could provide, they read words on a small card on a coffee table.

"Leave us be on the graveyards we chose. Let us live eternity like this together."

And they do. They leave you be. Because the smile on your faces was enough to know this was where you belonged. Together.

[cdragons]

I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.  

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

 “WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips.  The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her.  Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern

[lazybutsmexy]

Tea

Simón "Ghost" Riley X GN!reader

Warnings: ANGST, hurt no comfort, mayor character death(s).

A/N: is... is this what I chose as my comeback? I'm sorry, I hope to be able to write something fluffy soon.

Read on AO3

"...Ghost?"

"...Yeah?"

Your eyes are locked to the sky. The hues of gray that prelude an autumn shower used to comfort you. Strangely enough, what's most comforting to you at this moment is hearing your Lieutenant's voice answer you back, from somewhere to your left.

"...I have a confession to make."

"...Go on."

You inch your head sideways, trying to peek a glance at his face, but the stiffness of your neck prevent you from doing so. Maybe it's for the best. From the corner of your eye you can see part of his hip and his right leg, over a carpet of dark red that you don't need a creative imagination to think about its nature, or its origin.

You saw him get shot.

"I'm the one that took your last tea bag," you offer, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd get so grumpy about it."

A low sigh reaches your ears, and you can catch the hint of an almost imperceptible stutter in his breathing.

"...Never suspected you," he hums, every word calculated as if it could be his last -it may as well be, "you don't drink tea."

"No, I don't," you agree, "but you do." Your lower lip gets caught in between your teeth once again, as it has happened for the last few- minutes? Hours? Who knows anymore? "I wanted to surprise you with-... with a cuppa when we got to t-the safehouse..."

You clearly should've followed his example and kept your sentences short, you think as your diaphragm painfully struggles to keep your lungs filled with oxygen.

"...You make shit tea though," he grumbled - now you can clearly hear the wheeze hidden in his breathing.

"... would've made it wi' luv," your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you try not to think of the amount of time you've gradually lost sensation in your body. Instead, you try to peek at him again as you hear a slow ruffle of movement, and this time an ungloved hand comes to your field of vision.

Open face up. Inviting.

You don't think twice and muster whatever little strength you have in your body to move your left hand closer to his.

If the struggle makes you tear up, you don't care. If your pained whimpers break his heart, he doesn't comment on it.

He just grasps your hand as soon as there's skin-on-skin contact, thankful that there's still warmth on your fingers.

Fading, but still there.

"...Didn't say... I wouldn't drink it."

"...Yer' too kind, sir..." Your ears feel like padded in cotton, but you can still hear yourself. If you had any energy - or air in your lungs - you would laughed at how much you started sounding like Soap. "...'s an hon'r to be wi' you, Lt..."

Several seconds passed in silence, and you think you won't get any more answers, and mentally prepare yourself to close your eyes one last time.

But there's something happening with your hand in his.

One squeeze.

Pause.

Another squeeze.

And a last one.

"... waited too long to tell you," his voice reaches you again, watery and choked up, " hope tis' works..."

Go figure, you still had tears to shed. Or is it the rain droplets finally landing on your skin? You don't know. You don't care.

You try to reciprocate, but can only apply three soft squeezes with the pads of your thumb on the soft muscle between his thumb and index fingers.

The choked up sob you hear is a good guess that he received your reply.

"...'m sleepy," your whisper reaches him, and he mourns the lost time.

He's never void of regrets, isn't he?

"...g'night, luv," he tries to sound warm to you, always.

"...g'night, Simon..."

Oh, how sweet his name sounds, coming from your lips in a whisper.

Taglist: @warenai @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts @embers-of-alluring

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Masterlist

[apocalyp-tech-a]

Remember in Season 1, Episode 1 Aftermath, Tech says "I am merely stating a theoretical hypothesis based on factual data?" Well, that's what I did, I made a "logical conclusion." From Lama Su coming back when we thought he was dead to the infamous "domicile," it was all factual evidence that was meant to push us in a direction of hoping that Tech would return and that CX-2 could be the way he does it. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. There's an underlying reason that I love Tech not based on just his handsome looks. I don't claim to have an exceptional mind like him and I don't intend to convince anyone that CX-2 was Tech, but I do want to explain how it could be construed through the way that character was presented as well as the possibility of Tech's return in general, that he could have been and none of us were wrong or "losers" to think so.

45 70 Reasons and more well on the way, lol...

General reasons:

*Tech is never seen actually dying.

*Hemlock being untrustworthy source of death certificate.

*The return of many thought to be dead characters in past Star Wars from Darth Maul who was sliced in half to Lama Su - the door closed on him and we thought he was getting shot by troopers only to show up alive later and this happened in The Bad Batch itself.

*CX-2 is shown walking toward the 'light' after dropping off Omega, symbolically toward a future redemption. @astrovoidy

*Height change on starwars.com

*The word 'dead' danced around on official sites and by BB employees

*the similarities to Winter soldier @on-a-quest

*the cryptic tweets that showcased reborn characters like Gandalf

*The official poster of CX-2 shows him in 'good' light. @eriexplosion AND CX-2 is shown looking up and to the side the way the original CF99 members are positioned and facing in their poster as if CX-2 is also a CF99 member

*other people in professional settings like New Rock Stars on youtube thought the same exact thing as well as casual viewers

*the large focus on CX-2, over multiple episodes

*misleading title of last episode "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

*Tech being smart enough to find a solution

*If Season 2 could be compared to Empire Strikes Back, Tech was taken from us the way Han Solo was, but Han Solo was returned so surely Tech would be as well

*no one expected a main ensemble character permadeath

*the fight with Crosshair music had hints of "Plan 99" in it

*Tech’s whole big conversation with Romar was about culture and memory, and he helped Romar restoring a data repository. Between the implication that Tech would have lost his memories and Phee saying, “Tech’s brain was the databank, not mine,” you could easily see that as foreshadowing for Tech getting his memories back. @heyclickadee

*All the little one line reminders and goggles shots up through episode twelve only serve to make the audience want Tech back. They aren’t closure, they’re reminders of his absence. [Tech never being quite mourned.] @heyclickadee

*The goggles are lit, or look like they’re lit, in every scene they’re in except the last one, which sure makes all those earlier shots deliberate. @heyclickadee *CX-2 could have killed all of them at different moments, but chose not to (shooting pilot instead of Hunter for example)

Physical and character similarities:

*the shrimp posture

*the kick in the fight similar to droid kick in S1E1

*the similar hand to hand combat style

*the shooting accuracy- ipsium cave/ plan 99

*the elegant deliberate movement especially of hands and fingers

*the animated head and body when speaking

*the helmet – even has his hairline @jorolle

*the viewfinder similar to Tech's and utilized just as often

*the pouches(!!!)

*the limberness and agility

*the confident capability

*the crouching/getting on one knee - Tech is an infamous croucher!

*the deviant nature – ignoring orders

*the technology know how

*the flying – some say the turn on Teth was a Tech Turn

*the extraness of tool/weapon twirl

*armpad like Tech's datapad @wolveria

*CX-2's ship has similarities to the Marauder @wolveria

*Tech CC-9902 / CX-2 - both end in 2 @wolveria

*We are reminded this season that Tech was especially good at decryption. What do we see CX-2 doing on Phee’s ship? Yeah. @heyclickadee

*Season two went out of its way to establish that Tech has a high pain tolerance, is a good close range fighter (he won a life-or-death fight with a guy when he had that broken femur), quick processing speed, and is an excellent shot. All skills we see CX-2 exhibit. @heyclickadee

The 'British' accent, speech inflection, pronunciation. and vocabulary (this alone is enough to convince anyone...):

'You better get back HERE." - "I know the girl is HERE."

"The fifth IS Omega." - "The girl IS alive."

"Who are you?" - "Who are you?"

"Naveecomputah." - "Neveecomputah."

"DOMICILE." - "DOMICLE."

