Carnival Hearts

THIS!!! THAT WEIRDO WHO THREATENED ME!!!

I posted the dm's they sent me, but beware, it's completely unhinged.

//Hey everyone! OOC speaking

Here's the accounts run by that aoi asahina creep, so you can block them and avoid interacting:

aoisitsonmyface

sweepingstarlight

bonbonpuppet

king-bon-asahina

bonbonpuppet117

glowstone-mod

aoiasahinasboyfriend

Keep in mind they could have more, so if they're still sending you asks or threats just ignore them, and if you know of any other accounts share them with me so I can add them to the list

I would like to request „where the hurt doesnt reach with kyoko, kaede and miu

A/N: Yes, of course! :} Slowly but surely getting through all of my requests.

Where the Hurt Doesn’t Reach pt.5

pt.4 - pt.6

pt.1

Kyoko, Kaede, and Miu x Male!Reader

Warnings: Themes of Trauma/Abuse, Mentions of Assault/Threats, Mental Health Topics, Sensitive Touch & Boundaries, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety/Avoidance, Mentions of Nightmares/Sleep Issues

Word Count: 2930

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Kyoko: 

(Y/N) kept his head down in the dorm lounge, hands clenched around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. The mug felt heavy- heavier than ceramic should- like the memories clawing at his chest had poured themselves inside.

The dorm was quiet. He had planned it that way. Early mornings were the safest. Fewer eyes, fewer voices. Fewer men.

He flinched as the door clicked open behind him.

Footsteps- measured, soft, deliberate- crossed the floor. No harsh breaths. No creaking floorboards from someone stomping in. Just silence.

“Good morning.”

He knew that voice. Soft and clear, like the first breeze after rain… Kyoko Kirigiri.

He didn’t answer. Just dipped his head lower.

But she didn’t mind. She never did.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” she asked.

(Y/N)’s grip on his cup tightened. His lips parted, but no sound came. He didn’t know how to say yes. Not without explaining the panic in his chest, or the constant crawl of anxiety under his skin. Not without revealing how he didn’t trust anyone- especially not the boys in this school, the ones with rough laughs and too-loud voices.

But Kyoko wasn’t like them.

She waited. Silent. Letting him answer in his own time.

“…yeah,” he breathed, almost inaudibly.

She didn’t ask any more questions. Just sat across from him, folded her gloved hands on the table, and looked at him- not with pity, but with understanding.

“You’ve been avoiding the others,” she said plainly, but gently. “The male students.”

His jaw tensed. Shame burned under his skin like acid.

“I’ve noticed,” she added, after a pause. “That’s all. I’m not judging you.”

“…I just… can’t,” he whispered. “I-They remind me of… Someone.”

Kyoko’s gaze didn’t waver. “Your stepfather?”

He froze.

“…How do you know that?” he murmured, eyes wide.

“I’m the Ultimate Detective,” she said softly. “But more than that… I noticed how your shoulders tense when anyone raises their voice. How you instinctively put space between yourself and any guy who walks near you. How you relax, just slightly, when you’re with me.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched. Tears threatened behind his eyes, but he blinked them back, ashamed. He didn’t want to cry. Not in front of her.

But Kyoko reached across the table- slowly, so gently- and placed her gloved hand near his, not touching, just close. An offering. A silent I’m here. You’re safe.

“You don’t have to explain everything,” she murmured. “Not until you’re ready. And even then, only if you want to.”

The room was quiet again. But it wasn’t lonely. Not with her there.

“I feel… broken,” he confessed, his voice cracking.

“You’re not,” she said, firmly. “You’re hurt. But not broken.”

(Y/N) looked up- really looked at her- and for the first time in days, the crushing weight in his chest loosened, just a little.

Maybe, with Kyoko… healing didn’t have to be loud… Maybe it could start here.

In silence. In stillness.

 In the presence of someone who didn’t demand anything from him- except honesty, when he was ready.

Healing is quiet, but constant.

The halls of Hope’s Peak were always noisier in the afternoon, but (Y/N) found himself in the library. He liked the silence there. The weight of books around him felt grounding, the muffled sounds a safe sort of background noise.

He was flipping through a random mystery novel when a shadow passed the table- and without needing to look, he knew who it was.

Kyoko.

“Hi,” he murmured before she even spoke.

She stopped mid-step, slightly surprised… and then smiled faintly. “Hi.”

She took the seat across from him again, like it had become a silent ritual. There were no expectations between them. Just moments. Just space shared without pressure.

“You’re reading mystery novels now?” she asked, voice laced with a rare warmth.

(Y/N) gave a tiny shrug, fingers playing with the page corner. “Thought I’d try to understand what makes your brain tick.”

That earned him the smallest chuckle- soft and barely there, but real. His chest swelled with something fragile and new. He liked making her smile. Especially when she did it just for him.

“Do you want help solving it?” she asked, gesturing at the book.

He nodded, and they spent the next hour side by side- her pointing things out, him guessing and missing obvious clues, but laughing softly anyway. For a moment, the weight on his shoulders lifted, and it almost felt like he was just… a normal student. A normal boy. With a friend.

No- more than a friend. At least on his end.

He liked her. Liked the way she gave him space, but always showed up when he needed someone. Liked how she never asked about his scars but always looked like she wanted to fight whoever caused them.

Not all pain is visible. But she sees it anyway.

It happened in the courtyard. He hadn’t meant to go out, but he wanted air.

 Then a group of guys passed by- too loud, too close- and one of them bumped into him hard, muttering something under his breath that wasn’t even mean, but his chest clamped down instantly.

The panic came fast. Sharp. Ugly.

His breath caught. Vision blurred.

He stumbled back toward the wall, heart hammering in his ears, the sky spinning above him-

“(Y/N)!”

Her voice cut through the noise.

She was there in seconds.

Kyoko didn’t touch him. She didn’t crowd him. She just knelt beside where he’d sunk to the ground, her gloved hand resting lightly against the pavement, near his.

“Breathe with me,” she said. Calm. Grounding. “In… and out. Match me.”

She inhaled slowly. Exhaled even slower. Repeated. Over and over.

And (Y/N), shaking and pale, tried to match her. At first it didn’t work. His chest was too tight. His throat burned.

But she didn’t leave. Didn’t falter.

“In… and out.”

Eventually, the tightness loosened. The dizziness passed. His hands stopped shaking.

“…I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, voice barely there.

“Don’t apologize,” she said gently. “You’re not weak for surviving.”

Those words hit harder than anything else. He blinked hard, biting down the emotion swelling in his throat.

She sat beside him then, her shoulder close. Not touching- just present. Solid.

“I hate how scared I am,” he murmured. “How small I feel when they’re around.”

Kyoko was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You’ve never been small to me.”

He turned his head toward her, startled. She met his eyes- clear and unwavering.

“You're brave,” she said. “Not because you’re unafraid. But because you keep going, even when you are.”

And- that was the moment he fell just a little harder.

Kaede: 

(Y/N) didn’t speak much when he first arrived at Hope’s Peak. He flinched at sudden noises, kept his eyes on the floor, and sat in the back of every room, as far from the boys as he could manage. Rumors spread quickly in schools like this- but Kaede never paid them any mind.

She saw him- really saw him- when she stayed after class to pack her sheet music, and he lingered a little longer than usual. Just the two of them in the room. She glanced up to say goodbye, and (Y/N) visibly tensed.

Her voice softened. “Hey… sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

(Y/N) didn’t answer at first. But he didn’t bolt either.

That was enough for Kaede.

The next day, she played a melody in the music room after class, loud enough for the hallway to hear. Just in case he passed by again. She kept doing it for days. Weeks.

Until one afternoon, she looked up between notes… and there he was. Standing in the doorway, holding his arm with a nervous grip, eyes unfocused.

She smiled, gentle and bright. “You can come in, if you want.”

He stepped inside- slowly, like the floor might give out under him.

Kaede kept playing. Nothing fancy. Just something soft and warm, like sunrise through a window. When she finished, she turned to him.

“…You okay?”

“…I don’t really like being around people,” he mumbled, “especially… guys.”

Kaede nodded, never once looking away.

“I get it. You don’t have to explain. But I’m not a guy, and… I promise, I’ll never make you feel unsafe.”

(Y/N)’s lip trembled slightly. But he stayed.

That became their quiet ritual- no words needed. He’d sit nearby while she played, sometimes reading, sometimes just… existing. In a room where no one could hurt him. A place where her music filled the silence he carried like a second skin.

One rainy evening, she asked gently, “Can I show you something?”

She pulled a chair beside the piano and motioned for him to sit.

“You don’t have to play,” she smiled. “I just… want you to feel what it’s like to be near music like that. To feel safe inside something.”

He hesitated, then slowly sat beside her. Their shoulders didn’t quite touch.

She began to play, her fingers moving across the keys in slow, deliberate tenderness. The piece wasn’t just music- it was comfort. A lullaby for someone long overdue for kindness.

Halfway through, she felt it- (Y/N) leaned in, his head resting against her shoulder. Light, like a bird settling onto a branch for the first time.

Kaede didn’t stop playing.

And for the first time in a long, long while… (Y/N) closed his eyes and let himself breathe.

The next day, he was there before her.

Kaede blinked when she opened the door to the music room and found (Y/N) already seated near the piano bench, a sketchbook in his lap. He looked up, startled- like he hadn’t meant to be caught.

“I… I wanted to hear you play again,” he said quickly, almost apologetically. “If that’s okay.”

She smiled. “Of course it is.”

As she sat down at the piano, she peeked at the edge of his notebook. Scribbles- music notes, little stars, a clumsy sketch of what might’ve been her fingers on the keys.

She didn’t comment. Just started to play.

Over time, it became something sacred. She'd play for him every afternoon. And when her fingers rested, they’d talk. At first, he only answered in nods or short phrases- but the wall between them was crumbling, brick by fragile brick.

One day, he surprised her.

“Do you… remember the first song you played for me?” he asked, barely louder than the hum of the heater.

Kaede paused, then nodded. “Yeah. Clair de Lune.”

“It reminded me of…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “Of my mom. She used to play music on a little radio in the kitchen. Classical stuff. Before she met him.”

Kaede’s fingers stilled on the keys, but she didn’t say anything. She let the silence hold the space, like the soft pedal of a piano, gentle and unpressing.

“She stopped playing music after he moved in,” he whispered. “After a while, everything got quiet. Like… too quiet. I didn’t think I’d ever like music again.”

Kaede blinked slowly, heart aching.

“But I like yours,” he added, with the faintest smile. “I like… being around you.”

That made her heart flutter. Not with giddiness, but with something deeper. Like trust taking root.

She turned to him, her voice quiet. “I like being around you too.”

From that day on, something shifted.

He started waiting for her outside the music room instead of sneaking in early. He’d walk with her down the hall, always keeping a careful distance from the louder male students, but close enough that his shoulder brushed hers now and then.

And sometimes- when the room was empty, and the song was soft, and the sun hit just right- he’d smile. Not just at the music, but at her.

Kaede would smile back, her heart swelling.

She knew healing wasn’t a straight line. There were days when he still flinched at loud voices. When group activities left him drained and hollow-eyed. But he always found his way back to her.

One afternoon, after a particularly long session, he stayed behind after she packed up.

“Kaede?” he said, voice trembling.

She turned, instantly focused on him.

“…Can I hug you?”

The question knocked the wind from her.

But she nodded, gently, like she was answering a question from a dream. She opened her arms without a word.

(Y/N) stepped forward hesitantly. Then slowly- like a scared animal testing the air- he melted into her.

It wasn’t tight or desperate. Just a quiet press of his face into her shoulder, arms loosely around her waist.

Kaede held him with the kind of care reserved for breakable things. Her hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. “You’re safe,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Miu:

(Y/N) had flinched when Miu first barged into his dorm, voice carrying that usual volume and vulgarity like a storm in stilettos.

 “Yo, pencil-dick! You alive in here or what? You didn’t show up for breakfast and I ain’t got time to invent a search drone with tits just to find your sorry a-”

She stopped. Mid-rant. Her blue eyes scanned the dark room and landed on him, curled up in the corner with trembling shoulders, the edge of his sleeve wet where he’d been biting it to stay quiet. Not because he was hiding from her- but from the memories her voice had triggered.

“…Ah. Shit.”

It was the first time she didn’t call him a name.

Miu didn’t step closer. She dropped to sit cross-legged by the door, fiddling awkwardly with a spare screw in her hand, voice dipping just enough to feel like a whisper.

“Okay, so... maybe screaming like I’m in heat wasn’t the move,” she mumbled, chewing her bottom lip. “You wanna talk or should I just sit here and talk to myself like a damn lunatic? ‘Cause I can do both.”

(Y/N) didn’t answer. His voice was buried too deep behind the fear. But he didn’t tell her to leave.

She took that as permission.

Later that night, after hours of her rambling about new inventions- some genius, some dangerously stupid- he finally managed a small voice. Fragile.

“…Why’re you being nice to me?”

Miu blinked, caught off guard. Her usual grin didn’t come. Instead, she shrugged, arms resting loosely on her knees.

"'Cause I know what it’s like to hate being touched. To hear someone’s footsteps and feel your chest lock up. To build a thousand walls with your bare hands 'cause you don’t trust a single fucking person not to break you again.”

(Y/N) looked up at her, eyes wide. She wasn’t loud anymore. She was... real.

She smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Plus, you’re the only guy who doesn’t try to touch me or tell me to shut up. That’s kinda hot.”

A breathless, broken laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

And that was the first night he fell asleep with her sitting beside him- quiet, steady, and real.

It wasn’t overnight. But it was something.

The next morning, Miu came back. Same knock, a little softer this time. She waited- didn’t barge in. When (Y/N) cracked the door open, she was standing there with a weird contraption in her hands.

“It’s a... uh... noise-canceling headset,” she said, trying and failing to sound casual. “If I yell too loud, it automatically dampens my voice before it reaches your ears. Like a built-in anti-Miu filter. Patent pending, dickweed.”

He blinked at her, then... laughed. A real laugh, quiet and airy, but genuine.

She flushed bright pink. “S-Shut up, it’s not because I like you or anything! I just got bored! You think I sit around all day worrying about your trauma baby brain or some shit?!”

(Y/N) smiled.

“Thank you.”

She looked like she short-circuited for a second. “…Whatever.”

Over the next few weeks, they started eating together- sometimes in the cafeteria, sometimes in his room. He talked more now, slowly. Haltingly. But it was there.

“I used to be afraid of falling asleep,” he admitted one evening, his fingers picking nervously at the hem of his sleeve as they sat cross-legged on his bed, a blanket pulled over both their legs. “If I stayed awake, I could hear him coming. I’d have time to hide.”

Miu didn’t answer right away. She just scooted closer, their knees brushing.

“If you ever need someone to sleep next to you,” she said softly, “I’m right here. I snore and occasionally yell ‘ORGASM!’ in my dreams, but like- other than that, I’m pretty fuckin’ cuddly.”

He laughed again, but this time, there were tears running down his cheeks.

One night, he reached for her hand.

She was rambling about a new sex robot idea (“It makes you breakfast and calls you daddy! Revolutionary!”), and he wasn’t really listening- just watching her, soft-eyed and warm.

His fingers brushed hers. Hesitant. Unsure.

She froze mid-sentence, cheeks blooming with color. “W-Woah. D-Don’t get all handsy on me, lover boy…”

But she didn’t pull away.

And when his grip tightened, just slightly, her own hand squeezed back. Gentle. Careful. A little shaky.

“…But if you wanna hold hands like some lame high school anime couple, I guess I can allow it.”

