#the rocks were cheap comparatively

[cerbreus]

don’t ask me how much this all cost

[midnightbluebells03]

Request: The reader and ellie are friends, but the reader doesn't know if she likes girls or not, so ellie offers to let her experiment on her. Friends to lovers and mutual pining. 💓 a happy ending, preferably. Up to you whether or not to include smut!

FALLING INTO ME

CW - hair pulling, mentions of past experiences with men, oral (R receiving), thigh grinding

WC - about 2k - no outbreak AU

Leave me Ellie or Abby requests x

This was wrong right? Infront of you your childhood best friend Ellie sits crossed legged on her bed. The faded plaid sheets that have replaced dinosaurs from her youth clutched in your unforgiving grasp.

"We don't have to do anything" she says barely above a whisper. Like she's afraid to even suggest it. The air is tight, hot, like someone lit a fire and let the smoke invade the room. But there's Ellie. Her hand sitting on your thigh as her thumb swipes across bare skin, the floral sleep shorts you had opteded for letting her trace over it with no barrier. Her back pressed to the headboard like it's the only thing keeping her sitting upright. "I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry". Her hand retreats with a slight tremble.

Just ten minutes ago you were sharing a bottle of some cheap wine Ellie had got from the corner store. Giggling and reminiscing on your intertwined lives, awkward teen phases that melted into adulthood when you let it slip.

You think you might like girls.

Of course you weren't sure, you'd never done anything with a girl, but all your experiences with boys just felt empty. Felt like a chore more than fun. And who better to tell than Ellie? She had been out for years, having had her fair share of girlfriends despite her slightly awkward attitude at times. When the word 'experiment' left your lips you saw a glint in her eyes.

It made her pause, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and place the bottle onto the nightstand. Making space for it amongst the clutter. The way she looked at you made you tilt your head in confusion, until she opened her mouth.

"You could experiment with me"

"Ellie" you finally speak up, grasping her wrist gently to halt her movement. Fingers grazing over her tattoo and making her gaze snap from the floor to your eyes. God she did really have the prettiest eyes. You'd always thought so, oftentimes comparing the hues to the fresh grass during summer or the moss growing deep in your parents garden. "I want to"

"Yeah?" She looks like she doesn't believe you, eyebrows slightly knitted together. You swallow hard before nodding, Ellie beckons you over with her hand. "Cm'here" when you inch closer you can't help but watch how Ellie flicks her tounge over her slightly chapped lips. Feeling her slowly move to hold onto your waist as you start to straddle her lap while your hands rest on her shoulders. "If you want to stop just tell me okay?"

"Promise" you feel your heart speed up as Ellie leans in. Far enough where you could kiss her but she let's you make the choice. So you do. Pressing your lips to hers and letting your eyes flutter shut.

And it makes it feel like a firework has went off in your chest.

The two of you mesh together like puzzle pieces, soft and slow while your mind races with a million thoughts. You can feel how Ellie is holding back, her hands not moving from their position on your waist. But after a few minutes when you rock your hips forward slightly you could almost swear she groans into your mouth. So you do it again, making her pull back from the kiss.

"Can I touch you?" She was always like this, always asking a million question. Things like if you wanted the last slice of pizza or what movie to put on. She always let you take the lead, like she was afraid of making the wrong choice. You nod but she just chuckles softly. "Words darling" it makes you want to clentch your thighs together, the way her her accent slips into that semi texan drawl that she picked up from Joel.

Your hands come over the top of hers, guding her up and under your tank top "Please Els"

Her fingers are calloused from the years of guitar, running up your skin slowly. Too slowly. But you don't want to complain, not with the way she's looking at you. Eyes following her hands as she pushes the fabric further up your body. You decide to speed it up a little. Taking the fabric in your own hands and pulling it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room.

Normally this is when you'd start to feel weird. Your body would almost stiffen and your brain would be flooded with thoughts of leaving. A deep guilt or twisted knot in your throat.

But not now.

Not with Ellie.

Instead your stomach tightens at how her eyes take you in. Slowly scanning over you like you're the most breath taking thing she's even seen. Her hands pause just before reaching your breasts, her pupils so blown her green eyes as almost black as she looks up at you.

"Take it off?" She whispers. Her finger coming up to ghost over the band of your bra. You nod, reaching around with shaky hands to undo the clasp. Letting the bra fall onto Ellie's lap in the sliver of space between you two. She picks it up and moves it to the side, carefully. Like it was priceless even though it was the cheapest one you owned. Some target bralette that was on sale. It was nothing like how your previous partners treated your belongings. With them it was always thrown across the room like trash, nothing more than an obstacle to their pleasure. "You're so- you're just so- fuck" Ellie mumbles before chewing on her bottom lip. Her cheeks flushed the sweetest shade of pink as her hands slowly creep up your sides, inching towards your breasts.

"Ellie" you whine softly, the ache between your legs become worse with every passing second. Like you were dying for her to just touch you. It makes her lock eyes with you, as her thumb runs over your nipple. Making them stiffen and forcing a soft gasp from your lips.

"Just tell me what you want baby" her lips trail down your neck slowly as she mumbles into your skin. "I'll give you everything just tell me"

Your voice cracks slightly as you finally manage to say "Touch me"

You can feel as a slight smirk creeps onto her lips. Her fingers continuing to toy with your nipples. Just enough to make you needy but not enough to scratch the itch in your core. "I am". The faux innocence in her voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Ellie" you huff, feeling your face heat up at what you're about to say. "Fuck me please? Wanna know what it's like" with that Ellie leans into your neck fully while her hands keep on your chest, starting to place kisses down your skin as your head tips back. You can feel her smile as she moves further down, nipping slightly at your pulse point. Your hand moves to her hair, gripping softly while your hips uncontrollably start to rock against her. Desperate for any friction. Ellie pulls back but before you can complain she taps your hip.

"Straddle my thigh" you tilt you head confused but she gives you a smile before brushing a lose strand of hair out your face. "Trust me". So you do what she's asks, shifting until your legs are either side of her thigh. Ellie brings her hands to your hips, starting to steadily rock you against her. You gasp then moan softly. Almost teary eyed at finally getting some real touch from her. Even if it's clad by several layers of fabric. "See? How's that feel?"

"Good" you say with a shaky voice as Ellie sets your pace. Guiding you with a tight grip. "Feels good Ellie fuck"

"Mm" she coos softly, kissing over your collarbones before nipping at the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. "Just gotta get you ready yeah? Get you all wet for when I fuck you so good you'll forget about all the guys that couldn't make you cum". Her lips move down to your hardened nipples, wrapping around one of them as you throw you head back in pleasure.

Now this Ellie?

This was a whole new person. Like her awkward shell broke away and left someone who you were going to be thinking about forever. Suddenly all the girls she managed to get with make sense, because she's hardly touched you and you're soaking through your panties.

"Fuck" your hands tighten on her shoulders as her tounge rolls over your nipple. You still your hips, almost afraid that she'll make you cum just from this and that makes her pause. Detaching from you with a confused look.

Her eyebrows knit together and her hand comes up to cup your hot cheek. "You okay?"

Maybe it's the wine, maybe it's the years of subtle crushing. Or maybe it's the way your almost certain there's a wet patch on Ellie's pyjama bottoms but you can't help stumbling out. "Fuck me Ellie"

Her hand snakes back down to your hip and she flips you over, making you squeal as your back hits the sheets. A slight giggle leaving your lips before Ellie crashes hers with yours. Her hand moving down your stomach to the band of your shorts. She pulls back but you don't give her a a chance to ask, already pulling off your shorts and panties. Kicking them onto the floor as Ellie moves down to between your legs.

"What you doing?" You ask with a slight tilt to your head, propping yourself onto your elbows to look down at her.

"What's it looks like?" She asks with a slight chuckle, starting to pepper kisses up your inner thighs but pausing before reaching your dripping pussy. "What? No one eat you out before?". Her smile fades when you shake your head, eyes darting between you and the sight before her. "That's just criminal dude"

Before you can comment on the fact she's just called you dude her tounge licks a fat strip through your folds. Making you gasp and grip the sheets. Skilled tounge circling your clit while her eyes stay focused on you. With a certain flick your hand flies to grab onto her auburn locks, tugging from the root as Ellie moans into you.eyes fluttering shut as your hips start to rutt against her face, changing a high you've never even come close to with others.

"Ellie" you whine as your back arches, soft pants filling the room as her hands creep up your hips and pull you closer. Making you moan so loudly you're almost certain anyone walking by outside would've heard. "Fuck, fuck, Els- gonna-!". Ellie doesn't falter, doesn't give you a second to breath as your orgasm rushes through you. Hips desperately trying to escape Ellie's grasp as she works you through it, no sign of caring about the way your thighs clamp around her head unforgivingly.

By the time she pulls away to lick your slick from her lips your brain is fuzzy. Staring up at the same ceiling you helped pull glow in the dark stickers off as Ellie taps your shin.

"You...you okay?" Her voice sounds so small. You finally manage to hold yourself up to look at her. Lips swollen from your teeth sinking into them and face hot to the touch.

"That...Els that-" your words get caught in your throat so instead you reach for the collar of her shirt. Pulling her up until your lips crash together, the taste of yourself filling your mouth as Ellie places a hand on the back of your neck.

When you two part she gives you a cocky smile. Gliding her fingers across your cheek before moving the loose babyhairs out of your face. "I'm gonna take that as a five star review then?"

You giggle before fake thinking. "Hmm I don't know Els think I need to try it again, yknow get all the data".

She nods with pursed lips, a serious expression taking over her face. "For science".

"For science".

[itsabouttimex2]

Y/N’s not the Beloved?

(At least, not at first)

Thinking so hard about Y/N just… not being the “beloved” in the yandere dynamics, and instead being the “neglected” party.

Just, like-

It’s not that Sun Wukong and Macaque don’t love you for being their precious adopted kiddo, but… you’re “just” a person, and you don’t have a tail or fur to groom like them. You can’t climb as well as they can, and you don’t have fangs. And you just aren’t strong enough to keep up.

So there’s this inherent disparity, and you feel sometimes more like a guest than a member of the family.

But then MK’s rock comes along! And then it hatches and there’s a new little monkey in the family for them dote on! They have a new baby, one that’s just like them!

In a way that you just… aren’t.

You just can’t compare. Sure, they still love you- you’re never hungry or cold, your clothes are plentiful, and they still support your interests, but…

They just don’t love you like they love him.

Because MK gets the nicest things, in all the ways you didn’t. He gets brand new clothes just right for a growing boy with a true form that fractures in and out of existence. But many of your “new” clothes have to be hastily sewn up because they’re hand-me-downs from Papa, and they had ear and tail slits- they were made for Mystic Monkeys, after all!

(And you aren’t one of them, no matter how hard you try to be.)

And MK gets his favorite foods and snacks whenever he asks, no matter how far Baba has to travel or how many stores his clones have to trawl to find those illusive treats. And when he digs in, you think of the times Papa taught you to “appreciate” his hard work in the kitchen by making you eat every bite of a meal he made, even if you gagged and coughed through it… but MK gets full impunity to have sides replaced whenever he decides a food is “yucky” without even trying it.

You got gifts for being well-behaved or accomplishing goals, but MK gets them for simply asking. You got money by doing extra chores or babysitting the mountain monkeys. MK is given it because your dads are in a good mood.

Not to mention how many of your hobbies and free days are undermined because you “need” to babysit the favorite child.

So on, and so forth.

And then one day it all grinds to a peak and you can’t take the favoritism anymore, so you eventually have the quietest messy breakdown known to man in the ungodly hours of the morning. When you finally manage to pull yourself together, the decision is promptly made- with a tightly-packed bag in tow, you sneak out through a window, clamber down the house walls, and disappear beyond the horizon.

And Macaque and Wukong are devastated, obviously. Sure, you aren’t the “beloved”, which is clearly MK, but you’re still their baby!

BUT! It gets even worse, because for all the worry in their hearts, MK is even worse!

He throws tantrums and rejects food and has uncontrollable fits where he bites bloody marks into his arms through hysteric tears. And even when the kiddo isn’t screaming his bloodied little mouth off, it’s only to scream for you to come back.

So, while they would’ve always made an honest effort to bring you back home (this is your home, even if it doesn’t always feel like it), having their “beloved” child start to genuinely harm himself over your absence only ramps up the efforts to get their first kid back.

“Open the door,” comes your papa’s tempered voice, barely second after you’ve registered the knock. “C’mon, kiddo. We need to talk.”

His foot meets the wooden door, tapping and testing the strength- not that there was really any question he could clear the flimsy barrier.

Tap. Tap.

At the pause, you drop everything and scramble into the closet, right as Macaque kicks through the door with a huff. The leather of his boot catches the light with a dark gleam, but he retracts it and readies for another blow.

“You in, Mac?”

“Not yet- I missed.”

His next strike lands true, shredding the cheap doorknob out of place so forcefully that it tears through the glass window behind it and disappears into the bushes behind the hotel, entirely flattened into a copper disk.

“Not bad,” cheers Wukong, peering into the wrecked room. “Not bad at all, bud!”

With a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle the sound of shallow breathing, you hunker down and wait- with a bitter thought at how casual they are about all this.

Didn’t they realize how badly hurt you were by the unabashed favoritism, the constant coming in second, the unending isolation?

How could they treat this like a casual outing?

“Alright, bud- pack your bags and put on something warm! We’re heading home!

Just barely you manage to bite back a cry of frustration over this miserable circumstance, expected to return to a home that had essentially shunted you aside.

“C’mon, brat. Did you really think we’d let you spend any more time in this hellhole? The mountain is a lot safer, anyways.”

You don’t even realize that Macaque is reaching into the closet until he has your upper arm in his hold, pulling until you’ve cleared the wooden threshold molding between your sanctuary and the living space.

Barely even on your feet, Wukong is upon you with a scarf, wrapping it tight and finishing with a neat bow.

“You know, MK really missed you,” he sighs, thinking of tantrums that spanned hours and the smell of mold in the kitchen when food the child flung had spilled under the counter and gone unnoticed for far too long.

Why should you care that their baby was suffering?

But whether you care or not (and they’re certainly not waiting for your opinion), they’re going to take you “home”.

With Wukong’s hand to wrap around your shoulders and Macaque’s to grip your wrist, they slowly march the way back to the precious little Mystic Monkey that you’ve come to hate.

And though your heart turns over at the sight of MK wailing on the floor, there’s this strange discomfort that arises when they call it that:

“Y/N is back!”

and it prompts an immediate end of his formerly hysterical waterworks?

Because he runs to you and throws both of his chubby little arms around your legs, demanding that you “never ever leave again!” and both of your dads are right behind him, because their son gets whatever he wants, when he wants it-

And what MK wants is you.

[sky-kiss]

Haarlep x F!Tav: Visitation

A/n: I promise, I am leaving the Boudoir now. We will go somewhere a little less red.

Ah, but wonder of wonders, the little mouse returns. It delights Haarlep. 

She comes to him like a virgin bride approaching her bedding, hesitant, and so, so sweet. Fire courses through her veins, yes, like a new flame basking lovers in its glow, kissed with cinnamon and heat. Her scent is fresh compared to Avernus' brimstone and ash.

She smiles, raising her hand to brush the fringe of her hair back, a flush of pink in her cheeks- so delicate, his mouse, so breakable. It's intoxicating.

"Bold, pet, so bold of you to return. Did you escape once? Yes. But twice?" Haarlep strokes the space beside him. "That may be too much to ask." 

An unspoken truth hangs in the air, tantalizing, a pretty threat: none could enter the House without the Master's permission. Yet here is the mouse, alone and hungering, while the whisper of her essence bound to him whimpers. Keep her, it says, and he nearly moans, oh, keep her, use her.  

"I was dreaming." She chews her lower lip. Such a pretty mouth, full lips, aching to take his cock. "Tell me I'm still dreaming?"

"Mmm, but I could tell you far sweeter lies, so why waste the effort?" He holds his left hand out for her, fingers crooked. The claws are razor sharp, ebony black, and glittering in the torchlight. "Come."  

She comes, eager to please. Haarlep sees the inexperience written across her soul, if not her body. A foolish little creature, lost, starved for pleasure and the world's validation. She crawls to him, shivering despite the House's warmth and the force of her desire.

"Good girl. Closer." 

She hesitates, knees fetched against his thighs. Such trepidation, such tiresome guilt. "Haarlep, yes?" 

"Yes, sweetling. Now come closer." 

"I've no desire to use you, Haarlep." Another wash of color across her cheeks, delightful, naive little thing. Heat licks across the space between them, her blood heating in response to his proximity. It cares as little for her moralizing as he does. "Please. I've not come here for that." 

"Of course," he coos, reaching out. His hands settle over the sharp rise of Tav's hips, tracing the bony ridges. "You would never dream of it. Only," he pulls her near, speaking into the hollow of her throat. "You were dreaming, weren't you?" He tastes sweat and cinnamon on her skin. "Tell Haarlep what about, sweetling. I shan't tell a soul." 

Ah, but he already knows. The reason and cause of Tav's arrival were the same, equally disappointing. Their Master. The little creature's mind is full of Raphael. Laughable fantasies: Raphael loving her, a partnership, belonging. It's a soul-deep longing, infatuation, and attraction drowning out her common sense. It's baffling. She pulls back to look at him, eyes wide and full of feeling. 

"Kissing you," she mumbles, gaze flicking to his lips. "I wanted to kiss you. Him." 

Gods help him, he laughs. "Oh, you do sell yourself cheap."

She aches with the force of her want. Aches down to her bones. It calls to him, to the primordial part of him Raphael could not change. Haarlap gathers her into his lap, reveling in the catch of her breath. Her arms come around him, one hand tangling in his hair, an intimate embrace, a lover's hold. 

Her fingers play through his hair, occasionally tugging, never pulling. The gentility is as expected (and welcome) as a nun in a brothel. Tav's touch feathers upward, brushing the double set of horns. It's a charming little eccentricity but not interesting. They are more interested in the wash of heat as he rocks into her. Raphael will lavish in the sensation. 

Corruption is, in many ways, as sweet as the act itself. 

[basicallyaturtle]

never been part of a tag game, sounds really fun! tagged by dear Lanvender, @khan-crete

Do you make your bed? A freshly decrumbed, stuffed animal arranged and dirty clothes removed bed feels great. How often do I do this? We mustn't ask (like once or twice a month) that's all making the bed entails for me, I just have a fitted then normal sheet and blankets

Favorite Number? 4 4 4 4 4! I've loved four my entire life she is like a goddess to me. 2+2 2*2 2^2, divides into halves twice. can only compete with sixteen, whose status and 2^4 and 4^2 is nice, but not as symmetric. 37 and 73 have a place in my heart as the 12th and 21st primes, but not a large place compared to 4

What's your job? What do I get paid for? undergrad lab TA, what do I do? grad research in low energy nuclear physics

If you could go back to school, would you? In school technically still. Would I rewind time to experience school again? highschool no college yes. would I go back for another college degree? I could be convinced if it would be cheap and unobtrusive to my current schooling. Was always torn between physics and linguistics. I made the right choice but I always wonder what if.

Can you Parallel Park? I have done it, on the driving test, like four or five years ago. I think I could do it again, but not too confident

Do you think Aliens are real? Eh, probably in a 'the observable universe 9.3e+9 ly across, it must have happened more than once' kinda way, but not in a 'they've been feeding us tech for thousands of years or are visiting us' kinda way.