Cinematic framing similarities:

*the limping

*the coming out of the water @lilacjunimo

*hooking the rappel hook rappelling down was like dangling off the rail car

*the boulder moving

*helmet viewpoint from CX-2 in finale, only BB members ever had that

Conjectural situations of suspicion:

*the beef with Crosshair

*the constant surviving

*the pausing when choking Crosshair

*the pausing to look at Phee

*The implications that Crosshair seems to know something about CX-2 (he wants to get out of dodge when he knows CX-2 is coming), and the intense lingering guilt Crosshair feels—and which is never dealt with! It’s still there through the finale—implying he knows or suspects it’s Tech. @heyclickadee

*“Whatever they did to you, whatever you’ve done, you’re still one of us,” offered by Rex towards the CXs @heyclickadee

*Crosshair’s character arc this season being partly about realizing that anyone can change and that no one is really beyond saving, which would have continued going somewhere if he thought CX-2 was Tech and considered him beyond saving, but then changed his mind and realized he needed to try. Notice that he does not engage CX-2 in 11 like he did in 7, and that this comes after his revelation about giving people a chance in 9. @heyclickadee

*CX-2 is even more Tech like in 11 than he was in 6 and 7. This implies that he could be starting to wake up, and that almost killing Crosshair triggered that. He doesn’t kill anyone except one of his own guys on Pabu (or Phee) even though it would make his job much easier. He even has Hunter and Wrecker in his sights and moves his aim to not shoot them directly. @heyclickadee

*Crosshair has no way to know that the CX’d clones come out different and that their identities are erased unless it happened to someone we know. In fact, there’s not reason for the CX plot to exist unless that horrific thing happens to someone we know. @heyclickadee

*The first episode of the show starts out with Hunter covering for someone who supposedly died in a fall. In fact, there are direct parallels in the lines: “Where’s the Jedi?” “I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.” vs “Where’s Tech?” “Omega…Tech didn’t make it.” I’m not saying Hunter was covering for Tech; I am saying that is the only place in the script where we see those phrases matched up. @heyclickadee

*Tech being CX-2 would have fit in perfectly with each member of the batch experiencing a traumatic loss (and regaining) of agency that correlated directly to who and how they are as people. @heyclickadee

Foreshadowing lines:

*More machine than man, percentage wise at least.

*Better late than dead.

*See you around, Brown Eyes.

*Tech's not gone.

*The operative's gone rogue.

*Romar saying he's a survivor and Tech's look at him.

*Don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers. @heyclickadee

Abandoned storyline reasons:

*The romance with Phee, surely it wouldn't be abandoned!? 🙄😡

*CX-2's death being anticlimactic

*The finale seeming rushed and incomplete

*Actors saying there were script changes

*CX-2's accent in the finale was not only not like Tech's as it was in previous episodes, it wasn't even a clone accent (wtf was that) signaling a script change

@wolveria made a great analysis here with her Tech-Genda !

@heyclickadee gave a great analysis here and also great evidence, more in comments!

@vivaislenska has a list as well with some of these points!

@eriexplosion has a great analysis here!

Having said that, here are some reasons it may not have been him:

*Too many characters coming back from the dead.

*The way he says 'clones' in Infiltration was more reg accent.

*Tech's line in the cave to Omega which "was a big one to me” in retrospect: "I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on."

As for the intentions of the writers to either have been forced to change the script, but can't admit it due to NDAs or if they truly meant for CX-2 to be Crosshair's foil which to me was unclear, especially with all of the evidence above, I don't know. At least they could have made CX-2 talk and move like a reg. Making him talk and walk like Tech was kind of cruel on top of a cruel we already experienced in Plan 99. I am not personally attacking the writers, I still love Season 1 and 2 and most of Season 3, but I wish I knew what happened behind the scenes with this and I know I'm not the only one. I think this is the last time I'll personally address Season 3 or the finale unless to support other commentators/creators and for my own fix-it and art and writing. And I look forward to seeing everyone else's works as well and hope no one gives up this beautiful Batch or fandom as I almost did. Canon seems done with him, he belongs to us now. 💜

And if anyone has anything I missed (I'm sure I'll think of more myself), feel free to comment or reblog with that addition or a link to your own post and/or I can edit the OP to include it and tag you. Also, don't feel like you can't make your own post about this subject! But I do hope this maybe helped anyone still dealing with the 'aftermath' like me, to know you're not alone, and you did not read too much into it.

(In retrospect, I can't believe they killed him though, lol. What the kriff were they thinking!?! #too handsome to die #too awesome to die)

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

( ✧ MY MASTERLIST! ✧ )

[ Will be updated in time, so be sure to check / refresh ] Some will not have links as they are not posted yet.

Want to know where else you can find me? Here.

Tips and tricks for baby writer's. Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON.

"The only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself.." [ Mix of HOTD and Modern AU ]

Aegon II Taragaryen - "The Upsurger King"

"Let the ravens fly that the realm may know the pretender is dead, and their true king is coming home to reclaim his father's throne."

The History Book on the Shelf. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

Promise not to drop me? Only a fool would drop you. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Wanna wrap my hands around your neck. ( Complete )

Pt 1

Pt 2

Will you pray for me? ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Like real people do. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

In the dark of the night.

Run rabbit, run run run.

A glimpse of us.

Oh, who is she?

From my blood, comes your ruin.

The worst guy to share a blunt with.

Aemond Targaryen - "The One Eyed"

"Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

The Baratheon Curse. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

A game I couldn't lose.

Don't touch what is mine.

S-I-M-P

Either way what bliss.

I was gone for five fuckin' minutes.

Helaena Targaryen - "The Dragon Dreamer"

"It is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another. If one possesses a thing, the other will take it away."

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

You have so much to do, and I have nothing ahead of me.

Alicent Hightower - "The Green Queen"

"The city is yours, Princess. But you will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.."

I hope the guilt kills you.

Jacaerys Velaryon - "The Lord Strong"

"For my mother, for my family, I will fight till my last breath.."

I don't want to be his Queen, I want to go home.

THE CONQUEROR REBORN. [ A HOTD FANFIC ]

"Twas' a tangled web Roselyn Hightower found herself in. Weaved so intimately with Aegon and Helaena Targaryen."

Chapter / Excerpts.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Book Info.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Edits.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

THE PINK PONY CLUB. [ A HOTD x MODERN AU FANFIC ]

"In every other universe, Roselyn Hightower would find Helaena Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen. And in every other universe, it does not end well for them."

Chapter / Excerpts.

1 2 3 4

Book Info.

1 2 3 4 5

Edits.

1 2 3

DEAD FICS / I WILL NEVER WRITE FOR THESE FANDOM, CHARACTER'S, ETC. AGAIN.

Wednesday [ TV Show ]

Watch my heart burn. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

House of the Dragon.

Burn. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

By your side. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Six of Crows. [ TV Show ]

When your older. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Haven't I given enough?

Percy Jackson.

I just died in your arms. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Old enough to understand.

Close your eyes.

The Boys.

Doin' Time.

A leap of faith.

The other woman.

The Walking Dead.

5 stages of grief.

The Hobbit.

Never trust a spell.

----

Tell me if you see any errors and I'll fix them asap!

[brynn-lear]

When The Cypress Tree Wilts [Yandere!Kamisato Ayato x Reader]

Prompt: Kamisato Ayato, the sole survivor of Teyvat, struggles to cope with grief. He finds solace in the company of a fellow survivor, (Y/n), on the Astral Express. Although the two came from different universes, with him being a fictional character on (Y/n)'s end, he had grown fond of them. Perhaps too fond for Mister Yang's liking. He has seen this story played out once already. [Dedicated to @jessamine-rose]

Content Tags: (light?) yandere themes, major character death, we ain't trusting getting roses again after this one boys

For twenty-seven years, the cypress tree stood alone. Its branches, exhibiting complete fortitude to withstand erosion, have been a home for many animals. A guardian of many and a home for herons. It's no stretch to say its artistic seriousness made the Cypress tree the Warden of the Forest. 

What happens, though, if the forest catches fire? What happens when everything it held dear—all the pillars ingrained in the firmest soil—is reduced to ashes in a single glance? When the forest's life-loving temperament disappears, just what is left of the guardian tree? 

There's only one answer: the Cypress loses its Inazuman function. Harmony, balance, and peace wither away from the tree's symbolism. All that's left is the alternative Enkanomiyan myth: cypress trees must only be planted as a mourning tradition. 

The Warden of Death...

Kamisato Ayato closed his eyes, making his umpteenth attempt to breathe steadily. 

He sat upright on one of the Astral Express's couches. It's been more than eight months since he had found himself as the sole survivor of his world. So far, everything that had been told to him had been unreal. 

Gone were the clan, his retainers, and his dearest sister. None were left as he watched their remains swept by the wind. Memories of Ayaka's burnt hair and cheeks crumbling refused to leave his every waking moment. He tried desperately to hold on, but the ashes kept slipping through his fingers until his family's white heron was reduced to a lifeless husk. Her feathers were plucked too soon.  

He cannot have her back. He cannot have his clan back. His world was forever unsalvageable.

That was his fate as the Remembrance's souvenir. He can carry the weight of survival while the memokeepers preserve Teyvat's memories.  

But at least he has someone in a similar position as himself. 

"Mister Yang," you called over the older man hushedly. Welt glanced at the mopping mess and knew just what you were hinting at. Better to alert someone who can assist him better.

"Are you alright, Mister Kamisato?" Welt asked, sitting beside Ayato. He passed his cane onto his other hand so he could pat his shoulder. Ayato only laughed stiffly. 