(Y/N) didn’t say anything. He just leaned his head on her shoulder.

And for once, Miu Iruma- Ultimate Inventor, self-proclaimed genius perv, filthy-mouthed storm of chaos- didn’t say a word either.

She just let him rest there.

Can you do platonic sera x overlord!reader multipart/fanfction?

The lore: The Y/N is a powerful overlord who own entertainment district of pentangram (he posses velvet tea and Vox souls after they tired to kidnap Charlie, val dies lol) also he’s best friend of alastor and Charlie Morningstar. During one of this meeting with his subordinates vox and velvette they noticed something was fallen from heaven, they goes to check this out only to find out fallen sera and VERY hurt and wounded Emily, after he find out they known Charlie he help takes Emily to hotel, where lucifer helps Emily with her wounds. Y/N calm down sera enough to she could tell what happened in heaven. In heaven after sera approved Charlie plan after extermination, where due to that pentonius reddemed himself, lute somehow thanks to other seraphim’s, which convinced that hell and their allies are the danger managed to overthrow sera and the rest seraphim’s who were on sera and Emily side and she (lute) brought totalitarian rule to heaven.lute kills pentonius for being a “spy” and BRUTTALY injures Emily (she lost wings, right leg, left hand and the right eye) and banish her and sera to hell. She also planned in 6 months organize the final extermination, where he plans to kill all people not only from hell but also on earth.

A/N: Yes, of course! This one took me... Way longer than I thought it would LOL. Got it done though! Gonna start working on my other requests now, since this was the one I was solely focusing on, trying to get it done :} Also, fair warning, I didnt have all the colors I wanted for their dialogue. (Y/N), Charlie, Alastor, Sera, and Emily all have specific colors, buttttt... Everyone else doesn't. Sorry, but I did what I could.

Ashes of Grace

Sera x Overlord!Male!Reader

Warnings: Religious themes, Violence/Body horror, Death, Torture/Enslavement, Corruption of authority, Genocide/Extermination, Substance use

Word Count: 4868

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Pentagram City rarely slept. And neither did its monsters. Between the sleaze and sin, the neon-soaked streets, and the endless echoes of jazz and gunfire, power shifts were as common- and as violent- as the weather.

When Valentino’s body finally hit the floor, burned out and twitching under the weight of a wrath he'd never anticipated, the District changed forever.

At the center of it all stood (Y/N)- a name now spoken in equal parts awe and terror. A new overlord, born not from vanity or greed, but something deeper. Something biblical.

His rise hadn't just been loud; it had been seismic. After Velvette and Vox made the mistake of trying to kidnap Charlie Morningstar- Hell’s favorite princess, and (Y/N)'s dearest friend- (Y/N) retaliated with fire and iron. Velvette and Vox now belonged to him, their souls shackled to his service. Sometimes figuratively, sometimes... not. They wore their chains like tarnished jewelry, reminders of the price of betrayal.

Valentino didn’t get that luxury.

He died.

And with him, the District fell.

What rose from the ashes wasn't just a new territory. It was an empire of creativity, ruthlessness, and control- no longer just a playground for abusers, but a stage for something greater. Alastor, always amused by chaos, had grinned wide at the news. Charlie, overwhelmed, had cried when it was over, throwing her arms around (Y/N)'s shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispered against him, her best friend…

(Y/N) only nodded, hiding the smoldering rage still burning deep in his bones.

A week passed. And inside his repurposed theater, (Y/N) lounged in a battered chair at the head of a heavy oak table, eyeing Vox and Velvette with lazy disinterest.

The two former overlords sat like petulant children, glaring daggers at anything but him.

"Don't act so bitter," (Y/N) drawled, resting his chin in one hand. "You're lucky I didn't turn you into lawn ornaments."

"I'd rather be one," Velvette muttered under her breath. "At least I had free will before."

Before (Y/N) could reply, something flashed through the high, smoke-clogged sky.

Not light. Not in the Hellborn sense.

It was something... higher… And it was falling fast.

Vox stiffened, staring upwards. "...That came from upstairs."

The theater doors slammed open, and they raced outside.

What they found wasn’t a crash site. It was a massacre.

The crater still smoked, shards of shattered halos glittering in the ash. Feathers- too white, too pure- floated like dying fireflies through the air. In the center, two figures lay broken.

One was barely breathing- her right leg severed, her hand gone, one eye torn out, her wings sheared off like scrap paper.

The other, though bleeding and shaking, was already dragging herself upright. Protective. Furious. Radiating raw divinity even through the grime.

(Y/N) approached carefully, his hands open, head tilted like a curious wolf.

"...You're angels," he said slowly. "Do you know Charlie?"

The seraphim’s expression cracked. She nodded, voice raw. "Yes... She's... our friend."

That was all (Y/N) needed.

Without hesitation, he lifted the mutilated one- Emily-into his arms. Gentle, despite the gore. His voice was low, steady.

"Then you're not enemies," he said. "You're survivors."

The Happy Hotel had seen its share of strange guests. But even here, Emily’s condition turned every head.

Charlie gasped the second she saw her, rushing forward to help. Vaggie barked sharp orders at Angel and Husk, clearing the lobby with military precision. Alastor, all false grins and real concern, set up a makeshift recovery area with eerie efficiency.

Then, Lucifer Morningstar himself swept in, as radiant and ridiculous as ever.

"Charlie!" he boomed, voice theatrical. "I came to see if-" His words cut off the second he spotted Emily. “Oh, fuck…”

Then Lucifer dropped to his knees beside her, pressing a glowing hand over Emily’s shattered body. His usual swagger softened into something almost tender.

"Hold on," he murmured. "We can fix you."

Hours later, after Emily stabilized under a blanket of maigc and careful hands, (Y/N) sat across from the still-shaking seraphim- Sera.

She couldn’t sit still. Pacing, flinching at every noise. Until finally, (Y/N) stood and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Breathe," he said quietly. "You're safe."

Slowly, she exhaled. And spoke.

"After Sir Pentious... After he came to Heaven, some of us began to question things," she said hoarsely. "Charlie’s idea of redemption didn’t seem so crazy anymore. Emily and I... we supported it. We gathered others. We tried to change things from within."

Her voice broke.

"But then came Lute."

The name seemed to leech the warmth from the room.

"After losing her arm in the fight you all had, she twisted everything. She called Charlie a devil. Called the hotel a trap. She rallied the fearful and the bitter... and they listened. Heaven turned into a machine."

Sera’s fists trembled.

"They hunted us. Emily and I were caught trying to flee. She... She ripped Emily apart. Then she banished us here, as a warning."

At the doorway, Charlie stood frozen, fists shaking.

Sera turned to face them fully.

"And it’s worse than that. She’s planning a Final Extermination. In six months. Not just Hell. Not just sinners. Earth, too."

Silence fell like a blade.

(Y/N) straightened, shadows unfurling around his boots. His voice, when it came, was steel.

"Then we’re not just saving Hell anymore," he said. "We’re saving everyone."

...Far above, Heaven's Throne Room had changed...

Where once golden beams warmed marble floors, now the light was colder, harsher, casting long skeletal shadows.

Lute sat perched atop a jagged throne, once a Exterminator- now a Leader.

A trembling seraphim bowed low before her.

"All remaining supporters of Sera have been purged. The rest... converted."

"And the traitors?" Lute asked. Her voice was a metallic hiss.

"Banished or destroyed."

She rose, wings unfolding in sharp, almost mechanical snaps.

"In six months’ time," she declared, "there will be no Hell. No Earth. Only perfection. Heaven will ascend through fire."

The court erupted in cold cheers as the corrupted seraphim spread their wings.

Back in the Happy Hotel, Emily’s eye fluttered open.

She was alive. Battered. Different. But alive.

Charlie was instantly by her side, gripping her hand tightly.

"You’re safe," Charlie whispered. "I promise."

Emily tried to sit up, her body aching with every movement.

"C-Charlie...?"

"Yes, it's me. Don’t worry. We’ve got you."

Lucifer, leaning nearby, flashed a crooked, nervous smile.

"Only because bleeding out on my daughter’s carpet is absolutely unacceptable. Bad for the aesthetic," he said, lightly. Then, more serious, he added, "I healed what I could. Your leg, your hand... But your wings..." He trailed off, frowning. "Those may take more work."

Tears welled in Emily’s remaining eye.

"Sir Pentious... He's really..."

Lucifer’s face darkened... Charlie just hugged her tighter.

Across the room, Sera sat curled at the bar, silent. Husk, uncharacteristically gentle, pushed a mug of something nonalcoholic toward her.

Nearby, Alastor watched with predatory curiosity.

"So," he said brightly. "Heaven’s fallen into the claws of a madwoman. Your friends butchered. Your hopes dashed." He smiled wider. "Welcome to Hell."

Sera flinched.

"We tried," she whispered. "We tried to save them. We believed in Charlie's dream..."

(Y/N) approached quietly, Vox and Velvette trailing behind like resentful ghosts.

"You still believe in it?" he asked.

Sera looked up, tears brimming.

"Yes."

He nodded once, a grim glint in his eye.

"Then we fight."

From the couch, Angel Dust cackled, tossing a grenade from hand to hand.

"About time! I’ve been dying to throw hands with someone uptight!"

It didn't take long for one of the Hotel’s many rooms to be taken, and changed. Celestial maps sprawled across walls and floors. Candles flickered wildly against the cracked stone.

Around a heavy oak table stood Lucifer, Charlie, Alastor, and (Y/N)- each face carved with focus.

"She wants to erase everything," Charlie said, voice tight. "Not just sinners. Everyone."

Alastor chuckled, low and eerie. "An ambitious apocalypse. I almost admire it."

(Y/N) planted his palms on the table, voice low and furious.

"We can't just defend. We strike first."

Charlie nodded fiercely, fire blazing in her eyes.

"We’re going to stop her. We’re going to prove we matter."

Lucifer clapped a proud hand on her shoulder.

"That’s my girl."

The mood was heavy, but not hopeless. A tense undercurrent thrummed through the room, setting everyone on edge. Maps and blueprints lay scattered across the table, papers weighed down with empty mugs and books. Sera stood at the center of it all, tracing a slow line along a map with two fingers, brow furrowed.

Around her, the others listened in silence. Charlie, Lucifer, (Y/N), Alastor, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, and Emily- propped up in a wheelchair and bundled in fresh bandages around her shoulders- watched with focused, anxious attention.

"Most of Heaven’s 'Winners' are still willing to listen," Sera said, voice low but steady. "They aren't like the Angels. They're just... humans. Humans who died and moved on. They remember. They can think for themselves."

Charlie tilted her head thoughtfully. "But what do they have to do with all this?"

"If we’re going to have any support up there, it'll be through them," Sera replied. She glanced around the room. "Lute’s seized control of Heaven’s higher ranks. She's convinced most of the Angels, crowned herself their queen. But the Winners... they’re still undecided."

(Y/N) crossed his arms, the gears already turning behind his narrowed eyes. "We could start a rebellion inside Heaven itself. Get the truth out before Lute locks everything down."

Sera gave a sharp nod. "Exactly. But we don’t have much time. After Emily and I fell, Lute accelerated her plans. She’s preparing the final phase right now."

"Then we don't just defend anymore," Lucifer said, his voice darkening. "We invade."

Sera met his gaze without flinching. "We hit fast. We send the message. And we take Lute out before she can trigger the Final Purge."

As the meeting dissolved into quieter preparations, Angel Dust wheeled Emily back toward her new room, a soft pink guest suite Charlie had thrown together- full of pillows, gauzy curtains, and delicate little touches meant to comfort. Emily was quiet, shrinking into herself, the overwhelming changes of the past days pressing in on her.

Angel, never good with heavy silences, plopped into a chair beside her and swung an arm lazily over the backrest. "So," he drawled, "how’s it feel bein’ the first angel who didn’t try to shank me on sight?"

Emily managed a weak, almost surprised smile. "We were taught that... souls in Hell couldn’t feel... I knew no different until I met Charlie."

He snorted and bumped her elbow with his. "Yeah, well, guess we’re full of surprises down here. Welcome to the club, doll."

She blinked, absorbing that, then tentatively leaned against him. "Thanks... for not being thrown off by me."

"Pfft." Angel waved it off. "Sweetheart, I’ve seen worse. Hell, you look better than half my dates."

"...I’m not sure if that’s comforting."

"It ain’t. But it’s true."

Later that evening, the corridors of the hotel grew quieter. Emily, wrapped in a simple jacket Charlie had picked out for her, made her way slowly down the hall. Every step was stiff, awkward- her balance thrown off.

Pushing through the swinging doors, she made her way to the bar, wincing as she hoisted herself onto a stool. Husk looked up from polishing glasses, one ear twitching as he noticed her.

"Not servin' you liquor, kid," he muttered, voice rough. "Charlie’d have my ass."

"I don't want a drink," Emily said quietly. "I just... wanted noise. Not pity."

Husk grunted, setting the glass down. "You walked pretty far," he said, more observation than praise.

Emily let out a hollow little laugh. "Didn’t want to stay in that room. It's too... Quiet."

She tapped the side of her head lightly. "When it’s that quiet, all I can hear is screaming from outside..."

Husk didn’t flinch. He just leaned his weight against the bar and nodded slightly, like he understood all too well.

They sat in silence for a while, broken only by the low hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of glass against glass.

Eventually, Husk broke the quiet. "Why’d you come down here, really?"

Emily hesitated, looking down at the frayed sleeve covering her wrist. "Because... I think I'm scared." Her voice cracked slightly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be anymore."

For a moment, Husk simply stared at her. Then, with a grunt, he reached beneath the bar and pulled out a battered, worn playing card- the Queen of Hearts. Its corners were frayed, a small tear across the center.

"My last hand in a real poker game," he said, sliding it across the bar to her. "Lost everything. Still survived."

Emily stared down at the card like it was something sacred.

"You’re giving this to me?"

"Loaning it," Husk corrected. "For luck."

She tucked the card against her chest like armor, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Don't thank me. Win the next hand."

Meanwhile, across the hotel, final preparations were underway. In the lounge, Lucifer clapped his hands sharply, drawing everyone's attention.

"Our infiltration team, then," he announced, a glint of theatrical excitement in his eye. "Charlie- the optimist; Sera- the righteous outcast; Emily- our fallen helper; and you, dear (Y/N)- the wildcard’s wildcard."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. "You gonna narrate the whole mission?"

"Only the dramatic parts," Lucifer quipped, giving him a large smile.

"...So basically, all of it," (Y/N) muttered.

Charlie, ever the peacemaker, cleared her throat gently. "We have three objectives: reach the Holy Gates, rally the Winners to our side, and remove Lute before she can lead an attack."

Lucifer’s playful air faded slightly, replaced by something colder, sharper. "This isn’t just about Hell anymore. Or Heaven. This is about Earth. About proving redemption isn't some cruel joke."

Sera met his gaze and nodded once, solemn. "Then we strike fast."

At Lucifer’s gesture, a portal shimmered open in the air, unstable and crackling with divine static. It glowed like a tear in reality itself- liquid gold and silver threads of light straining to stay woven together.

Charlie approached the portal first, her hands trembling slightly, though her face was set with determination. Opening a portal to Heaven from Hell was unnatural, dangerous- and it showed. The light bled into the floor, the walls, everything it touched humming unnervingly.

"We don't know how long it'll hold," Lucifer warned. "Maybe a few hours. Maybe less if you screw around too much... Portals like these aren't usually supposed to be opened from this side..."

(Y/N) adjusted his coat, checking the weapons strapped across his hips. Nearby, Vox and Velvette watched, their usual smugness tempered by real worry. Sera tightened her grip on her sword, the blade gleaming faintly. Emily secured Husk’s playing card near her heart, her new sword slung awkwardly across her back.