Can you drive a manual car? Never tried, hubris tell me yes, anxiety with even normal cars tells me I'd probably fuck up the transmission while trying to leave the driveway. gonna say yeag

Guilty Pleasure? I think like cheesy childhood disney live action movies?, generally I'm pretty full chested about the things I enjoy

Favorite Type of Music? yeah, hard, a lot of vocaloid, which isn't reallly a genre, a lot of edm genres from like old school monstercat, a lot of jrock by way of anime OP's of show's I've never watched then finding other songs by those artists. some rock music though that genre is also extremely expansive and I'm not sure how I'd categorize a lot of it. Generally my music consumption consists of a group of maybe five songs completely unrelated on repeat for months at a time and genre is not a huge factor in that

Do you like puzzles? twisty puzzles like rubik's cube type puzzles are really fun working, towards doing a 3x3 blindfolded but challenging, I used to do jigsaw's with my mom but over the course of a very long time because we'd get frustrated. crosswords, but I'm no good at them

Favorite Childhood Sport? Soccerrrr. Wish I'd stayed with it, but there were only a couple more years before there wasn't a league for my age group anyway, been trying to get back into it recreationally

Do you talk to yourself? I do, but as if I'm talking to someone else. I prefer not to do it because I'm not content with my voice atm, but I find myself doing it a lot especially when getting stuck on research stuff trying to talk it out or I will say a comment to someone I disagree with outloud rather than typing it and posting it. A lot of this is to my reflection which is probably part of the reason it feels like someone else lol

Tea or Coffee? tea all the way. drank iced sweet black tea my entire childhood and started drinking it hot with milk in college. I was the kind of person that disliking coffee was a sort of pillar of my tastes, but then a few years ago made it with like half milk and a lot of sugar and like it, lotta people wouldn't call that coffee, but eh.

First thing you wanted to be when you grew up? The actual first thing was everything. I would amalgamate like all the stereotypes of things kids want to be into one so a firefighter-astronaut-whatever else. When I got a better sense of my interests, inventor, so I guess like product designer, but what that meant to me was I got to sit around and think of neat gadgets and items then figure out how to make them like freeze ray, time machine, clone gun, that kind of thing lol. the first practical idea of a job I wanted was theoretical physicist in like middle school, which I kinda am now so success I guess

What Movies do you Adore? not much of a movie person, but like to watch movies other people are interested in with them, love castle in the sky, LOTR, howl's moving castle, your name, probably others in those categories I don't know about yet or have forgotten and I have a strong soft spot for childhood halloween movies like twitches and halloweentown

I'm curious what @arc-archernar and @charyou-tree have got to say if they'd like to, and anyone else that wants to participate!

[leth-writes]

lost boys x reader

This is the first time I've ever written for these characters, so tell me if anyone wants more!

Summary: You're going to die. Shame your friends had to die alongside you.

Warnings: discussions of gore and murder.

it was a hot, muggy day, and you were going to die.

You’d only wanted to go out with your friends, maybe spend some of your hard-earned allowance on candy and carousel rides. You’d never meant for it to be this serious.

The day, or evening, rather, had started off normal enough. You’d gone on the roller coaster a couple of times, eaten some cotton candy and won some rigged carnival games, and you and your friends were sitting, enjoying the free music coming from the concert. It was a sax player tonight, a man without a shirt and and a chest covered in oil, though the crowd was reacting as though it was the most intense rock concert they’d ever heard. The cheap lights twinkled, lighting up the night sky with bright, neon hues. Laughter and chatter filled the humid air, the boardwalk filled with people.

Santa Carla was the murder capitol of the country, but you’d never thought you’d find yourself in real danger. You’d always thought the only people at risk were people without a place to go and the various tourists that trickled through, people who wouldn’t be immediately noticed upon disappearing. You had convinced yourself that the mysterious disappearances were nothing to be concerned with, as had everyone else in the normally quiet town, and your parents had finally relented to letting you stay out late with your friends. The 5 of you were sitting on the ledge by the stairs to the beach, drinking in the atmosphere and joking around; the current topic of discussion was the crush your friend Cindy had on some boy from school, Freddy.

“I’m telling you, there’s just something about that boy that’s so…” She paused, licking her lips deviously, a glint in her eye, “delicious!” Lara, a brunette with thick, curly hair and large glasses, rolled her eyes. She looked off into the distance, staring out at the shoreline and watching the waves disappear into the night, merging with the sky and creating a watercolor of stars. “You say that about every guy that catches your eye, Cindy. Maybe you should slow down and wait for a while?” She asked, still staring into the distance, eyes vacant and cloudy. Cindy laughed, throwing her head back, large earrings clacking. Various people in the crowd in front of you turned at the noise, surprised to find such a small woman practically doubled over.

“You need to have some fun, Lara, don’t be stuck-up!” She continued, smiling so wide her gums were visible, framed by her bright pink lipgloss. “I’m not stuck-up, just busy!” Lara defended, fighting a smile. Tamara turned from where she’d been comparing nails with the last of your group, Amy, and gently nudged Cindy. “hey, don’t tease her, Cin! She’s just focused on school, you know how smart she is!” Tamara sighed, exhasperated.

“Yeah, Cin, she’s the only one who’s getting out of this town when high school ends!” Amy picked up. Tamara and Amy were practically inseperable, being old family friends, and practically all agreed. Well, except for the Todd Incident, which you officially weren’t allowed to talk about.

“Well, Fred is cute,” you hedged, trying to prevent an argument before it escalated and got you all kicked out. Cindy was known for her loud voice, afterall, and you’d rather not get a lifetime ban from the boardwalk, the only place with any sort of entertainment not designed for sticky 5 year olds.

“Well, not everyone can be so picky, hun!” Cindy laughed, luckily not taking it the wrong way. It was true, though it stung slightly; you hadn’t ever really been interested in boys, not the way your friends were; even Lara had had more experience than you, and she’d only had one boyfriend! Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to so much as look at the local population… The boys were so immature, you felt like you were babysitting, not going on a date! Not to mention, most were only interested in sex, not long-term relationships, like you wanted. While you knew Cindy was happy, and you were slightly envious she seemed to have such luck with boys, you just knew that you two were different. It didn’t bother you anymore, though you’d been convinced you were broken as a child for not seeing what the others were talking about when Johnny Park had caught every girl in your grade’s eye. You knew that you’d find someone eventually, or at least you hoped you would, but for now you were content with your friends and the entertainment offered by romance flicks.

“I just thi-” You began, only to be interrupted by the loud roaring of motorcycle engines.

All 5 of you turned, shocked, as a group of boys rode down the boardwalk on their bikes, laughing and shouting as people were forced to jump out of their way. “Holy shit,” Cindy breathed, popping her gum, eyes locked on the bottle blond at the front of the pack. “Jesus, they’re gonna hit somebody!” Lara gasped, hands flying up to clutch her face in shock. “I hope they hit me,” Cindy responded, eyes glazed with want. Amy lightly smacked her arm, chiding her. Still, she wasn’t to be deterred. “We need to talk to them,” Cindy continued, once again biting at her lip, this time a more serious expression on her face. “You look like you’re going to jump someone,” Tamara interjected, looking slightly nervous. Cindy just wagged her eyebrows in response, breaking the tension and causing the 5 of you to break into peals of laughter.

“Jeez, Cin! I thought you liked Fred?” you joked, nudging her in the ribs with your elbow. “Well, Fred can wait!” She said, determined. By then, the group of boys had pulled up to the ledge across the railing from you, parking their bikes and lighting their cigarettes. There was something almost ethereal about the boys, 4 in total, all clad in leather with hair mussed to rival an ‘80s rock legend. Maybe it was the way their sharp edges blurred in the twinkling boardwalk lights, the warm lighting casting them in shades of gold and white as though they were angels. You couldn’t help but admit that they shared some resemblance to the feathered creatures of myth.

The frontmost boy was… at first glance, average height, bottle blond mullet framing his face in choppy waves and light beard just starting to accentuate the sharp curves of his face. He glanced up from his cigarette and made eye contact with you, icy blue eyes locked onto yours. For a second, the sounds of the boardwalk faded away and the lights dimmed, casting his face in harsh shadows; you could swear he smirked, teeth elongated into sharp fangs, brow bone warped and jutting out. Then, in a blink, it was gone, and the only sign of the vision you’d had that remained was his slightly too sharp smirk.

The tallest boy, the brunet, was clad in a dark jean jacket, sleeves pocked with leopard print, exposing his bare, toned chest. His skin was a touch darker than the others, and his shaggy hair swung around him as he shook it out, looking almost akin to a shampoo ad. You couldn’t help but stare at the muscles as they twisted under his skin, bunching and pulling taught. Your eyes snapped up and you blushed as his own dark chocolate ones met yours, mirth clear in his face.

The boy next to him, head thrown back in uproarious laughter, seemed to be the wildest. His hair, also blond, was shaggy and teased so big it practically enveloped him, and his wild smile exposed sharp canines tinged slightly with… you weren’t sure, though it looked slightly red. Lipstick, maybe? He wore beige pants and a fishnet shirt, slightly covered by the decked-out and ripped leather jacket accentuating his lithe form. He looked graceful, almost dancer-like, in the soft glow of the evening.

The final boy was the shortest, hair twisted into cherubic curls, and had one arm swung over the shoulders of the long-haired wild blond. the two were practically howling, doubled over, slightly obscured behind the front two.

All in all, the group was… intoxicating. You couldn’t help but stare, and judging by the silence of your friends, you knew they were doing the same. Catching your eye again, the bottle blond clicked his tongue and said something to his friends, who all immediately straightened. Then, they began sauntering over, walking in a pack like circling predators. You couldn’t help but feel like prey in the jaws of a lion.

“Oh!” Lara squeaked, pale face flushed the same shade as Amy’s hair. Tamara and Amy just silently nodded in agreement, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious at the sight of the boys approaching you.

Finally they reached you, forming a loose semi-circle, boxing the 5 of you onto the ledge. You were trapped, though it seemed you were the only one conscious enough of the situation to notice.

“Hey there,” the shaggy blond started, though he was quckly shushed by his shorter friend. The bottle blond inhaled sharply, then grinned devilishly. “Hello… we couldn’t help but notice you all looked lonely,” he began, making intense eye contact with Cindy. None of the boys were even looking at you; were you that unlikeable?!

“I’m David, this is Paul,” he gestured to the shaggy blond, “Marko,” the curly haired boy, “and Dwayne.” the dark-haired boy making sharp eyes at Lara. Cindy quickly introduced the 5 of you, though you noticed that the boys didn’t take their eyes off of the respective friend they seemed to pick. You should’ve taken that as a sign.

Throughout the rest of the night, none of the boys seemed to spare you a second glance. They took turns going off with your friends, who each returned looking satiated with mussed hair and clothes slightly skewed. None of your friends seemed to notice you sulking in theh corner, content to pair off with the boy that had decided they were their target for the night. It was lonely, and you found yourself staying slightly on the edge of the group. They chatted and laughed, but you were stuck in the corner on the ledge by the bikes, completely isolated. you spent the night staring off into the distant shoreline, contemplating just leaving, though you convinced yourself to stay to ensure your friends stayed safe. Or maybe because you were jealous, though you’d never admit it. Finally, a couple of hours into the merging of the two groups, David paused in his discussions with Cindy. “Hey, why don’t we all head to somewhere more… quiet?” He said, smirk ever-present on the chiseled plains of his cheeks.

“Ok,” Cindy breathed, seemingly wanting to go back to chatting with him, or more likely making out with him, as soon as possible. You sighed, seems like you’d be finding your own way home toni-

“Hey, you can ride with me,” Dwayne said, cutting off your internal pity party. At that moment, it seemed your friends remembered your presence, as they all rushed to get you to agree. You might as well go, just to ensure their safety…

So, you agreed.

One slightly awkward ride later, and you all found yourself staring into the entrance of a cave, water crashing harshly against the base of the cliff. It was dimly lit from the inside with a variety of candles, it seemed there was no electricity in the desolate cave.

“A-are you sure this is the right place?” You questioned warily. The boys just laughed, and Cindy huffed impatiently. “Come on, worrywart! We’ll be fine!” She sighed, pulling you inside.

If you thought the outside was intimidating, the inside was warm, though it looked like it had been ripped from a painting of a bygone era. An old fountain graced the middle of the room, large draped fishnet fabric separating areas of the space. There was debris everywhere on the floor, coating the space in a thick layer of dust that prevented you from being able to see its real color. All you could do was hope you weren’t stepping on any faultlines.

The boys filtered in, bringing your friends with them as they did so, scattering around the space. You found your way to the beatup couch, taking a seat across from where Paul was sucking a hickey onto Tamara’s neck.

“Well, I think it’s time for a drink!” David crowed, plopping down in the wheelchair next to the fountain. Light cast his face in harsh shadows, hiding parts of his expression from you. Still, you got the feeling he was looking directly into your eyes.

“Ow, you’re being a little harsh there, Paul!” Amy cried, and you turned to look- only for a splash of warmth to hit your cheek. Where she’d been sitting, cuddled into his lap, she was now splayed across the edge of the sofa, neck bent at an odd angle and face twisted. Her chest deflated with a soft sigh, and her eyes went glassy. Her body was limp, limper than you’d ever seen her, normally so full of life. Blood pooled in her neck, and Paul shot you a wide grin, fangs now coated.

You screamed.

And you jumped back.

And you bumped into someone. You whirled around, and there was David, face coated in blood. Just over his shoulder, you could see Cindy, her arm yanked out of the socket. Her pretty face was twisted and contorted in pain, and tears streamed down her cheeks, now ruddy from her fear. She was clutching the limb tightly to her chest, rocking slightly. It looked as though she’d been mauled by a bear, arm bleeding heavily and chunks hanging limply by a thread. She let out a short scream, and then Paul was on her. You couldn’t see her after that.

From the other side of the fountain, you could hear Tamara crying, harsh sobs filling the air. Lara had been thrown, her body lying limp where Marko was drinking deeply from her neck, head lolled to the side and eyes looking unblinkingly at you. You couold tell she was dead.

Then, David was blocking your view, and your entire world narrowed down to him. His harsh icey blue eyes locked onto yours, and it was like you forgot how to breathe; all you could do is stare at him, not even trying to run. It felt like you weren’t in control of your body.

“Drink up,” he whispered softly, hand gripping your chin and bringing an ornate wine bottle to your lips. Against your will, your lips parted, allowing the spiced red liquid to enter. It didn’t taste like wine, an oddly thick mixture, though you had no idea what it could possibly be.

The other boys cheered, now standing in a loose semi-circle behind David.

When you finished drinking deeply from the bottle, David kissed the remainder off your lips, so soft he barely brushed your lips with his own, plump and warm. “sleep,” he said, and you were gone.

[aixicl]

See you again,

Bada Lee x fem reader

Summary: After you both agree to part ways, your paths cross unexpectedly.

Cw: exes :(, angst (?).

Wc: 6k.

Pls read : I’ve decided to put all parts (1 2 & 3) into one single fic because it’s not that long. For the babes that already read the first 2 parts, before the beginning of every chapter I added numbers so I’d be easier for you to scroll to your desired chapter🤍

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡

(1)

''So, you're going to be back soon. Right?''

Soobin asked, her tone uneasy. Even tho you told her numerous times that you won't just disappear forever and once the leaves begin to fall and change colors you'll rock the streets of Seoul again. Until then, you'll fly as far as your wings take you. It's not like you did anything wrong. You decided to leave after all. 

''Wild, young & free'' as some would describe, as she would describe. Until you weren't free anymore, your thoughts kept you imprisoned in your mind. 

''Yeah girlie, you know how hard I worked to get in.'' 

For a long time, you've wondered what you're into—having an identity crisis every time you see her dancing with such passion. You admire her wholeheartedly, but you can't help feeling jealous since there wasn't anything there for you. Your mom took you to piano classes, swimming, and even judo. She tried her best to expand your horizons and you're grateful for that but it never really worked out. Until in your early teens, you discovered your burning passion for writing, having the power to control every reply, scene, or character you desire. It's like the alphabet was made for you just to write cheeky stories that she would giggle at. Words being placed thoughtfully in your love letters to her.

''I can't wait for you to get back home. I will get reallyyy mad if we don't go out drinking before uni." The younger girl giggled over the phone. But the word ''home'' stuck to you like a bandage. You're the type of person that considers ''home'' wherever the heart is but where is your home when your heart is all over the place? 

You're just lying to yourself. You know exactly where home is. Home was the queen-sized bed you once shared, with the messy sheets you were too lazy to arrange since you knew in less than 24 hours it would be the same. Home was the kitchen where you would fail yet another recipe trying to surprise her with a yummy meal after her dance class. Home was anywhere she was really. Too bad she’s so far away now. That doesn’t mean you’re homeless tho. Many tried to offer you a room in their hearts, but it just wasn’t the same. The best you could do was try. Going on dates, even being a fan of dating apps until you gave up. Her presence scarred you so deeply that you subconsciously compared every romantic interest to her, her jokes, her compliments, her touch, her way of being. 

“Did she get in?” the girl who once was your biggest relationship enthusiast asked, knowing how the story unfolded.

“How am I supposed to know? Is there any reason I would be interested? I haven’t spoken to her in months.” 

“Forget it, why are we even talking about her? Call me when you arrive. I’ll talk to Seoyoung and Taeyoung and maybe we can go out and have cheap drinks like we did back in the day!”

You had a happy childhood, loving parents and lots of friends and you even had a best friend since primary school! Funny how a best friend turns into someone you love and then into someone you don't know at all-isn't life funny? 

During the past two months, you traveled around Europe. Finding beautiful places that make you enjoy the moment, finding beautiful people, beautiful moments. Peace. Traveling was one of the things you truly enjoyed. She once promised you’d go to Lyon and Basilicata together. You ended up going by yourself. Maybe it was better this way. 

Even though you were surrounded by people there were still moments when you felt alone and rather than being sad, you tried to enjoy being by yourself and embrace the quiet. Your life was so noisy until it all just stopped. You just accepted it. 

The familiar streets make the corners of your mouth turn upright. The convenience store right around the corner from your childhood apartment, the sun shining brightly on your street, and the kids that just left school flooding the now-crowded street gave you a familiar feeling. Comfort. 

“You are so beautiful.” your mother said while embracing you tightly, clearly noticing the subtle changes in your looks. Your skin is now sun-kissed thanks to Sardinia beach, your hair is slightly shorter and darker since you couldn’t skip the hair salons in Paris, and your cheeks are more plump since you’re not the one to refuse a delicious dish. 

“You just came back and you are leaving again in a few days. If you don’t come to visit me on Sundays I won’t send you any food ever again!” your mom said sarcastically. Truth is, you would like to spend more time with her but now you’re too caught up with the new school year starting. 

You’re officially a student in creative writing & linguistics and even got accepted as #13. Your mother couldn’t help but brag to her friends about your success in joining such a prestigious university. She was shocked. She wasn’t aware you planned to join this university a long time ago, alongside her. 

“How’s Bada? Are you guys still mad? Is an 11 year old friendship worth throwing away?”

Bada was well acquainted with your mother. Sometimes you thought your mom loves her more than she loves you. Bada infiltrated in your life so well that it came as a surprise to everybody that the two best friends who held hands just stopped talking. No reason behind it. 

“You still haven’t told me what happened.”

“Mom please I just arrived home don’t make me wanna leave again” You came off as a bit harsh but Bada was a dead subject to you. At day you would pretend you never came across Bada Lee, at night you would remember the way her hands softly caressed your waist and how your lips perfectly fit hers. You cut her off exactly how your hair stylist cut your split ends in Paris. But hair always eventually grows back.

Your childhood bedroom became the center of your attention for the next seven days as you discovered many random things while packing for uni. Old textbooks from high school, many hair accessories, polaroids with her, some dried up hand cream. Small things that were core memories for you. Your room is being filled up with 2 types of carton boxes: to take & to throw.

Most of the items you decided to throw were just straight up trash, one of her baggy t-shirts that still had her scent on it being included. Some stuff you decided to keep was necessities, toiletries, some pictures you took together just in case you made up again, etc. She was already half out of your heart, the other half made sure your heart was beating rapidly only for her. Did she also throw out your stuff? Did she keep it?? 

Across the street, things were pretty much the same.  

“Make sure you eat well. Did you pack everything?”

Mrs. Lee made sure to check up on her daughter. She was indeed a very caring mother. 

The girl let out a loud sigh saying, “Yeah, I’ll check again before leaving. There's still plenty of time left." 

“You always do that honey, wait until the last minute. Go check it now! We won’t have time to add everything to the boxes in the morning!” said the older woman worriedly. 

She went back to her room. The framed picture on her desk watched her every move, constantly reminding her of what was. Something in her not being able to throw it away, it was already there for 2 years. But sometimes she did turn the photo upside down, usually when she had other women over.