Thankfully, it's not an entirely hopeless cause. There was, at least, a silver lining to make up for it. No matter how dim the glimmer was, he at least had the Express's understanding. 

And yours as well. 

Ab███████, h█ed his pl█as.

"—to, you can still think this through!"

"Stand back, Himeko."

Just like him, you lost your world, too. You came from a fabric of existence wherein he was deemed fictional. A video game called "Genshin Impact", as you called it. You were terrified when you discovered your universe crumbled because of some time-travel paradox. But in spite of your enormous losses, curiosity triumphed over fear. You would prefer exploring the galaxy than thinking about how much work you still need to do for your college classes.

But today? You rest. After all, the express is landing in Penacony.

While Welt did his best to provide consolation, you handed them warm drinks. Ayato gave you a gentle nod. 

He gave it a quick sip. Unlike Himeko's, your brew was more tame. Not at all professionally made— it's everyday coffee— but that adds more to its appeal. Ayato politely wiped possible stains near his lips. You can't help but notice how his mole was placed below it. 

He's definitely a video game character, that's for sure. They don't make people this attractive in your old world. 

Just holding the coffee you made… feeling its warmth in his hands… It gave him strength to speak. 

Ayato sighed. "Apologies, I simply… will take longer to recover my mental composure. I am not usually this easy to rattle or ramble often. I deeply apologize for the trouble I caused the express thus far."  

"I do wonder if I had wronged the Gods. I committed plenty of misdeeds in the eyes of the Shogun, yet they were pardoned. But perhaps the Heavenly Principles…" He muttered, thinking he was inaudible. More than half a year without his retainers and constant troubles had dulled his vigilance.

Welt shook his head. "Do not be harsh on yourself by culminating these harmful… ideals, Mister Kamisato."

"I agree." You said. "At any rate, you'll end up miserable for the entire month if you keep overthinking what that Silver Wolf said."

His mood had been visibly dampened since Silver Wolf's last visit. She claims that he was "destined for ruin based on Elio's script" and that it was better he knew about it now rather than later. 

Ayato looked away. "I suppose so… This wishful thinking brings me nothing but thoughts such as to save my one and only sister, with this pitiable strength— how can I recreate the past?"

Welt grew cold with mild horror. Then, he cleared his throat after a suspiciously long pause. 

The past Welt knows is not the past he wants a repeat of.

"Why focus on that when the future awaits you?" He said, but with how the older man refused to meet his lilac eyes, there must be more he won't let on. 

"Your reluctance… Does this have something to do with what the memokeeper previously stated?"

"...What Black Swan said?" You tilted your head. 

Welt sighed. "So many things must be runnin' around your head... I don't usually encourage drinking, but maybe you should have a few shots later."

"I shall consider it, but I must know now, Mister Yang." He looked at him. "What did she mean when she said I was an alternate version of your acquaintance, Otto Apocalypse?"

Welt coughed up his coffee. 

Re██y his angu█████ c███s.

"-to, don't do this. You can't bring ██████ back—"

“Your farcical tangents will distract me no more. Do not play parlor tricks with that cane of yours. My mind is sound, and my decision is final."

"..."

"..." 

"..." 

Ever since Ayato was dubbed as a new Nameless alongside you, he's been bombarded with both blunt and subliminal messages of his supposed "true" nature. One faction agrees he's an existence not meant to be trifled, while the other wants to cultivate him into a villain. 

You don't know much about that. Unlike whatever hero's journey he had been experiencing— you're detached from trouble. Your new life was spent writing, dressing up with March, eating with Stelle, and reading through Dan Heng's data banks about constellations & other aesthetically pleasing biological entries. You were a quiet existence. Black Swan remarked you're amicable for someone who cannot return to normalcy. You embrace change far better than others.

But you think that's because there's enough grieving for the Express to carry; they don't have room to acknowledge yours… 

"You're Kamisato Ayato, not Otto." You told him firmly. "Don't overthink what she said."

"It is not as if I do not know that, how—"

"No, there are no buts or howevers; that's final."

Ayato laughed softly, no longer tense. 

"Understood. I'm your Kamisato Ayato, right?" He tilted his head like a dog. 

"Yes, yes, you're our Ayato." You sighed. 

He's a lot cuter when relaxed. 

You shook your head. 

No, better not let this develop into something else. You don't want to have a crush on a guy that's essentially no different from a flatmate. 

Furthermore, you exclusively confide in him. You'd rather your relationship as each other's anchor remains the same in the future. After all, you're not the type to let everyone in the room know your baggage. So was Ayato, but... His trauma lends itself to the extremes.

While you were lost in thought, adorable footsteps strutted closer. 

Angry, adorable footsteps. 

"What are you guys doing drinking coffee?! The train is about to jump soon!!!"

Pompom huffed. They put their little paws on their hips, scoffing at you three. You apologized profusely, forgetting that your trip to Penacony was in ten minutes. 

"Sorry, Pompom." Welt sheepishly said. 

Ayato looked at Pompom earnestly. "So am I."

"Whatever, okay, but you better change later! You can't join a wedding wearing those clothes!!!"

You frowned. You were already dressed, though. You thought you already looked perfect for the evening. Maybe you should've tried harder... Perhaps you were too relaxed about this...

"Oh, but I'm sorry…" You told them, frowning.

Pompom shook their head, panicking. "Not you, (Y/n), you're always so harsh on yourself— you always know how to dress pretty. I'm talking about these two boys!"

They stared at each other before laughing awkwardly, provoking the conductor further. 

Pompom growled, grabbing the broom. 

"You know what?! Get off the sofa! Change! NOW!!!"

Abu████ce, stir this b███ft ████e, 

"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM?!? HE WAS LIKE A BROTHER TO US!!!"

It's clear that someone isn't having the best time.

Penacony weddings are too lively for Ayato's tastes. But much like shadows, nobody can evade the bright lights. 

He nearly tumbled when he saw you. By the looks of his pale face, the lively atmosphere had been draining him senseless. While he maintained his elegant demeanor when talking to Aventurine (and failing), you were refilling your cup at the food aisle. Once Ayato reached you, he desperately wanted to place his head on your shoulder. 

“Please… lend me… Five…”

You smiled and opened your arms.

"Don't speak, I got you."

He leaned on your shoulder.

The five seconds you assumed were startlingly morphing into five minutes. You can't feign as a warm statue for that long. While you worry about your willpower, Ayato sank deeper into his thoughts to meditate. 

From this angle, he looked like a resting cat.

"You okay, Ayato?"

"The SoulGlad, it's so…"

Ah, right. You figured he might've drunk.

"Not once had it been a passing thought that excessive alcohol and fire displays would be a common wedding practice. The culture shock is astounding." Ayato leered quietly. "Thankfully, I no longer care about putting on a social mask. I cannot stomach participating in copious amounts of… festivities."

You laughed. Is it bad you find his suffering entertaining? 

"Is it so different from how they conduct weddings in Inazuma?"

"Hard to say… The Clan may be focused on cultural ceremonies, but I purposely avoided weddings. It helps steer clear talks of arranged marriages. I can only name Chisato's as an exception on top of my head." Ayato placed a hand on his chin. 

He continued. "Extravagant weddings such as this had a decline for two years. The dismal lives of vision wielders immensely affected how much pyrotechnics and other displays were available. Any commonplace joy could be marked as vulgarity by the Shogun at any second... All those charges just for an insincere ceremony."

"I… See." You assumed the answer was a resounding no. "Sounds like you're against marriages of convenience."

Ayato pulled away, looking at you. 

"Not entirely. I understand why it's a necessary evil, given our politics." He said. "But I still firmly believe that when there's true love, nothing should stand in its way."

His eyes reveal that he's starting to sober up. In Penacony, it was probably a beneficial phenomenon. Might as well give away hangover relief if you market alcohol as the icon of your dreamscape. 

"(Y/n), this may sound peculiar, but I glimpsed at an apparel store nearby."

You nodded slightly. He knew you had an affinity for fashion. When you visited the Xianzhou Luofu, he mapped out stores that might interest you. Ayato likes the way you dress. Sometimes, he would even approach you for a consult. 

"And? What did you see? Did you take a picture?"

He groggily nodded and pulled out his phone. 

"Please, take a look."

…

You blinked, turning red. 

"Ayato, these are wedding dresses…"

"I do know that, yes, but don't you believe some of these would suit you? Oh— this one is a particular favorite of mine."

…

He said it so casually that you were beginning to doubt if you were insane. Do friends casually daydream about another friend in a wedding dress? Is that a norm for platonic relationships? You looked away and gently pushed his phone away. 

… You hate how you liked what he picked out.

And you know he noticed it, too. Cheeky bastard. 

"Let's hold that thought for now."