Together, they looked ready.

Charlie turned back to Lucifer, her eyes fierce. "We’ll be back."

Lucifer smiled- but it was a fragile thing, brittle at the edges. "I know," he said.

Without another word, they stepped through the portal- and into stillness.

The air on the other side was cool, quiet in a way that felt... unnatural, like the whole world was holding its breath.

The gates loomed ahead, bathed in blinding light that offered no warmth. The team emerged slowly, blinking against the unnatural brilliance. Emily exhaled shakily, her hand tightening on her sword.

“The gates aren't usually... empty,” she muttered.

Normally, Saint Peter would have stood watch. Now, there was only silence.

(Y/N) swept his gaze over the endless marble sprawl before them. The architecture was grand, opulent- but it felt hollow, abandoned. Like a stage after the actors had fled mid-performance.

Sera muttered under her breath, voice strained. "This isn't right. Something's wrong."

Charlie tightened her grip on her staff, glancing nervously at the others. "We need to move. Fast."

They slipped forward through the eerie stillness, boots whispering over immaculate stone. Statues of angels lined the path, their faces twisted into expressions that were almost... pained. Not the serene smiles Heaven was famous for.

Emily limped slightly, favoring her newly healed leg, but kept pace grimly, the Queen of Hearts tucked safe against her ribs. She refused to slow them down.

As they neared the first courtyard- a vast open space dominated by a towering monument of silver and gold- (Y/N) raised a hand sharply. "Wait."

Movement… At first, it was just a ripple, like a heat mirage. Then forms began to materialize.

Dozens. No- hundreds.

Figures stepped out from the edges of the courtyard- Winners, eyes shadowed, hesitant. They were armed with angelic weapons- some with swords, others with halberds or spears- but none of them attacked.

Instead, they just... stared.

One woman near the front- a thin, graying soul with sharp cheekbones, hollow eyes, and large bunny ears- took a step forward.

"You're the ones who escaped," she said, voice cracking.

Her gaze landed on Sera, then Emily. "You came back."

Charlie stepped forward quickly, heart hammering in her chest. "Please- we’re not here to fight you. We’re here to stop Lute. To save everyone."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some looked uncertain. Others terrified. A few- a precious few- hopeful.

(Y/N) moved to stand beside Charlie, his voice carrying clean across the courtyard. "You know what she’s planning," he said coldly. "You’ve seen the signs. The exterminations... the disappearances. Heaven isn't salvation anymore. It's a slaughterhouse with a crown."

Silence.

Emily, breathless and shaking, found her voice. "I lost everything because I tried to help," she said, voice trembling but steady. "Sera and I... we saw the truth. If you stand with her, you'll lose yourselves, too."

A long, agonizing pause.

Then- a man near the back threw down his spear.

It clattered against the marble with a ringing finality.

One by one, others followed. Weapons dropped. People stepping out of their neat little lines, their faces raw with emotion.

The graying woman stepped forward again, her hands shaking.

"We follow you now," she whispered

(Y/N) let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Charlie pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, overwhelmed.

Sera looked ready to collapse from relief.

But before anyone could celebrate-

A loud banging sound tore through the air. Mechanical. Shattering. It echoed through the bones of the city like a death knell.

Charlie paled instantly. "She's coming."

From above, like a thundercloud, Lute descended. Around her, Exterminators unfolded from the shadows- sleek, brutal things, all flashing blades, baring their masks.

Lute smiled- a cruel, hateful one. "So this," she hissed, "is your rebellion?"

The newly turned Winners hesitated, fear rippling through their ranks.

(Y/N) stepped forward without hesitation, drawing his blade in one smooth motion, the tip glinting with something darker than metal.

He didn’t need to shout.

His presence alone was command enough.

Emily braced herself, lifting her sword with both hands. Sera set her jaw, raising her blade to guard. Charlie lifted her hands, trembling- but with fire in her eyes.

Lute laughed, the sound hollow and electric. "So be it," she said. "You can all burn together."

The Exterminators surged forward.

And the battle for Heaven began.

Lute met (Y/N)'s charge head-on, screaming a soundless war-cry, her wings flaring out wide like a specter of vengeance.

Their blades collided- but (Y/N) didn’t yield. He pressed forward, every strike hammering her defenses, forcing her back with sheer will. Charlie fought at his side, her eyes glowing with desperate red light, every swing of her claws another prayer hurled like a weapon. Sera drove her blade home again and again, ignoring the golden blood leaking from her side where a blade had caught her earlier. Emily, staggering but unbroken, struck too- a shallow cut, but enough to make Lute snarl and stagger.

The four of them moved like a single force. Hope. Anger. Love. Defiance.

"You're DONE!" (Y/N) bellowed. He struck low- a brutal, gouging slash across her knees.

Sera was already moving, her sword flashing upwards- tearing open Lute’s exposed side. And Emily- battered, exhausted Emily- threw her sword with everything she had.

The blade spun through the air- and punched through Lute’s heart.

The world seemed to stop.

Lute gasped, golden blood streaming from her mouth. Her wings spasmed violently, the corrupted light sputtering. Her eyes, so cold and cruel, flickered- fear flashing through them for the first time.

She fell to her knees.

"You… can’t…" she rasped.

(Y/N) stood over her, breathing hard, the others gathering behind him.

"You already lost," he said, voice quiet and absolute.

Lute tried to lunge one last time- a desperate, broken advance-

(Y/N) drove his blade through her throat.

The light died.

Lute crumpled, falling limp onto the marble. The Exterminators, leaderless, gave in, most either fleeing, or tossing down their weapons in defeat.

Across the courtyard, the everyone fell silent.

The battle was over. For a long moment, none of them moved.

The only sound was the ragged breathing of the survivors.

Then, slowly, Winners who had fought alongside them began to move through the carnage, beginning to clear the battlefield- gathering their fallen, offering silent prayers.

An eerie, heavy silence settled over Heaven’s once-pristine halls.

At the center of it all, (Y/N) stood with Charlie, Sera, and Emily.

Sera wiped her blade on her tattered dress and sheathed it slowly. She walked over, Emily limping close beside her, the two of them visibly shaken but steady.

Sera stopped before them, and for a moment, the words caught in her throat… Then she bowed- a deep, respectful gesture.

"You saved us," Sera said, her voice rough but sure. "You saved Heaven."

Emily offered a trembling smile, her bandaged hand pressed to her heart.

"You saved us," she echoed. "And... maybe yourselves too."

Charlie shook her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "We saved each other."

Sera smiled- soft, sad, but real. She looked at the group- at Charlie, at (Y/N), at Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Alastor lingering just out of the bloodstained light.

"I hope," Sera said, "that one day... when your mission fully succeeds... when Hell isn’t just a prison anymore... we’ll see you all again."

She swallowed hard, her hand brushing against her sisters.

"In Heaven."

Emily nodded fiercely, emotion thick in her throat. "You deserve it," she said. "Every one of you."

(Y/N) tilted his head slightly, a faint smile curling the corner of his mouth- something tired, but deeply grateful. "We'll hold you to that," he said.

Behind them, the golden portal by the gates- flickering dangerously now- shuddered violently, cracks spiderwebbing across its edges.

Lucifer’s voice echoed from near the portal, "Time’s up! If you don’t wanna get stuck up here with the corpses, MOVE!"

Charlie turned, urgency snapping her back into motion. She grabbed Vaggie and (Y/N)'s wrist, tugging them toward the portal. Sera and Emily stepped aside, watching them go with solemn pride.

One by one, they sprinted toward the portal, battered and bruised- but alive. Alastor practically skipped through, humming under his breath. Angel Dust threw an exaggerated salute at Emily before diving in backward. Husk grumbled something about Emily keeping the card he gave her under his breath, but followed close behind.

The light swallowed them all.

And then- with a soft shuddering sigh- the portal collapsed, leaving only the broken battlefield and the survivors behind.

Above the battered gates of Heaven, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the light began to soften. No longer harsh. No longer cruel.

But warm.

Hopeful.

And far below- in a hotel full of sinners and misfits- redemption no longer seemed like just a dream.

The group stumbled out of the collapsing portal like survivors of a storm. They hit the lobby floor hard, some collapsing onto couches, others simply dropping where they stood.

Charlie sagged against the wall, clutching her chest, gasping huge breaths of smoky hotel air like it was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted. Angel Dust sprawled dramatically across a bench, one leg draped over the backrest. "We’re alive! Suck it, Heaven!" Vaggie just dropped onto a nearby chair, burying her face in her hands with a weak laugh. Husk growled low in his throat, shuffling over to the bar- which Charlie didn’t even bother to scold him for.

(Y/N) stood a little apart from them all, his shoulders tight with exhaustion but his eyes still sharp, scanning every corner like he expected another attack.

Alastor straightened his coat with a little flourish, looking barely ruffled despite the battle they'd just fought. He approached, that permanent sharp-toothed smile a bit softer now- genuine, in its strange, predatory way.

"My, my," Alastor said, voice lilting. "I knew you had potential, but even I didn’t expect that little symphony." He gave (Y/N) a low, mocking bow. "You have my admiration."

(Y/N) snorted quietly. "Coming from you, that's... concerning." But a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Charlie pushed off the wall, her footsteps slow but determined, and closed the distance between them. She stopped in front of (Y/N), looking up at him with an expression so open, so grateful, it nearly staggered him.

"You didn’t have to do this," she said quietly. "You didn’t have to stay." Her voice wavered, just slightly. "But you did. And you saved so many more lives than just ours."

(Y/N) reached up, brushing his knuckles lightly under her chin, tipping her head just a fraction higher. "You’re my friend," he said simply. "That's all the reason I need."

Charlie’s throat bobbed in a thick swallow. She reached out impulsively- wrapped her arms around him in a tight, fierce hug. For a second (Y/N) froze- then he exhaled, slow and warm, and wrapped his arms back around her, grounding her.

Alastor watched with a faint tilt to his head, the smile on his face unreadable, but his red eyes softened around the edges.

When they finally pulled apart, Charlie’s smile was damp and glowing. "You’re one of us," she said. "No matter what anyone says."

(Y/N) ruffled her hair lightly, making her sputter a weak laugh- before his expression turned a little wry.

"...Speaking of things that belong to others," he muttered, voice dry.

Across the lobby, Vox and Velvette- looking thoroughly miserable- stood awkwardly by the doors. Velvette noticed him looking and made a dramatic gagging motion. Vox simply scowled, his screen flickering with static annoyance.

Charlie giggled nervously at the sight, covering her mouth. Even Alastor chuckled low in his chest, the sound like an old radio popping on.

(Y/N) sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. I better get the gremlins back to their cage before they start redecorating."

He turned back to Charlie and Alastor one last time, catching their expressions- tired but proud.

With a mock salute, (Y/N) turned on his heel and strode across the room. He grabbed Vox by the back of his stupid designer jacket and yanked him forward, ignoring the glitchy cursing. Velvette followed, grumbling under her breath.

The front doors of the Hotel creaked open with a slow, eerie groan. (Y/N) paused just once in the doorway- glanced back over his shoulder.

At the threshold, the warm, battered light of the Hotel spilled across the floor behind him. It caught the edges of his coat, the lines of his frame, silhouetting him against the chaos they'd left- and the strange, imperfect hope they'd returned to.

Charlie stood watching him, Vaggie at her side, Angel Dust waving lazily from his perch. Alastor leaned on his cane nearby, grinning wide but... almost actually looking happy, while Husk offered a casual two-fingered salute from the bar.

(Y/N) let the corner of his mouth quirk up- a tired, crooked smile- and gave a simple nod.

Then he turned, dragging his reluctant prisoners with him, disappearing into the neon-drenched night of Pentagram City.

Outside, the air buzzed with tension and distant sirens and screams, the streets littered with scattered debris from the city’s usual violence. But somewhere under all the rot and grime, a pulse beat- faint, stubborn. The pulse of change. Of something new.

Inside the Hotel, Charlie wiped her face quickly, sniffling once before straightening her back.

"We're going to make this work," she said quietly, but with growing conviction. "We're going to fix this. All of it."

Vaggie squeezed her hand tightly. "We will."

Alastor chuckled, adjusting his tie. "The world will never know what hit it."

Angel Dust sprawled further across the bench with a groan. "Wake me up when it’s time for the afterparty."

Husk just muttered into his glass, "We better get a damn good one."

A/N: I am trying to work on my multi-part fic's, now that I'm mostly caught up with all my requests. I missed writing for Silcooooooo.

Loyalty Cuts Deepest pt.2

Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.1

Warnings: Violence/Combat, Trauma, Imprisonment/Restraint, Explosions/Fire, and Death

Word Count: 5894

Summary: (Y/N) is led through Silco’s factory- alive with shimmer, but hollow with grief. Silco remains tender, pretending nothing’s changed, even as he parades Vander, weak and broken, as a symbol of failed ideals. When Silco offers Vander shimmer in exchange for loyalty, Vander refuses, desperate to protect the children. In a private chamber, (Y/N) finally breaks, confessing she searched for Silco for years. Their reunion is intimate but laced with sorrow. When Vi and the others storm the factory, everything spirals. Silco unleashes his shimmer-mutated monster, and (Y/N), bound by enchanted chains, is forced to watch the chaos unfold. Powder’s bomb kills Mylo and Claggor, devastating (Y/N), who Silco tries- and fails- to console. Vander ends saving Vi, transformed by shimmer into a final act of defiance. Afterward, (Y/N) and Silco find Powder, shattered. (Y/N) cradles her and later, she claims the name “Jinx,” offering unconditional love. Back at The Last Drop, (Y/N) remains shackled but tenderly cares for Jinx. Silco releases her chains, but (Y/N) doesn’t retaliate. Her only focus is Jinx- her “little firecracker”- the last thing worth protecting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The factory loomed like a carcass on the edge of the Undercity- cold, rusted steel and flickering lights illuminating a world that wasn’t quite dead.

It should’ve been abandoned.

It wasn’t.

Inside, the place was alive with movement- gears turning, people working, machines thundering deep within the structure’s bones. And all of it was for him.

Silco.

He kept his hand wrapped gently around (Y/N)’s as he led her forward, step by step, like they were just walking home. Like none of this had changed.

But her eyes were fixed on the floor. On the trail of oil and soot and blood leading them deeper in.

Her mind buzzed like static- empty and deafening at once. Everything she thought she understood had collapsed in a matter of hours. Grief curled around the edges of her thoughts like smoke, choking out the edges of her reality.

Silco’s thumb brushed along the back of her hand, slow and deliberate. The same way he used to, late at night, when they lay in bed and the world was quiet.

It made her heart ache.

How could she still miss it?

How could that part of her still want to melt into his touch, even now?

“This place is a little crude, I’ll admit,” Silco said, his voice low as they crossed a metal walkway above the factory floor. “The base violence necessary for change... but we both know Topside won’t listen to anything else.”

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

Nearby, the man- creature- that had dragged Vander through the streets was deteriorating. No longer monstrous. Just sick. Slumped over the rail, vomiting some viscous, purple substance into the depths.

Another man approached, grabbing Vander roughly and throwing him against the side of the walkway with a clang.

(Y/N) flinched slightly, but Silco’s hand tightened gently around hers, guiding her to a stop.

Vander groaned, coughing, blood splattering the steel beneath him.

And for the first time, he looked up.

Straight at her.

Eyes full of pain- not from the injuries. From her.

(Y/N) didn’t return the look.

She was still watching Silco, eyes wide, almost in a trance, like she was trying to match the man before her to the boy she had once loved.