 It was her 17th birthday. Your smiles were brighter than the flashlight itself, your cheeks flushed after so many shots your mother would destroy you for drinking. It was the night your relationship exploded. 

“Is it wrong that I really want to kiss you?” You asked quietly, embarrassed by how close she was, her body firmly pressing against yours.

“Why would it be?” she says flatly. 

As you take a deep breath, you think to yourself: ''Fuck it.'' It doesn't take long for your hands to reach her face. You lean in and kiss her, feeling her heart racing against yours. She melts into your arms, immersing herself in your arms as you explore each other's lips. You pull away and look into her eyes, feeling a connection deeper than anything you've ever felt before. You both smile, savoring the moment and knowing that this is the beginning of something new. The color of your lipstick now staining her lips and her mind. She runs her fingers over your lips feeling the warmth and softness of your skin, as she says softly: 

''This is how it's supposed to be."

 You lean in and kiss her again, this time with more passion and intensity until you have to pull away to catch your breath. That was the first of many makeouts in Bada's bedroom.

In the first place, you were just supposed to change your shirt since somehow a glass of champagne ended up on your clothes, and Bada one way or another managed to trap you in front of the closet. Shit happens.

That night the now dried shirt stuck to your skin, the idea of anything else instead of the girl in front of you being long forgotten. 

To be sincere, you always held the power to pull anything you wanted without really trying. And you pulled Bada Lee into a complete black hole that night. Unaware that your souls are tied so tightly that at one point they'll burst. And unfortunately, that happened faster than any of you anticipated. 

(2)

''You're Y/N, right?" the thrilled girl asked. She had a unique appearance. The mole on her nose easily distinguished her from a crowd you thought. Flashy nails, long hair, bright clothes, and a bubbly personality were the main characteristics of your new roommate.

''Yeah! It seems like we're stuck together for a while. And you are?''

''I'm Hyerim, I'm in the dance department! I love your outfit! Where did you get that cardigan? This color looks flattering on you!" she says rapidly with a wide smile.

You hit the jackpot for the first time in a long time. On your way to the dorm, your thoughts are filled with the idea of having a demon as a roommate. You had already created a scenario of what to do just in case the person you need to spend the whole school year with together is insufferable. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. For the next 2 hours, you and Hyerim had a blast, talking about anything & everything while unpacking. You both laughed and joked around, and you felt a sense of relief when you realized you wouldn't have to deal with a roommate who wasn't pleasant. You two got along great and you were excited to spend the next year together. You just clicked. As the first week of school passed you realized Hyerim was the hyperactive little sister you never had.

''There's this party next door, one of my friends invited me.'' Your new friend proposed as her eyes sparkled with excitement. ''Do you want to go with me? My friend will bring her girlfriend and I don't want to be the third wheel." The girl pouts.

''Sure, I feel like drinking anyway.'' You said chuckling. Back in the day, you attended every party you possibly could, earning admirable alcohol tolerance. You're making people take notice of you tonight since you have the whole pack to survive a frat party.

You and Hyerim took your time carefully arranging every rhinestone around your eyes. There was a heated debate about what lipstick color would look best with her charismatic outfit.

As you stepped into the party, vibrant energy engulfed the house. The music filled every corner, blending with the laughter and already sweaty bodies of many young adults. The dorm was a mess, filled with more alcoholic drinks than you can count. The smell of vanilla body spray and cheap cigarettes reeked in the living room. You genuinely wondered how so many people could fit into such a small apartment. As you scanned the room, you noticed a familiar face. You smiled and waved, and Soobin quickly made her way to you, giving you a warm embrace.

''So it seems like our drinking plan is finally happening." she laughed while scanning you up and down. ''Who are you trying to attract tonight Miss Martini? If I was into women you would've been my first choice.'' Soobin said while smirking.

Earlier while Hyerim went to touch up her makeup, you wandered to the kitchen where you found some unknown version of martini that was already half empty. You didn't care that the now-empty drink would be the cause of your headache tomorrow. All you wanted was to have fun. The alcohol helped you to keep your thoughts foggy. You grabbed one drink after another and gulped it down in one go. You felt a rush of warmth spreading through your body and you felt yourself becoming more confident and daring. You felt like you could take on the world. You danced and sang along with Soobin. You were living in the moment, without a care in the world. You were having the time of your life.

''Y/N I'VE SEARCHED FOR YOU EVERYWHERE!'' Hyerim screamed trying to make her voice louder than the music. The girl next to her looked dumbfounded. ''This is my friend Dohee. I've told you about her before! Her oreo girlfriend will arrive later so until then it's the four of us.'' She said while showing Soobin a big smile.

Meanwhile, Hyerim and Soobin were discussing a movie you've never heard of and your eyes couldn't stop traveling to Dohee's sour expression. It was such a shame, a beautiful girl frowning. Her red-coated luscious lips are paralyzed, the leather jacket accentuating her small figure so well. Whoever is making the alluring-looking women wait is a real loser, you think. But you're here, with her, right now, in the moment. Who can blame you for wanting to steal a smile from the girl's face?

''I guess your girlfriend is not coming hm?'' You asked quietly, trying not to make the girl explode. She looks like she could burst into crying any moment now. While asking her, you carefully put your arm around her shoulders.

''Yeah. She stood me up again." Dohee sighed then went on and told you how the girl whose appearance won't be seen tonight isn't actually her girlfriend but rather a friend with benefits she's too scared to admit she has feelings for. She told you the unknown woman told her she wasn't interested in any emotional relationship and she just had to accept it. You wondered if the cause of her being so open about this subject was the cup full of plain vodka or if she just was so desperate for someone to hear her out, to look into her soulful eyes and say ''I care''. Regardless of that, you were ready to be there for her even if it was for a short time.

''She's such a fool. I hope you're aware of that. Someone like you doesn't deserve to be treated like that, tossed around like a simple washcloth. Forget about her tonight. Things will get better like they always have.'' You told her while giving a genuine smile, slowly putting your hand on top of hers.

''You really mean that?'' She says smirking while looking at your hands that are now intertwined.

One conversation led to another, and you and Dohee ended up outside sharing a cigarette she pulled from her bra. Even tho you met only 3 hours ago the silence between you two wasn't awkward, but rather comforting. The moon shone down, illuminating your faces as you stood together. Dohee couldn't help but ask you:

"You look familiar. Are you sure our paths haven't crossed before?" Her expression grows nervous. She knew exactly where she saw you before but was too drunk and confused to link things.

''If I had seen you before I would've remembered, but besides that, I doubt I would've let you go." You respond confidently with a grin.

''I've told you so much about me and I don't really know anything about you.." She told you wistfully.

You went on and told her small details about you, such as your 2 month trip and your passion for writing. Nothing too significant but enough to be considered an acquaintance instead of a stranger. She took a moment and studied your face, admiring the eyes she was jealous of every time her romantic interest forgot to hide the picture on her desk. No wonder Bada kept your picture somewhere visible. You were too beautiful to not be looked at. Maybe that's why Bada hid the picture every time she came over, to not fall in love with you instead of her. At first, she envied you for looking so happy next to her. She envied the fact that Bada's smile looked genuine next to yours. Two stars standing next to each other so closely couldn't be any good she thought, unaware of the fact that you and Bada eventually collided, merging into an even brighter star than you currently are. Unfortunately, that star didn't survive long as it was pulled into a black hole, but it died gloriously in a tidal disruption event.

She smiled and gave you a warm look. She took your hand in hers and brought you closer, her touch sending a spark of electricity through your body. It's been a while since you kissed someone but you sure wouldn't mind her touch. When the gap between you closed, your cherry lips met her strawberry ones. Weird combination of flavors but it works. One bitter and the other one sweet.

Your hands shamelessly roam her body, not knowing in the distance that someone is enjoying this as much as you. Instead of focusing on the one she spent the last night with, her eyes are only focusing on your figure, observing the way you fiercely grab the other girl's hips pulling her even closer to you. It's been a while since she last saw you, especially like this but you still managed to make her freeze on the spot. For a moment Bada recalled a time when you simply kissed her. It wasn't something meaningful at all, just how your plump lips sat on hers. At the same time, it was amusing for her that you just kissed the girl she casually used to forget about the emotions she drowned in because of you. Following her heart always leads her to you.

Dohee pulled away when her phone suddenly rang, her face suddenly becoming bitter. You went inside to give her privacy. In the living room, you find Soobin and Hyerim ''dancing'' if it even can be called that, barely being capable of standing on their own feet. They quickly pull you into their little dancing circle forcing you to dance with them. There was no choice other than to give in and take pictures to have a good laugh later on. The laughter didn't last long as Dohee came in with the tall, 2 colored hair woman holding hands.

''What the fuck..'' Soobin whispered to you while catching a glimpse of Bada.

You were drunk but not drunk enough to not notice Bada and her changed appearance. The once blue hair you encouraged her to dye was gone, now weirdly but cutely resembling an oreo and one thing about oreos is that you couldn't resist them, being ideal for your picky taste buds. The not overly sweet cookie fits your dessert criteria perfectly, just like you and Bada's hands fit each other perfectly but that was long forgotten.

''There they are! Let's play spin the bottle now!" Hyerim exclaimed while sending Dohee a wink. It was obvious she was trying to make her friend happy and maybe give her the chance to kiss the girl she spent sleepless nights crying over. However, Hyerim wouldn't let her teenagey thoughts win if she knew the way Bada used to smile at you, nevertheless, it was too late for that because you and a few other people gathered in a circle.

Hyerim went over the ''rules'' quickly, saying if you don't want to kiss the other person you have to take a shot of whatever alcohol was left. Everyone agreed, eagerly to kiss one another or just drink some more. In the first round, the bottle landed on Hyerim and Soobin. They shared a peck playfully without any hesitation. You were up next, the cap of the bottle stopped between Bada and Dohee, the in-love girl clearly not thinking it through because she was too excited to be staying so close to the woman next to her, obviously they won't kiss at all since they aren't sitting on the opposite of each other.

''Okay Y/N who are you gonna kiss??" Hyerim said full of curiosity, a little afraid of the decision you have to make.

''You don't have to kiss anyone Y/N. It's just a stupid game.'' Soobin babbled.

''Dohee.'' You said firmly while looking straight into her eyes. She couldn't handle all the eyes on her, especially yours and Bada's so her view dropped to the bottle in front of her.

''I-'' Dohee gasped trying to form a sentence unsuccessfully, not only because of her drunken state and emotions but because another voice chimed in.

"Kiss her." Bada assented. "It's not like you haven't kissed her before. Kiss her." She repeated smirking while your eyes locked. You won't lie, the multi-colored hair really fits her, just as she thought about how well the rhinestones make your eyes pop.

You grabbed Dohee's face and kissed her. Now you'd blame it on the martini but you specifically bit her lip just right in order to earn a moan from her and a sneer from Bada.

''I'm so calling Taeyoung right now..'' Soobin mumbled trying to remember her passcode in order to call your friend to tell her the shit show she just missed.

(3)

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension and unspoken words, especially between you, Dohee, and Bada. The game of spinning the bottle continued, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment your lips met Dohee's and the mixed emotions that flashed across Bada's face.

After a few more rounds and a couple of awkward kisses, the game fizzled out, the participants either too drunk or too distracted by their own thoughts. Hyerim, with her ever-bubbling energy, suggested a change in activity, but the mood had shifted. The party was winding down, people were starting to leave or find a spot to crash for the night.

You decided to step outside for a breath of fresh air, the stuffiness of the room becoming too much. As you leaned against the railing of the small balcony, you felt the cool night air brush against your skin, sobering you up a bit. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, images of Dohee's surprised face and Bada's unreadable expression swirling in your mind.

"Mind if I join you?" a voice asked from behind. You turned to see Bada stepping out onto the balcony, closing the door behind her. The noise from the party became a dull murmur, giving you both a semblance of privacy.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here tonight." you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bada leaned against the railing beside you, looking out into the night. "I could say the same about you." she replied. "Seems like we both can't escape each other's orbit, no matter how hard we try. Every time I forget about us you hunt me down." She giggled, earning a chuckle from you.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with unspoken words and memories of a past relationship that had ended in a whirlwind of emotions. You both knew that whatever had been between you was in the past, yet the remnants of those feelings still lingered.

As the moon cast a shimmering glow on the sandy beach, Bada and you found yourselves walking hand in hand along the shoreline. The sound of crashing waves provided a soothing soundtrack to the unspoken connection between you. With each step, the love between you became replaced by a renewed sense of fear. It might be time to stop swimming into the Sea, maybe it's time to dry yourself off from the sticky saltwater that's been on your skin for so long that it started cracking. As your wounds started to deepen the saltwater couldn't be any good. The stinging sensation was trying to catch your attention, to alarm you that something was wrong but to no avail. You kept swimming and swimming until you couldn't see the shore anymore. That's when you realized you had got lost. In your next life maybe you'll be a fish, that way you and the Sea wouldn't hurt each other. In the one after that maybe you'll be a dog, sleeping at the foot of your owner's bed if it means you get to be on it. You will be just like how she loves you. You will continue to be patient, just as you were in this lifetime. Maybe in another life if it couldn't be in this one.

''I didn't think we'd grow apart so soon.'' Bada's husky voice made goosebumps spread all over your body as her face was now close to your ear, back hugging you. ''You're the first person who made me feel something. I'll forever cherish the moments I had with you.''  As Bada's whispered words reached your ear, a bittersweet mixture of longing and nostalgia flooded your heart. In that moment, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the lost connection, yet also a deep appreciation for the love that had once blossomed between you.

''I knew you were going to leave me but it still hurts.'' Your breathy words managed to escape your throat.

''Thank you for letting me go Y/n because I would not have walked away.'' The emotions of longing and nostalgia washed over you like a tidal wave, reminding you of the way your soul intertwined with Bada's. Each memory, each stolen glance and each word you shared replayed in your mind, leaving you yearning for the future that slowly drifts away, as easy as it comes and as easy as it goes.

Bada hugged you one last time, her arms embracing you so hard that her scent lingered on your shirt-and that was the last thing she ever offered you.

"Why did you tell Dohee to kiss me?" you finally asked, breaking the silence.

Bada turned to look at you, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "Because I know you, Y/n. I know that even if you're trying to move on, a part of you is still stuck in the past. With me. I don't want it to be that way."

You swallowed hard, the truth in her words stinging. "And what about you, Bada? Are you stuck in the past too?"

She hesitated, then let out the answer you already knew. "Maybe. Maybe part of me never really left our bed. But I also know that we can't go back. Too much has happened. And that's okay."

''There was a time when I thought I'd know you forever.'' your reply seemed to suck any thought Bada even had in the first place, leaving her speechless.

Finally, Bada spoke up again. "Look, Y/n, I don't know what the future holds for us, whether we're meant to be in each other's lives or not. But I do know that I want you to be happy, even if it's not with me."

Her words were sincere, and you felt a warm sensation in your chest, a feeling that maybe it was time to truly let go and move forward.

"Thank you, Bada," you said softly. "I want the same for you."

''Is this our goodbye?'' You dared to ask.

"You know I don't believe in goodbyes."

With those final words, you both shared a smile, acknowledging the end of a long and tangled chapter and the beginning of another. As you went back inside, leaving Bada alone with her thoughts, you realized that the night had brought more than just a party; it had brought a sense of closure you never got on the night when you and the Sea decided your love was too powerful so it might cause a tsunami. You felt a sense of uncertainty about what the future held, hoping that somehow she'd be at the end of your path.

That night was the last time you ever saw Bada Lee up close. Your eyes involuntary checked her instagram profile every once in a while or if you were lucky sometimes you'd spot her around uni, your sight being glued to her; your burning stare was never enough to make her turn around tho but still, you couldn't help yourself but think maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something new to grow from the ashes of the past. Until you dropped that idea because you realized:

one fish would never be big enough to fill the whole Sea.

[dozing-marshmallow]

Hello!

Can you maybe do Chris McLean x reader, where the reader is comforting him after Sierra blew up his plane at the end of season 3 episode 23?

Funnily enough, I actually had a rough draft of this scenario already written in my notes 😭 Thank you giving the request that enhanced it! I hope you enjoy reading it💖

COMFORTING CHRIS MCLEAN (WORLD TOUR) ONE SHOT

Post signing off the show, Chris is secluded into your arms, sobbing into your chest over the loss of his plane and other luxuries.

“I lost everythiiing!” he wept, one of the few times he didn’t care about his image of being an apathetic host.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby...” you reassure, holding him and dragging your fingers down his spine. You think about how vulnerable he is,”Oh...I wish we were on a hammock, so I could rock you back n forth.”

“A hammock...?” He looks up with his tears whitening his despondent eyes,”W-We can get that...”

I’ve never seen him so... Well, I have, but in this state, not really.

“Aww. See, isn’t that thoughtful?” You kiss him on his forehead, his whimpering and sniffling still very audible,“Oh darling.” you then repair your sight to his face, landing other kisses on his tears, especially near his eyes,”Come rest your head back on me, you can wet this shirt as much as you need.”

He does so, holding on as much as possible. You worry about how safe you were inside the damaged plane, but at least it wasn’t blown up completely.

You did feel bad for him. Sure, the plane itself was in absolute shambles aside from his personal quarters, but there were a lot of memories made in there- the laughter, the spontaneous devouring danger, the fitting elimination ceremonies, chatting with Chef at the front of the plane- all things that aren’t cheap.

“We could try to rebuild it.” you suggest after taking another head turn around the demolished piece of transport, the indigo of the sky having more appearance than the ceiling, spread out and open like the parting leaves of trees that sat at the top.

“There’s no point...” he sulks,“The budget is already tight enough for this season... I don’t want to use it anymore anyway.”

“Really?” that differed from your expectations. Money was never a problem for Chris, so you don’t see why he wasn’t up for getting it renovated. Maybe he was that heartbroken that he doesn’t want to? Oh God... That could be it. Maybe reminding him of one of his possessions would light some motivation,“But your hot tub?-“

“I’ll buy another.” His voice becomes sterner, but the sorrow was still clear,”It’s nothing I can’t afford. In fact, the second this season is over, that’s the first thing I’ll do. Maybe get two.”

Again, not the reaction you thought, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore,“Aw see? You gave yourself something to look forward to.”

“...” he was still holding you tightly,”I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t here.”

You stroke his insanely fluffy hair, appreciating the lengths he went to keep his appearance vigorous, whispering,”My love, this is just what’s expected of me. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

By now, you felt your shirt sticking warmly onto you. You suspect he may have blew his nose with it without informing you, but you don’t care.

“I wish I can treat you like this as well...” he mumbled.

Woah woah woah. Chris wishing he could be the one giving emotional support?

“You’re not drunk, are you?”

“Why would I be drinking on a night like this? A night where...” his voice broke as it attempted to carry the recollection of his plane’s destruction, warning you that a second round of crying was very very near.

“There there, Chris.” you lightly smack his back,“Remember your plans. You’re still wealthy beyond compare. So wealthy you can buy three hot tubs made out of gold.”

“Right right... I’m not a poor guy... I’m not poor... I’m not poor...” he repeated it until he fell asleep. Must have put years on him.

You were wrong to think he would loosen his grip in his sleep. You sigh, but it wasn’t much inconvenience.

Chris is like a child at soul; as his lover, you were naturally his favourite teddy.

[thetraumaking]

Accursed Crown: Part 17

Other Chapters

English is not my first language so there might be some misspells and grammar mistakes and I didn’t have time to go over them on this chapter. Sorry about that.

When it comes to the other nations, she hadn’t got much of an impression. 

Within the four elements, Fire is superior. Unlike water and earth, they can conjure up their own element. 

Waterbenders are the cheap replica that didn’t quite get the memo. They are underdeveloped, uncivilised and unwilling to grow and adapt. And, from what they send for their representatives, they can be rather loud and emotional. They had no etiquette, complete fools, that’s what they were. 

As for the Air Nomads, well, there is nothing to be said. If they were any powerful, maybe they would have survived long enough for her to meet one. It has been almost a hundred years since they were eradicated. What was that word her father used? 

Ethnic cleansing. 