"May I ask why?" He tilted his head, slightly pouting. "I think a traditional white wedding dress would compliment you. Are you, perhaps, seeing flaws I have missed?"

"Y-You're really not getting it, huh…"

Whatever was troubling you, he wasn't about to dissect it. His thoughts were reduced to simplicity that evening, just down to you look gorgeous tonight. The two of you should extend your visit to Penacony for much longer. It is always night here… 

How unfair that you dressed so prettily; he wished it was for his eyes alone. The delicately lace-adorned pastel pink dress suits you well. It felt like a grave sin for him to keep staring at the delicate sapphire necklace resting atop your neck. Not to add, a few strands of your hair framed your face, and your hair was tastefully swept into a neat (h/c) bun. What completes the look is the strappy heels. 

When will it be your wedding, (Y/n)?

Your face contorted. "How drunk are you?"

Ayato smirked curtly and shrugged back to what March calls his "nobleman smile", gazing at you intently. You weren't sure if he was listening to you anymore. 

"Enough."

That was his reply, short and simple. 

As long as your eyes mirror his, it's enough for him. 

“LAAADDIEESSS AND GENTLEEEMEEENNN AND OTHER LIVING CREAAATURREEESSS!!!!”

A rather shrill voice shouted through a microphone. It's the wedding's host. From the volume, anyone can discern that it came from the event room. You placed your cup down. It's that time— noises from excited guests, lonesome people, in particular, were shared around. No one can miss their hands, which tremble with excitement. 

You jolted.

Shit, that's Sparkle. You promised Stelle and March that you four would take BFF pictures in the costume photo booth before the final farewells. Something about silly masks and hats. Miss it, and you're guaranteed to enter the next fight without a shield. Worse, you might wake up with a bat-shaped wound on your head. 

You grabbed Ayato and swerved past the crowd.

“(Y-(Y/n)?!”

Ayato's mind went blank. 

You voluntarily held his hand. Gloved hands. Still, he thanked March that she gave him a pair for the occasion. His hands were sweating, and his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. 

Public displays of affection are generally subdued in his old world. Handholding raises questions regarding those reared into nobility like he was. His upbringing was far from liberal, so he did his best to give his sister more freedom, yet he is not accustomed to this skinship.

He gripped yours back weakly. Ayato can't stop staring at your determined expression. He gulped. Can you sense it? Are you secretly enjoying this? Do you know what you're doing? 

Can you feel your effect on him?

He's not just drunk. 

He might be hopelessly in love with you.

Ayato grew hotter by the second. His breath was stripping away bit by bit. This epiphany was consuming him. He's been trying to deny it for as long as possible, but how laughable is it to do so when he had often pictured himself in peaceful household situations beside you? Can such desires be kept in the shadows, much like his Shuumatsuban work?

He wants you.

Kamisato Ayato wants you as his sole partner.

Wherever you're taking him, he'll follow you to the end, down to the last seconds of this script.

"THE BRIDE IS ABOUT TO THROW THE BOUQUET!!!"

Many lonely guests packed together like penguins. When the bride spun the bouquet around her palm, their reactions ranged from hopeful and cheerful to downright competitive and miserable. They thought a few flowers would ensure marriage, which is a little absurd, but who are you to spoil their fun? Simply because they obstruct your path does not warrant your discreet resentment—

Ayato stopped, halting you as well in the process.

"Ngh…?!"

You looked back, and such an act almost felt as forbidden as Orpheus' most egregious mistake.

If there was a semblance of variety in those women's faces, they were unified in one fell swoop. Their faces soured when the bouquet was passed down to its next owner. Worse, the flowers sat so beautifully in his arms.

That's right. His.

Those red roses…

"AALLLLRIIIIGHTTT! IT SEEMS MISTER KAMISATO GOT IT!!!" Sparkle cheered on. She had a crooked smile on her face. It didn't ring as malicious; instead, she was conflicted before she donned a playful mask. "And sheesh, while holding (Y/n) 's hand too— CONGRATS TO THE SOON-TO-BE-S!!!"

Ah, damn it. Instead of this, you wish people had applauded when you presented your thesis. No matter how crestfallen some were, they were at least good sports. They clapped and teased; you even spotted Himeko raising you a glass at your shared table, laughing. Beside her, Welt did you the courtesy of reminding you that you're hands were linked together. You gawked, pulling away as though Ayato's hand burned. Immediately, he cleared his throat and looked away. 

To Ayato, this was the only sign he needed.

With enough time and effort, a leafless tree could still be saved, new birds could still migrate, and an abandoned forest could still be restored. Gradually, he was discovering a fresh cause for optimism instead of a substitute for the people he had lost. There he was, Kamisato Ayato, a hidden custodian of Inazuman traditions, with his feet rooted in a foreign land. Though not very stable, his groundwork keeps him on course.

If he could revive the Kamisato Clan on its brink, how can he not do the same for his life? It's just like what his late father said:

Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

As long as a hand still reaches out for him, he'll do anything to grasp it. 

Unfortunately for you, it was yours that held his so tightly.

Hence, whether you like it or not, amidst the guests' congratulatory remarks and the bride's laughs, he had made up his mind.

Ayato will pursue you until you wear the gown of his dreams. 

More people trailed behind Sparkle and the bride as they went down the stage and to Ayato. You made an effort to get in touch with him to return to your starting point. However, it was challenging, given the number of people around. To hear what bashful comments he said was an even taller order.

That was until the bride dragged her new husband towards you.

"Here, dearie, the garter!"

You blinked.

"What?"

"You know the tradition, bouquet, and garter— I know it ain't as exciting as a bouquet, but ya can't be a pair without it." The husband grinned. "C'mon, take it!"

Your eyes widened.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly—"

"Aww, please, do you think we'll get in the way of love when we just got married?" The bride joked. Even though you don't know her well—you just know she's Stelle's friend—you didn't like how this sounded. "C'mon, take it! Don't make poor Mister Kamisato sad."

Did Ayato request this?

You looked back at him. He was smiling at his fellow guests.

He must've made a drunken joke.

"Alright, I'll have it." You'll be a team player, too.

Unbeknownst to you, Ayato's heart was brimming with joy as soon as you accepted it. You twisted the garter around your hand and tied it into a bracelet, and his eyes wrinkled. His face was beaming, and the guests warmly pointed out that it was definitely NOT the drink.

You laughed softly.

Maybe Stelle wouldn't get too angry after she sees these "loots".

Unfortunately, unlike the worlds you once immersed yourself in, your life was not a game. This second try was no exception.

There's a stark difference between the people he loves and himself, Ayato later found. The latter cannot sustain a better life for those he warded, while the former cannot attain the luxury of a peaceful death.

Readers would have gone crazy over how the author mercilessly punished and blamed the main character's dreams if his life had been a work of fiction. If it were genuinely one, he would venture to say that the systematic fate that everyone else was subjected to is the primary criticism.

His mother, his father, his sister, his clan.

And then you?

Ayato had already lost everything twice. 

There's no restraint left for him to hold on to. 

So…

"Mister Kamisato, please hear us out!" March begged, the shrill of her voice becoming hauntingly akin to a dull knife— repeatedly cutting through ears in prolonged agony. 

Ayato scoffed. His blue locks framed his face as he gazed down.

He's heard enough. 

Why shouldn't he challenge his fate?

Why shouldn't he challenge Elio's script?

"Whether I permit you or not, there won't be an intelligent word out of you." 

No other voice came to disparage him. This silence was loud. As if a voice was missing. Ayato looked at the ground.

He had almost forgotten he had used his former "brother" as a sacrifice. Silently, he thanked Dan Heng- or perhaps Dan Feng- for all that he had done for him and his "bride".

This act angered the rest. His temporary family brandished theirs in unison, with Stelle moving to the front. His response greatly saddened March. But Mister Yang? He was frozen. He didn't seem to move an inch. The older man looked deep into his lilac eyes. There must be more he won't let on. 

The past Welt knows is not the past he wants a repeat of.

But unfortunately, history is a vicious cycle— and it repeats itself.

He materialized his haran geppaku futsu, letting Dan Heng's blood drip while its azure glow shine bright. But what shone brighter was the cryogenic "coffin" behind him.

You may have lost your battle with this curse, but you have helped him not lose his. 

You were looking out at a night with a full moon in your last moments. The pitch-black moon seemed to loom life itself. As you strolled alone, every step wet your feet, but there's a persistent sense that you might have been staring at your reflection the entire time despite the void's lack of offerings.

It's always night in Penacony. You have heard that innumerable times. Night never sleeps. The chitchat never stops. The tango doesn't halt. But time stands still for you as the rest of the world rejoices. 

But Penacony was not your resting place. It was the Xianzhou. 