It wasn’t until Vander spoke that she snapped out of it- his voice ragged, cutting through the fog in her head.

“Even with your monsters,” he rasped, “You won’t win a war against Piltover.”

Silco exhaled a low hum. “I don’t have to. I just need to scare them.”

He turned slightly, reaching out to her again- fingers brushing softly behind her ear, tucking a stray strand of hair away like he used to.

“Piltover won’t dare set foot in the Underground again,” he murmured.

The former monster gagged and groaned again, the sludge he threw up hissing against metal.

Vander didn’t spare him a glance.

“You’ll get people killed,” Vander said, his voice heavy with grief and fury. “For what? Pride?”

Silco’s jaw tightened.

“For respect,” he snapped, turning fully now. “Opportunity. Everything they’ve denied us.”

He released (Y/N)’s hand finally and stepped forward, crouching down to Vander’s level. He stared at him like a blade about to be unsheathed.

Vander glared, breath ragged. “You had my respect. The Lanes’ respect. (Y/N)’s.” He nodded toward her. “But that was never enough for you.”

That struck something.

Silco’s calm shattered in an instant as he stood, pacing a step back with fury rising behind his eyes.

“We shared a vision, Vander. All of us.” His voice rose. “A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes, but for the entire Underground. United. One people.”

He turned to (Y/N) then- voice softer, filled with weight.

“The nation of Zaun.”

Then back to Vander, venom lacing each word.

“Do you even remember? I trusted you… and you betrayed me.”

(Y/N)’s eyes finally took in all of him- his ruined cheek, his sunken features, the warped skin trailing from his jaw to the edge of his glowing eye.

The scar where the toxic water had seeped into his skin.

The proof of how far he’d been willing to go.

And how much further he’d fallen to crawl back.

Vander’s breath rattled in his chest as he leaned against the steel railing, blood still wet on his lips. The anger in his eyes had softened into something heavier- regret, shame.

“…What I did to you,” he said, voice low, almost too quiet to hear, “I’ve never forgiven myself.”

He looked up at Silco- truly looked at him.

“You were my brother.”

Silco didn’t respond right away. He stared down at him for a long moment before his gaze slid toward (Y/N), and the edges of his expression flickered with something harder to name.

“No,” he murmured. “You still don’t understand.”

He turned to them both now- his voice rising slightly, almost reverent, almost haunted.

“Can you imagine what it’s like… when your blood mixes with the filth? When the river toxins eat through your nerves, strip away everything soft, everything human?”

He stepped closer to Vander again, looming now, his voice low and trembling- not with weakness, but with conviction.

“Oh, I hated you for what you’d done. Every breath I clawed in was filled with hate. But hate burns fast. And when it fades, it leaves room… for understanding.”

His eyes bore into Vander.

“The only way to defeat a superior enemy… is to stop at nothing. To become what they fear.”

He tilted his head.

“I hated you, Vander. But I still respected you. Until you made peace with them. Until you played lapdog to the people who tried to crush us. After everything we suffered.”

Vander’s jaw clenched, but his voice was tired. “I had no choice.”

“Perhaps,” Silco echoed with a hum. “But now… now you do.”

He reached into his coat, retrieving a small vial- glass, delicate, and filled with a swirling, violet liquid that shimmered even in the dim light.

He knelt again, holding it out between them so both Vander and (Y/N) could see.

“Shimmer.” His voice was soft, full of dark promise. “This is power. This is what they fear.”

He glanced up at (Y/N), then down at Vander.

“We can finally realize our dream. Together... Brother.”

Vander looked from the vial… to Silco… and finally up at (Y/N).

She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. Her heart beat hollow in her chest, her thoughts knotted beyond reason.

Vander’s eyes turned back to Silco.

“Look at what you’ve done,” he whispered. “Benzo. These kids…”

He shook his head slowly. “In fighting Topside… you’d sacrifice everything that we are. It’s not the way. Can’t you see that? If it has to be me, then fine. Kill me. But please… spare the Lanes.”

Silco’s eyes narrowed, sharp and burning.

“You’d die for the cause,” he spat, “but you won’t fight for one?”

Vander gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just… not that man anymore.”

Silco’s lips curled- not in amusement, but disappointment.

“I’ll show you what you really are,” he muttered.

Then, without another glance at his old friend, he turned and walked toward (Y/N) again.

Her breath caught when he reached for her. He took her hand gently- fingers warm, familiar, haunting... And like something out of a long-forgotten dream, he laced his fingers through hers and led her away down the walkway.

Past the shimmer.

Past the scars.

The room they entered was dim, lit only by flickering industrial lights high in the rafters, casting long shadows against the grimy walls. Vander grunted, still dazed but regaining strength, just in time to be dragged inside by two of Silco’s men. He struggled weakly, but they forced him into a heavy chair bolted to the floor.

Without a word, the men bound his wrists to the armrests with reinforced chains- tight, unforgiving.

(Y/N) watched it all.

She didn’t move.

She just… watched, her heart twisted in knots, as Vander met her gaze with something between understanding and heartbreak. She gave him one last lingering look- long, pained- but didn’t pull away when Silco’s hand gently guided her from the room.

He led her up a flight of grated stairs, each step echoing with the weight of history between them.

At the top of the factory was a room- an old office overlooking the chaos below. Large, reinforced windows gave a full view of the operation, of Vander strapped below, of the quiet power Silco now commanded.

Inside, it was just the two of them.

(Y/N) stood awkwardly at first, eyes scanning the space like she might find an anchor.

She didn’t.

Silco motioned to one of the chairs before his desk. “Sit.”

She did.

He pulled the other chair closer, sitting directly in front of her, his eyes searching her face. He didn’t speak. Not yet. Not while the silence still held its weight.

They sat like that for a while- just breathing, listening to the distant hum of machinery, the ghost of bloodshed still heavy on both of them.

Then (Y/N) spoke.

Her voice cracked.

“I… I looked for you…”

Silco’s jaw twitched.

“For years, I looked,” she whispered, broken and small. “I searched every body on the bridge. Dug through rumors. Lies. Begged for information… anything that would lead me to you.”

She inhaled sharply, her hands shaking.

And then- gently- she reached forward, taking his hand into hers, lifting it slowly, reverently, pressing his palm to her cheek.

As soon as she felt his skin on hers, she nearly sobbed.

Her breath hitched, her face crumpling with the weight of every year she’d spent missing him. She hadn’t let anyone this close since he vanished. Hadn’t let herself feel this deeply. Not with Vander. Not with anyone. Only the children had been allowed into that tender part of her.

But this- this was different.

This was him.

And she’d missed him so much.

Silco stood slowly.

Then, wordlessly, he reached for her- his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he pulled her to her feet, even as she trembled beneath his hands.

She nearly collapsed into him.

But he caught her.

His arms wrapped tight around her small frame, pulling her flush to his chest as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her sobs muffled against his collar. She breathed him in like she was afraid it might be the last time.

He still smelled like he always had- warm, sharp, a little like smoke... But now there was something else. Something chemical. Acrid. Lingering under the surface.

It clung to his coat, to his skin.

Shimmer.

She didn’t ask. Not yet. She just held him tighter, her fingers curling into the back of his coat... And Silco closed his eyes.

For the first time in years…

He held her like he’d never let go.

Silco held her until the shaking dulled, until the sobs faded into shallow, trembling breaths. He cupped her face afterward, thumbs brushing away the tears left behind on her cheeks, movements tender in a way that almost didn’t fit the man he'd become.

But then his gaze drifted past her- eyes narrowing toward the window that overlooked the catwalk.

He stilled.

(Y/N) turned, heart clenching.

Outside, darting shapes blurred through the shadows.

Mylo… Claggor. Vi.

Her heart dropped.

She spun back to Silco, panic in her eyes. “Sil- Silco, please- don’t hurt them. Please, don’t kill them. I- They’re just kids. I raised them. I love them. I-”

He leaned down, his hand slipping behind her neck. His lips pressed softly to her forehead.

“Calm down…” he murmured. “I can’t promise anything… I think you’ve figured that out by now.”

Her heart cracked again.

“But,” he added, gently taking her hand, “I will do all I can… Just for you.”

Her breath hitched- part fear, part relief, part dread.

He led her from the office, down toward the walkways that twisted like veins through the heart of the factory. His hand never left hers.

A whistle cut through the air behind them.

Footsteps answered.

Sevika fell in beside them, lifting an eyebrow at the sight of (Y/N) before letting out a sharp sigh and shaking her head.

“Of course,” she muttered.

Another man appeared, stepping forward.

He held chains.

(Y/N)’s stomach turned cold.

She pulled her hand from Silco’s, taking a step back- heart hammering.

Silco’s hand caught her chin gently, tilting her face toward him. His expression was unreadable.

“I have to take precautions,” he said softly. “You understand, don’t you?”

She didn’t have time to answer.

The man with the chains moved in quickly, wrapping them around her wrists and upper arms. As soon as the metal touched her skin, she felt it- pain, sudden and sharp, as the runes engraved in the chain flared to life, cutting off her magic.

Her breath stuttered. Her knees buckled slightly.

He made these… for her.

The realization made her blood run cold.

She struggled on instinct, fire rising in her throat- but Sevika grabbed her from behind, locking an arm around her shoulders to drag her forward.

Silco walked ahead of them all, his voice smooth as he approached the group below.

“Welcome.”

The children turned sharply.

Mylo tensed. Claggor instinctively stepped in front of Powder. Vi’s fists clenched at her sides.

And then they saw her.

Sevika dragged (Y/N) into the open, the chains glowing faintly against her skin.

Their eyes locked with hers.

And (Y/N)’s heart shattered.

Fear. Sadness. Betrayal.

Vi’s voice broke through the silence, small and shaking.

“M-Mom…?”

(Y/N) choked on the lump in her throat, pulling against the chains- only to cry out softly when the runes sparked again.

“I’m okay…” she managed, voice soft and shaking. “Focus on them, alright? Focus on each other.”

She tried to smile, tried to soothe them like she always did.

But her hands were bound. Her power was locked down. And she was being dragged by the man she’d once loved more than anything in the world.

Silco stopped beside her, reaching out to brush her hair back with a tenderness that made her flinch.

“Have you heard the rumor?” he asked the kids, voice light, casual- cruel.

“Vander the coward fled town, left his children behind…”

He paused, eyes glittering with venom.

“…And he was never seen again.”

(Y/N) sucked in a sharp breath, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.

And Vi- her face slowly twisted from fear into rage.

But (Y/N)… she could barely look at them.

Not like this.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

The second she saw (Y/N) like that- bound, chained, magic suppressed- something in her snapped.

“Claggor,” she barked, voice firm. “Find another way out of here.”

Claggor gave a quick nod, already moving, slipping back into the room Vander was in to search for an exit route.

Vander, still slumped in his restraints, his voice raw with emotion, rasped, “You don’t have to do this-”

“Yes, I do,” Vi cut him off, tone solid. Final.

And then one of Silco’s men stepped forward.

A mountain of a man. Thick arms, heavy boots, a massive knife in hand.

The second he approached Vi, (Y/N) instinctively lunged forward- pure panic in her eyes. “No!” she screamed, heart thundering as she tried to reach Vi, tried to protect her babies.

Sevika’s grip tightened around her waist, holding her firm.

(Y/N) fought against the chains anyway, gritting her teeth through the pain, trying to claw her way free.

“Let me go!”

But Sevika didn’t budge.

Vander’s voice broke, more desperate now. “Vi!”

The girl stood tall, squared her shoulders, clenched her fists.

And met the man head-on.

She glanced once- only once- back at Silco, then dropped into a fighting stance, steady and sure.

The man lunged.

He brought the knife down hard, but Vi lifted her arms- Vander’s gauntlets catching the blade with a clang that rang through the entire factory.

The force vibrated down her arms- but she held firm.

Then she struck.

One brutal, upward punch.

Crack.

The man’s head snapped back, blood flying from his mouth along with a tooth. His body flew backwards, crashing to the walkway with a heavy thud.

Out cold.

Silco’s eyes widened just slightly. Not fear. Not quite. But... surprise. He said nothing- just lifted a hand and gave a sharp signal.

Sevika responded immediately, yanking (Y/N) back by the chains, dragging her a step away as more of Silco’s men stepped forward.

(Y/N)’s eyes never left Vi.

Even as she was pulled back, she watched her girl fight.

One after another, they came.

And one by one, Vi dropped them.

A punch to the gut. A backhanded swing to the jaw. A full-force slam that sent one man tumbling off the side of the catwalk, screaming as he fell.

If the situation weren’t so dire, (Y/N) would’ve been bursting with pride.

Even through the fear, through the chains biting into her skin, she felt it rise like warmth in her chest.

Her baby girl was holding her own.

Then… only Sevika remained.

She stepped forward, cracking her knuckles, clearly ready to jump in.

But Silco raised his hand- calm, measured.

“Hold.”

Sevika paused, eyes narrowing. But she obeyed.

Still gripping (Y/N) tightly, keeping her locked in place, but she didn’t move to fight.

Silco stepped forward slowly, watching Vi with a calculating eye.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Silco’s expression was unreadable as his eyes shifted toward the sickly man lingering nearby- the one who had once torn through Enforcers like paper, and now barely looked human at all. Gaunt, twitching, with veins of violet threading beneath his skin.

“Ready to rise to the surface?” Silco asked, his voice deceptively soft.

The man’s eyes flicked to the small, glowing vial in Silco’s hand- a pulsing purple liquid that shimmered with unnatural energy. His gaze grew desperate, wild. He snatched it the second it was offered, uncorking it and downing the contents like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

And then- he screamed.

The transformation was immediate, violent. His spine arched, bones cracking, limbs lengthening, skin distorting. Purple fluid spilled from the corners of his mouth as his body twisted into something monstrous. The shriek that followed rattled the steel beams of the factory.

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold.

“No- no!” she shouted, yanking against the chains as hard as she could. Sevika held her firm, but her grip trembled slightly under the struggle. “Silco!”

Vi didn’t hesitate- she lunged in to strike the creature before it fully stabilized, gauntlets swinging.

But the monster was faster.

It caught her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly off the ground.

“No!” (Y/N) thrashed harder, desperation clawing through her throat. She looked at Silco, eyes wild. “You said you wouldn’t kill them!”

Silco’s jaw clenched. His face flickered with something- guilt, maybe. Regret.

“I said I’d try,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t enough.

Vander roared over the chaos, his voice raw. “Silco! Let her go! This is between you and me!”

Silco’s eyes darkened. His voice was flat- cold. “You had your chance.”

And the monster threw Vi.

She crashed hard into a nearby wall, grunting as she slid across the floor. One of the gauntlets skidded free, clattering loudly across the steel.

(Y/N)’s scream cracked out of her, her knees buckling as she fought harder.

Vi coughed, gasping, barely able to pull herself up. The monster advanced, step by heavy step, dripping shimmer and fury with every movement.

She crawled.

Clawed toward the others.

(Y/N), Vander, Mylo, and Claggor all shouted her name, voices overlapping in a desperate crescendo.

And then- Vi reached the door. With a trembling hand, she slammed it shut- and locked it. The bolt echoed like thunder.

The monster crashed into the other side, but the door held.

Inside, silence reigned for a moment. A breath of reprieve. Of safety.

(Y/N) collapsed to her knees in Sevika’s grip, a sob tearing loose from her throat.

Vi was safe.

For now.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank the Gods…”

But her eyes never left Silco.

And her heart had never hurt more.

The creature outside the sealed door snarled and slammed its fists against the metal, again and again. The walkway shook with the force of it, rattling bolts and echoing through the factory like thunder.