Yes, that’s the one. They even had the avatar amongst their numbers yet they still failed. It simply goes to show who was the most inferior. 

She couldn’t help but let out a hum, her eyes focused on the metal deck and large body of water. The ship swayed from left to right, providing her a rather entertaining view of the new soldiers toppling over one another. They wouldn’t be able to bend from how unstable they are, much less light a candle. 

She tapped her finger on the table. 

Her current destination was one of their Eastern borders where a relatively large unit of Earth Kingdom soldiers were trying to “take back what they lost.” 

Her rigorous training regiment seemed to have paid off as her grandfather and father had finally taken notice of her greatness. They now know just how far she has come. And as a reward to her achievements, and to further add on to the improvements, she will be accompanying you on your assignment. 

She felt her eyebrow twitch. 

They say it's best to learn from experience but… her first ever time being on the field is when they are against a hoard of earthbenders. Benders which she has no experience in fighting. 

She was not worried. She was annoyed. 

Yes, she was adamant in being able to fight alongside you but even Zuko knows that property preparations prior to a battle is crucial. And this is not just any battle, this is a war. Fight back to back against undisclosed amounts of opponents. 

There is no such thing as a perfect plan and certainly no one knows for certain what exactly would transpire. Especially in a war. Her grandfather did send enough soldiers so the ration would be one against three, favour tipping towards the fire nation. But just as there are master firebender there could be master earth benders. And those very same rookie soldiers and officers that failed to stand straight on the rocking boat could and would fail to stand against the rock chuckers. 

She has read countless reports of greenies running away or immediately going into the fetal position. 

She’d seen a water bender fight, they had a more fluid motion, passive compared to theirs. From what she has observed from the duel between the chieftain and Zhao, she could at least be able to predict what and how they move, to an extent. 

But, as her current opponent, the Earth Kingdom, she has not faced, much less interacted with an earth bender. Though she wouldn’t just interact with anyone. 

She clicked her tongue before resting her chin on her fist. Her finger still tapping and her brow still twitching. 

This would be the first step towards her goal. With this battle, she will make sure her name echoes through the skies and seas, so everyone would know just who will be ruling them. 

This will be her debut.

And if any of her soldiers were to dare to even step foot out of formation, she’ll be sure to snuff out their flames. If they are so afraid of the enemy that they are willing to abandon their posts, she simply needs them to fear her more. She will not be embarrassed on this field, not by her own troops, and especially not in front of you. 

Believing that she gave you and the company commanders ample time to brief over your plan, she slammed her hand on the table before jumping off her chair in search of you. 

Though she knows that she will not have a major role in this battle, since she was sent here to simply observe, she can fight if need be. You still needed to be promoted to general. 

When she made it to the metal door, she didn’t waste her time knocking before simply walking in. Upon seeing her, the occupants of the rooms greeted her with a bow. 

“Tell me, Major. How long till we hit land?”

You kept your head down along with the others, “Not long, Princess. We shall be docked within the hour.”

She let out a hum, tilting her head just a bit before walking closer to you. “You all are dismissed, go back to your stations. I would like to talk to the Major, in private.”

She kept her hands behind her back while the older men walked out. Once she heard the metal door close shut, she asked you to kneel. 

You did as you were told. Your fist and knee connected to the floor, your gaze still swam low. 

Now, it was her who looked down at you. She pushed a loose strand away from your face, lifting your chin up like how you used to when she was younger, she noticed your lips spasm. 

She kept her hand on your jaw as she looked at the bandage on your cheek. With her free hand, she ripped it off. There, on the apple of your cheek, laid a mark that now perfectly fit her palm. Your number just barely peaked from under it. 

“I think it’s been long enough, don’t you think so?” She didn’t want the burn to fully heal, just let it scar over it a bit. “Why so quiet, Major? Worried that you might fail now that I’m here?” She smiled, her thumb grazing over the burn, testing out the texture of the skin. 

She notices you bite back a hiss at her gentle probing, “No, Princess. This should be a low casualty mission compared to my prior assignments. The Fire Lord would not have permitted your presence if it weren’t so.” 

She lets out a sigh, it’s just not the same. She picked at the flaking skin around the discoloration. Maybe she was too brash in calling in the palace doctor, maybe she should have waited a bit before getting it treated. Or, getting it treated was the fally. Getting the burn infected would have given a different outcome. And for bonus, she could have had an excuse to look after you for a bit.  

The hand that held your face remained, her pointer finger extending while dragging her nail under your chin. The side of her finger dipping along the valley of the bone of your jaw. 

She could feel your heartbeat spike up, just at her fingertip. 

Yet you still didn’t look up. 

Strange. 

Why won’t you look at her? 

Despite your beating heart, you still remained stoic. 

The grip on you tightened. You’re at it again, aren't you? 

She bit the inside of her cheek. Does she have to hurt you to get a reaction? Are pained expressions all she’s going to get? 

Her hand twitched once, twice, and thrice. 

Why are you being so difficult?

[insanescriptist]

Going from sharing brainspace with a demon to sharing an apartment with said demon actually wasn't hard. Not like Jason expected it would be. No matter how tiny the apartment was.

Yeah, he bitched about the couch and stole Jason's bed when Jason was off in a safehouse and pointedly was scheming for better accommodations for himself and the cat. To be honest, Jason was also scheming for better accommodations for himself and the cat. The cat was growing on him.

Jason kept expecting it to be hard to share the space. However his Pit Demon manifested as some sort of Italian mobster and thus had the human knowledge to not be a terrible roommate. Didn't yammer on at all times about nothing, didn't vibrate in place. Didn't play loud obnoxious music at all times or fail to mark down what had been used if he cooked. Xanxus didn't leave hair in the shower, didn't leave a mess behind him in the way that people used to traveling and living out of their travel bags did. Was very exacting in his neatness. No evidence left behind, no stress.

It was the unexpected things that got to Jason, more than the learning curve of "How to survive Gotham's Bullshit," home edition.

Who the fuck expected a Pit Demon to be a Catholic for one?

That first Sunday, not even a full twenty-four hours after possessing Tashira Owens' corpse, the demon went to Mass. Jason had followed, half expecting the service to go terribly. It didn't but it let Jason see how smooth, how rote all the little rituals were.

A devout demon. Only in Gotham.

Jason had no idea how Christianity meshed with you know, being a demon mobster. But clearly Xanxus had found some way to do it that Jason's meager religious knowledge couldn't understand without delving further into it. Jason was more performative religious as a kid; in that if he said the right words, did the right things, they'd feed him. Sure he'd read up more on religion, that good ole' Robin bookwork but academic understanding wasn't actually believing, much less acting in accordance with the faith or truly understanding it. Closest Jason got was the All-Caste and it was less religion and more way of life. One he had mostly left behind.

Other oddities from a demon was his ability to busk. Like actually play music and get paid for it on some street busk. Jason had thought the Devil and his fiddle was just some country song. Not something demons could go and play and be paid for. Especially since the violin didn't exist. Not in Jason's apartment and not in Xanxus' hand, unless he wanted it to. Xanxus called it a memory, but how the hell he made it manifest was probably magic. That was also on Sunday, after Mass and Jason knew only a few of the songs by ear and certainly not by name; his musical tastes always ran to rock. Whatever; it was easy money. Not a lot compared to Jason's illegal income streams, but for a couple hours' work, but considering Jason wasn't even expecting a measly hundred from his fellow Gothamites, it exceeded his expectations.

It did mean that Xanxus didn't have to be given spending money out of Jason's accounts. That his Pit Demon having the means to earn an income meant Jason didn't have to worry about his food budget or general living expenses being ate up by an inconsiderate roommate.

It also meant that Xanxus' had the money to replace all the plates and other crockery he had ruined as he adjusted to Gotham's "Living the Horrors," standards.

Leaving your glasses up in the cupboard and see how much poison they collected from the air's everything, even after filters was always a horror show. Jason was surprised that that experiment wasn't some kid's winning horror at a science fair. Maybe too mundane for Gotham. Not nearly as dramatic as the whole, "will dissolve plates if left to soak repeatedly in the sink."

Jason's first victims to Xanxus' learning that Gotham Water:tm: can and will dissolve the glaze off of plates was at least cheap ceramic dinner plates. Jason's mixing and eating bowls were steel and glass respectively, except for the one ceramic bowl reserved for cereal menaces. So some things could entirely be left fine in the water. Mostly. Others however could not.

So now Xanxus did what he thought was logical and set the water on fire.

Jason was now resigned to occasionally see his sink on fire. With the dishes in it.

Magical fire that somehow purified the water -something he was sure was otherwise impossible with all the pollution in it, didn't even set off his smoke detector somehow- that the dishes were soaking in. The testing period to finding something that worked to purify the water and not destroy his soaking dishes also -surprise, surprise- killed more of his tableware but Xanxus at least replaced it. Well, tossed money at Jason to buy his own replacements.

So arson was generally not an acceptable way to do dishes, but it let Xanxus soak the dishes so he'd actually do the dishes.

All told, basically ideal roommate in a small space. Even with the cat causing extra chores.

Did chores, wasn't messy, loud or inviting people over. Wasn't obnoxious.

Jason wasn't likely to invite people anyway and so far Dickhead hadn't butted in, so he hadn't had to explain why his glass mixing bowl basically lived in the sink now and would light up when water from the tap was poured into it.

Which left the most obnoxious habit to be relatively minor.

Xanxus was vain, but not modest.

Jason wished he had some personal modesty.

Jason didn't know all the details but Owens' corpse was chosen both from luck and for fit. However it was still technically a corpse so needed an energy investment to believe it wasn't. So that it would be alive enough to produce the energy that Xanxus used for magic. However it could only produce so much, over such a period of time.

So sometimes the energy that was used to disguise the corpse as Xanxus was too much a drain and the illusion of Xanxus fell. Which surprise, a half naked man on his couch became a half naked woman wearing men's clothing on his couch.

Yeah, Jason wasn't sure what to think about that beyond a, "he looks more at ease with being a woman than I expected," for someone with such a strong masculine impression left in Jason's head. This also gave him an intellectual thought exercise of the limits of necrophilia and the degrees thereof from his lingering zombieness (mostly alive) to a possessed corpse mimicking life (functionally alive) to a shambling corpse (mostly dead) and a well preserved corpse (very much dead.)

Jason never said he wasn't fucked in the head, but he wasn't fucking around and finding out with this. Jason kinda valued living his life, such as it was. Pit Demon roommate and all.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — NANAMI x FEM READER 

Nanami Kento’s only sixteen when he kills for you. He’s only twenty four when he dies for you. What was supposed to be his final sacrifice play, a life for life, goes awry when he ends up haunting you. 

wc — 13.5k 

tags — major character death, jjk typical violence/fights, mild(?) body horror, grief, betrayal, ghost marriage, Gojo my favorite deus ex machina Satoru, title from song of the same name by good dog 

There’s nothing worse than standing on the sidelines of a major battle. 

Of course, those fighting in the battle might disagree. You’re sure that any number of sorcerers would gladly trade places with you to be in the safety of Jujutsu High. But for you, missing out on watching Nanami fight is agonizing. 

You’re the perfect complement to his cursed technique. Where he finds the chink in the enemy’s armor with his 7:3 ratio, you shore up your own defenses. While other techniques are aggressive, prioritizing attacking first and early, your skills are more suited to a war of attrition. In terms of endurance, no one can outlast you besides Gojo, who’s sheer strength simply eradicates all obstacles in his path. 

Like Shoko, you’re a special case of sorcerer. 

Gojo was rare, prized, and the strongest, but he was anticipated. He was simply stepping into a role that had already been played out over and over again, just by different men. The arrival of Getou, Shoko, and you was what truly rocked the boat. Two special grades in one generation, an innate reverse cursed technique user, and a barrier specialist all in one class - a guaranteed success, if not for the fact that one of you went crazy. 

75% was still passing, if just barely. 

Though you loved Shoko, Getou, and even Gojo, narcissist that he was, you understood that you would forever be a fringe member of that class. As a trio, there had been no room for another. For a while you were content with that. It was enough just to be counted among them, to be special like they were. No other Jujutsu technique was as well suited to defense as yours, able to fortify the Achilles’ heel of your target. If Nanami could find the perfect opening for a weakness, your talent was to do the opposite. 

It was that very talent that had thwarted Getou time and time again, preventing him from entering sacred ground. Jujutsu High was as close as sorcerers could get to hallowed ground. It was their sanctuary, their first home, the place that had nurtured them to become killers so they wouldn’t be killed first. You couldn’t allow it to be desecrated, even by an old friend. 

So you stayed, and Nanami went. 

The worry was constant, the first few hours. It had been a while since you and Nanami hadn’t been paired together on a mission. Without you, he was simply a first grade sorcerer - nothing to scoff at, but not comparable to even the weakest special grade. With your protection, however, he was a monster. The two of you could achieve special grade status together, whereas apart, you would remain first grade only. 

It was a fact that had earned you many a partnership with him on missions that all other special grades were too preoccupied to take. The elders’ budget special grades, if you will. Cheap copies could work just as well, utilized the right way. 

But eventually, as it always did, your fear faded to a steady, constant hum behind your rib cage, but no more. You were always afraid for Nanami when he left your sight, since the first day you had met him and become inseparable. As if your techniques had been an indicator, it was like two magnets locking into place. 

Nanami has more than earned your trust over the years. He’s survived many missions without you just fine. He made it to first grade status without your technique’s protection in the first place. In many ways, he was the one who protected you. It was how your relationship began. 

Years earlier, back when you had been just students, you had been ordered to take Nanami with you to observe how upperclassmen dealt with curses. His patently obvious gratitude that Gojo wasn’t his mentor for this mission was further amplified by the fact that you were the anti-Gojo, the sweet senior. You couldn’t help doting on your underclassman, so uncorrupted by Jujutsu society. You remember when you and the trio had been pure children like that. 

No Jujutsu sorcerer was truly pure, child or not. It’s not a curse that threatens to take you out, not with your ridiculously sensitive detection field or your perfect armor. It’s another human, a bounty hunter without a cursed energy signature for you to pick up on. He lunges for your heart, just like another curse user will years later. Nanami cuts him into ten pieces before he reaches you, seven parts sliding left and three parts sliding right. 

Nanami killed a man for you when he was sixteen, and the blood shed that day has tied you to his side ever since. The two of you have a bond forged in iron and mutual understanding. 

He will always come back to you. 

For now, your duty is to make sure he has a place to come back to. If the worst comes, Jujutsu High will be the final battleground. You have no intention of losing an inch of the front line before the last battle even begins. 

Not that it will. For all your adoration of Nanami, the truth is, no one can compare to Gojo Satoru. With him on the scene, you’re confident the mess in Shibuya will be cleaned up soon. 

Shibuya, October 31st, 9 A.M. 

Bad news always comes in battalions. One hour after dawn breaks, the unthinkable happens. Terrible news flies on dark wings from Shibuya to the main campus. Ui Ui lands in front of the morgue in a panic. Black feathers fall around him, a remnant of his cursed technique and an omen all in one.  

Gojo Satoru has been sealed. 

At first, Shoko merely laughs her dry laugh. She pulls another heavy breath from her cigarette, her voice momentarily raspy before her technique heals any damage almost instantaneously. Smoke wreathes her head like a miserable angel. 

Ui Ui does not joke. 

With shaky hands, he presents Principal Yaga’s letter. The two of you are the only ones left on campus, deserted by all but dry leaves. There’s no need to read it out loud. Instead, you and Shoko stand shoulder to shoulder as you pore over the writing. No matter how many times you read it, nothing changes. 

Somehow, in one day, your world has been completely shattered. It’s like a law of physics has been broken, only more shocking because Jujutsu techniques are prone to ignoring natural law. No, this is more like if you had woken up and been told your entire life had been a hallucination. There can be nothing more real about this than if giraffes were suddenly unicorns because Gojo does not lose, but somehow it’s true. 

Gojo is out of commission. 

He’s been taken out by Getou Suguru, returned from the dead. 

There had been a time when you would have been happy to hear Suguru was alive and well. 

Now, you know almost instantaneously who Getou will target first. After Gojo, Jujutsu Society’s strongest line of defense is the sorcerer who can make Jujutsu High untouchable. Getou will burn to ash as soon as he steps so much as a millimeter within the barriers you’ve erected around the campus perimeter. 

Immediately, you start plotting, comparing pros and cons, running possibilities. If Gojo’s already out of the picture, you cannot let yourself fall under any circumstances. You’re the campus’ final bastion. 

You’re good in a fight. Watching Nanami’s back for years had taught you how to think on your feet, finding and removing potential for injury before the enemy notices. In a tricky situation, you can even use your technique offensively, using your barrier to inflict damage. However, none of this is what you really excel at. 

Given adequate preparation, you could build a city with walls that no curse or curse user could penetrate without fear of instant death, and it’s been years. You’ve been working on the campus barrier since your arrival at Jujutsu Tech, letting your power bleed into it a little each year until it had become glutted on a wellspring of cursed energy. It was now so powerful and so well maintained it could run off nothing but scraps for centuries, completely impenetrable. 

If this is truly Kenjaku, however, he has you beat in preparation by a few thousand years. 

Gojo is your classmate, your friend, but also, as it was so easy to forget, your savior. He was the keystone of Jujutsu society. Without his effortless strength, things feel hopeless. 

But even impossible battles must be fought, and you were willing to take it to the bitter, bitter end. From your vantage point on the farthest point of campus as you could get without straying outside of the protection of your barriers, you see your allies start to trickle in from the horizon. Without Gojo to simply teleport people in and out if and when he felt like it, they walk, run, and crawl their way towards safety, chased by mortal danger. 

Sometimes you’re close enough to help with a conveniently placed ward. Other times, you pray that someone else is in the right place at the right time. Irritation with the elders and the three clans with their petty power plays wells up within you. If you all want to survive, the sorcerers will have to close ranks. There can be no weakness within when danger looms so close on the outside. 

Inumaki gets in first, Yaga half carrying the boy across the threshold before he immediately leaves to find the rest of his charges. Panda and Maki stagger through together. Nanami brings up the rear, rounding up the last few stragglers. Casualties are more than you’ve lost in one year alone. You’re horrified by how thin your numbers are. 

All the more reason why your technique is so imperative at this critical moment. 

Yaga declares a state of emergency as soon as the immediate community is within the safety of headquarters. All other rogue sorcerers and stragglers, the few who have made it to retirement, those out of the country, and notably, Yuki Tsukumo are to return immediately. War is breaking out. 

The loss of Gojo Satoru is a heavy blow to your forces. Thus, the first plan of action is to get him back. It’s a harsh reality, but the truth of the matter is you only have a few real sorcerers left at your disposal. 

Yaga is working overtime making new dolls to patrol campus. Mei Mei and Ui Ui are currently your only contacts with the outside. At the moment, they’re trying to locate Hakari and Kirara. Nanami, Utahime, Shoko, Nitta, and Takuma make up what’s left. 

Ijichi and Kusakabe were lost at some point during the retreat from Shibuya. You can only hope they’re alive somehow. Then there’s the matter of Yuuji’s curse of an older brother, which no one seems willing to touch quite yet. Yuuji himself seems unsure of how to deal with him. 

The children are desperate to be of help, but it doesn’t take Shoko to see how traumatized they already are without taking an active role in the war effort. Survivor’s guilt has its claws in some of them already. The rest have their own little problems. 

And Nobara - you swallow down bile.

Nobara is dead. 

She was just a girl. Even worse, there’s no time to grieve, though she deserves a proper goodbye. One more thing war has taken from you. 

One more friend Getou owes you. 

If he tries to enter campus, you’ll make sure it’s painful. 

The three great clans have chosen to consolidate forces on their own rather than, in their words, come running to you. Their delusions of strength or more likely, their pride, won’t allow them to owe you any favors even when facing down the threat that took down Gojo. No matter - you don’t want them here anyways. 

Strong as they are, infighting would only make matters worse at this point. They’ll come to you when they’re desperate. You’re not above using that for leverage. 