How unfortunate that you forget that in your last moments. Mara has a knack for erasing the memory of its victims. The only solace that your admirer gets is that your previous recollections are of him, of you, and of the bouquet and garter you received. 

At least before you closed your eyes, you thought of him. 

Ayato gazed at your mara-struck face once more.

Beauty is eternal. Despite the chill seeping into your bones, your clothes were nothing short of ethereal. A traditional white wedding dress, floor-length with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt, would've been given more justice if the wearer was not frozen in time. The laces and beadwork detailing were reminiscent of sakura petals, with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves.

You're holding a bouquet of roses mixed with sakura...

Just like you, Kamisato Ayato always had a good eye for aesthetics. 

It's a shame the little life left in his eyes was wilting away.

It's a shame that this wedding never happened.

It's a shame you told him you needed more time to think.

It's a shame you're frozen in time.

However...

As long as a hand still reaches out for him, he'll do anything to grasp it. And Yaoshi has plenty to reach for.

With that, using the blood of the Vidyadhara he had slain, he summoned his new Aeon.

One that he does not particularly believe in. And if he had never placed his blind faith in the Shogun, he doubts he would do the same in Yaoshi.

So, Aeon of Abundance, with the former High Elder's blood on his hands...

Prove him wrong.

"Abundance, heed my pleas,

Repay my anguished cries.

Abundance, stir this bereft peace,

Awaken love from death's disguise."

Bring his soon-to-be Kamisato (Y/n) back to him.

[daydreaming-paradies]

Genshin Men and Their Flower Language(s)

ᡣ𐭩 Summary:Every flower has its own language. What flower language do these genshin men have?

ᡣ𐭩 characters: Xiao(201), Aether(107), Venti(105) and Alhaitham(128)

ᡣ𐭩 Warnings: Fluff(Alhatiham + Aether), Hurt no comfort/angst(Xiao and Venti){Yes I am doing this bc i can :3}, Major character death{reader dies on Xiao and Venti's part} Alcoholism as a coping mechanism on Venti's part, mentions of blood and fighting in Xiao's part

ᡣ𐭩 ~ Want to Continue?~ Part 1

art belongs to @/eriimyon on X/Twitter

Alhaitham

Rosebud- A heart innocent of love

Why is your heart filled with innocent love? That is Alhaitham’s question every single day. Ever since he had met you, you always smile and greet him whenever you two see each other. The thing is..you still did even when you two were dating. Most people describe Alhaitham as a emotionless, blunt and heartless scribe but to you, he is your bookworm and unique lover and you will burn the world for him. Now you have caused him to blush and had to hide his face from others. If he can pick out a flower for you every day, it is rosebud. You are too innocent and lovely for his heart..stop it, you’re figuratively killing him with your love!! He is literally red in the face!!!

Aether

Lily-of-the-valley: You’ve made my life complete

Aether thinks that the archons have blessed him with a cutie pie because he can not fathom how you appeared in his life but what he does know is that he is not letting you go. Searching for his sister is tiring and he often felt lonely but with you, he finally started to see that life has its upsides and downs. Yes you may feel like the world is against you, you felt that you are lonely in this unfamiliar world but..Aether now has you in his arms, just smiling like a goofball. Lily-of-the-valley is Aether’s flower. Why? Well...you have made his life complete.

Venti

Dark Crimson Rose- Mourning

People come and go but for Venti, he did not want you to go. He had to watch your life drained from your eyes. He had to bury you near the tree in Windrise. He uses alcohol to cope with your passing. He was so lost without you..he can’t even live without you but he had too. Everyone who sends their condolences to him but it is not the same. You were haunting his mind as he grew drunk, wallowing in pain. Dark Crimson Rose is perfect for Venti since he will never let go of you. Your memories will always be his songs.

Xiao

Sweetpea- Departure, Goodbye

Where there is life, there is death. Xiao himself has been mortals who live their lives to the fullest to their peaceful demises. Xiao, standing in the Wangshu Inn , staring at the night sky filled with the stars. He thinks back to the memories in his mind. Memories of you and him, your smile, your happiness, how you make his world more lively. He thinks back to how you always give him almond tofu and gifts that remind you of him. Then memories of your death flashes in his mind. The sight of your blood tainted the green grass after a harsh battle. He visits your favorite place in Liyue, with a bouquet of flowers. He looked at the tombstone in front of him and placed the bouquet on the grave. “You are my sun and I am you are my moon. Life may continue forward but..you will never leave me in memories. My heart belongs to you and you alone. Rest in peace my love. May you smile in my presence. I will never forget you. Goodbye..{name}.” Sweetpea is a perfect flower for him. A flower for this moment. A flower to say goodbye to everyone you love.

~Taglist: @husky-studies @purpleqilinwrites @yoghurtsan @ryuryuryuyurboat @windblume-wishes @thestarswhisper @the-guardian-kitsune @sanzach @dailypenpen @asoulsreverie @ainescribe @amxto @kitsuvil @kalims @mccnstruck @rrxaiky / @rx-lounge @dxmoness @areislol

[flowerprose]

N A M E S A K E 🌷💀🏛️

for nanowrimo 2023

with my fourth rewrite officially started, it was time for an updated wip intro! some settings, conflicts, and character arcs have drastically changed, but we're hauling ass to finish this damn thing.

Genre: Myth retelling

Projected word count: 95,000

🏛️ SUMMARY

a hades and persephone myth retelling in which kore, newly dead, is taken to the underworld to rot as mortals do. when hades discovers she is the godly offspring of his older siblings, he tricks her into eating pomegranate seeds and siphons her abilities into his own domain, unleashing a curse that ultimately causes him to start to decay.

NAMESAKE explores stolen girlhood, death and rebirth, patriarchal structures, grief and atonement, and redeemed villains through lyrical, flowery prose. this novel is ideal for devourers of anne carson's translations, circe by madeline miller, and ardent readers of louise glück.

follow along as demeter receives her deserved redemption arc as her harrowing grief threatens the balance of life and death; kore blooms into persephone, queen of the underworld and polluter of the gaian realm with festering necromancy; and hades uncovers a love for humanity and what it means to have agency in a body robbed of it.

🌷 KORE / PERSEPHONE

flower maiden and queen of the underworld

a deathbound flower maiden lured into the underworld, where the rotten and fiendish welcome her home. as her flower-weaving evolves into necromancy and the routes to gaia emerge for the dead, she soon becomes lost in a world of carnivorous, wrathful summer, harnessed by her mother’s despair that has buried the realm in everlasting mourning.

💀 HADES

receiver of the dead and king of the underworld

a king-deity who's tired of the shadows and seeks to be the nightmare mortals dare not utter. but after succumbing to a vengeful curse that begins his undoing, hades loses his agency and godhood, and learns to survive without all the power and might his birthright afforded him. misanthropic goth king forfeits the body to bed a wife but finds the heart to love one.

🌾 DEMETER

mother earth and goddess of harvest & earth fertility

a mother who grieves a world without her beloved daughter. her disappearance creates a chain of events in which the dead spill into the land of the living while an unrelenting garden sweeps over the mortal plain and threatens to end all life.

nanowrimo ✨ official artwork ✨ writing tag

tag list: @mr-writes, @afoolandathief, @sapphic-story, @megarywrites, @blushroomx, @ozzie-scribe, @theskeletonprior, @muddshadow, @thepixiediaries, @nikkywrites, @bebewrites, @jhellfiregirls, @pinespittinink, @pink-prose-n-wiriters-woe, @phantomnations, @queenslayerbee, @antihell, @monstrousfreedom, @perasperaadastrawriting, @andromedaexists, @thebluesthourcommunity, @fearofahumanplanet, @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @stephwriteswords, @cljordan-imperium, @carminasolis, @kaatiba, @moondust-bard.

[thefirstknife]

We're told that at the beginning of the Golden Age "human lifespans tripled" - my impression is that this continues to be a case and that the humans we know are often well over 100 years old. In my head at least, Eva is in her mid 200s. Am I wrong, or is this supported by canon?

I believe it is still the case, though finding evidence is really difficult, mostly because we simply don't have a timeline. I think it would make sense for this to still be in effect because nothing else from the Traveler's terraforming and gifts was removed post-Collapse.

However, the question is also how much of the extended lifespan was due to the paracausality of the Traveler and its gifts and how much was just advancement in technology. Or a combination of both? If the majority of the lifespan extension was just due to technology, then this would've been lost post-Collapse. But possibly some of it could have been regained in the recent years, affecting the lifespans again.

One of the most obvious questions is Eris and the status of Lightless Guardians and aging. She lost her Light in the Great Disaster which was quite a while ago, but how long ago exactly? Long enough for this to affect her? Long enough to be noticeable or not? It doesn't seem to be very noticeable, so either it wasn't too long ago, or Guardians don't age even after losing their Light, or the lifespan is still extended so Eris is just old and it's not a big deal.