Sevika kept her grip on (Y/N), who was breathing hard, her cheeks damp with tears, her arms still trembling from the aftermath.

Silco stood nearby, unmoving- expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the blocked doorway.

(Y/N)’s voice cracked through the din, soft, pleading. “Please… Please, Silco… don’t do this…”

She turned her face toward him, eyes wide, broken. “Let the kids go. Please.”

There was a silence between them.

And then he looked at her.

His gaze softened- just slightly- as he sighed quietly.

“…Fine,” he said after a pause. “Once we get them all gathered again, I’ll let the children go.” His tone stayed firm. “But only the children.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched, her body sagging in Sevika’s arms as if the tension had suddenly drained all at once. A strangled sob slipped past her lips.

And then- click.

A small sound. Metal ticking softly against the walkway.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in an instant. “What..?”

Her gaze darted toward the source- a monkey. Small, mechanical, familiar. It shuffled forward, toy-like limbs moving with mechanical innocence.

She recognized it immediately.

Powder’s.

The monkey sat still for a beat, and then-

BOOM.

The explosion ripped through the walkway in a blinding blast of heat and sound.

Silco lunged, pulling (Y/N) into his arms and wrapping himself tightly around her, shielding her body with his own. Sevika threw herself in front of them both- arms outstretched.

The force hit them like a wave.

Smoke. Shrapnel. Flames.

When (Y/N) came to, her ears were ringing. Her limbs heavy.

She blinked hard, vision swimming- and realized Silco was still holding her, arms wrapped tight. Sevika lay sprawled across the walkway ahead of them, unmoving.

Her left arm… was gone.

(Y/N) cried out in horror and pushed away from Silco, slipping from his grip. The chains slowed her, made her stumble, but she didn’t stop.

She crawled, dragging herself across the scorched walkway toward the room where the kids had been.

“No, no, no-” she whispered over and over.

The devastation was unreal.

Pieces of the railing hung loose, sparks flying from destroyed panels.

And in the back of the room-

Claggor.

Still. Lifeless.

Mylo- bloodied, crushed under debris, unmoving.

She fell to her knees in the middle of the walkway, her hands bound, unable to even hold them. She just stared through fresh, silent tears, sobbing until her voice cracked.

Behind her, Silco slowly emerged from the smoke. He stepped around Sevika’s body- limping slightly- and moved to (Y/N)’s side.

He knelt, wordless, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off.

He didn’t try again.

But when her body gave out, she collapsed against him anyway, no fight left in her. Her sobs echoed against the steel.

From inside the room, Violet’s screams and cires rang out. High, panicked, broken.

(Y/N) closed her eyes and shook her head, lips trembling. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Then-

Movement.

Vander stumbled from the room, face battered, holding onto the wall for balance. His eyes flicked from (Y/N) to the remaining men around them- and the monster, who was still alive, still looming.

He roared and charged.

Fists flew.

He threw punches with the strength of desperation, slamming into the beast again and again. The creature responded in kind, and the two clashed like titans- blows echoing through the factory.

Then-

The creature landed a blow, sending Vander crashing down onto the walkway.

He groaned, tried to stand-

And from beside (Y/N), Silco rose to his feet. Slowly... Deliberately.

(Y/N) watched, dazed. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just watched.

Silco stepped up behind Vander- silent as a shadow.

And then… The blade.

In the back.

Vander choked, his body jerking forward. He turned, gasping, and grabbed Silco by the throat.

Silco- eyes fierce, lips curled into something almost mournful- stabbed him again.

Lower.

Vander’s grip weakened. He sagged forward, collapsing against Silco’s chest. The two of them locked eyes, breath labored and pained.

“…I knew you still had it in you,” Silco whispered.

And then he shoved him.

Vander’s body tumbled over the edge- into the boxes of shimmer bwloe, where spilled chemicals, shattered shimmer vials, and fire burned like hell itself.

Everything went quiet.

Except for (Y/N)’s trembling breath, and the sound of Vi sobbing somewhere in the dark.

Silco's steps were measured, calm despite the blood on his hands and the tremor still rolling through the floor beneath them. He approached the shimmer-mutated creature with purpose, voice sharp but steady.

“...Find the girl.”

The monster obeyed, stomping toward the ruined room. Its heavy limbs dragged it forward into the wreckage-strewn room where Violet had been trapped with Mylo and Claggor's fallen bodies.

Vi panicked as the creature loomed over her, its breath huffing like steam, arms rising to grab her-

BOOM.

A massive crashing sound rang through the factory, making the entire structure lurch violently.

(Y/N) stumbled.

The walkway groaned beneath their feet.

And then- a low growl.

Primal. Familiar.

Silco stepped in front of (Y/N) instantly, his arm thrown out to shield her, body still tense from the last fight.

Another figure emerged through the smoke and shadow.

Twisted. Unnatural.

A different kind of monster.

It grabbed Silco’s beast by the throat before anyone could react- crushing, choking- and with a violent twist, snapped its neck like it was nothing more than paper. The limp body was thrown aside, crashing into a wall and slumping into the rubble.

Silco’s jaw tensed as his eyes widened.

He stepped forward and forced (Y/N) up, gripping her arm, steadying her.

She didn’t speak- didn’t move beyond what he guided.

Her eyes were locked on the new creature.

Its eyes met hers- burning, tinged with shimmer.

“...Vander,” she whispered, barely audible.

He had survived.

He had used the shimmer.

And he had changed.

Silco realized it too, the horror evident in the way he slowly stepped back, pulling (Y/N) with him, his body subtly shifting into defense again. Vander snarled- deep and guttural- his distorted voice still capable of forming one clear word:

“Silco.”

(Y/N) tensed as Silco’s grip tightened around her hand.

The building shuddered again- more violently now. Pipes groaned, embers danced across the floor. The fire had spread.

Vander’s monstrous form looked between Silco and the collapsed room behind him- where Violet’s sobs could still faintly be heard.

And then, with a roar, he turned and ran, barreling back through the corridor.

(Y/N) and Silco watched as he scooped up Violet and charged through the broken wall just as the room collapsed around them. The building behind them erupted into flame, collapsing in on itself as embers roared toward the sky.

They stood in silence.

Silco gently tugged (Y/N) forward, guiding her out of the ruin. She didn’t resist, her legs moving on instinct alone. Her face was hollow, her eyes empty. The world around her felt far away.

But she heard it.

Faint, echoing through the smoke:

Vi's screams.

Powder’s cries.

They walked until the sounds grew louder- closer.

Then, voices. Muffled at first.

Powder’s, frantic. “Violet?! Please! Come back! Vi!”

That- that- snapped something in (Y/N).

She yanked free of Silco’s grip, her chains rattling as she stumbled forward.

“Powder!” she gasped.

She ran, her feet carrying her through the scorched earth, eyes scanning desperately- until she saw her.

Powder.

Kneeling in the ash. Shoulders shaking. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Vi!” she sobbed. “She left me! I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to-!”

(Y/N) froze a few steps away.

Her heart shattered all over again.

Powder was curled up so small, so broken.

Tears spilled from (Y/N)’s eyes as she slowly stepped closer.

Powder looked up.

And launched into her.

“Mama-!”

(Y/N) caught her instinctively, knees hitting the ground as she wrapped her arms around the girl- holding her so tightly, like she could piece her back together if she just held on hard enough.

Silco reached them seconds later, catching both of them as they toppled into his legs. He knelt behind them, arms wrapping around them both- sheltering them from what little of the world was left.

(Y/N) glanced around, confused, still dazed and trying to keep her sobbing to a minimum. “Where… Where did Vi go..?”

Powder cried into (Y/N)’s shoulder. “She left me. She’s… Not my sister anymore…”

(Y/N) stroked her hair, sobbing silently, her throat too raw for words.

Silco’s voice was low, gentle- soothing in a way she hadn’t heard in years.

“It’s okay…” he whispered. “We’ll show them.”

His hand brushed through Powder’s hair… then over (Y/N)’s.

“We’ll show them all.”

And in that hollow quiet, surrounded by ash and ruin, (Y/N) clung to Powder.

And Silco clung to them both.

And for better or worse…

This was what remained.

The chains still bound her wrists, biting into her skin, heavy with runes that pulsed faintly against her magic. But (Y/N) didn't care. She held onto Powder as best she could, arms wrapped tight despite the limits, despite the pain. The girl was clinging just as hard- shaking, sobbing, burying her face into (Y/N)’s neck.

They stayed like that for a long while. Just breathing. Just surviving.

Eventually, Silco shifted beside them, his voice low, yet steady.

“Come on,” he said, gently.

He reached down, wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders to help her rise. She trembled as she stood, her limbs aching, the chains dragging against her legs. Powder still clung to her, and with no small effort, (Y/N) shifted the girl up into her arms.

It hurt. It was heavy. Her body screamed in protest.

But she carried her anyway.

Silco kept close at her side, his hand never leaving her back as he slowly led them out of the ruins.

Behind them, a few of his surviving men regrouped near what was left of the factory. The fire still burned high in the distance, lighting the skyline like a grim beacon.

Silco glanced over his shoulder, voice firm as he spoke to them.

“Gather everything that’s left. Anything not lost in the blast- documents, weapons, shimmer... all of it.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “We’re done here. We take the bar now.”

There was no discussion.

The men moved quickly.

And Silco turned back to (Y/N), his voice quieter now, meant only for her and Jinx.

“We’ll start again,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “From the ashes.”

As the three of them walked off into the night- (Y/N) carrying Powder, Silco walking protectively at their side- the echoes of everything they’d lost still clung to their heels.

One they got to The Last Drop, Powder sat small and trembling on the bar, legs drawn up, ash smudged across her cheeks and under her eyes like a warpaint she never asked for. (Y/N) moved on instinct- her hands steady despite the shaking in her bones. She soaked the cloth in warm water and gently wiped away the soot, the blood, the smoke. Each stroke soft and methodical.

“There we go, Powpow…” she whispered, voice quiet, mother-soft. “I’ve got you.”

Powder flinched at the name, her lip wobbling. “Jinx…”

(Y/N)’s hands froze, just for a moment.

Powder didn’t look up. Her voice cracked as she repeated it. “I’m a jinx… That’s what I should be called…”

(Y/N) didn’t argue. Didn’t correct her. She just resumed cleaning, her touch never wavering.

“…Okay…” she said softly. “Either way... I’ve got you...”

From the far side of the bar, Silco watched. Silent. Still.

His eyes tracked the chains at (Y/N)’s wrists- the way they pulled at her skin every time she moved to tend to Powder.

He stepped forward slowly, fingers brushing the edge of a small brass key in his coat pocket. When he spoke, his voice was cautious. Careful.

“(Y/N)…?”

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sharp and cold beneath her exhaustion. She looked like she hadn’t fully come down from the chaos. Like a thread pulled too tight.

Silco held up the key.

“Can I trust you still?”

She scoffed, the sound dry, brittle. “I think that’s my question, Silco.”

He let out a quiet hum. Not a laugh. Not quite.

“I suppose it is.”

He walked closer, holding the key between two fingers. “This is for your chains. If I know you won’t turn on me… I’ll undo them.”

Powder’s- no, Jinx’s- eyes widened as she noticed the chains for the first time. “You’re- You’re chained-?” she gasped, reaching for (Y/N)’s wrists.

(Y/N) didn’t look away from Silco, but her expression softened as Powder pleaded, “L-Let her go… please?”

Silco didn’t move yet.

(Y/N) took a deep breath.

“I won’t attack you,” she said finally, her voice low, calm, resolute. “If that’s what you’re asking.” Her jaw clenched. “Undo them.”

Silco studied her for a moment longer- long enough for the weight of the moment to settle between them.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward… and slid the key into the lock.

The moment the chains hit the floor with a clatter, the magic surged.

Golden marks bloomed like ink across (Y/N)’s skin, glowing softly as they curled up her arms, pulsing with life and power that had been kept caged for far too long. Her eyes lit with the same glow- bright, wild, beautiful- before it all flickered, then faded, like the last flare of a dying star.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t revel in the return of her freedom.

She just exhaled quietly… and turned right back to Jinx.

There was no rage. No revenge. Just… care.

She dipped the cloth again, gently cleaning around the girl’s forehead where soot clung to her hairline. Her voice was soft, steady again.

“Almost done, sweetheart…”

Jinx stayed quiet, sniffling now and again, her fingers gripping the edge of the bar tightly.

Silco didn’t speak. He simply watched her- this girl who once burned like fire, now bent over the broken remnants of a child she swore to protect. There was something reverent in the way he looked at her, something unreadable in the way his fingers twitched at his side but never reached out.

(Y/N) gave no further reaction to her magic’s return.

No questions.

No celebration.

She just tucked a lock of Jinx’s hair behind her ear and whispered, “There we go, little firecracker…”

Because for now, she’d take care of her.

And she’d call her by something warm.

Something safe.

Until the world made room for her again.

Hiiii!!!

I absolutely adore your Silco x reader, it's wonderful. Your writing it great 🥺 I was wondering if I could make a request? Okay, so, I love TOH, and SU, and you have both listed on your masterlist, sooooooo I was thinking maybe you could mix them?

Here's my idea, Hunter x reader, but reader is half Gem, like Steven. She somehow finds herself in the Demon realm, and ends up having to join the Coven Scouts, so she can find a way home.

A/N: Hiiii!!! Thank you so much! I can absolutely do that. I also love TOH and SU, so this is awesome. Actually, if it's okay, I'd love to make this into a new series because I had SO much fun writing it! If it's not okay, you can go ahead and send me a dm or another ask, and I won't, but I loved the idea, so I'd be more than willing to.

Drifting Between Worlds pt.1

Hunter x Fem!Reader

pt.2

Warnings: Violence/Physical Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Manipulation, Blood/Injury, Power Imbalance/Authoritarian Abuse, Themes of Control/Oppression

Word Count: 7292

Summary: (Y/N), a half-human, half-Gem, is transported to the Boiling Isles and brought to Belos by his scouts. Forced into the Emperor’s Coven, she trains alongside Hunter, growing close to him while searching for a way home. During a scouting mission, they discover Eda Clawthorne teaching a human girl- Luz. Knowing the danger of this revelation, (Y/N) hesitates to report it, but Hunter insists on following protocol. When they inform Belos, he punishes Hunter, leaving him scarred. Furious but powerless, (Y/N) helps Hunter recover and comforts him, strengthening their bond. However, witnessing Belos’s cruelty sparks (Y/N)’s growing doubts about his rule.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/N) gasped for air as she broke through the surface of the water, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her entire body ached from the force of being shot through- whatever that was. One second, she was swimming in the ocean back home, and the next, she was being hurled through some kind of portal.

She blinked, disoriented. The sky above her was a deep, unnatural purple, with swirling clouds. Strange, jagged rock formations jutted out of the landscape around her, glowing with eerie light. But the most terrifying thing? The water below her boiled.

(Y/N) barely managed to grab onto a rocky ledge before she slipped back down. Her fingers burned slightly from the heat of the steam rising off the water. Breathing heavily, she pulled herself up, rolling onto her back and staring at the alien sky.

“What the heck,” she muttered, sitting up. She took stock of herself- her bathing suit was intact, even if it wasn’t ideal for whatever situation this was. She patted her collarbone, where the smooth, light pink Onyx was embedded into her skin. At least it wasn't cracked...

She had been through weird situations before- living with Steven and the Crystal Gems meant weird was normal- but this? This was new.