Yuki is on her way home, racing back from Latin America, where she’d been doing more research for her goal of eradicating curses at the root cause. Having her here would set your mind at ease. Even if she’s not Gojo, any special grade is a blessing. Besides, with your barriers to counterbalance her mass’s weak points, she might be strong enough to put up a fight against Kenjaku. All your hopes are banking on her. 

For now, all you can do is wait. 

Nanami finds you in the kitchens at 4 am, slumped over a bowl of melting ice cream. He slides in next to you easily, slotting into his place. 

“Are you still working on that or can I have it?” 

“It’s gross now,” you sigh, finally uncurling from your hunched position. “Like ice cream soup.” 

Nanami shrugs half-heartedly and takes a bite, though it’s more like a sip. He makes a face. 

“Told you so.” 

“Some things have to be experienced, not told.” 

You’ve been together long enough to be able to recognize the telltale signs of a lecture. “Not now,” you plead. “I’m exhausted.” 

It only takes him a moment to give in. He’s always weak when it comes to you. Scooting closer on the bench, his shoulder bumps into yours. Warmth spreads through you where his shoulder is touching yours; his body a furnace. After scanning the room, he lets his head drop onto your shoulder. 

Neither of you can afford to show weakness in front of the students, but this is an unprecedented catastrophe. You know he can feel it as well as you can. You lean in too, letting his soft hair tickle your cheek. Taking his hand into yours, you reinforce the point where you’re conjoined, just to remind yourself that he’s safe and with you. 

He stirs. “Don’t waste your energy.” 

Even with Shoko’s constant healing and pre-prepared wards, guarding campus takes a lot out of you.

Although you know this, you can’t help the need to reassure yourself. Gojo had seemed so infallible. In the way one only appreciates what one had once it’s been lost, you wonder if you had all relied too heavily on Gojo. To let society crumble because one man has been taken out was pure foolishness. What else have you taken for granted that could so easily fall from your clutches? 

When you speak again, your voice is hesitant, though you know Nanami would never judge you. He already knows everything about your past. 

“Do you believe in ghosts?” 

Your breath ruffles his hair when you speak. 

“Like your village?” He’s blunt. 

“I’ve been thinking about Getou. There’s no way he came back. It’s impossible. How do you live through Hollow Purple?” 

Nanami’s laughter is wretched and serious. “This is Jujutsu. Anything is possible.” 

There’s just the slightest hint of emotion in his voice, indistinguishable if you didn’t know him well. You’re both thinking about her. 

But Nobara wasn’t a special grade, wasn’t the beloved of the strongest. 

Even more shocking than Getou’s return from the dead is his betrayal, which is a testament to the bond the strongest duo once shared. 

“I didn’t think he would haunt him,” you muse. It is a haunting, isn’t it? Even if Getou’s physical body is present, he’s a dead man. He belongs elsewhere now. What he is currently is an abomination, a perversion of nature. 

The mountain village you hailed from had been prone to superstition and folklore. Legends of ghosts had lurked in every corner, spirits born of resentment and unfinished business. Though it makes sense for Gojo to be Getou’s tether to the earthly realm, you can’t imagine the two to be so at odds that Getou would haunt him. Even now, it’s hard to accept. Regardless of how divided they were at the time of his death, Getou loved Gojo too much for that. 

At least, you thought he did. 

Nothing is certain in this world anymore, certainly not matters of death. 

Perhaps that’s what Nanami’s thinking about when he whispers into the cold silence of the cafeteria, “If something happens to me, I promise I’ll leave you in peace.” 

You tighten your grip on his hand, wishing he wouldn’t offer something he couldn’t promise. You know he’ll try. Nanami would never haunt you willingly. Ghosts aren’t always what they were living, however. Getou is proof enough of that. 

Instead of voicing your doubts, you just hold onto him tighter until Megumi finds the two of you. You’re grateful it’s him and not Nobara, who would’ve no doubt teased the two of you. The memory of her brings fresh pain. 

“Ui Ui and Mei Mei have news.” 

You’re a little surprised he came to you, but he shrugs. 

“They said to get Yaga after you.” 

The brother and sister duo have been your only form of contact with the outside, as Yaga locked down campus. Only those two, with their ability to shift between spaces, were allowed to venture out. 

If Gojo was still here- 

If he was still here, you wouldn’t be hiding at all. There’s no use fantasizing about the impossible - is what you would think if it wasn’t occurring before your eyes. 

Sitting behind the Principal’s desk in his office is Gojo Satoru, feet propped disrespectfully on his desk. In lieu of his usual sunglasses, his blindfold has returned, perching precariously high on his forehead, almost like a headband. It makes him look like a douche. 

Nanami freezes beside you. In a way, it almost makes sense. If anyone could escape the Prison Realm, it would be Gojo Satoru. Your heartbeat is calm, not a single instinct rebelling against the scene playing out in front of you. Despite your body’s lack of warning to the man sitting in front of you, as if it truly is him, alarm bells are ringing in your head. 

He cackles at the dumbfounded look on your faces. “Come on! You didn’t think that stupid little box was going to keep me trapped, did you? Even made time for a detour for mochi.” 

He makes his point by popping one of the little green balls of rice flour he loves so much into his mouth. You want to smack him. Everyone was worried sick, and he went to get snacks? 

But you don’t. None of your barriers have been ruptured, so this must be Gojo. If it was anyone else’s curse energy signature, you would know. Getou shouldn’t be able to set foot on campus. 

“Relax,” Mei Mei says, sitting on the edge of the desk. Ui Ui clings to her adoringly. “I found him picking out his sweets in-“ 

The wall behind her crumbles, a clear number line emblazoned on it for a second before it falls. Mei Mei has already dodged the attack, standing slightly to the left. She raises an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

Nanami hefts his blade and works his shoulder. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but you’ve got Gojo wrong. He’s a fool, sure, but he’s a soldier. He wouldn’t stop at a mochi shop before returning to find his students.” 

Gojo sighs. “And here I thought an incorrigible, selfish bastard was all the depth there was to him. Guess that’s true friendship for you, huh?” 

“Getou?” All of this is happening too quickly for your brain to catch up. The bandages-

He makes a hand seal and you flinch, expecting his dragon or another one of his nasty little curses to pop out, but nothing happens.

Nanami is already putting two and two together, being most familiar with the technique used. “You let Mahito take away your sorcery,” he breathes. 

Your blood runs cold. The idea of someone tampering with your brain stem and taking away your technique sends chills down your spine. Willingly letting someone perform such an invasive procedure is horrifying, but the limits Getou will go to seem boundless. He must’ve used idle transfiguration to look like Gojo, too. They had been around the same height. You can see the scheme unraveling before your eyes which means- 

“Traitor,” Yaga says in the doorway, looking at Mei Mei with a hardness in his eyes you’ve never seen before. He’s panting, having run all the way here. You can’t imagine how it feels, for the student you raised to have turned her back not only on you, but every ideal you’ve ever held dear. 

“I can’t believe-“ 

Yaga’s voice is full of surprise and betrayal before it’s cut short by her scythe. You want to move, but are rooted to the spot at the sight of your teacher, throat carved open. 

“Sorry, sir. It’s nothing personal. I’m just joining the winning side. You understand, right? You raised me to be practical.” 

“Mei Mei?” 

“Come here, Ui Ui.” 

For potentially the first time in his life, Ui Ui doesn’t obey his sister. 

“What’s this? You’re getting too old for a rebellious phase now, kid. Don’t you trust me?” 

When she reaches for him, he darts past her hands and into your arms. You shove him behind you. A look of hurt confusion flashes across Mei Mei’s face, clearly unused to anything but perfect obedience. 

“Go!” You urge him, trying to push out the door past Yaga’s body. Taking a quick inventory of the situation, you ascertain your chances. Yaga’s down for the count. You don’t know how serious his injury is. Nanami’s still fresh for a fight, but Ui Ui is dead weight. You’re dangerously low on cursed energy, but not near the bottom of your reserves quite yet. 

You don’t need to speak for him to catch onto the plan. Immediately, Nanami engages Mei Mei. Getou may be the evil mastermind, but he’s a non sorcerer for now. Ui Ui is the priority. 

“Go! Tell the others!” 

By the time you spin around, Getou has his fingers around your throat. Your barrier flares against him, leaving him scrabbling at nothing. Light shines in the space between the two of you. Across the room, you let your cursed energy block a blow from Mei Mei right above Nanami’s navel. 

Already, fighting with him feels so familiar, a song and dance you’ve done since you were students. He leads Mei Mei towards you until you’re back to back. 

It’s so familiar to defend while he attacks. Nanami’s sharp eyes find that elusive chink in their armor while you adjust to cover your weak points. You drop back when he slashes forward. He ducks while you throw up a ward so strong Mei Mei and Getou stumble back. In every way, you’re winning, yet it doesn’t feel like it. 

Getou’s calm is an ineffable as it was when you knew him, but his face- 

His face is unsettling. It’s another boy’s. He smiles, so horribly close to the Gojo you knew that your heart breaks, both because something so familiar has become so twisted, and also because you know at that moment that you’ve made a mistake. 

“You got it wrong,” Getou says softly. “I didn’t use idle transfiguration. I used a binding vow to seal my cursed energy for twenty four hours.”

The horror sinks in as you realize he hasn’t been weakened at all. The binding vow has made him stronger, twenty four hours of repressed cursed energy roaring to life in one minute. 

Your barrier pulses around you and Nanami, dying light fighting to keep the two of you safe. 

That’s when Getou pulls out his trump card. 

Backing away from the barrier, he pulls the Prison Realm out of one pocket, and a cursed weapon in the other. He’s dangling it in front of you like the world’s most obvious mouse trap. 

To get the Prison Realm, you’ll have to take down the shield.  

You, or Gojo?

The choice is obvious. 

At least Kenjaku is facing you and not Nanami. 

With a burst of cursed energy, you slice straight through bone. Blood spurts from the stump of Kenjaku’s hand as it clatters into your palm, the Prison Realm along with it. 

You expected getting stabbed to feel cold from experience, adrenaline numbing the sensation. This time, the burning starts immediately. Maybe fatal wounds are different? By the time you were in high school, your technique had improved enough that you couldn’t remember what those felt like. 

The Prison Realm slides into your hand effortlessly. The blood coating your side doesn’t matter anymore, because you have Gojo. 

When you hear the gargle of air in Nanami’s lungs, you immediately know what happened. There’s a jagged cut across Getou’s front, in the shape of his signature ratio. A barrage of cursed spirits forces you back. Desperately, you cling to Nanami as you shield the two of you with the flickering embers of your cursed energy. 

“We have to go,” Mei Mei snaps at Getou. 

He’s not listening, advancing towards you. A mistake, because you’re going to kill him. Your vision is red with blood and fury. With shaking fingers, you arrange your hands into the right shape.

“Domain Expansion-“ 

Mei Mei pulls Getou back, her crows beating a hasty retreat. She half runs, half flies down towards the boundary, taking him with her. 

You’re throwing every attack in your limited arsenal at them, but every single hit is absorbed by the body of a crow, leaving a trail of corvids behind. She leaves you with your dead best friend and a horde of children to protect. 

Nanami was dying for nothing. You can’t even open the Prison Realm. 

You’re crying against his neck, hunched over him. Even as he lay dying, you’re looking for comfort from him and you despise yourself for it. He’s fighting to get words out. You press closer to him to hear it. 

“I won’t haunt you,” he breathes against your forehead. 

“Nanami,” horrible, shuddering sobs rip themselves from your chest. You’re desperately trying to hold him together, blood making your hands slippery. You’re afraid you’re making it worse. 

“Don’t say anything,” you plead. “Save your strength.” 

You hear it when he takes his last breath, rattling, painful. In the distance, you hear a horrible noise, as if even the earth is mourning with you. Dimly, the realization comes moments later. 

That’s not the wind, that’s you. 

“Hey!” 

You can’t look at the voice, so consumed by your grief. You can’t even tell if your barriers are intact. 

“Pull yourself together! I need to know what happened!” Someone is slapping your cheeks lightly. You can’t register the sensation. Nanami is gone. You only react when they try to pull you away from him. Howling like a wild animal, you cling to his body, but even by instinct, you know it’s not the same. He may as well be a cut of meat now. Nothing that made Nanami, Nanami remains in this cold lump of flesh. 

Yuki Tsukumo was just fifteen minutes too late to save the day. She arrived right as Nanami’s body was starting to cool, and has been holding the crumbling remains of Jujutsu Tech together while you’ve been inconsolable. 

You wonder if the guilt is eating her up inside, just like the resentment you’re trying to keep a handle on is devouring you even as you know it’s irrational. 

In one attack, Kenjaku has taken out Yaga and Nanami. As the strongest, Yuki automatically assumes leadership, and she has an ambitious goal. 

“We’re going after Gojo Satoru.” 

Although you’re hesitant to split up, you admit that her plan has the most chance of success - not that it means anything, anymore.

Yuki will take Choso and hunt down Kenjaku with the goal of retrieving Gojo.

Yuuji’s team comes in for the second half of her strategy. He’s going to be sent with the other students into the Culling Games to seek out Angel, one of the few who can free Gojo since he destroyed all of the objects that could have saved him like the idiot he is. 

Utahime, Shoko, and Ui Ui are going to serve as communication and healing for either team. Ui Ui’s transportation will allow him to move in and out of the Culling Game, as well as bring Shoko to whoever needs her most. Utahime will guard them while Nitta and Takuma will continue gathering allies. 

Your role is to maintain the campus as a headquarters and safe house. You react, as Yuki predicted you would, explosively. 

“Am I to understand that you want me to sit here and allow children to risk their lives for me?” 

Yuki’s gaze is, as always, light-hearted steel. It’s not that she’s unreasonably confident, but simply that confidence is embedded in her DNA. There is no questioning Yuki because such a thing might as well not exist. Such is the cost of strength - it’s a quality Gojo also shared. 

“You are to understand that if you want these children to have a home to come home to, you must defend the campus. What happens when one of them is injured? We’ll have no safe house to take them to recover. What happens when we need somewhere to fall back? You might think you’re noble for offering to take their place in the culling games, but all you want to do is relieve yourself of guilt. Is that selfishness worth their lives? The world?” 

“The rest of the world can go to hell! We’ve given enough - let the children grow up here. I can protect them. Let Getou come for them if he dares.” Your blood boils at the idea. You’re ready for it, spoiling for a fight. 

“Is that what Nanami would’ve wanted?” 

That’s unfair. 

“Nanami would’ve wanted them to be children!” 

Yuki slams her hand down on the table. “How can they grow up as children knowing the threat of Getou will always be there? You can’t protect them! You already failed once!” 

Your heart clenches painfully at the mention of Nanami. For a minute, you can’t speak. Yuki softens, also reminiscing about Nanami. She had already graduated when he had just joined Jujutsu Tech. Perhaps she’s remembering the little blonde boy who used to beg her to spar when she says, “Besides, I’m the strongest you have right now. If you stay, you’ll free me up to fight elsewhere. Otherwise you’ll force me to stay and defend Tengen. Of the two of us, we both have duties we’re better suited to. Trust me.” 

Defeated, you can’t even verbalize your assent, you just nod. 

Yuki’s pity only makes you feel worse. You turn away as she outlines the rest of the plan. While she captures Mei Mei and takes all the information she can offer, Takuma and Nitta’s first contact will be Hakari and Kirara. Yuki will turn Mei Mei over to them to guard while she goes after Kenjaku with Ui Ui’s team as backup. 

Worst case scenario, she’s to retreat at any cost so Shoko can fix her up. If it comes down to it, you’ll abandon campus and Tengen to support her, leaving the students and Hakari to watch over it in your place. With your barriers, Yuki’s one weakness will be safely covered for. But in that scenario, you’ll need to end the Culling Games first to retrieve the students. 

Every aspect of the plan hinges on pulling off some miracle, pushing past your limits. It requires a Gojo level of skill and insanity, but it’s the only choice you have. 

Yuki’s teeth are bared in a grin as she ends the meeting. “Sleep well, everyone. Tomorrow I’m going to discipline a traitor.” 

She grabs Yuuji’s older brother by the collar with a hooked finger and drags him in. He looks startled. 

“Then we’re going to go get Gojo back.” 

It’s a fool’s plan. Gojo is as good as dead in that prison of his, completely helpless, and someone who could beat the strongest is a complete wildcard. Yuki is brilliant and powerful, but where she measures up against the oldest and cruelest sorcerers from another time is unknown. 

Still, it’s Yuki, the woman whose trump card is the most terrifying natural phenomenon known to mankind. If there was anyone on the current team who could get Gojo back - and you needed him back - it would have to be her. 

She packs her bags and is ready by nightfall to start hunting her prey. Choso is already waiting just outside the barrier as you say your goodbyes, having walked her to the edge of the perimeter. 

Impulsively, you pull her into a hug. This close, you can smell her strawberry shampoo. Her bangs tickle your cheek when she jolts, startled. Slowly, she relaxes and hugs you back. 

You’re almost scared to let her go. Tears are forming in your eyes. Watching so many of your friends disappear in front of your eyes makes you wonder if you’re about to let one more slip between your fingers. Yuki is so reckless. Yaga had always been afraid she’d die young. 

“Come back, Yuki.” 

Don’t let this be the last time you see her alive. 

“Stop that,” Yuki says gently, slapping your arm. “With Gojo out of the rankings, I’m the strongest. Don’t worry so much.” 

Neither of you say what you’re thinking. 

With Gojo out of the rankings, the spot of number one is a power vacuum that many would be dying (or killing) to fill. 

Time is ticking. Every minute is another minute Getou plots, but still, Yuki hesitates. The realization that she’s looking at you with pity is not a welcome one. 

“Are you going to be okay all alone?”

You force a cheery smile to your face. “I’ll be fine. I think I prefer it this way, anyways.” 

Putting up a brave front for Yuki is easier than confronting the actual situation. As soon as she leaves, campus feels eerie and desolate. There’s an unwelcome chill at your back - even at its quietest, Jujutsu Tech has never been home to just one sorcerer before. In just a few days, everything has gone horribly wrong. 

Sitting on the sidelines is as awful as it normally is. This time, instead of waiting for Nanami to come home, you feel the awful lurch of forgetting he died. Every day you wake up without the memory of it, only to feel that abyss open up beneath you over and over again at random moments throughout the day. 

When you make the curry he liked, when you have to jump for a book he would’ve gotten for you easily, when you roll over to cuddle into his warm body after waking up cold - all of these little instances are accumulated paper cuts: miserable, mundane, and multitudinous. 

You thought you’d be happy to have alone time to grieve, but the absence of Nanami is only compounded by the lack of your other friends. The last time you’d lost someone so dear to you, everyone had grown even closer, all piled all over each other like a litter of puppies. You had curled into one another, seeking warmth and companionship instinctively. 

You had been inseparable, sleeping together in the common area, eating together, even showering together. There had been no understanding of the naked body as something to desire, just the sense that if one of you were to be left alone, you would crumble. 

The pain of those days had been unbearable, but you miss the comfort of it too, like the sweet ache of a day-old bruise. Getou’s death had faded into a familiar hurt that could be suffered. Remembering those bygone days now brings the memory of Nanami rising soap out of your hair, or being sandwiched between Utahime and Gojo in sleep, his leg slung over the both of you, your face pressed against her back. 

Now you’re alone, having outgrown the nest. Or rather, it appears that everyone else has flown the nest and left you behind. You remain in Jujutsu central, holding the line as you always do. 

You break surprisingly fast. Perhaps Yuki knew you better than yourself. Like her dragon shikigami, she was almost half animal. Beautiful and feral, with a pleasure that came from obeying only herself - like a beast, she could sniff out the truth in you. 

Everyone was gone. You were lonely. You turn to the one friend you had left. 

For hours you sit with the Prison Realm, grimacing at the almost tacky feel of its strange skin. Your fingers slip over everything but the stitches, as if it repels you. The eye blinks patiently as you probe it with your technique. Even if you don’t have Nanami’s offensive technique, you can still find its weaknesses. 

You see none, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. For days, you try to pry it apart with brute strength. You pore over the archaic, arcane scrolls in the catacombs, throwing the contents of text after text at it. You’ve taken every cursed weapon in the armory to it. 