Eva is also a curious case, as we know very little about her life. She's very clearly an older woman, but we have no idea about when she was born. There's not a single mention of anything from her youth that would help us place it somewhere in the timeline. Has she been around for a normal amount of time or extended? She made one comment to Osiris (at the time Savathun, but Eva didn't know that):

"Eva. It's been too long. You look as bright as ever." Osiris melted out of the shadows near her doorway. The ex-outfitter snorted. "That's faint praise coming from someone who's been fifty for several centuries."

More under:

This can be read in several ways. it might just be a phrase because Guardians are known to not age. She knows Osiris must be the same as he was when he was rezed and she knows that he's been around for a while, given that he's a well-known Guardian. Or maybe she's also been around for a while and has seen him before; while she aged normally over the centuries, he didn't.

But that also becomes a problem with his exile because that would mean she would have to have seen him for a while before his exile and then years would've passed during the exile and she's still around now, which would make her quite significantly old (and would also prove extended lifespans). But we have no real proof of this.

Speaking of Osiris and his exile, there is one other specific piece of evidence, but it also depends A LOT on how well we can estimate when certain events happened.

Sister Faora! She led the Cult of Osiris at the time of Osiris' exile (and for ?? years after). We know this because she got to meet Osiris merely weeks after his exile:

The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him.

The last time she appeared in the setting (in-game wise) was around House of Wolves; after that, she was no longer mentioned. I honestly thought she died of old age and that this wasn't important enough to mention because she's a fairly niche character.

But she didn't die. She appeared in the City during Season of the Deep. And it's not a story of something from the past, it's her being in the City in the present time because she meets with Shayura who is mourning Reed-7's death (which occured at the start of Lightfall). This now gives us a unique insight because she's a normal Lightless human, and we have two specific points of reference: Osiris' exile and the Witness' attack on Earth in Lightfall. We would just have to figure out how long it's been between these two events, which is where the problems start and assumptions must be made.

My first assumption is that Faora must've already been old-ish when she was the leader of the Cult back during Osiris' exile. I think it's reasonable to assume this, given her position as a leader. I always thought she would've been at least 40 or older at the time of speaking to Osiris after his exile.

The first problem is the timeline of Osiris' exile. We know he was exiled around Twilight Gap which brings us to problem 2: when was that? This leads to assumption 2: Twilight Gap happened at least a century ago. There's some evidence to this, namely Osiris saying the following:

They were young, and nearly a century of navigation through the Infinite Forest had honed Osiris's ability to remain unseen.

But does this refer to the time passing in general or the time dilation in the Forest? So the problems continue. It's basically impossible to tell what's the time span between these events; both the Great Disaster (for the question of Eris' age) and Twilight Gap are notoriously hard to place, even in relation to each other. This has been an ongoing debate for years.

If Twilight Gap is not that long ago - maybe a few decades - then Faora's age could probably be within normal limits, though depending on her age at the time of Osiris' exile, she could be pushing 100 or more. So even if Twilight Gap was less than 50 years ago, Faora could still be too old for non-extended lifespans.

She would have to have been in her 20s and Twilight Gap would have to be at max 50 years ago for her to be within a reasonable current age if the lifespan is not extended. Both of these estimates feel too low to me, especially Faora's age as an established leader of the Cult with a lot of authority. As I said, I imagined her being at least 40-50 at the time of speaking to Osiris.

And Twilight Gap has to be at least several decades away. I find it hard to believe that the Gap happened like 20 years ago; it's always talked about like Guardian history and its relation to Osiris' exile is fairly significant as well, so I'd give it at least a century, which also matches with Osiris' statement. If Twilight Gap happened at least a century ago and Faora was at least 40 at that time, she would have to be 140 right now which I think would suggest extended lifespan. However, depending on how we do the estimates, she could easily also be around 60-70.

But the truth is, we don't know. Much like the timeline, I think this is also very deliberately vague. I think it's very possible that the lifespans are still extended, or perhaps that there is some middle ground. The original Golden Age lifespans are still out of reach but the technological advancements in the current age combined with everything the Traveler has done to the system in the Golden Age allow for humans to push past what we have today. So maybe they can't get to the projected Golden Age 300 years, but possibly being 150 or 200 isn't out of reach.

Unfortunately, we don't really know for sure. We could probably go into analysis of every normal mortal human character mentioned and try to figure things out, but there will be confusing and contradicting evidence all over the place, keeping this fairly vague. And there would also be the issue of individual outliers; either those that live longer or die younger for reasons unrelated to aging.

Personally, I think lifespans are at the very least at least somewhat extended.

[hoshinoyozora]

Poor, Unfortunate Soul(s)

🖤 Pairing: Yandere! Self-aware! Twisted Wonderland x Female! Reader

💛 Word Count: 1,3k+

❤ Warnings: -

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission. Also, don’t ask for a sequel unless I like the story enough to write one. Please reblog so other people can see my stories!

***

Just a lil scenario about MC who ‘dismisses’ their existences aka me lmao.

“They’re just a bunch of game characters, anyway. Why should I care so much about them?”

You laughed, unaware of the hearts that you broke within the screen. The thin yet sturdy piece of glass that separated you from the people who thought of you as their world. Their everything. Your friend chuckled, adding salt to the injury. Had she didn’t ask you why you hadn’t logged into the game for days, weeks even, maybe they wouldn’t be so humiliated and disappointed.

But did that mean they wouldn’t know your true opinion on them otherwise?

Maybe ignorance was bliss, because, then, they would’ve kept holding onto the hope for you to come back. To still want them the same way they wanted you. In this world of codes and numbers, you were the one real thing in their lives. You were human. Warm, fleshy, and expressive. And yet, you dismissed their existences so easily just because you both lived in two different worlds.

Did they really mean nothing for you? Were all of your reactions towards them merely a façade? Or a memory so insignificant you forgot about it in the next day?

“Maybe I should just delete the app. It feels like a chore to open it nowadays.”

The sky darkened, the ground trembled, and the thunder rumbled as the result of a certain dragon fae. Was this your true self? Then again, NRC was a school of villains. They shouldn’t be surprised if you, the Player, turned out to be the biggest villain of all. Not even Malleus Draconia could hold a candle to you. Your words alone had the ability to mold and break their spirits. Your touch alone could move them somewhere else and show them how beautiful Twisted Wonderland was with you by their side. And your presence alone gave them a reason to live.

If you were to disappear, wouldn’t that be comparable to death? A slow, painful death where everyone lost themselves in depression and rage, and ultimately, destroyed themselves. In a moment of morbid curiosity, they wondered if that was what you wanted all along. You toyed with their hearts, and when you got bored, you moved onto their lives.

“We… we can’t just let her leave!” A boyish voice, thick with desperation and an even desperate attempt to recompose, shattered the mournful silence. Everyone recognized him as Ace Trappola, one of Yuu’s enviable first friends and troublemakers from Heartslabyul. “We need to stop her! Come on, guys. Are we really going to stop now, after everything we’ve done to reach her?”

“But how?” Leona asked, sounding even more listless somehow. Despite his pride and consent, you’d taken a peek into his past and remained amicable with him. It didn’t matter that it was for the sake of the plot, your vessel, Yuu, still approached him and asked for his help during Octavinelle’s story. Didn’t that mean something for you? For him? “Just because we’ve managed to hack into her phone doesn’t mean we can drag her here. There’s only so much we can do to make her stay.”

Ace flinched, unprepared for the reality to slap him twice.

“I-I don’t know.” He turned to face the Diasomnia gang who, with the exception of the sniffling Sebek, looked as somber as a funeral guest. “Malleus-senpai, Lilia-senpai, you guys gotta know something about bringing someone from another world, right? You guys are the strongest of the strongest. I don’t care if it’s forbidden. There… there has to be a way!”

For a moment, they were silent as though reluctant to admit their lack of knowledge. Ace wilted, his buckling knees threatening to collapse once the severity of the situation settled in.

That is, until Lilia opened his mouth.

“… There is, actually.” he murmured. “But for every soul that moves here, another has to replace them.”

Some of the characters lit up, but the others remained skeptical.

“And I assume it’s for the sake of balance?” Vil mused, crossing his arms.

Lilia’s glance confirmed his suspicion.

“T-then, what are we waiting for?” In a burst of hope, Azul momentarily stopped sobbing. “Let’s sacrifice that person.”

“But who’s gonna be that person?” Jamil retorted.

Everyone fell quiet again, unwilling to be the lamb in the altar of your capricious existence.

“The NPCs ‘live’ when the story is moving.” Idia mumbled through the floating device. His shyness and reluctance for a face-to-face interaction was customary, but nobody could truly see the underworld his sanity was falling at a rapid pace. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to see you living among them. Literally. “That means she has to play again if we want to sacrifice one of them.”