(Y/N) stood, shaking out her limbs and glancing around. The terrain was wild and unfamiliar, filled with crooked trees and strange creatures flitting about in the distance. “Okay,” she said to herself, taking a deep breath. “Step one: find someone in charge. Step two: figure out where I am...”

She moved cautiously, her bare feet brushing against the rough ground. She wasn’t too worried about getting hurt- her being a Gem meant minor scrapes and cuts weren’t a problem- but she didn’t exactly want to go charging into danger.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering, (Y/N) spotted movement- a figure, in uniform, carrying some kind of spear, walking along a worn dirt path.

A guard!

Hope flared in her chest, and she ran toward them. “Hey! Hey, excuse me!”

The guard- a creature with a birdlike mask and a white cloak- whipped around, gripping their spear tighter. “Halt! Who goes there?”

(Y/N) skidded to a stop, holding up her hands. “Whoa, whoa! I don’t mean any harm. I just- I need help. I’m lost. I don’t know how I got here.”

The guard’s head tilted. “You are… human?”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Uh… half?” She tapped her Gem. “Long story. But yeah, mostly human.”

The guard stepped back. “Humans are not meant to be here.”

(Y/N) groaned. “Yeah, I figured. Look, I just need to find someone in charge- some kind of authority? Maybe they can help me figure out how to get home?”

The guard hesitated, then sighed. “You should not be here. But I cannot leave you to wander. Come with me.”

Relieved, (Y/N) followed as the guard led her down the path, her mind racing. She had no idea what world she had stumbled into, but one thing was for sure- she had a long way to go before she found her way home.

(Y/N) followed the masked guard through the bizarre landscape of the Boiling Isles, her bare feet brushing over gnarled roots, uneven stone, and patches of strange, pulsing moss. Everywhere she looked, there were creatures that seemed ripped straight from a fever dream- multi-eyed birds, chimeric beasts with too many limbs, and even a small, scampering thing that looked like a skull with legs.

She tried to keep her face neutral, but every now and then, a shudder ran through her. She had seen weird before- Homeworld’s Gems, corrupted monsters, the things that lurked in Beach City’s more supernatural corners- but this? This was something else entirely.

“Are we almost there?” she asked after what felt like forever.

The guard barely turned their head. “Patience, human.”

She huffed, crossing her arms, but kept walking. Eventually, they emerged onto a wide, towering bridge that stretched over a massive chasm, and beyond it stood an enormous structure.

The castle- or palace- was massive, carved from gleaming white stone with gold accents. Tall spires twisted toward the sky, adorned with massive banners depicting a sigil she didn’t recognize. The entire place had a looming, eerie feel, like it was meant to impress and intimidate.

The guard gestured toward it. “This is Emperor Belos’s Castle. You stand before the heart of the Emperor’s Coven.”

(Y/N) frowned. “Right. And that means…?”

The guard didn’t answer, simply leading her across the bridge.

As they entered the palace, (Y/N) got an even better look at the inside- huge corridors lined with pillars, flickering torches casting long shadows, and walls decorated with more of those same sigils. Guards in similar white masks patrolled, watching her with curiosity- or suspicion.

“Where are we going?” she asked, voice lower now.

“To the Emperor,” the guard replied.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, seriously? I was meaning more of like, a local with some sort of knowledge or something… Not your leader or whatever...”

“You wished to meet someone with authority,” the guard said plainly. “There is no higher authority than Emperor Belos.”

Well. That was something.

As they walked deeper into the castle, (Y/N) felt her stomach twist uneasily. She had no idea who this Belos guy was, but something about this place felt… wrong. There was a heaviness in the air, a weight that settled against her skin, making her Gem hum faintly in her chest.

Something was off.

But she had come this far. If this Emperor guy could help her get home, she had to try.

Squaring her shoulders, (Y/N) followed the guard deeper into the palace, toward whatever fate awaited her.

The grand doors to the throne room swung open with an eerie creak, revealing a vast chamber lined with towering pillars. The air was thick with the scent of something old, like parchment and candle wax, but there was an undercurrent of something… darker.

(Y/N) swallowed hard as she stepped forward, her feet hitting the cold stone floor. At the far end of the room, seated atop an imposing throne, was the man she assumed to be Emperor Belos.

His presence filled the room like an unseen weight pressing against her shoulders. He was draped in a flowing white cloak, gold accents catching the dim light, and his face was hidden behind an ornate golden mask. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, she felt his gaze settle on her.

Beside her, the masked guard immediately knelt, lowering their head in reverence.

(Y/N), on the other hand, shifted awkwardly.

Yeah...

She wasn't doing that.

Instead, she let out a nervous laugh and rocked on her heels. “Uh. Hi. I take it you're the guy in charge?”

The guard shot her a look from beneath their mask, but Belos merely tilted his head. His voice, when he spoke, was smooth- calm, but holding a distinct weight to it.

"You are… different.”

(Y/N) blinked. “Uh. Yeah, understatement of the year.” She gestured vaguely to herself. “Human. Or, well, half. Kind of got lost, ended up here. Thought maybe someone in charge could help.”

There was a long pause. The air in the room felt colder.

“Half-human…” Belos murmured, almost as if he was turning the thought over in his mind. He rested his chin on one gloved hand. “How fascinating.”

(Y/N) didn’t like the way he said that.

Her fingers twitched, and instinctively, she reached up to brush her Gem- a small, subconscious action she often did when she was nervous.

Belos’s head moved ever so slightly, like he had noticed.

“You say you arrived here by accident,” he said. “How?”

(Y/N) hesitated. “I, uh… I was swimming. In the ocean. Then, boom- portal. And next thing I know, I’m nearly getting boiled alive.” She gestured vaguely toward the door. “So, if you could help me find a way back to my world, that’d be great.”

Silence.

Belos regarded her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he rose from his throne.

(Y/N) stiffened. She was good at reading emotions- her connection to them ran deeper than most- but right now, standing in front of this man, she felt… nothing. It was like standing in front of a void.

“You wish to return home,” he said, stepping down toward her. “And yet… you are something quite rare. A human in the Demon Realm is already an anomaly. But a half-human with a power I do not yet understand? That is even more intriguing.”

(Y/N) took a step back. “Uh. Cool? I mean, I’m flattered, really, but I kinda just wanna go home.”

Belos stopped a few feet in front of her. He was tall- taller than she expected- and even though she couldn’t see his face, she felt the intensity of his gaze.

“You may yet prove useful, child.”

That set off every alarm in her brain.

“Yeahhh, see, I don’t love being called ‘useful’ by ominous masked guys in creepy castles,” (Y/N) said, forcing a grin. “So, if that’s all, I think I’ll just-”

She turned on her heel, ready to leave, but before she could take another step, a wave of green magic flickered out from Belos’s fingertips.

(Y/N) barely had time to react before the ground beneath her feet locked up, thick green tendrils snapping around her ankles like chains.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

Okay. Not good. Really not good.

Belos tilted his head. “I believe you will stay here a while longer.”

(Y/N) stood frozen, the green bindings around her ankles pulsing faintly with energy. Her mind raced, trying to figure out the best way to not be trapped in this nightmare situation, but Belos spoke before she could act.

“I have made my decision,” he said, voice calm, measured. “You will join my Coven.”

(Y/N)’s stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You will receive the mark of the Emperor’s Coven,” he continued, ignoring her protests. “And you will train to become one of my Scouts. You will learn our ways, our laws, and how magic truly works in this world.”

(Y/N)’s hands clenched into fists. “Yeah, huge problem with that- I don’t do well with being told what to do.”

Belos regarded her, unmoved. “You wish to return home, do you not?”

(Y/N) hesitated.

Belos took a step closer. “There are no known portals back to the Human Realm. None that I know of.” There was something about the way he said it that made her gut twist- like maybe he did know something, and just wasn’t planning on telling her. “But if one were to be discovered…”

(Y/N)’s breath caught.

“I would decide whether or not you needed to know.”

Her fingers twitched toward her Gem, her instincts screaming at her. She could fight him, try to break free- but the room was filled with guards, and she wasn’t exactly at full strength after being thrown into this insane world.

For now, she needed to play along.

She forced her shoulders to relax and exhaled sharply through her nose. “So let me get this straight. I get branded with some magic tattoo, train to be one of your creepy bird-mask guys, and in exchange, you might help me get home?”

Belos tilted his head, as if amused. “That is the arrangement.”

(Y/N) gritted her teeth. The sigil- whatever it was- was meant for witches, right? But she wasn’t a witch. That whole system shouldn’t even apply to her. And yet, he still wanted her branded.

Something about that sat very wrong with her.

But she had no choice.

Not right now.

She forced herself to nod. “Fine.”

Belos lifted his hand, green magic curling around his fingertips. “Then we begin.”

A wave of energy surged forward, striking her wrist like searing hot ink.

(Y/N) clenched her teeth, swallowing down a hiss as the magic carved itself into her skin. The symbol of the Emperor’s Coven flared bright for a moment before settling, leaving behind an eerie, glowing mark embedded into her flesh.

She glared up at Belos, heart pounding.

"Enough of this," Belos said, his voice echoing through the throne room. His tone was final, dismissive. "The decision has been made. Send word to Hunter- she will be joining him in his room. That way, I can ensure the human is kept under watch."

(Y/N) stiffened. Hunter? That name meant nothing to her, but the idea of being shoved into some random room with a complete stranger wasn’t exactly comforting.

Belos turned his gaze toward one of the scouts. "You. Take her to her quarters."

The scout immediately bowed. "Yes, Emperor Belos. It would be my pleasure."

(Y/N) scowled but kept her mouth shut as the scout gestured for her to follow. As much as she wanted to argue, to push back, she knew she had no leverage here. Not yet.

The golden sigil on her wrist still tingled uncomfortably as she was led through the castles halls. The deeper they went, the more she realized just how massive this place was. There were halls lined with banners of the Emperor’s sigil, corridors guarded by silent scouts in their eerie masks, and doors leading to rooms she probably didn’t want to know the purpose of.

She kept her arms crossed over her chest, partly from irritation, partly because she was still just wearing a bathing suit.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived at a set of large wooden doors. The scout opened one, stepping aside.

"This will be your room," the scout said. "You’ll be sharing it with the Emperor’s nephew, Hunter. He’s also training to become a scout. You’ll receive your uniforms and off-duty clothing shortly."

(Y/N) arched an eyebrow. "The Emperor’s nephew?"

The scout gave a stiff nod. "He is young, but skilled. The Emperor believes it best that he keeps an eye on you."

Of course he does… (Y/N) sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Great. He's on babysitting duty."

The scout didn’t respond- just motioned for her to step inside.

(Y/N) hesitated before entering. The room wasn’t terrible, but it was nothing fancy either. Two small beds sat on opposite sides of the space, both neatly made. There was a single wardrobe, a desk against the far wall, and a few shelves lined with books, candles, and training manuals.

The room smelled faintly of parchment and dust, mixed with something vaguely metallic- probably from whatever weapons or armor were stored in here.

And then she spotted him.

A boy sat on the edge of one of the beds, hunched over a book. He looked up when she walked in, his bright magenta eyes immediately locking onto her.

He was younger than her- probably twelve, a little shorter than her, with short blond hair that swooped slightly in front of his face. His features were sharp, with a hooked nose and a slight gap between his teeth. He had a small chip in his ear, but other than that, he didn’t seem to have any visible scars.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

Then, (Y/N) sighed dramatically and flopped onto the unoccupied bed.

“So, Hunter, huh?” she said, folding her arms behind her head. “Guess that makes you my new babysitter.”

The boy bristled. “I’m not your babysitter,” he said quickly, his voice carrying the kind of indignant edge only a twelve-year-old could manage. “I’m training to become a scout. I have actual responsibilities.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not much older than me.”

“I’m thirteen.”

“That’s barely a difference.”

“Still older.”

Hunter exhaled sharply through his nose and shut his book with a snap. “Look,” he said, crossing his arms. “I don’t know why my uncle wants me to share a room with you, but just stay out of my way, and we won’t have any problems.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Oh, trust me, staying out of the way is the last thing I plan to do.”

Hunter gave her a long, scrutinizing look.

Before either of them could say anything else, a knock at the door interrupted them.

A scout stepped inside, dropping a neatly folded pile of clothes onto a nearby chair. "These are for you," they said to (Y/N). "Your scout uniforms, a mask, and a few off-duty outfits."

(Y/N) sat up, finally feeling a little relieved. "Awesome. Running around in a bathing suit wasn’t exactly my plan for today."

The scout gave a curt nod before leaving.

(Y/N) picked up one of the uniforms, inspecting it. The material was sturdy but flexible, mostly gray with black accents- same as what she had seen on the others. The off-duty clothes were simpler, mostly dark tones, but comfortable-looking.

Hunter watched her from his bed, arms still crossed.

"So," he said, voice measured. "You’re really human?"

(Y/N) glanced at him, then tapped her collarbone where her Gem gleamed faintly. "Half."

Hunter’s magenta eyes flickered to the gemstone, curiosity flashing across his face.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Hunter tilted his head. "Well… at least you’re not completely useless."

(Y/N) snorted. "Not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult, but I’ll take it."

Hunter just hummed, flipping open his book again.

(Y/N) exhaled, rubbing at the fresh sigil on her wrist.

This was her new reality- for now, at least.

But she had no plans to stick around forever.

She just had to play along… until she found a way out.

Two years had passed since (Y/N) had been thrown into the Boiling Isles. Two years since she had been forced into the Emperor’s Coven, branded with a sigil meant for witches- one that, strangely, never seemed to affect her the way it did others.

She had learned a lot in that time.

Magic wasn’t just one thing here- it was divided, structured, controlled. There were different types of magic, and each coven specialized in one: Abominations, Healing, Illusions, Potions, and so on. Every witch was expected to join a coven, to be marked with a sigil that locked them into one type of magic for life. Only the Emperor’s Coven- Belos’s personal force- had the privilege of wielding multiple types of magic.

And anyone who refused to join a coven?

A wild witch.

(Y/N) had heard plenty about them. The Emperor painted them as dangerous, reckless, a threat to the system that kept order in the Isles. But the more she learned, the more she saw how much of it was just control.

She had trained alongside Hunter, learning the ways of the scouts, learning about the world she had been thrown into. And, in that time, she had become something she never expected- a partner.

After their training, they had been officially paired as scouting partners, working together on missions for the Emperor’s Coven. They had been given a slightly larger room than before, though they still shared it- two separate beds, a single wardrobe, and a small desk where Hunter often poured over books late into the night... Plus the little things (Y/N) made, scattered about in some places.

Despite their rocky start, they had grown into a strange, competitive sort of friendship.

Hunter was still Hunter, stubborn, cocky, always trying to prove himself. But over the years, (Y/N) had seen the cracks in his mask. He wasn’t just some power-hungry lackey- he wanted to be something, to prove his worth.

She got that.

And, despite everything, she trusted him more than anyone else in this place.

Not that she’d tell him that.

(Y/N) leaned against the railing of a high balcony overlooking the city of Bonesborough. The sky was dimming, lanterns flickering to life across the streets below. She tugged her gloves higher over her hands, absentmindedly brushing her fingers over the sigil on her wrist.

It still didn’t affect her.

Not the way it did witches. She had seen them struggle when they tried to use magic outside of their coven’s restriction, felt their pain when the sigil burned into them. But her? She could still summon her weapons, still feel the hum of energy in her Gem, still do things no one else here could.

And Belos knew it.

He had never spoken about it directly, but she had seen the way he watched her, the way he monitored her training, like she was an experiment he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

And she hated it.

“(Y/N).”

Hunter’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see him approaching, his white Scout cloak swaying with each step. He had gotten taller over the years- not by much, but enough that he was no longer shorter than her. His face had grown sharper, more defined, but his magenta eyes still held that same intense focus.