You listen for Gojo’s voice, still disbelieving that someone like him could be trapped in such an unassuming object. If anyone could escape, give you direction on how to help him, it would be Gojo. You fantasize that he has enough power to simply force his way out, or at least send you a hint in the real world. 

He stays quiet, slumbering. 

Talking to the Prison Realm is a surprise. You don’t mean to, it just happens naturally. In his place, you treat his prison as if it were him. You cart it everywhere with you, from laundry to patrol, cracking jokes and telling stories. 

Of course, it doesn’t respond as Gojo would have. There’s no raucous laughter or snide remarks. Instead, the unnerving eye of the Prison Realm blinks steadily at you. But this fragment of Gojo is all you have left of your scattered friends. 

And you miss him. 

Even though you had belonged to the same class, and in fact he was younger than you by a few months, Gojo had always felt like a certainty in your world. It was as if you had been born knowing him, like you knew the sky was blue or that water was essential for life. The Six Eyes was one of the laws of the natural world. Even disagreeable as he was, he had a way of reassuring you. 

If he had never been captured, Nanami- 

You choked. 

Nanami would still be alive. 

You were forever the last line of defense, the second choice. Your only job was to step up if Gojo failed and you hadn’t. The eye of the Prison Realm blinks in annoyance as your salty tears seep into it. 

A cold breeze brushes the back of your neck, almost like fingers, and you shudder. The Prison Realm’s eye seems to hold eye contact with you for a second, or something slightly to the left of you, but when you turn, there’s nothing there. It might have been a trick of the light, or a figment of your imagination, but you could’ve sworn there was recognition in that eye. 

Can Gojo hear you? 

The event shakes you so badly you put the Prison Realm away for the day and continue on with your chores. You maintain the barriers, you look after Tengen, and you keep updated on the status of everyone’s missions. You do such an admirable job of avoiding the Prison Realm that you almost forget about it until you see it lying on your bed. Your blood runs cold instantaneously.

You shriek when you feel it again, the breeze that shouldn’t exist. Spinning to face your assailant, you almost drop the Prison Realm - and yet there’s nothing there. Your technique returns nothing too, but somehow you know the truth as if by heart. 

“Nanami?” 

The air stills around you. Even the whistles of the birds in the trees outside are muted. The crawl of frigid fingers up your arm returns, now unmistakably familiar. Even the whorls and ridges of the pads of his fingers are known to you. 

Half of you is relief, half of you is dread. 

You did this to him. 

You cursed him. 

He nudges you towards the bed and sets the Prison Realm down on your lap. His fingers are cold but gentle as he tries to pry the box open. The eye looks uncomfortable. 

“Nanami, stop. It won’t work.” 

He arranges your hands into the shape of a seal, though of course, it does nothing without your cursed energy flowing through it. The intention is clear - he wants you to use your barrier technique. But you’re not Nanami. You can’t exploit weaknesses, you can only defend them. Hypothetically, you could try to reverse it, but the chances are unlikely. 

Still, if Nanami wants you to, you’ll try, even if every attempt you’ve thrown at it before has failed to even budge it. 

Nothing.

His disappointment stings. 

Again, he folds your fingers into the right shape. Again, you pour cursed energy out through the right channels, letting it wrap around the Prison Realm. Again, its boxy shape is silhouetted in white, as you find its soft underbelly. 

Nothing short of Hollow Purple could burst through it. 

Nanami lets you go. 

It’s as if it’s storming outside. Wind batters the windows until the shutters slam forcefully against the walls. The very foundation of the house groans in pain. 

“Nanami, stop! Please!” 

Almost immediately, the breeze dies down, as if Nanami is mildly ashamed. He’s more volatile as a dead man, easier to anger in a way he was never in life. You loved that about him, his patience, his goodness.

“I know you’re upset. I am too, but I promise we can-“ 

Can what? Fix this? You can’t promise that. 

You jump at his hands on you again. You’ll never get used to them being so cold. 

“Enough,” he writes against your arm, his finger tracing the letters over your skin. “I’m sorry.” 

You think Tengen might be scared of ghosts. He hasn’t been out much since you discovered Nanami’s presence, though the two of you used to discuss barrier techniques. You think Yuki might have told him to look out for you. 

There’s no guidebook to being a ghost. After that first day, you and Nanami experiment to see what he is and isn’t capable of. 

He can’t be more than a room away from you. Physically can’t. He describes it as a wall, except the wall is indeterminately high and wide. There’s simply no space for him to move to that isn’t less than twelve feet from you at all times. 

He’s only able to interact with the living world through you. If he wants to move a glass or close the blinds, he has to tug on you until you move where he wants to before he can put his hands over yours to complete the task. 

It’s strange, at first, living with a roommate you can’t see. In the early days, you forgot his presence often, and would be startled by the soft brush of cold hands against yours, then again when your hand moved of someone else’s volition to catch whatever you had dropped. 

Like all things, it becomes normal over time. Now Nanami is just Nanami again. You play chess on both sides in the afternoon while you wait for more information from the teams on the outside. 

Sometimes it feels like a snow globe, as if you’ve been preserved in time. Everyone keeps fighting on the outside, yet you only grow more and more removed. These days life is starting to feel like a dream. Nanami worries over you like he did when he was alive. You wish he wouldn’t, though it’s partially your fault. He keeps catching you sitting on the porch with the Prison Realm in your lap, staring off into the distance as you stroke its strange flesh and dream, dream, dream. 

In some ways, you’re beginning to understand Gojo, even appreciate him a little. Caring about life when you’re on a plane removed from existence is surreal. You have to remind yourself every day that you love Yuki and the kids, that you want to protect them and do your part. You loved Nanami, too. This is for him. 

He tries to keep you here and lucid. When you get too lost inside your own head, his hands shoot up to your face, roaming over your cheeks until the icy thrill sinks in and you remember what task you had been doing before you zoned out. It happens more and more often these days until eventually, even the coldness of his body stops startling you and he has to resort to gentle pinches. 

Yuki sends a letter during the first winter, when snow blankets the campus and muffles any sound. You barely hear Ui Ui’s footsteps when he enters the kitchen. Has he gotten taller? Children grow so fast. You hear from Megumi and Yuuji, but they don’t tell you about their heights, only if they survived and carried out the next step of the plan. There’s enough humanity left in you still to worry for those children. 

Would Nobara have grown too, if she still lived? The pain in your heart is muted, not as sharp as before. Nanami doesn’t think this is a good thing, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Ui Ui barely stays to wolf down the dinner you’ve prepared before he disappears in a cloud of black feathers again, shuttling the two teams to each other. Yuki’s notes are brief things scrawled on any available paper. This one is ripped off a hotel’s memo pad and reads: 

Getou is Kenjaku from the Meiji Era, returned to life. 

I’m not sure if I can beat him. 

Getou was never Getou at all. Even as a villain, he stirred up lingering emotions in you that you couldn’t help. For the second time, you mourn your friend. It’s a cruel trick fate plays on you, to subvert death over and over again in all the wrong ways. Each time, those you love return to you wrongly. 

You feel the brush of hair against your cheek, as if Nanami has placed his head against yours. You’re equally grateful and miserable he’s here. 

He’s just another one of your dearly deceased that have been cursed. 

Supplies are running low. One day, you’re picking radishes from the garden when you think to ask him: “What’s it like?”

He pauses before he answers, but never lies. His fingers scrawl out the message, quick and dirty, like he wants to get rid of it. “Cold. And dark. I can only feel you.”  

Your blood freezes in your veins. 

You had thought you could have him back. It was a selfish dream, a child’s dream. It had been a miracle at first. 

Sure, he wasn’t the same. 

He was cold-blooded now, ran quiet and passive except for when you goaded him to move. You were his tether to life. Guilt roils in the pit of your stomach. You had seen nothing wrong with it even when he could only move through you. 

Already, Nanami is no longer the same. You wonder if this decay will continue the longer he remains stranded on earth. The first day you reunited with him, he had been different, darker. Has it gotten worse? 

Perhaps this is your form of a curse, to have Nanami rot along with the body that once held him. 

Nanami didn’t deserve this half-life. 

Alarmed, he taps your arm rapidly for your attention before writing out, “What’s wrong?” 

“Let’s go to Malaysia when all of this is over,” you suggest more lightheartedly than you feel. 

“So suddenly?” You can almost see his wry smile. 

After Malaysia, you can put him to rest. He deserves one thing he wanted before you have to let him go. 

Getting in touch with Yuki is getting harder and harder. Every fight comes with increasingly narrower odds, so it’s a while before Ui Ui can make time to get to campus between transporting students to Shoko. 

It takes even longer for Yuki to respond. 

The message the sealed envelope contains is a simple ‘Yes.’ 

Preparations are immediate. Kenjaku isn’t going to come just because you want him to. Thankfully, after a few years of hunting this elusive beast, Yuki has a few clues to how it ticks. 

She wants you to pretend to use your technique to forcefully pry the prison realm open. Immediately, you shoot the idea down. 

“It’ll never work. Kenjaku’s too smart not to know that my technique alone won’t be capable of breaking the seal, especially not if my specialty is defense.” 

“Are you alone?” 

All special grades are the same, you think in frustration. You’ve often witnessed Megumi on the receiving end of this from Gojo, being led around by the nose. Everything is a teaching moment to them so they can bring you up to their level, but sometimes you wish they would just say things outright. 

Nanami spells it out for you. On your forearm, he writes, “She means me.” 

“How-“

“One step ahead of you, sweetheart. Remember how I went after Mei Mei first?” Yuki’s smile is fanged. “She’s going to leak information of Nanami Kento’s miraculous return.” 

You aim for the battle to happen on home territory. It doesn’t matter anymore - if you lose, there’s no way Jujutsu Tech will still be standing by the end of all this. 

Sitting quietly on the main road that leads to campus, there’s a strange sense of peace permeating the air. The knowledge that this is your final stand almost brings you comfort. No more running. No more hiding. 

You end this here, or you die. 

It’s so simple. 

Nanami’s presence helps, too. Each breath slips you deeper and deeper into a semi-meditative trance. His hands run lightly up and down your arms, as he did in life. Even now, freezing to the touch, it’s grounding. It soothes you as you wait, eyes trained on the horizon. 

You have to time this just right. 

Kenjaku is just cresting the hill when you press your palms into the Prison Realm and start pouring your cursed energy into it. Nanami treats your body like a conduit. The familiar symbol of the 7:3 technique hovers over the Prison Realm like an old friend. 

“What’s this?” Kenjaku is, for the first time since he exploded onto the scene and ruined your life, confused. He scans the scene, looking for one Nanami Kento, very much missing in action despite his obvious presence. 

“Did you cannibalize your friend's technique?” 

You hate how he seems almost impressed with the idea. Ignoring him, you simply reinforce your barrier. He’s not getting to you or the Prison Realm. You’ve just realized you can access the reserves of Nanami’s cursed energy as well. They feel different now that he’s dead, but they’re still there. 

Predictably, 7:3 fails to pierce the Prison Realm. Kenjaku looks relieved. It must seem like your last bet had failed, a miraculous resurrection that went wrong. If only he knew that wasn’t the plan at all. 

Yuki’s infinite mass slams into him with enough force he goes careening sideways. He barely manages to catch himself against the ground with a hard grunt while she lands gracefully on her feet, not winded at all. Her curtain of blonde hair whips around her face in the wind, making her look like an ancient goddess. 

She doesn’t let up, going after him before he can even catch his breath. Yuki is a brawler at heart, matching her full physical fortitude against Kenjaku’s masterful use of technique. Her first blow catches him right in the cheek, pulverizing teeth and spraying blood. Her next lands square on his arm, snapping the bone clean through. 

When Kenjaku tries to fall back, Yuki rears back and kicks Garuda, curled into a ball, so hard into him he goes flying once again. She’s a wild beast - beautiful and feral. Kenjaku can’t give himself breathing room as she hammers him with attacks. Every time he gets too far, Garuda occupies him until she can get him in close quarters once again, where she specializes.

For a second, it seems like Yuki is winning. 

Then, right when Yuki has him cornered, Kenjaku grabs her arm and pulls her in, almost as if embracing her. He places one hand at her stomach, right where her vital organs are, and summons a mini Uzumaki in his hand. 

You realize with horror that he’s going to tear her to shreds right in front of you. 

Your reaction time doesn’t catch up quickly enough, but your technique instinctively senses what he’s about to target and throws a shield over her - if you hadn’t, she’d be dead. There’d be a gaping hole blown in her side.

You can’t count yourselves lucky just yet. 

Kenjaku takes advantage of Yuki’s loss of momentum to use his gravity technique, pinning her and you to the ground. Your shields are up, but knowing Kenjaku, he has something else up his sleeve. Every second you’re down is another second for him to unleash a new, worse weapon. 

Yuki moans in pain, her arm ruined. It’s bent at an awkward angle. Her reverse cursed technique is working overtime to heal her injuries enough that she can keep fighting. She’s a true monster, tanking hits like that at close distance even with your help. 

“Tsukumo!” Yuji’s voice is worried.

Somehow, the students are here. 

You close your eyes. The momentary relief you feel at hearing Yuji’s voice, safe and sound, is quickly overtaken by fear. Even if you can get back up for your fight now, Yuki can’t unleash her trump card while the students are here. Her black hole would suck them in at this close of a range. 

Whatever support they could’ve provided for this fight is heavily outweighed by the cost it’ll force Yuki to bear. Special grades fight best alone. You know this from watching Gojo. Everyone else drags them down. 

Choso had fallen back while Yuki was thrashing Kenjaku, likely because she had told him to. Now, Megumi and Yuji rush to him as he duels Kenjaku, severely out of his depth. They can buy him some time, but you’re not sure how much. Will it suffice to get Yuki back up again? 

Can Yuki even adjust to fight alongside them? 

Yuta peels away from the pack of students and heads towards you. “No time to explain! 

A disfigured figure lopes towards you, grinning horribly. You cringe at the sight of it, which instills some primal fear in you. “Is that-?” 

Yuta nods. “Yuji said we should bring him here. I’m sorry, there’s no time! You’ll just have to trust me!” 

Splitting your attention between five different bodies that need your shields is agonizing. You’re breaking out in cold sweat, fully aware of the fact that any lapse in concentration could mean the end of someone you care deeply for. Already, Yuji’s only avoided two near death experiences because your shield slid over him just in time. Yuki pulls Megumi back just as Kenjaku tries to drop a cursed spirit on him, and demolishes it with Garuda. She shoves him hard towards Yuta who’s stolen Mahito’s technique and is now employing it against him with a sense of almost childish wonder. 

That’s when a sixth person joins the fray, adding to your already buckling mental stamina. This one flies and is calling out to Megumi. 

Very quickly, the situation is only growing worse. Yuki pushed Megumi out of the fight because Yuji has lost control. She’s now on her own against Kenjaku and Sukuna, barely fending them off. Your shield cracks and reforms, only to crack again under a relentless onslaught of blows. You taste copper in your mouth, but you can’t stop. Nanami strokes your hair, trying to offer some relief as blood dribbles from your nose under the pressure of your technique being pushed further than it ever had before. Even tapping into his reserves, you’re finding that you’re about to run dry. 

Megumi’s friend dive bombs Sukuna from the air with a scream of rage. 

“Angel, don’t!” Megumi screams. 

For a second, you don’t think she’ll really do anything. After all, she’s with your students. You’re sure she won’t hurt Yuji’s body, but when she strikes with the intent to kill, you throw another barrier around Sukuna’s body just in time. It drains you to the point of collapse. Now Nanami’s physically holding you up, the phantom sensation of his strong arms around your waist keeping you from falling. 

Angel is furious, raining blow on top of blow on your shield. In your one second lapse in concentration, you drop Angel’s shield by accident. Sukuna grabs hold of her and tears her wings off her back before Megumi summons Nue to pull her back. Dropping Angel, once again safely enclosed in your shield at the cost of feeling like your skin is on fire, Nue heads to support Yuki, who’s losing her battle. 

Beside her, Megumi shoves the Prison Realm into her hands. She must realize she can’t win a fight with Sukuna, because she makes a miserable face. Megumi closes her hands around the Prison Realm and urges her on. You feel faint. You wish he would talk faster but finally, finally, he gets through to her. 

At her touch, it unfolds in a way it didn’t for you or Nanami. Gojo Satoru returns to action in a literal blaze of glory. The light pouring out of the Prison Realm is so bright it’s blinding. 

His face is sterner than you’ve ever seen it. Unobscured behind his blindfold, his eyes are blue chips of ice. He neutralizes Sukuna immediately and turns to deal with Kenjaku. 

“Wait,” Kenjaku says. 

Gojo doesn’t hesitate. 

“I have something you want.” Kenjaku bargains. At a gesture, Mahito, crushed by Yuta, pulls something out of his pocket. 

It’s Nobara, her form mangled into something tiny and unrecognizable. She’s missing an eye. Mahito must have used idle transfiguration on her. 

Your stomach turns. All the students are horrified. Yuta’s face has gone stony with anger, but Megumi turns to the side and gags. He fights and fails to keep from retching into the grass, down on his hands and knees. Weak yourself, you crawl to him to wipe the cold sweat from his brow.

Whatever Kenjaku was trying to accomplish with that little show fails. Gojo goes berserk. Kenjaku’s existence is simply deleted from the face of the planet as if he never existed at all. Such is the power of a god. 

You remember lines from a text you read long ago, as a student.

Through heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one. 

Mahito is wiped from the earth just as effortlessly, too. It’s too late for you to throw a shield in front of him. Even your scream is too late - Gojo is simply unmatchable. 

Your heart breaks. “We needed him,” you sob. “He’s the only one who can fix Nobara.” 

“We didn’t.” Gojo’s as cool and level headed as ever when he nods Yuta over. “You know what to do.” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Yuta says nervously. 

“Just give it a shot. Be greedy. Let your cursed energy take the shape it wants to.”

Yuta startles. He’s so used to control, keeping Rika on a tight leash. Still, he trusts Gojo immeasurably. 

Nobara’s resurrection is violent. You turn Megumi and Yuuji’s heads away. Her flesh unravels back over fresh bone growth. Her frame elongates and stretches. Yuta assiduously tries not to concentrate, and that tiny doll pops back into Nobara like it had been stretched out and wrangled back into the right shape. No sooner does he finish then Megumi and Yuuji wriggle out of your grasp. 

They wrap their arms around her, a three headed monster weeping. A few feet away, Yuki has forced herself into a sitting position, blood seeping from a cut over her eye. All around you, your friends are battered, but alive. Gojo saved everyone. 

All, but one.

One person he was too late to save. 

Gojo’s brow furrows. 

“Where’s Nanami?” 

A cool breeze touches your cheek as you feel the first drop of rain touch your cheek. The sky opens up above you, and soon the ground is soaked, so wet the soil has darkened. 

Gojo knows just by looking at your face, but he needs to hear it. 

“Nanami’s dead.” 

It’s cruel. It’s unbelievably, unbearably cruel. It’s a cosmic joke, because Gojo just lost Suguru, and now he’s confronted with the death of another old friend.

He never falters. He’s the strongest. But there’s just the tiniest wrinkle between his eyebrows as he helps usher all the students back inside the safe doors of the main building. 

His time in the Prison Realm doesn’t leave him. Although he’s mostly normal, and certainly does his best to act like it, tiny cracks show in him. He’s lighthearted and blithe about all of it, blowing off your concerns, but you know him. 

He develops a dangerous tendency to self-isolate and stew in his own emotions. Too volatile for meditation before, claiming he was prone to boredom, now he remains stuck in place for hours at a time. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t eat - it’s like he’s frozen. 

He treats meditation like a chrysalis, trying to ascend to an even higher plane. But already at the top, he has nowhere else to go. Still, he sits cross legged on the stone floor in the heart of the catacombs snaking under the campus, dreaming for days on end. 

He’s searching for peace. 

You are, too. 

Perhaps that’s why he suggests funding your trip to Malaysia. You have a mutual understanding. You’re loath to leave him and the kids in this state, but Utahime promises to watch after them all. Thank god - Shoko and Yuki weren’t meant to be caretakers. 