“I, for one, would be more than willing to help ‘convincing’ her, if that’s what it takes.” Jade simpered with his eyes closed and a hand over his chest.

“Oui! It’d be a splendid day to see her sublime face gracing us again. The sun would shine warmly, the flowers would grow tastefully, and the birds would chirp merrily!” Rook enthused, jabbing at Malleus’s inadvertent use of magic.

Riddle wiped his teary eyes with the sleeve of his uniform and straightened up.

“Seeing that our Player has slackened in her responsibility to watch over us, it is our duty to set her right.” he declared. “Heartslabyul students, I order you to find this person and bring him here!”

“I-I agree…!” Sebek piped up, still loud as always despite his trembling voice and runny nose. “I shall seize him and send him to that world at once!”

Ever the dutiful one, Silver gripped his baton and nodded. As long as it wasn’t murder without a cause, he’d gladly perform any task like a true knight would.

“Well, if Riddle ordered us like this, who are we to disobey him?” Cater laughed, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.

Trey pushed his glasses, foggy from the upcoming tears.

“Indeed. But I won’t lie, this is something that I’m looking forward to carry out.”

“For once, you did something right, Ace!” Deuce beamed proudly.

“Oi!”

Jamil glanced at Kalim, who reluctantly nodded. He hated to see people throwing away their lives carelessly, after all the assassination attempts that he suffered through the story. But if it was for the sake of seeing you with them, who was he to stop them?

Floyd grinned happily, but the anger of being abandoned by you darkened his eyes.

“Once she gets here, I’ll be sure to give her a nice, long squeeze as a welcome~”

“Well, Leona-san?” Ruggie asked, crossing his hands behind his head. “Are we gonna boost their morale or something?”

Leona sighed, lacking the irritated exhaustion he usually had. Even he wasn’t immune to the hope that Lilia brought to them, no matter how annoying it was to trust him.

“You better not be disappointing us, Lilia.” he growled. “And you, too, Radish Sprout.”

“I don’t like this.” Jack murmured. “But if this is what it takes to make the Player fulfill her role again, then I’ll do my best to live up to the expectations!”

“I… I will join as well!” Epel stated, clenching his fists resolutely.

“Look, Brother!” Ortho chirped. “You managed to bring them all together. That’s so cool!”

Idia muttered something, but the younger boy was too engrossed in their touching cooperation to notice.

Sunlight finally dispersed the dark clouds, mirroring their spirit. Malleus took a step forward with his chin raised in determination.

“Then, I shall assist Lilia with the magic.”

You said you didn’t care about them?

Well, they would make you care.

[sporeblossom]

logging back onto this website to say that while i dont think (???) it was intentionally done, the scene before their "last day" where frank is working on a portrait of bill, reminded me of keith haring's "unfinished painting"

comparison here before i explain:

keith haring's painting was purposely made to look incomplete. haring was diagnosed with HIV in late 1988, and died in early 1990, at the age of 31. the painting is a self portrait, hitting us with the gut-punch reality of how the aids-epidemic robbed haring of the right to finish his own story. the overwhelming amount of empty space is a glaring reminder that haring didn't just have a short life, he had an incomplete one. the piece points to all that empty space and says: this should have been filled out. this should all have been my art, my story, and my space. by claiming this empty space, haring claimed the empty space of his unlived life, that was taken from him and so many other people, by a negligent and homophobic society that refused to care about the pandemic ravaging an entire community worldwide.

now back to my original point: like i said, im really not sure if this was intentionally done by the show. but when i was watching this episode and i saw this scene, i immediately thought of this painting. the blue color of the eye trailing off onto the blank part of the canvas is, at least to me, a strong visual parallel.

and i feel like this visual parallel highlights some very important thematic parallels as well, which deserve to be talked about. in the show, the outbreak starts in 2003 which means that bill and frank have both lived through the aids-epidemic. they have seen people like them die. they have experienced the hatred and isolation that came with it. you could speculate and read into things ad nauseaum, but i thinks it's safe to say that in this place and time, this also plays into how careful and hesitant they are, when they first start to show intimacy with each other. in their world, they didn't even get to experience the legalization of gay marriage.

seeing as this show takes place during another, fictional, pandemic, airing at a time where the real world has just faced another actual pandemic, it is impossible to ignore this aspect of their story.

these two characters however, are not destroyed by the outbreak in the show. they find each other, they experience freedom, love, and a full life together. their life is not cut short.

in an absurd twist of fate, when the rest of the world is finally forced to experience what it's like to be abandoned by your government during a devastating epidemic, this is when these two people find happiness. they get to go running, and have fights, and grow strawberries, and have friends over for dinner.

and after spending nearly twenty years together, frank spends his last time working not on a self portrait, but on a portrait of bill, the love of his life. this is the sort of thing that rightfully should have filled the empty space of haring's work. finding love(s) spending your time together, that is a life lived.

and yet frank's painting is unfinished, because of course we are never truly done living. we are never truly done loving. but he got so much more time, so much more story, than the people we lost to the aids epidemic, which the trailing off blue paint reminds us of.

at the same time their house is absolute filled with all the paintings that frank did finish, showing us all the good days he got with bill. and in a way, i feel like that is the show being very aware of what it is: a complete, beautiful story about two men loving each other, in a world that sorely lacks these stories. a world where we had so many unfinished, incomplete lives, that we lack an entire generation of older gay men.

and even though i was completely reduced to tears by the end of this episode, the ending still filled me with some sort of mournful joy. because yes, even though it was incredibly sad to see their last day, these two men got to fill so much of their empty space. they got to experience love, and they got to live their life. like bill says: "im old. im satisfied. and you were purpose."

so many people didn't get that. keith haring didn't get that. a whole generation of queer people didn't get that. that makes this episode so much more moving for me, because it is not just an incredibly beautiful love story, but it is an incredibly beautiful love story that the world should rightfully have seen millions more of. but all those lives were incomplete.

so with the undeniable, but unspoken, presence of the aids epidemic in the narrative of these characters, this visual reference to keith haring and aids, purposeful or not, is incredibly meaningful.

[mononijikayu]

already gone – gojo satoru.

(manga spoilers for chapter 261)

His eyes flicked to yours, a flicker of pain and understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that there would be no going back to the way things were. The choices made here would haunt you, but you also knew that you would face the future together, bound by the shared weight of your decisions and the unspoken promise of support.

GENRE: shinjiku showdown arc (spoilers for chapter 261)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: already gone by sleeping at last

NOTE: im mourning so hard, i haven't stopped crying. but i cried more because i can't imagine how my oc would feel considering genmei views satoru as her lifeline. im not even at that part of the story writing, but genmei would be hit hard. she wouldnt be able to move on. she wouldn't be able to stop crying either. but i needed to write this, to get the emotional brunt off my chest. i hope that this comforts you a little as it did with me. i love you all. hugs for everyone.

masterlist

u s and t h e m

THERE REALLY WAS NO GOING BACK FROM THIS. You and Satoru sat alone amidst the aftermath, the bodies of the higher-ups lying around you, a grim testament to the brutal reality you both faced. 

The silence was heavy, a suffocating weight that pressed down on your chest as you stared at the carnage. The acrid scent of blood and death hung in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang that coated your tongue. Each breath felt like an effort, the gravity of what had transpired settling over you like a dark cloud.

Satoru, usually so carefree and unbothered, looked uncharacteristically solemn. His usually bright, mischievous eyes were shadowed with emotions embroiling into a chaotic harmony. 

He sat close to you, his hand resting on the ground beside yours, fingers almost brushing but not quite. The unspoken connection between you had always been palpable. Even when both of you were a bit younger. It was if anything, even when you both lost Suguru, a thin thread of solace in the midst of the horror.

You glanced at Satoru, seeking some form of reassurance, but his gaze was fixed on the bodies, his jaw clenched tight. The weight of the recent events bore down on you both, the decisions made, the lives taken, all swirling in a chaotic maelstrom of regret and necessity. 

There was no other choice. Not when there was such little time, when there was no way you would leave this for the kids to wrap up. It was a moment where the true cost of your responsibilities became painfully clear, the price paid in blood and sacrifice. This is all that will secure the future.

Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice low and rough. "We did what we had to." he said, more to himself than to you, as if trying to convince himself of the necessity of their actions. “Don’t think too much.”

You nodded, though your heart ached with the truth of his words. "I know." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But after all this time, I thought it would be easier.”

You did think it was easier. You knew what it was like to kill human beings. The act of taking a life was not foreign to you; it had been part of your existence as a jujutsu sorcerer for as long as you could remember. The initial shock and horror of it had dulled over time, replaced by a grim acceptance of necessity. Each death was a means to an end, a way to protect the innocent, to rid the world of curses, to maintain balance. Yet, today felt different.