“Daydreaming again?” he asked, stopping beside her.

(Y/N) smirked. “What can I say? Your Uncle gives us such boring work, Blondie.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “We have a mission tomorrow. Higher-ups want us scouting near the Knee. We leave at dawn.”

“Right, right,” she said, waving a hand. “Any actual details, or do I have to guess?”

Hunter huffed, crossing his arms. “It’s just recon. There have been rumors of wild witches moving in that area. We’re supposed to investigate, report back if we find anything.”

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose. She knew how this went. If they found wild witches, they were supposed to report them, let the coven take care of it.

The problem was…

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to.

Over the past few months, rumors had been circulating- whispers about wild witches banding together, resisting the coven system. And, more interestingly, there had been talk of something else.

Another human.

(Y/N) had been keeping her ears open, listening for any mention of this mystery person. A human in the Isles? That wasn’t something that happened every day. If there really was someone else from her world here, she needed to find them.

Hunter shifted beside her, his eyes scanning the streets below. “You’re distracted.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Aren’t I always?”

Hunter frowned but didn’t press. He knew her well enough by now to know when she wasn’t ready to talk. Still, as the sky darkened and the city lights flickered, (Y/N) made a silent decision. If there was another human here… She was going to find them.

After gazing at the area below for a while longer, the two of them head back to the Castle, to rest and prepare for the mission in the morning...

When the time came, the wind howled as (Y/N) and Hunter crouched low behind a jagged rock formation, scanning the Knee for any signs of wild witch activity. The area was desolate- snow-covered ruins and eerie skeletal remains of the Titan’s long-dead body stretched across the landscape. It was cold, but nothing (Y/N) couldn’t handle.

Hunter adjusted his mask, his magenta eyes narrowing as he peered through the holes. “Anything?” he asked.

(Y/N) kept her eyes on the distant figures ahead. “Couple of witchlings,” she muttered. “Nothing worth reporting.”

Hunter sighed. “Great. Another boring recon mission.”

(Y/N) smirked. “You’re the one who wanted to take this seriously, Blondie.”

Hunter shot her a glare, but she ignored him, focusing on the three witches she had spotted earlier.

The Blight kids.

She recognized them from past missions- Edric and Emira, the older twins, and their younger sister, Amity. They weren’t causing any trouble, just training. The twins were helping their sister with a training wand, guiding her as she practiced spells.

It was harmless.

(Y/N) leaned back against the rock. “Nothing to worry about. They’re still in school. Too young to be locked into a coven yet.”

Hunter hummed in agreement, but they both knew that wasn’t always a guarantee. Not many were allowed to join covens as young as they had been, but the Emperor had made exceptions before.

(Y/N) turned her gaze elsewhere, scanning the landscape for anything unusual.

That’s when she saw them.

At first, she thought they were just another pair of witches training in the wilderness. One was tall, wearing a red dress, with a coat over it. She was moving with practiced ease, magic swirling at her fingertips. The other was younger- around twelve, maybe- with a small frame and a hat covering her head.

(Y/N) wouldn’t have thought anything of it… if it weren’t for the way the girl struggled.

The older woman flicked her wrist, effortlessly making a spell circle. The younger girl tried to copy her… but nothing happened. She tried again, waving her hands frantically, but the magic simply wasn’t there.

The girl pouted, stomping her foot in frustration.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched.

That… wasn’t normal. Most witchlings could do at least some magic, even if it was weak, even if it needed assistance. But this girl? Nothing. Her eyes darted back to the older woman. It took her a second to recognize her, but when she did, her stomach twisted.

The Owl Lady.

(Y/N) had heard about her before- Eda Clawthorne. A notorious wild witch, a troublemaker, and someone the Emperor had his eye on.

And she was training a girl who couldn’t use magic.

(Y/N)’s fingers twitched toward her Gem, her mind racing.

A human.

It had to be.

She could feel Hunter shift beside her, his attention also locked onto the scene ahead. “That’s the Owl Lady,” he murmured. “We should report this.”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Should we?”

Hunter turned to her, brow furrowed. “She’s a known wild witch. You know the rules- if we spot her, we report her.”

(Y/N) clenched her jaw. She knew the rules. She had followed them for two years- but this was different. This wasn’t just a wild witch causing trouble. This was another human.

And if Belos found out?

She had no doubt in her mind- this girl wouldn’t get a choice in what happened next.

“…Not yet,” (Y/N) said.

Hunter frowned. “What?”

(Y/N) forced a smirk. “Come on, Blondie. You really think Belos doesn’t already know the Owl Lady’s out here? If we bring him this, he’s just going to say we wasted his time.”

Hunter hesitated, clearly torn.

(Y/N) pressed further. “Let’s keep watching. See what they’re up to. If it’s anything actually dangerous, then we report it.”

Hunter exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if we get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

(Y/N) grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She turned her gaze back to the girl.

This was it.

This was her chance to finally get some answers.

(Y/N) moved silently through the snow-covered terrain, crouching low behind the jagged rock formations as she and Hunter edged closer to The Owl Lady and the young girl. The wind howled through the valley, but she barely felt the cold, her entire focus locked onto the scene in front of her.

She needed to be sure- was this girl really human? Or just a witch with some sort of magic-blocking issue?

Hunter followed after her, his arms crossed, clearly annoyed. “This is reckless,” he muttered under his breath. “We should’ve reported this already.”

(Y/N) smirked. “You should’ve reported this already. I never said I was going to.”

Hunter groaned. “This is why I don’t let you plan things.”

(Y/N) ignored him, her eyes fixed on Eda and the girl.

The Owl Lady was… something else.

Instead of teaching the girl proper spells, she was eating snow, explaining the different types as if that had anything to do with magic. The girl- who was bundled up in a coat and hat- looked increasingly frustrated, her arms flailing as she pouted.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. What kind of training method is that?

“She’s not even teaching her,” Hunter whispered, unimpressed. “What is this supposed to be?”

“No clue,” (Y/N) muttered, tilting her head as she watched.

The girl huffed, stomping her foot. “Eda! I wanna learn real magic! Not about weird snow flavors!”

Eda licked a bit of snow off her hand, nodding sagely. “That’s exactly what someone who doesnt know what they are doing would say.”

The girl groaned dramatically, throwing her arms up. “Come on! You said you’d teach me properly if I became your apprentice!”

Eda sighed. “And I will! But magic isn’t just about waving your hands around and hoping for the best, kid.” She turned her back for a moment, rummaging through her bag. “You’ve gotta understand it, feel it-”

(Y/N)’s eyes sharpened as the girl suddenly perked up, her expression shifting.

Something mischievous.

She glanced over at where the Blight siblings had been training earlier- where Amity’s training wand still lay abandoned in the snow.

(Y/N)’s stomach clenched as the girl quickly tiptoed over, her boots crunching lightly in the snow.

“Ohhh, here we go,” (Y/N) murmured.

Hunter frowned. “What?”

The girl smirked, crouching down and snatching up the wand before Eda could notice. Her fingers curled around the handle as she straightened up, holding it like it was some kind of trophy.

Then, with a spark of excitement in her eyes, she quickly copied the spell circles Eda had been trying to teach her. Before (Y/N) could see if she could actually cast the spell, Hunter jabbed at her slightly with his elbow, making her glance over at him.

“We need to go back and tell Belos,” Hunter said, his voice tense.

(Y/N) snapped her gaze to him. “Are you kidding me?” she whispered harshly. “We just found another human, and your first thought is to run off and tell him?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened. “That’s what we’re supposed to do.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Right, because Belos totally won’t just lock her up the second he finds out she exists.”

Hunter exhaled sharply through his nose. “You don’t know that.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “Yeah? And you do?”

He hesitated. Just for a second. But it was enough.

(Y/N) shook her head. “Come on, Hunter. You know how he is. You know what he does to people who don’t fit into his perfect little system.” She gestured toward the girl. “She’s human! She’s not even a wild witch! What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out she doesn’t belong?”

Hunter’s grip on his staff tightened. “That’s not our call to make.”

(Y/N) stepped closer, lowering her voice. “So what, we just hand her over? Let Belos decide what happens to her? Just like he decided for us?”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed at her slightly. “That’s different.”

(Y/N)’s heart pounded. “How?”

“Because we chose this!” he hissed. “We trained for this! We earned our place in the Emperor’s Coven! She-” He motioned toward the girl. “-She’s just some random kid who got stuck here!”

(Y/N) crossed her arms. “So was I! So why should we turn her in?”

Hunter groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re being reckless again.”

“And you’re being blind.”

Hunter whipped toward her, his eyes sharp. “I follow the rules, (Y/N)! That’s what keeps us safe!"

(Y/N) opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Hunter grabbed her by the shoulders.

She froze.

His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm. Desperate. His magenta eyes locked onto hers, his expression taut with something almost pleading.

“We need to go back and tell Belos,” he said, his voice quieter now, but more urgent. “You don’t understand- he… We’ve already done too much.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched.

She did understand.

Hunter wasn’t the Golden Guard yet, but he was striving for it. He wanted to prove himself, to be someone in Belos’s eyes. And he knew- just as well as she did- that they had already gone too far off course.

If they stayed, if they pushed this any further…

There would be consequences.

For both of them.

(Y/N) felt the tension in Hunter’s grip, the slight tremble in his fingers as he held onto her shoulders. She didn’t need to use her Gem’s abilities to feel the desperation radiating from him- his expression said it all.

He was scared.

He was scared of failing.

Scared of what would happen if they made the wrong call.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her shoulders slowly relaxing under his grip. She had spent two years by his side, training, fighting, surviving in this world. They had started as rivals, as reluctant partners, but now?

He was the only person in this entire place that she trusted.

Her lips curled into a soft, almost resigned smile. It wasn’t her usual cocky smirk, nor the teasing grin she always threw his way.

It was something real… Something gentle.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “We’ll go back.”

Hunter blinked, surprised at her sudden change of tone. He let go of her shoulders, stepping back slightly, as if unsure whether to believe her.

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose, running a hand through her hair. “You’re right,” she admitted, though it pained her to say it. “We’ve already done too much. If we wait any longer, we’ll get in trouble.” She let out a dry chuckle. “And I really don’t feel like getting locked up today.”

Hunter studied her, searching her face for any sign of deception. But there was none.

(Y/N) meant it.

His shoulders lowered slightly, and he nodded. “Good. We’ll report what we saw. Belos needs to know.”

(Y/N) forced herself not to grimace at that part. She just casted a glance toward the girl again, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, Blondie,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

With one last look at the wild witches in the distance, (Y/N) turned on her heel and followed Hunter back toward the Emperor’s Coven.

The wind whipped past them as Hunter’s staff soared through the sky, cutting through the dark clouds over the Boiling Isles. (Y/N) held on tightly, her mind racing.

She glanced at Hunter, his face set in a determined, almost grim expression. He believed this was the right thing. He had to. This was his whole life, his whole purpose- following orders, proving himself, earning his place.

And, for better or worse, (Y/N) had chosen to stand beside him.

As the castle loomed ahead, its towering white spires gleaming under the pale light, (Y/N) forced down the unease bubbling in her gut. When they entered the throne room, (Y/N) immediately felt the oppressive weight of Belos’s presence settle over her.

He sat on his throne, his golden mask unreadable, his long cloak draped over his form like a shroud. The air was thick with something dark, something wrong.

(Y/N) and Hunter both dropped to one knee.

No matter how much (Y/N) hated bowing to anyone, she knew better than to test Belos’s patience.

Hunter spoke first, his voice steady- though (Y/N) could hear the faint edge of nerves beneath it.

“We scouted the Knee as ordered,” Hunter reported. “We spotted a few witchlings, nothing of concern… but then we saw The Owl Lady.”

At that, Belos tilted his head slightly. “And you did not return immediately?”

Hunter swallowed. “We wanted to be sure-”

That was the wrong answer.

Before (Y/N) could react, a sickly green tendril of dark, corrupted magic shot from Belos’s fingertips, moving too fast.

It slashed across Hunter’s face and neck.

Hunter choked on a breath, his eyes going wide as pain ripped through him. His body instinctively curled inward, one hand shooting up to press against the fresh wound. Blood dripped between his fingers, staining his gloves.

(Y/N) moved without thinking- she was at his side in an instant, her Gem flaring to life, her eyes burning bright pink.

She glared up at Belos, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She could feel everything- the suffocating darkness in the air, the flicker of pain rolling off of Hunter, the twisted amusement buried deep in Belos’s presence.

This wasn’t a lesson.

It was punishment.

Her voice was sharp, shaking with barely contained rage. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

The room fell into a suffocating silence… Gi didn’t care. She knew she had just crossed a very dangerous line.

But right now?

She didn’t give a damn.

Belos tilted his head slightly, his golden mask betraying nothing. The room still felt suffocating, heavy with his presence.

“This is punishment,” he said calmly, his voice steady, as if explaining something simple to a disobedient child. “For not following orders.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled, her pink-glowing eyes still locked onto him.

Hunter, still doubled over, sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers pressing against the wound on his cheek and neck. He was trying to keep quiet, trying to stay composed, but (Y/N) could feel his pain like it was her own.

“Next time,” Belos continued, his voice dripping with authority, “maybe you’ll think twice before disobeying.”

(Y/N)’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

But she knew better than to push further… Not now.

Belos flicked his wrist dismissively. “Leave me.”

(Y/N) was already moving- she slid an arm around Hunter’s back, careful but firm, helping him stand as his legs wobbled slightly. He still held one hand against his wound, his breaths shallow but controlled.

They didn’t say a word as they left the throne room, moving through the castle halls in tense, heavy silence.

The Healing Wing of the Emperor’s Coven was quiet when they arrived, dim candlelight flickering in glass lanterns along the walls. It was meant for scouts who got injured during missions- but not for those injured in the throne room.

Still, (Y/N) didn’t hesitate. She carefully led Hunter to one of the cots, easing him down before turning to one of the nearby healers. “He needs help. Now.”

The healer, a middle-aged witch from the Healing Coven, raised an eyebrow but quickly got to work, their hands glowing with soft blue light as they approached Hunter.

(Y/N) took a slow breath, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, trying to breathe past the lingering rage still burning inside her. Hunter just sat there, silent as the healer examined his wound, his magenta eyes staring at the floor.

She hated this.

She hated all of this.

But more than anything- more than the mission, more than the punishment, more than Belos- she hated that Hunter wasn’t surprised… Like he had expected this. Like it had happened before.

(Y/N) clenched her fists, her Gem pulsing faintly.

She wasn’t going to forget this- and she sure as hell wasn’t going to forgive it.

The soft glow of healing magic flickered against the dim candlelight as the healer worked on Hunter’s wound. (Y/N) stood off to the side, arms crossed tightly, watching every movement. The healer’s hands glowed a calming blue, slowly sealing the gash, easing the bleeding, knitting the torn skin back together. But even with magic, some things couldn’t be undone.

When the healer finally stepped back, they sighed. “That’s all I can do. The wound is closed, but the scarring… it’ll stay.”

Hunter barely reacted. He just gave a stiff nod, his jaw tight. (Y/N), however, clenched her fists. She knew that. She knew it wasn’t going to disappear entirely. But hearing it made her stomach twist with anger all over again.

The scar ran from the side of Hunter’s neck, up along his jaw, and across his cheek, ending just below his eye. His skin was still bruised around it, tender from the rawness of fresh healing.

Belos had done this to him.

Their own leader had scarred him just for hesitating.