The latter had already skipped town, claiming that being in one place for too long made her antsy. Still, the bonds of that hard fought war seem to hold her just as tightly as everyone else. She returns home every few days, Gojo’s twin in hollow eyed fake happiness. Ever the world traveler, she marks out a careful itinerary for you and Nanami. 

Malaysia is a good life, a peaceful one. You live for Nanami; you let him live through you. In death, he can be selfish as he never was in life. You spend days on beaches, sun bathing and hoping he can feel the warmth of its rays. 

You don’t forget how he told you once, in that voice like he would never recover, how cold it was to be a ghost. He told you later that it was like extended hypothermia, a chill that seeped into the bones and stayed there. 

You read the books he likes and eat the pastries he enjoys. Every time you check in, the hotel managers will worry over you traveling all alone, but you aren’t alone. You sleep wrapped in solid arms, with your back pressed to his chest. His breath tickles your ear when you sleep. Sometimes you wake up crying because it all feels so real, having him next to you. Every morning is a fresh heartbreak, but you savor it because it means he matters. You savor everything he gives you, every press of skin or gentle kiss, knowing it’ll be gone before you know it. 

All too soon, it’s time to go home. 

The fact of the matter is, he’s still a ghost. You can’t change this. Nanami’s life is already gone. You’re just clinging to borrowed time, trying to extend your debtor’s card to mark out just one more day, one more hour past what you were allotted. 

You can’t help wishing you had more time. In that quiet place in your heart where you keep secrets you can’t admit to anyone, not even yourself, you want Nanami to stay. 

In the real world, you start preparing to lay him to rest. 

It’s a complicated practice. You’re not sure how to bring Nanami peace when you’ve never had a ghost before, at least not a true, recorded one. You rely on old legends from your village and an ancient text Shoko unearthed from the library to figure out which ceremonies need to be performed so Nanami can finally leave this plane of existence. 

Nanami protests the idea of a ghost marriage. He doesn’t want you to be a widow so young. 

“Married to a dead man! Think about it,” he pleads. 

“I already thought about it. This is what I want,” you tell him stubbornly. 

In a way, it fits. Malaysia hadn’t shaken the urge for you to give Nanami everything he still hadn’t experienced in life. Grief is a permanent lump in your throat. He had died so young, too young. 

Your marriage will be a happy event, at the very least. All your friends will be there to celebrate. This way, everyone can let Nanami go with a warm memory. 

It starts with a feast. 

Say what you want about Gojo, but the man knows how to party. He’s not shy about throwing around his massive wealth to host the most lavish of dinners. In fact, he’s acting almost as if he’s giving away his own daughter. You’ve never seen him so absorbed in anything as in wedding planning. Flyers litter his room, and you have to stop him from demanding every item the caterer can supply on more than one occasion. 

It’s a night of merriment, the kind Nanami would’ve wanted - not the partying, but the effusive joy on his friends’ faces. He probably would have gotten it, if he had lived long enough to marry. Gojo drags Shoko and Utahime onto the dance floor where they do a strange three legged hop to the beat of the music. Nobara is enjoying the delicacies ordered on Gojo’s money. 

All around you, the people you and Nanami loved most are happy. You feel him rest his head against your shoulder. He turns your hand over so he can write on your palm. Your skin tingles with the ticklish sensation.

“Are you happy?” 

“I am. Are you happy?” 

“So much so I could die,” he writes back with his characteristic dry humor. 

Normally, it would make you laugh, but tonight it just chokes you up. 

“Sorry,” he writes after a second. 

You just bring his immaterial hand to your face and kiss it in lieu of words, hoping he knows how you feel. 

A ghost marriage is half beginning and half ending. Like a snake eating its own tail, it devours its own happiness. There’s no need for an official announcement. As the night wears on, the mood grows somber on its own. You know when it’s the right time. 

After the glorious, bright joy of the marriage ceremony, the funeral rites start. 

In a roundabout way, god is the closest thing you have to a priest. Gojo lights a simple, unscented candle taper solemnly. Dressed in all white, he doesn’t look like the friend you know. He looks otherworldly. 

You kneel in front of him. He chants an old prayer. The flame leaps with his words. You bow once, twice, three times, feeling your heart rise in your throat. Nanami’s presence is all around you, closer than you’ve ever felt him. When you press your head to the floor for the final time, Gojo’s voice is barely a whisper. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he helps pull you to your feet. This is what almost breaks you, after everything, this kindness from an old friend.  

When you rise, it’s time for the candlelight vigil. Your friends file out of the room silently. Yuki, surprisingly, does not leave. When Gojo stares her down, she only raises her chin. “I owe her.”

Only Gojo is left to lead you down into the catacombs, where you will meditate all night, thinking of nothing but Nanami, remembering his smile and laughter for when he’s gone. Yuki trails behind you. Nanami squeezes your hand as you walk, lending you his silent support. You squeeze back. 

Thus, two friends accompany you into the underworld. You will be the only one leaving. Gojo sets the candle in front of you carefully, making sure not to stir it with his breath. They leave silently, so it’s just you, Nanami, and a dying flame. 

The wax drips. 

Just before dawn, the candle burns out. It flickers, fighting, before it dies down into melted wax. You think you can feel the imaginary tether between you and Nanami be severed. A sigh escapes your lungs. 

“I’m still here,” Nanami taps out against your shoulder. 

It didn’t work. 

At once, relief and grief crash into you, a cocktail of emotions so complicated you threaten to hurl up your decadent wedding cake. The pain of knowing you’ll have to lose him all over again wars with the joy of having him even just for one more day, even at the cost of his own peace is striking. You feel horrible, but you can’t help it. 

You clutch onto Nanami’s hands, holding him tightly. For an hour, it’s just the two of you, weeping silently together. Sitting down next to you, Nanami pulls you towards him until he can cradle you with his body, the two of you skin-to-skin, so close the boundaries of your bodies blur. 

Your chest heaves in great sobs as you wail and claw at him. If you don’t concentrate, sometimes your hands slip right through him, hurting you all over again. You’re so overwhelmed by panic and grief, so much love you don’t know what to do with it, that you confess your secret sin to him right then and there. 

“I don’t want you to go,” you admit, tasting salt and ash in your mouth. You nestle in, calmer now that you’ve purged the bile infecting your system. It’s something Nanami used to encourage in you, refusing to let you bottle your emotions up. He knew you’d feel better once you let it out. 

He rocks you back and forth slowly, the action so comforting it almost lulls you to sleep, as exhausted and spent as you are. “I know,” he sighs, his breath stirring your hair as he rests his chin on top of your head. The circle of his arms tightens around you. “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to go yet either. I want to live-“ 

Shocked, you bolt up and grab his face. 

“Nanami! Why? If you didn’t want to be exorcized, we would’ve never- '' Confusion boils under your breastbone. You’re already exhausted from a night of vigil, and somehow you can’t string the connections together for any of this to make sense. 

“Because you deserve better than to have me leech off your life. There’s no place for a ghost in the future.” 

You’re overcome with longing and misery, and then Gojo opens the door. The question is in his eyes. 

Nanami lifts your hand with his and waves. 

Gojo almost smiles, albeit ruefully. “Should’ve figured you would cling on. Guess you’re not so weak after all, Nanamin.” 

In Yaga’s absence, Utahime has taken over as de-facto principal, though you’re sure you’ll remain in her position after everything has been worked out. The only reason the other clans haven’t challenged her yet is because the far worse option is Gojo, and they consider her the lesser evil. She abuses her authority to place you on a mandatory break. 

“I’m fine, really!” You insist, even as she tuts at you. 

“You,” Utahime says sharply, “have been running yourself ragged. Has your body ever gotten out of our fight or flight reaction to Kenjaku? I get it, we need to help Nanami, but you won’t help like this. You need a break.”

“Malaysia-“

“Malaysia was another thing you did for Nanami! Don’t argue with me. Whether you like it or not, I’m pulling you off all missions. If you don’t relax, I’ll extend your sentence.” 

Utahime is a very strict jailor. Your days pass peacefully, with long walks underneath the flowering trees. You come to realize one of your friends is with you at all times, but you don’t mind. Even if they’re babysitting you, it’s good to have them around. In a way, Utahime shouldn’t have worried. 

No one is more adamant about finding a cure than Nanami, but you’ve lost your fire with his confession. You don’t mind if Nanami stays with you for the rest of your life, your ghost husband. You’d be lonely without him, haunting be damned. He could burn your life down to the quick to stay here, and you would let him. You’d do anything to keep him. 

The students are furious that their mentors are monopolizing you. One day, Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi sneak into your room. You hear them coming. Who couldn’t? 

“Shut up! She’s going to be back any minute!” As always, Megumi is trying to do damage control. You can practically see his eye twitching. 

Nobara tells him to shove it with all the authority of a girl people thought were dead up until recently. “We haven’t seen her in a week! It’s all Gojo’s fault,” she grouches. 

“Are we allowed to be in a girl’s room?” Yuji says, oblivious as ever. 

You open the door. “Not really, but I’ll make an exception this time.” 

You barely finish your sentence before Nobara and Yuji leap on you, bringing you to the floor in a tight hug. Megumi is slightly more restrained, but when he embraces you, he almost crushes your bones. Fondly, you stroke his hair. You’ve known him since he was a child and Gojo took him in. 

“We missed you-“ 

“Gojo wouldn’t let us see you-“ 

It’s a cacophony of noise, Nobara and Yuji are talking over each other. Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, already frustrated. You don’t know how he puts up with them when they clearly annoy him so much, though of course you do know - because he loves them. 

Yuji touches your sleeve. “Did Nanami-?”

They deserve to know. 

“He’s still here,” you say, your voice broken. Nanami squeezes your shoulder in warning, a silent plea to stop. 

Children shouldn’t shoulder these burdens. You pull yourself back together, but Nobara is clever and quick on the uptake. She picks up on your changed emotions immediately. 

“Does he still have to go?” 

“Nobara,” Megumi hisses. “Be tactful.” 

“No, seriously! The straw doll we used for the ceremony gave me an idea. I wasn’t going to bring it up if everyone still wanted Nanami to move on, but if not-“ she looks at you hopefully. 

You nod at her, expecting Nanami to stop you, but he’s surprisingly quiet and docile by your side. 

“If we combine my technique, Mahito’s, and Kenjaku’s, couldn’t we bring him back? If Kenjaku can stay alive, why can’t Nanami?”

Of course. 

Yuta’s more than happy to use his borrowed techniques for Nanami’s sake, but as you’re all gathered in the morgue, you can tell from all the grim looks on the adults’ faces that this is something you can’t come back from. Resurrecting the dead isn’t just taboo, it puts a target on your backs. Everyone will want to bring their loved ones back, not just you. 

Is this a risk you’re willing to take?

You look around the room at all the determined faces. Yuji is deathly pale with restrained hope. Utahime, prim and proper, is guarding the door. 

You know instantly that everyone in this room is willing to take this secret to the grave. 

Yes, this is a burden you’re all willing to shoulder. 

Nanami is worth it. 

Yuta starts by using idle transfiguration on the doll. In front of your very eyes, the image of the doll seems to melt away, only to be replaced by Nanami. He looks like he was sculpted out of wax, still beautiful, but cold and stiff. All hints of life are absent. 

Wrapping Kenjaku’s technique around himself, Yuta grabs ahold of Nanami, whatever he is now, and pins him against the doll. Nobara strikes down through the center of its chest with a nail. Her face is set in determination. 

You feel Nanami begin to peel away from your side. Nobara pours more energy into the nail. Everyone is watching, transfixed, as your small team of sorcerers performs a miracle. 

Then it starts to hurt. Just a little bit, at first, like a paper cut until the pain grows so intense you can’t ignore it. Utahime is at your side instantly as you gasp. 

“Something’s wrong,” you say, voice horrified. “He’s slipping away.” 

Gojo, for the first time in his life, looks helpless. His jaw is clenched in rage that has nowhere to go. Strength means nothing in this situation. 

“Let go,” Nanami urges. His voice is barely more than a whisper. “It’s okay. I wish we got more time - in the next life. I promise. I’ll find you in the next one, whatever it takes.” 

His voice is breaking. In the distance, Gojo is barking orders like, “Hold on!” and “Just a little longer!” 

“Nanami, please,” you’re crying. Cold fingers freeze your tears on your face and brush them away. “I don’t want you in the next life. I want you in this one.” 

Your mouth is suddenly stinging cold, but you welcome the pain. This might be the last kiss you ever get from him. 

Nobara roars with rage and strikes a nail into the doll with such force her hammer shatters. Her eyes are feral with an emotion you’ve seen before in Megumi and Yuuji. It seems like she’s hit her tipping point, just as they did. 

Cursed energy surges from her into the doll. Black roses climb up her arms, twining their thorns up her throat and over her face. Still, her cursed energy output keeps building until the doll simply disappears. The nail stays in Nanami’s body, glowing with blue fire until it too melts into his chest, the hollow cavity where his heart was. 

Nanami’s return to life is quiet.

You’re clutching his face, fingers near frozen to his cheeks when you first feel the faint signs of life. Slowly, his skin gains color and heat flushes through his body, warmth bleeding into your aching bones. You can’t let go, or won’t, still cradling him. 

Nanami opens his eyes with a gasp that sounds painful. It takes another second, then his chest heaves, two more and he’s breathing, miraculously breathing, gulping in great inhales of air. You nearly weep, hauling him upright, pressing your forehead to his. He’s so beautiful, so alive. 

“There you are,” he says, his voice raspy with disuse. “I missed you.” 

Epilogue !

Yuji is visiting today, so you’re just finishing up the last touches on dinner. You’re making his favourite, steak so raw it’s practically mooing, on top of rice with an egg on top. You shake your head even as you grill the meat, letting Nanami’s and yours cook a little more. 

There’s a great measure of joy in being a hostess. If you hadn’t been a sorcerer, you think you might have been a party planner. Nanami says it’s not too late, but you’re content to keep your abilities confined to just your circle of friends for now. Utahime and Gojo came by just last week, doing the same old song and dance they’ve been doing since they were teenagers. Yuki has bets on when they’ll get married, Shoko says never. In your opinion, this is just their thing, and if they enjoy it, who are you to protest? 

You hear the patter of footsteps on the porch. There Yuji is now, off to bother Nanami before his mission, no doubt. Even now that Nanami’s too old to go on missions with him, as a result of Utahime’s newly implemented retirement strategy for sorcerers due to the drop in cursed spirits, it soothes Yuji to see Nanami before missions. 

“Whatcha doin’, Nanamin?” 

“Reading the news.” 

“You’re boring,” Yuji grouches. 

“I think we deserve to be a little boring sometimes,” Nanami says. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back for dinner! Can you-“ 

“I’ll make sure your meat is so bloody we can’t stand to watch you eat, you little rascal.” 

Yuji’s laugh is bright as he runs off your front porch down to the car where Megumi and Nobara are waiting. You come out to wave goodbye to him. 

Somehow, sitting on the sidelines isn’t so unbearable anymore, not when Yuji has grown so strong and capable. You know you can leave the world in his capable hands. He’s been raised well. 

Watching him leave, back straight and proud - looking so much like Gojo your heart aches, you share a loving smile with Nanami. He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the golden band on your finger. Peace and crows feet are beautiful on him, as on you. 

[margridarnauds]

Something I've been trying to articulate is why a lot of criticisms of Takarazuka productions (esp. adaptations) from outside the Takarazuka fandom don't often WORK for me, so here are some angles that I wish that people would go into more, instead of treating Takarazuka Musicals™ as a conservative, sparkly monolith:

Comparing different adapted musicals together -- Elisabeth, RetJ, and 1789 were both adapted by the same director, Koike Shuuichirou, so you can spot solid similarities there, but what about Le Roi Soleil, La Legende du Roi Arthur, Mozart l'Opera Rock, Anastasia, Don Juan, The Scarlet Pimpernel, I Am From Austria, etc.? It isn't even to say that they're all wildly DIFFERENT (there are certain changes that I'd argue are common among multiple adaptations), but it's to say that you can do better work when you have a broad pool to compare these things with.

Relating to that, comparing the work of different directors, or even the same director's work in different productions. (Koike's work in Elisabeth in the various Elisabeth Takarazuka productions over time VS the various Toho, or his work on 1789 between the 2015 Zuka to the Toho productions to the 2023 production.)

On the reverse side, instead of or in addition to questioning why changes were made, questioning why Japanese audiences are DRAWN to these foreign musicals in the first place. La Legende du Roi Arthur alone deals with themes of rape, incest, deals with the devil, adultery, etc. Is it the fact that it's foreign and therefore exotic enough that it can get away with things that other musicals can't, or does it show that there might be an interest in darker material alongside the stereotypical Takarazuka material (whatever that means)? (I have my own opinions, but this is an angle I almost never see in these critiques.)

What Takarazuka material looked like 20-30 years ago VS the present. How has the tone changed? How has it varied?

Like, Takarazuka is easy to take cheap shots at, and, a couple of years ago, I wouldn't have been far off from these criticisms myself (and I've made my own), but I feel like a lot of the criticisms are grounded in only using one or two adapted musicals from one director, pointing to them, and going "that's Takarazuka™"

[xxxxkathleenxxxx]

Love Confessions

Pairing: Shadowheart x f!reader

Summary: After fighting mercilessly at the Goblin Camp, f!reader builds up the courage to confess her love for her seductively beautiful Shadowheart.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut, Porn With Minimal Plot, f!reader is a visual person, f!reader likes femme women, oral (f receiving), v fingering, some dirty talk. No definitive top or bottom. Baldur's Gate 3 universe.

Wordcount: 3.2k

A/N: this was originally in my scraps, so it may not be the best, but i'm sure someone out there might like this! maybe... lol

I liked Shadowheart. It wasn’t fair of me to admit this post-battle with the goblins. It was a long, hard fight; trying to bring Halsin back to Emerald Grove proved to be the greatest challenge on our adventures towards Baldur’s Gate. Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, and I were atrociously exhausted despite the celebration taking place at our campsite with the tieflings. We had an obvious victory, what with bringing Halsin back in one piece, but we desperately wanted to hide away in our tents, sleep the treacherous battle off, and pray to the gods for what was to come in our future quests. 

As I finished conversing with Halsin, I leaned against a nearby rock, sipping on the only wine I found remotely tasteful. The tieflings surrounded me, the party leader, in a roaring victory as they raised their glasses of cheap, dry wine we looted from the goblins.. 

“You are so brave. So strong…” One of the tieflings boasted as she rested her hand on my shoulder, nails grazing my campsite clothing; a simple white shirt with puffy sleeves and an adorned black corset to hold everything taut, with black trousers; way more comfortable in comparison to the armor I hung to dry, which was previously coated with stench-smelling goblin blood. 

“What is your secret?” A young, tiefling man cried in a drunken haze. “How is it possible you defeated them within a day? My, my. I must worship you now.” 

One beautiful, young tiefling woman placed her hand over mine as she licked her lips, smiling. She was radiant, what with the perfect, healthy build every tiefling seemed so fortunate to be born with.

“Goodness,” she let out a low, flirtatious laugh as her heterochromic eyes bored into mine. “I could keep you to myself tonight if you’d be willing to have me? I’d be happy to reward you well for saving us,” she whispered in my ear, and I shivered. She did not quite have the effect on me like a certain half-elf.

.

I watched her from across the campsite. Her hair was still up in that cute, long braid as it swayed from side to side. I wanted nothing more than to touch it. I bet it was soft. It smelled amazing. I guiltily took in a whiff when she tended to my wounds one evening. As I hissed past clenched teeth when she treated my wound with alcohol, I lost all self-control and could not resist the urge to inhale that lovely night orchid scent she emitted. 

My eyes trailed further down as I took another sip of my wine. Her monochromic tank top hung low, and I wasn’t complaining. She had a lovely figure; her tight, leather pants hugged her in the right spots. She was quite literally perfect. And these were all nothing compared to her charismatic personality that first drew me in on the nautiloid. Her panicked, beautiful blue-green eyes looked at me with a curiosity as I saved her. Her willingness to make the right decision, even if it proves to be a sacrifice to Lady Shar’s commandments. She was everything I ever dreamed of and more. 