The bodies of the higher-ups lay sprawled around you, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. These were not faceless enemies or malevolent curses; these were people you had known, some for years. Their ambitions, their fears, their humanity—it all lay exposed in the finality of their deaths. You and Satoru had made a choice, one born out of desperation and the need for a new order, but the cost of that choice now weighed heavily on your soul.

You have always been able to justify your actions in the past. Each kill had been a step toward a greater good, a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things. But this? This felt like a betrayal of the very essence of what you stood for. These were your peers, your allies, albeit flawed and corrupt. The distinction between right and wrong blurred, leaving you adrift in a sea of moral ambiguity.

Satoru's hand tightened around yours, a silent anchor in the storm of your thoughts. His presence was a reminder that you were not alone in this, that he too bore the weight of what you had done. You glanced at him, searching for some semblance of solace in his expression. His face was a mask of determination, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—betrayed a depth of sorrow that mirrored your own.

His eyes flicked to yours, a flicker of pain and understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that there would be no going back to the way things were. The choices made here would haunt you, but you also knew that you would face the future together, bound by the shared weight of your decisions and the unspoken promise of support.

“Hm, it doesn’t.”

Silence engulfs you both.

Your eyes flared downward.

A sigh passes through your lips.

"It's not in you to have liked to do this." you finally said, breaking the silence. Your voice trembled with the weight of unspoken emotions, the sorrow churning in layers unknown. “To decide the upper floors had to go.”

Satoru sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon, a faraway look in his eyes. "We had no choice," he replied, his voice devoid of its usual lightheartedness. "We have no more time to indulge in the future."

There was so much you wanted to say, so many arguments and pleas that burned on the tip of your tongue. But the words refused to come, trapped in the maelstrom of your conflicted heart. Satoru seemed to sense your turmoil, turning to face you, his piercing blue eyes searching yours.

"Just say it," he urged gently. "Tell me how you hate me for what Yuuta and I agreed to do, should I lose to Sukuna."

You met his gaze, the pain and love in your eyes reflected in his own. "I do hate you," you whispered, the confession tearing at your soul. "Because I love you too much."

Satoru's expression softened, and he stood, walking over to you. He pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. "The loss of me will pass," he murmured against your hair, his breath warm on your skin. “Hm? You will always move forward. You have to.”

You clung to him, the thought of losing him more than you could bear. "You say it as it is. I had to. Not because I wanted to.”

He laughs a little, echoes of guilt layered among it.. “But you will this time too.”

This is what you think you hated the most about Satoru. How settled he was in his ways, how stubborn he was with his plan. It was a means to an end. As long as it brought down the system, he didn’t care about what happened. As long as his students lived, he didn’t care. And yet you wondered, what he would leave you with. 

How much emptiness, how much grief he would let you settle for years and years — because he cared more about the world he wanted to build. In a way, you loved Satoru too much. You loved him so much you went against the world you had always known.

You had a dream of a normal life. Once when Kaiko and Namie were alive. Once with Shoko, Suguru and Satoru. When all you had left was Satoru, you were determined to live for him. 

But you never gave up on that dream That you would have that white picket fence life. That you would raise a family. That you would grow old with him. But you should have known. You should have known that he was too far gone for you to reach. 

Even with all the love that was between you, you should have known that love would not be enough to bring him back to life. Gojo Satoru had decided that love was a curse. And he lived by it. Geto Suguru had given it to him. 

And he had accepted it. And since that day, you knew that he would have never let it go. Yet, what right do you have to judge him for it? You felt the same, when Kaiko died. And you never looked back. 

“I loved you too much to let you just be a passerby in my life," you finally  said, your voice breaking. "I've lost too much already, Satoru. But…. but to lose you would break me."

He held you tighter, his voice steady and resolute. "You have to be strong, for me and for everyone, y’know that." he said. "They'll need you when I'm gone."

His words cut deep, but you knew he was right. The world would keep turning. The sun would keep moving forward. The march of time, the echo of life would not change. It will go on and on. Even without him. People would need you to be there, to fight for them, to protect them. But the thought of a world without him was a dark, hollow void in your life, in your heart. In your soul. More tears flowed in your eyes. 

Memories echoed in your head, as though they were just reels of your life in a picture show. You knew he could see it too, as though his six-eyes could see it as painfully as you could. As clearly as possible. Eleven years of life, motioned into small moments. Small  moments that encompassed your whole world. Because he was your world. He was your whole world. 

2011

You and Satoru spent a day at the beach, the sun high in the sky and the ocean waves crashing gently against the shore. He chased you along the sand, laughter bubbling up as you tried to escape his playful grasp. When he finally caught you, he lifted you up and spun you around, both of you dizzy with happiness.

You collapsed onto the sand together, breathless and smiling. "I wish we could stay here forever," you said, looking out at the endless horizon.

He squeezed your hand, his voice soft and sincere. "We can always come back. This place will always be here for us. We’ll bring Megumi and Tsumiki with us next time too.”

You smile back at him. “I’d like that, Satoru. More than you know.”

2013

One quiet night, you both lay on a blanket under a canopy of stars, the world around you silent and still. Satoru pointed out constellations, his voice a soothing murmur in the darkness.

"There's Orion," he said, tracing the outline with his finger. "And over there is Cassiopeia."

You nestled closer to him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Do you think we'll always have moments like this?" you asked softly.

He wrapped an arm around you, his voice filled with certainty. "Always. No matter what happens, we'll always find our way back to each other."

2014

Your New Year's together that year was magical. You stood on a rooftop, watching fireworks light up the night sky. The colors exploded in brilliant patterns, reflecting in Satoru's eyes as he pulled you close.

"Happy New Year," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

"Happy New Year," you replied, feeling a sense of hope and excitement for the future. "Let's make this year unforgettable."

He smiled, his arms wrapped securely around you. "Every year with you will be unforgettable."

“You guys make me sick.” Megumi whispered under his breath, taking a bite out of his cake. 

“Megumi, don’t say that! They’re in love.” Tsumiki says, smiling at the sight of you and Satoru.

You both could only laugh.

2017

In the quiet of the night, you and Satoru sat together, your hearts heavy with grief for the loss of Suguru. The weight of his absence hung in the air like a tangible presence, a reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of duty and honor.

Satoru's normally bright eyes were dimmed with sorrow, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the burden he carried. You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering what little comfort you could in the face of such profound loss.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I had to do it. I had no choice."

You squeezed his hand, offering silent understanding and support. "I know," you replied softly. "It wasn't easy, but you did what had to be done. Suguru understood that."

Tears welled in Satoru's eyes as he leaned into your embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of your presence. In that moment of shared sorrow, you held each other close, finding strength in your love and the knowledge that you would always be there for one another, no matter what trials lay ahead.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a sorrowful intensity. "Remember all the things we wanted?" he began softly. "Now all our memories, they're haunted."

Tears welled in your eyes as his words resonate deeply within you. "We were always meant to say goodbye." you whispered, your voice trembling. 

"Even with our fists held high, it never would have worked out right," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were never meant for do or die, darling."

A sob escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "I didn't want us to burn out, Satoru" you said, your voice breaking. "I didn't come here to hurt you now. I don't want to hurt you. But now I.... I can't stop."

Satoru gently cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. "I want you to know that it doesn't matter where we take this road. Someone's gotta go."

His words cut through you like a knife, the finality of it all hitting you hard. "It doesn't have to be you."

He smiles shaking his head.

"And I want you to know you couldn't have loved me better," he said, his voice full of love and regret. "But I want you to move on, so I'm already gone."

“How do I do it?” You sobbed to him. “Without you?”

“You can.” He presses a kiss against your nose. “And you will.”

“You were meant to grow old with me.” You croaked to him.

"But now you’ll do it for me. For the both of us, hm? Live a long life." Satoru shakes his head, his voice gentle but firm. "Keep Gakuganji in check. You know that old geezer can’t be trusted to keep the straight line.”

“Satoru….”

“Keep the jujutsu world at peace on my behalf.”

You shake your head against his chest.

You hit your arms against his figure.

Infinity was always down when it was you.

“Live long so that you have stories to tell me."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "I hate you!" you repeated, the words laced with anguish. “I really really hate you.”

He laughed sadly, a bittersweet sound that echoed in the empty space around you. "I know, darling." he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I know."

In that moment, you both understood the depth of your bond, the unspoken promises and the inevitable heartache that lay ahead. But for now, you held onto each other, finding solace in the shared pain and the love that had brought you together.

When you let him go that day, you knew.

You would have to wait until you were gray.

You looked at Shoko and you shook your head.

Your eyes were too red to even look one last time..

As far as you were concerned, he was already gone.