“So?” the tiefling woman pulled me out of my trance. I turned my attention towards her, slightly annoyed. She smirked at me, biting her bottom lip. “What will it be?”

“I think I will be turning in now,” I dismissed her as I made my way towards Shadowheart’s tent, isolated from the others, paying no mind to the tiefling who scoffed, but immediately played it off by turning her attention to a tired Wyll. 

As I made it to her tent, her lovely smile grew on her face when she noticed me. My gaze softened as my demeanor changed from the tiefling who was coming onto me. Shadowheart had my complete and full attention now. 

“It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” Shadowheart’s soothing voice radiated as she smiled at me, raising her glass of wine in the air. “Though, I quite like having my tent over here; isolated from the rest. It’s peaceful.”

“You fought well today, Shadowheart. I couldn’t thank you enough for tending me my wounds,” I stood in front of her sort of awkwardly. I grew overly self-conscious. I wanted to tell her how I felt, but her faith in Lady Shar was all too powerful; I just don’t think I could quite compare. 

“Don’t mention it. I would do anything to keep you safe and protected.” Her gaze softened as she took another sip of her wine. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, but I could have sworn she was moving closer to me. Very slowly.

“May I ask you a question?” I blurted out. I mentally face-palmed. If I’m so damn terrified of confessing to her, then I will do so in a roundabout way, so she doesn’t suspect anything. 

She moves closer. I glanced up at her piercing eyes, but they gazed into mine as if her full attention was on me. Not anyone else or anything. “Fine… What’s on your mind?”

“Let’s go away from camp. I need to do this with you. Preferably alone. If that’s alright with you.” While I recognize many people were drunk in celebration, I wanted this moment to be sacred between the two of us only. 

“Sure. Lead the way.” We both head to the outskirts of camp. I leaned against the bark of a tree as she stood in front of me, crossing her arms as she was giving me an expectant look, awaiting my confession.

C’mon. C’mon. C’mon. Think. “How am I holding up to your estimations?” I pursed my lips shut after blurting out this atrociously weird question. 

She began to chuckle, covering her mouth as she let out a loud, hearty laugh. I felt my face redden as I furrowed my brows. “S-Shadowheart? W-Why do you laugh?”

She let out a few more snorts of laughter until she composed herself. Her breathing slowed as she placed her hands on my shoulders, leveling with me. “You silly girl…”

My breath hitched as her gaze pierced intensely into mine. The way she laughed was enough to absolutely drive me mad. I awaited her to continue what she had to say. I was hoping it wouldn’t be a rejection, but by the way she was within close proximity to me made me feel like this night would be in my favor. 

“Y-Yes…?” I squeaked out.

She leaned in even closer, resting her forearms on my shoulders as she was still eye level with me. “My little night orchid…” She breathes out, closing her eyes; I can feel her breath hit my face ever-so-lightly. “I’m listening… Go on…” She urges me. 

I took a deep breath as my heart was literally pounding through my chest. I bit my bottom lip and looked up at her, seeing her eyes glisten along with the stars in the night sky. “I- I- like you…”

Her face darkens a bit. I felt my face burning up to a crisp. I was prepared for her to ridicule me.

“B-But i-it’s not that b-big of a deal, so d-don’t even worry. You can l-let me d-down. I c-can handle i-it-” I babbled on and my eyes widened when she pressed her lips to mine. I stood there in absolute shock, my hands stiff to my sides. 

Once she pulled away she chuckled. “There. Now you can hear what I have to say to your confession.”

She takes her arms off of my shoulders, and I feel a sense of emptiness as she stands up, looking down at my shorter stature. “In all honesty…”

“From rescuing me aboard the nautiloid, when you could’ve easily abandoned me. You quite literally could have, and I would have died, but you rescued me. You not only willingly had me stand by you as a companion, you confided in me when I needed to talk to someone about my past with Lady Shar. You never once made me feel bad about faith and journey to becoming a Dark Justiciar. You were always there when I felt the horrors and trauma of not remembering my past. How I was agonizing in pain from being forced to keep all of these secrets, so I could please Her. I know my faith might not make sense to many people; they might find it weird, unsettling, and do everything in their willpower to make me change my mind, but you have been there every step of the way, aiding me into doing what I want. You’ve never once stood in my place to speak for me. So…” She leans forward and rests her hands on either side of my head, propping herself against the bark of the tree, trapping me. Her gaze was intense. “For you to ask me… ‘How am I holding up to your estimations’?” She shakes her head as her eyes narrow into a smirking expression. “You have got to be the most modest fucking person to even question the amount of affection I have for you.”

“What I’m trying to say,” she began. “I love you.”

“Right. I’m a good friend to you-” She placed an index finger to my lips, shushing me.

“No,” she said in almost a commanding tone. “I love you, like I want to be with you. I want to be your partner. I want you to hold me. I want to protect you from any harm that comes in your way. I want to kiss you. I want to-” I cut her off by extending my head up, pressing my lips to hers. She stood there in a daze for a split second, but then, she melted into the kiss.

Her plump lips moved in a melodic rhythm with mine as she slipped her tongue into my mouth. Our tongues danced with one another. I felt her hands grabbing mine, placing them on her hips. I sighed against her lips, loving the silky touch of her clothes; the feel of her curves was enough to make me feel hot. I wanted more of her. 

I pulled her hips into mine close. She gasped and reached up, caressing my face gently as she never once broke our kiss. She grabbed my chin, lifted my face up so she looked down at me with these gorgeous doe eyes. 

She didn’t even peep a word out. She grabbed my hand and stuck my digits in her mouth as she coated them with saliva. She stared at me seductively and I practically groaned at how she teased me. She slowly moved my hand into her taut pants and I threw my head back, letting out a sigh as my fingers ran over her wet folds. 

She propped her hand up on the bark of the tree as her other hand was holding my wrist, guiding my hand against her as I curled my fingers over her juicy pussy. She bit her lip as her brows furrowed. She let out whines in almost a sing-song voice and I loved every second of it. It was way better than any stupid music box. I could listen to this for eternity.

She bucked her hips forward as she moaned, resting her head on my shoulder and I shivered as her breath hit my ear and neck, making goosebumps arise on my skin. “C’mon. Don’t be so gentle. Fuck me with your fingers,” she moans in a husky whisper into my ear. I gulped as I felt a lump in my throat. She had me incredibly wrapped around her finger. Literally.

I curled my digits up into the cavern of her vagina, pumping my fingers in and out as I looked up at her for reassurance that I was doing it right. She pulls back and nods as if she can read my thoughts. “Yeah… Oh, fuck. You fuck me so good. Don’t stop. Right there…” She moans as her lucious hips roll into mine in delicious figure 8s. I was rendered speechless. No words came out of my mouth as I was entranced by the sexiness of her voice and movements. I took my other hand and reached up, touching her hair and she sighs in satisfaction, sending her over the edge into a body-shaking orgasm as she presses her lips against mine roughly, moaning at her release. 

She pants a few more times, coming down from her high as she pulls back, looking at me with half-lidded, lustful eyes. She reaches down and pulls my hand out of her pants. She puts my fingers up to her lips and licks them clean. Her eyes were much darker as if she was in heat. She chuckled darkly. 

“My, my. That’s quite the expression you have on your face.”

My thoughts snapped back to reality and I spoke up quickly. “W-What expression?”

She laughs. “You look like you’re in shock. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, Shadowheart…” I was quick to nod as I hesitantly reached up to tug at her shirt to aid her into taking it off. She shook her head, halting my hands. “Another time.”

I frowned but my eyes widened as she leaned in again, kissing my lips gently. She then leans into my ear, whispering hotly, “Right now, I wanna make you feel good…”

My breath hitched and I felt myself growing more bold over time. I looked up at her daringly as she looked down at me as if I was her prey. “Do whatever you want to me. I’m yours.”

Her jaw clenched as she pushed me up against the tree. I gasped and let out a squeak as she crushed her lips into mine, reaching up and wrapping one of her hands around my neck gently, holding me in place. It was hot as fuck. I completely submitted to her as I leaned against the tree, taking whatever she gave to me as her lips trailed along my jaw, down to my neck as she nibbled it, sucking until she left a perfect hickey.

She reached up and caressed my breasts. I threw my head back as she looked up at me in reassurance to take my shirt off. I nodded and was shocked as she tore it off, ripping the material up. “You’re so amazing. Every inch of you is perfect.” Her eyes raked over my body hungirly. I felt my body flush nervously and she took each breast into her mouth, taking her time as her tongue swirled around each nipple until they were hard. 

She reached up, gripping the top of my pants as she pulled them down quickly, the breeze of the night air making me shiver. She looks up at me darkly. “No underwear?”

I shook my head. “N-No… Is that a problem?”

She chuckles, kissing my thigh and I bit my bottom lip, shivering. “No. Just took me by surprise. I’m not complaining though. It’s definitely a sight from here.” 

What she did next absolutely blew me out of any impression I had of her. She leaned in and inhaled my pubes, pressing her lips to my skin as her tongue flicked out and ran over my folds, sucking in all of my juices. I stood there in shock as my eyes widened, trying to escape. “Shadowheart. You don’t have to do this. Please don’t feel obligated. I feel bad. It’s probably gross…”

She grips her hands into my hips, holding me in place. “It’s not gross…” She murmurs against my pussy, leaving pleasurable vibrations against me. My legs shook as her tongue flicked against me in many directions. 

I felt myself throwing my head back, groaning, holding my hands up, unsure where to place them. She pulls back, looking up at me. I glance down at her and my heart skips a beat at her puppy dog eyes. “Grab my head. Make yourself feel good. C’mon.” She urges me almost commandingly and I felt my folds grow even more wet by the sexiness and huskiness of her simple words that could alone throw me over the edge. 

She leans back in, licking my pussy in a consistent rhythm, and I finally built up the courage in reaching down, grabbing ahold of her braid as I guided her against me. I bucked my hips forward and she accepted me gracefully, digging her fingers into my thighs as she pressed her face in further, never ceasing the speed of her tongue.

“Shadowheart… I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” I was panting, my chest heaving up and down as lights were practically dancing in my vision. I felt my knees buckling slightly from the intense pleasure she was giving me. 

“Let go. Let yourself feel the pleasure, my little night orchid…” And with that, my body released the most intense orgasm I have ever had in my life. I let out a harsh breath, hissing as I threw my head back. She stood up quickly, moving her hand over my pussy sensually, allowing me to ride out my orgasm against her palm as she kissed me eagerly. I felt myself shiver from tasting the salts of my juices on her tongue. 

Once I came down from my rush, I let out a deep sigh, looking up at her as I laughed. “Jeez. You’re insane. I almost fell.”

“I would’ve caught you,” she quickly responded very seriously as she looked down at me tenderly, never once taking her eyes off of me. 

As she helped me clean up, I adjusted my clothes and I put them back on. I felt a question burning, and I didn’t even have to mention anything until Shadowheart spoke up. 

“What’s plaguing your mind, my love?” She gave me a look of utter concern as we both headed back to camp, lying in her tent next to each other. She leaned her head on her hand, propping herself up with her elbow as she looked down at me.

“Is there a reason why you didn’t take off your clothes? I was worried that maybe you weren't into it… I’m sorry I couldn’t do better to please you.”

She laughs and her eyes widen. “You worried you didn’t please me?” She grabbed my chin so I looked into her mesmerizing eyes. “Listen to me.”

“You made me feel so incredibly good, I almost saw Lady Shar herself. I just…” She averts her eyes for a moment. “I just don’t feel comfortable showing myself yet…” 

I felt my heart skip a beat. So that’s why. I reached up, running my fingers through her hair. “Then we will take as much time as you need. There’s no rush. We have forever.”

She smiles at me, lying down next to me as her hand rests over mine, grabbing it firmly. 

“And that’s why I love you. You respect my boundaries and never push me to where I feel uncomfortable. I’m grateful for that.”

“I will always respect you, Shadowheart. Always-” I began, and I looked over at her as her eyes were drifting off. 

“Shadowheart?” I whispered.

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“Not possible.”

“But it is!” I spoke up and she grabbed me, pulling me into her chest.

“Keep at this right now and we’ll go another round,” she spoke lazily; no shot she was going to do anything now. She was almost into a dead slumber. 

“No way! You milked me dry!”

“You sure know how to turn a girl off.”

“Whatever,” I groaned, resting my head on her chest and feeling her chuckle as she pressed her lips to my head. 

[austinbutlermischief]

I will say it now there is only ONE man besides the ORIGINAL who is my ELVIS!!! That is Austin Butler! I have no desire what so ever to see this new version of Elvis which to me looks like the cheaper version! I knew there was going to be comparisons between the two. I mean they were already comparing the two during the hype last year and during award season no less (which was honestly to me a DICK move). We couldn't even enjoy and get through that with out the newest one showing up and being compared to Elvis! Now already we are having reviews that are knocking down Austin for this cheap ass imitation of the king of rock n roll! I won't be giving this movie a chance not even if i was PAID to watch it or i was bored and there was NOTHING else on to watch.

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Albitch Ring Rant Post Part 2

Since I'm in a bad mood for whatever fucking reason, also Tumblr won't let me post Princess's ask, that's an actual cold hard truth, Imma do this instead 😁

And we already sound crazy already. So, let's drag this pretentious slut again, shall we..? Oh, and special thanks to 👸 for being bored, and once again bringing me stuff to fucking destroy this bitch with 🫶

So, remember when the timeline they made didn't make sense? Yeah, it'll continue to do so. Because her fan page posted this, four days ago.

Now, I don't really care what this bitch does, as long as she doesn't make Chris look bad, in which case... LEMME AT HER!!! But if this is July 2020... Chris ain't there with her at all. Considering he was with Lily James in London! Remember that? Seemed like forever ago 😅

So, if they're claiming something about the timeline in July 2020... They're fucking lying 🙄 again

Let's travel a little forward in time to yesterday 😁

So, we all saw Albitch rocking the dullest and most cheap ass ring you've ever seen, right? It gets worse much worse.

Justin LD(lyme diseased) posted a shit ton of pics with Albitch. And that ring honestly looks even duller and pathetic in those, more than anything.

And we all know Albitch and Chris have zero chemistry whatsoever, props goes to the top comment on the post because it's so true, and sparked my belief that the bitch is sleeping with Justin 🤭

And I honestly agree with the commenter at the top. They do look good together.

They both look equally perfectly AWFUL on the red carpet 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

WTF is with the head tilt?! It stopped being cute 3000 articles ago, Albitch! And this isn't a prom! Why do those two look like they're taking prom pics?!

And bonus, if you look at this photo of LD story, Albitch looks like a horror movie ghost who does the jumpscares

I see no difference 🤭🫣

Let's go back to the ring.

Someone posted on here a few weeks to months ago, that Chris was engaged during August...

See the problem with that timeline is that Albitch posted more pics with LD, and she was most definitely not wearing a ring then 👀

Jump back to the present.

Imma go back to her solo pics again. We've all seen them, no need to reiterate, see the thing is, for some reason, another fan page of hers got a more HD and clear photo of the ring...

How in the hell did they get that?! But not her Agency 👀

This is the part where I call two rings, and she used Photoshop again!

And can y'all stop saying that her ring is gold, it clearly fucking isn't!!! Unless y'all are colorblind that's white gold or silver!

Now, as for the two rings the one in the picture we saw is definitely not that one.

That ring still looks silver or white gold, but has a round stone with nothing surrounding it, and is dull compared to everything else she's wearing. Meanwhile the new pic, square stone, with stones on the band...

This is where I call BULLSHIT

Those two pictures look as different as Chris does in the Lisbon old-new photos! So, in conclusion, somebody photoshopped it in, and chose a completely different equally cheap ring, and made it shiny 😒

Seriously, this is getting tired, and I'm sorry but Albitch and her entourage of wannabe influencers should just quit.

No one will believe her because she's been lying from the get go. Aside from that, if she and Chris are real, it means she's been openly cheating on him since before they were ever official. And Chris flirts with women, and tells the whole world he's single, and looking for a serious partner.

Again, at this point, Dodger and the kids are the only innocents. Who need to be protected from all this. Because another bomb will drop, and we will lose more of the Fandom than we did when NYCC happened. 😞

Albitch Ring Rant Post Part 1

[dreamersinthedaylightinspo]

Eunomia slept like a rock. The healer worked over her while she rested and she woke, eventually, to peals of laughter and golden sunlight streaming into the birthing room. Nahida pronounced her able, and she found that she was able to stand and walk without help. A servant came to bring her pastries and fresh flower-scented tea with a wedge of lemon. Her body still tingled with the effects of the magic; though her body moved when she willed it and she wasn't in pain, she felt strange and tender and empty.

And, again, mostly, she missed her mother.

At first, she'd cried helplessly at the idea of bringing a child into the world without her family's support. Even after months, the pangs of anxiety she felt never lessened. But she found, when she stepped into the hall and was greeted with elated cheers and congratulations from half the living creatures in Rosehall, that she needn't have worried in the slightest.

The birth of a faerie child - of a High Lord's child - had caused celebratory commotion like Nomi had never seen. It was comparable to the breaking of Amarantha’s curse in Rhodes. After she managed to fight her way through the well-wishers, Tamlin informed her that they were expecting guests - representatives from the nearby villages were coming to Rosehall to pay tribute to Spring's new princess.

In response to her expression, Tamlin shrugged.

"If anything, this is your fault, my dear. Everyone likes you; they didn't care nearly so much when I was born."

Indeed - by lunchtime, the hall was swarming with faeries of all sorts. Stout dwarven-kin, nimble goblins, pixies and sprites, even tiny wil-o-the-wisps no bigger than the nails on her littlest finger. Wraiths and nymphs peeled themselves out of trees and ponds and sat themselves down for lunch in the gardens. The sentries and stabelhands joined the kitchen staff to help prepare meals for the travelers but many seemed to have brought their own food.

And with that, the gifts. Nomi accepted cuttings from gardens, little dresses and shoes and hats, music boxes, dolls and pillows and blankets, and all manner of more impractical things - a necklace of freshwater pearls, a loadstone, the branch of a cherry tree with a single, eternal pink blossom affixed to the end.

The other High Lord's, too, were prompt in their tributes. Helion sent a basket of fruits - pomegranates and oranges, adorned with rosemary, and other symbols of prosperity and longevity - and a handwoven blanket with the solar motif of the Day Court. This was Nomi’s favorite present. Thesan sent the most practical gift: a clever pair of looking glasses that were meant to be placed, one at the cradle and one on the parent's nightstand, enchanted so that they would know if the baby became fussy at night. Naturally, this was Tamlin's favorite.

Tarquin sent a set of seaglass windchimes to hang above Semele's cradle. Kalias sent her a practical winter coat - deep purple and lined with white fox fur, a few sizes large so that she could grow into it - and a matching hat, mittens, and boots. Eris sent a circlet of bronze and gold apple blossoms, which was very pretty though both Nomi and Tamlin agreed that they couldn't really picture Semele wearing such a thing.

The Night Court sent a note affixed to a bottle of wine. It read, "Good luck, you'll need it."

"Its not even a good vintage," Lucien complained when he saw this. He popped the cork and took a swig, swallowing bitterly. "Cheap bastard."

"No cursing in front of the baby," Elain scolded. Her smile was fixed to her face, though, and she promptly returned to cooing at Semele, who slept through all of this, somehow, and to Nomi's immense relief.

"You know," said Elain, leaning over to give Nomi one more peck on her cheek. "I don't recall nearly so much fanfare when Nyx was born."

"Typical of the Night Court," said a passing sentry, dispassionate. "Hide the lady's pregnancy til the last moment, then pretend it's business as usual."

"Its different here," Nomi agreed, shifting Semele slightly in her arms. She was heavy, and yet weightless, and soft. "What do humans do, when a child is born?"

Elain shrugged. "Oh, not much. It'd be bad luck to celebrate anything until they're about five or so - too old for faeries to want to eat them and such."

"No talk of cannibalism in front of the baby," said Lucien.

Luckily for all of them, Tamlin was utterly obssessed with his daughter and was cataloging her every expression or new experience, and told these stories with enormous pride to anyone who happened to stand in his presence.

///TO BE CONTINUED