(Y/N) inhaled sharply through her nose and forced herself to swallow the rage bubbling inside her. Now wasn’t the time. She stepped forward, moving to Hunter’s side. He hadn’t spoken much since they left the throne room.

“Come on, Blondie” she murmured, her voice softer than usual. “Let’s get you back to our room.”

Hunter didn’t argue. He stood, stiff but steady, and let (Y/N) guide him out of the healing wing.

The walk back to their shared quarters was quiet… Too quiet.

(Y/N) glanced at Hunter out of the corner of her eye. His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed straight ahead. But she could feel the way his emotions twisted and churned inside him. She wanted to say something. Anything.

But what was she supposed to say? Sorry our boss is a complete psychopath? Sorry this happened to you? Sorry I dragged this out and made things worse?

None of it would fix this… So she said nothing.

When they finally reached their room, she guided him inside and shut the door behind them. Hunter wordlessly sat on his bed, rubbing a gloved hand over his face before resting his elbows on his knees. He exhaled slowly, staring at the floor.

(Y/N) hesitated, then sat beside him, not too close, but close enough. For a long moment, they just sat there in silence.

Then, finally, Hunter spoke. “I shouldn’t have argued,” he muttered. His voice was hoarse, tired. “I should’ve just… obeyed.”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed. “No.”

Hunter blinked, looking up at her.

(Y/N) turned to him fully, her (E/C) eyes- still faintly pink from lingering emotion- burning with something fierce. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like this is your fault.”

Hunter frowned, his fingers twitching at his sides. “But I-”

“No.” (Y/N) shook her head. “Belos chose to do this. He didn’t have to, Hunter. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hunter swallowed hard, his gaze dropping again. “Doesn’t change anything.”

(Y/N) exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “Maybe not. But it wasn’t your fault.”

She hesitated for a moment, then reached out, gently touching his sleeve, just for a second. A small, silent reassurance… Hunter didn’t pull away. He just sighed and closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping slightly.

She hated seeing him like this.

Carefully, she shifted a little closer, keeping her movements slow, deliberate. Her free hand lifted, hesitating for just a second before cupping the uninjured side of his face.

Hunter stiffened at the contact, his magenta eyes flicking to hers in surprise… But he didn’t pull away. Her thumb brushed against his jaw, slow and soft, a comforting touch rather than anything demanding. She let out a quiet sigh, her Gem glowing faintly in the dim candlelight.

“Hunter,” she murmured.

His throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, but he stayed quiet.

(Y/N)’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile, her voice dropping to something softer, something teasing. “I am sorry, though.”

Hunter frowned. “For what?”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile turning just a little playful. “For dragging this out. For making things harder. But, y’know…” Her thumb brushed along his cheek again. “You still look just as handsome.”

A slow blink.

Hunter’s ears immediately turned pink.

His mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again, as if he was trying to find words but failing miserably. His usual composure, his sharp retorts and perfectly structured logic- gone.

(Y/N) grinned.

There it was...

A small, flickering moment of something other than pain, than duty, than the crushing weight of what had just happened. Just for a second.

She could do more. She could use her Gem, could ease the tension twisting in his chest, could make him feel lighter, could quiet the storm inside of him.

But she wouldn’t.

Because even though she could sense emotions, even though she could manipulate them if she wanted to… That wasn’t her choice to make. Hunter’s emotions, his pain, his feelings- those belonged to him.

So instead, she just let her hand linger, warm and steady, letting him decide what to do next.

After a moment, Hunter finally managed to find his voice. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his face still lightly flushed.

(Y/N) smirked. “And yet, you’re not denying it.”

Hunter groaned, rolling his eyes, but she could feel the shift- the tiniest, smallest change. The weight of the moment didn’t disappear, but it eased, just a little.

Please may I have The Walking Dead platonic headcanons of what if Carl Grimes had a older sister who is maybe 3 years older than him and had a 6th Sense when it comes to safe houses and places that is unlikely raided for supplies and what to avoid...e.g. if a certain place seemed overrun with walkers being one of them and when someone offering a safe haven being too good to be true and they seemed 'off'..which had saved her group on numerous occasions. She's a good one and always had been..even after her mother's passing, she promised to look out for Carl and for Judith. She learnt how to use a gun under her father's guidance at the start from the age of 12 before handling it on her own when it comes to having to shoot walkers..or use daggers. She is mostly the person who looked after and raised Judith since infancy and was willing to die to protect her when she was in harm's way.

Rick Grimes relationship with his daughter

Carl Grimes relationship with his elder sister

Lori Grimes relationship with her daughter too.

The Group's relationship with her..(with the same ones who knew Carl for a long time too)

Shane's relationship with her..and how he felt that she didn't see him as a father very much..she saw right through him but she didn't say anything because he was her Dad's colleague and friend.

A/N: Absolutely! I might make a longer fic based on this request! Already got permision from the requester :} I'm either gonna base it off this one, or make one new walking dead fic all together. Eighter way, ill credit you for the request, @the-letter-horror-lover!

Raised by the End of the World

Older-Sister!Reader x The Walking Dead Headcanons

Warnings: Violence/Death, Parental Loss, Trauma, Existential Despair/Sacrifice

Word Count: 1798

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- (Y/N) has an uncanny gut instinct that rarely fails her: While not supernatural, her "sixth sense" is more of a hyper-awareness built from trauma, observation, and cold survival logic. She knows the difference between quiet and too quiet. She’s the type who will stop everyone mid-step because something “feels off,” even if there are no walkers or sounds- and more often than not, she’s right.

- She can “read” people frighteningly well: One look, and she can tell if someone is lying, desperate, dangerous, or putting on an act. Rick has learned to trust her instincts even over his own at times. In abandoned houses, she can glance at the dust, placement of things, and smell of the air and tell if someone’s been there recently. She’s especially good at finding caches of supplies overlooked by others. She's the one who always checks under floorboards, between false walls, and above ceiling tiles. It’s almost become a running joke- until she finds a forgotten stash of canned goods or ammo.

- Rick started training her in basic gun safety and handling when she was 9, back before the world fell apart: It began with weekends at the range- slow, careful lessons on how to respect the weapon. Mostly so he could eventually go hunting with him, and actually know how to aim.

- She took to it quickly, surprising even Rick with her precision: She never flinched. When she asked to learn how to use a knife next, Rick hesitated, but taught her anyway- something he later thanked himself for.

- After everything went to hell, she became one of the best shots in the group: Not just accurate, but calm. She doesn’t waste bullets. Every shot counts. She's also quick with a dagger or makeshift blade. She's not the strongest, but she’s fast and precise- throat, eye, skull. She's had to learn how to end things cleanly, especially when Judith was with her.

- Lori loved (Y/N), but often didn’t understand her: While Carl was more emotionally reactive, (Y/N) was quiet, steady, and internalized everything. They had friction- especially as the world began to collapse- with Lori sometimes chastising her for “acting like an adult” or “trying to be in charge.” (Y/N) never argued back. She just kept doing what needed to be done… But deep down, Lori was proud. She told Rick, before her death, that (Y/N) was stronger than both of them- that she had something in her that would keep them all alive.

- Their last real moment together was quiet: Lori cupped her daughter’s face, said “Take care of your brother. Take care of Judith.” And (Y/N) nodded once, already promising without needing to say it aloud. After Lori’s death, (Y/N) was the only one who stayed with Carl that whole night. She didn’t say a word. Just let him lean on her until he slept… 

- Now (Y/N) often acts more like Carl’s second parent than just a sister: She's firm when she needs to be, but she's never condescending. Carl listens to her more than most, even when he pretends not to. They argue like siblings, but when the world goes to hell (again), Carl always looks for her first. If she’s nearby, he knows things will be okay.

- From the moment Judith was born, (Y/N) took over almost all of her care: She was the one waking in the middle of the night, rocking her, warming formula, changing diapers even during the hardest of times.

- Judith’s first word wasn’t “mama” or “dada.” It was “Sissy,”: The whole group melted when they heard it. She braided Judith’s hair when it got long enough, wrapped her in scraps of blankets when they were on the road, and told her made-up fairy tales when the real world was too ugly to explain. If Judith ever cried or screamed when walkers were near, (Y/N) would press her forehead to hers and whisper calming things until she went quiet- even if her own heart was pounding out of her chest. She once hid with Judith in a broken-down car overnight, clutching her tightly while walkers passed within feet of them She didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn’t breathe until the moans were gone.

- Rick sees (Y/N) as both his daughter and his second-in-command: After Lori’s death, she became the emotional pillar of the family, even when Rick wasn’t in a place to be the father she needed. He regrets that he put too much responsibility on her shoulders too early- relying on her to help raise Judith, to keep Carl in line, to read the room when he couldn’t. But deep down, he trusts her instincts more than almost anyone.

- Their bond is strong but often unspoken: Built on quiet glances, half-nods, and wordless understanding. When something goes wrong, she’s usually the first person he looks to. He’s told her, more than once, “You shouldn’t have to be this strong.” And each time, she just gave him a tired smile and said, “I know.” He worries about the cost of the apocalypse on her soul, even more than Carl’s. She carries so much, and rarely lets anyone see her fall apart.

- Carl both idolizes and resents her, in that complex sibling way: She’s his protector, his compass- but also a reminder of everything they lost. She was the one who taught him how to bandage his first walker scratch, who stayed up with him after nightmares when Rick was spiraling. When Carl went through phases of trying to be hard or emotionless, it was her disappointment- not Rick’s- that stung the most. She didn't yell, just gave him that look that said, "You know better."

- He never wanted to admit how scared he was of losing her: But when she once got clipped during a raid and bled out onto the concrete, Carl didn’t leave her side all night. She always made him feel like he didn’t have to be strong all the time. He could crumble, and she would carry the weight for both of them.

- Everyone knows not to second-guess her gut feelings: Even Daryl has said, “If (Y/N) says we don’t go in there, we don’t go in there.” She's quiet but respected- the kind of person people turn to when things get tense because she doesn’t panic, and she always has a plan. Carol shares a soft, maternal bond with her- the two often look after Judith together. Carol sees how much of herself is reflected in (Y/N)’s sacrifices. Glenn was always amazed by her resourcefulness; he once told Maggie he thought (Y/N) could find a full grocery store in a burnt-out gas station.

- At an abandoned hotel just outside of Atlanta, the group thought they’d struck gold: Clean water, canned goods, beds. (Y/N) took one step in and froze. Said the smell was wrong. Turned out it was a trap set by scavengers waiting on the roof with rifles.

- During a harsh winter, she led them to an abandoned church no one wanted to check: “too obvious,” they said. But she felt it in her bones. Not only was it untouched, it had a hidden root cellar stocked with old food from a prepper priest.

- Once, they were approached by a smiling man offering food and shelter at his supposed “community.”: Everyone wanted to hear him out. She stared him down, her voice flat: “He’s not hungry. Look at his boots- clean. He’s hunting, not surviving.” The man ran when she exposed him.

- When walkers broke into a safehouse and (Y/N) was upstairs with Judith: She shoved the dresser in front of the door, locked herself and the baby in the closet, and readied her knife. She didn’t expect to survive- only to keep the door shut long enough for someone else to get to Judith. In a moment where bullets ran out and Judith was in direct danger, she used herself as a human shield without thinking. Daryl pulled her out at the last second, but she was ready to die without hesitation.

- Once, she and Carl were separated from the group during a supply run: She kept Carl behind her the entire time, even when they were ambushed by a lone hostile survivor. She was the one who fired first- Carl never forgot the look on her face after. Calm. Empty. Controlled.

- Daryl Dixon: Daryl sees a kindred spirit in her. Not loud, not flashy, but lethal when it counts. He’s seen her gut a walker with one arm while holding Judith with the other. They often patrol together in silence, both appreciating the lack of small talk.

- Carol Peletier: Carol is maybe the only person who understands what it means to be both warrior and mother in one body. She once told (Y/N), “We do what we have to, and we carry it forever. That’s just how it is for people like us.”

- Michonne: She respects (Y/N) fiercely. They’ve fought side-by-side more than once, and Michonne once admitted she thinks (Y/N) has the best instincts in the entire group. When things feel “off,” Michonne always checks her face first.

- Glenn Rhee: Glenn used to tease her gently, trying to get her to laugh or loosen up. He told Maggie that she reminded him of a cat- quiet, deadly, and always watching.

- Maggie Greene: Maggie bonded with (Y/N) over motherhood. Though their circumstances were wildly different, they shared a resilience born from loving someone so small in a world so cruel.

- Hershel: Before his death, Hershel treated (Y/N) with warmth and fatherly affection. He once told Rick, “That girl’s got an old soul. Like she’s lived through this before.”

- Shane never knew quite how to handle (Y/N): She was polite, respectful, but distant. She didn’t laugh at his jokes the way Carl did, didn’t trust him the way Lori sometimes did. He could tell she saw through him. Through the bravado, the barking orders, the possessiveness over the Grimes family. And that infuriated him- because she never said anything. Never called him out. Just looked at him.

- That silence was worse than yelling: It was judgment without words. Shane knew she didn’t see him as a father figure- not even close- and that burned. He tried, once, to bond with her. Brought her a box of supplies and said, “Thought you’d like first pick. You earned it.” She just nodded and said, “Thanks,” but her eyes didn’t soften.

- After Shane’s death, she didn’t speak of him often: But once, years later, when Judith asked about “Uncle Shane,” (Y/N) just said, “He tried to love us. But he lost himself before he ever really could.”

Can you do Sayaka x reader fluff headcannons?

A/N: Yes, of course, @ultimategraffitiguy! You didn't specify the gender of the reader, so I kept it gender neutral :} Hope that's okay!

The Softest Spotlight

Sayaka x GN!Reader Fluff Headcannons

Warnings: None that I can really see :}

Word Count: 716

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- Constant cheerleader energy: Sayaka thrives on encouragement and gives it in abundance. Whether (Y/N)’s making breakfast or just trying to focus on studying, she’s their  #1 hype girl- "You're doing amazing, sweetheart!" levels of support every day. She believes in destiny, but she also believes in working hard to protect what you have. Even when things get tough, she always says, “As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.”

- Little love notes everywhere: She leaves (Y/N) sweet notes in the most random places: their notebook, your hoodie pocket, their shoe (once). They're always handwritten with cute little doodles and sparkly stickers.

- Cuddling = therapy: Sayaka is touchy and adores cuddles. Her favorite position is (Y/N) lying on their back with her draped over them like a weighted blanket. She hums her favorite songs softly while tracing patterns on their arm.

- Morning snuggles are a must: She wakes up first just so she can admire (Y/N)’s sleepy face. Her fingers brush their hair from their forehead as she whispers, “You look like a dream.” Then, when they stir, she gently pulls them back into bed- “Five more minutes, please~”

- Loves being the little spoon: Though she’ll happily big spoon too, her favorite thing is curling up in (Y/N)’s arms, her back against their chest, while they wrap their arms around her waist… She kicks her feet a little when she’s extra happy.

- Giggle fits under the blankets: Sometimes she just wants to be silly and soft- she’ll pull the covers over both of them like a little fort, tell (Y/N) jokes, make silly faces in the glow of her phone screen, and end up in a pile of giggles and forehead kisses.

- Soft lullabies as cuddles deepen: When (Y/N) is almost asleep, she hums a soft melody- usually something nostalgic from her younger days. It becomes (Y/N)’s personal lullaby, and now they can’t sleep well unless they hear her voice.

- Secret songs just for (Y/N): Despite being used to crowds, her favorite performances are the ones where it’s just the two of them. She writes lyrics inspired by their relationship, though she keeps some private in her journal. She’s promised- if she ever releases a solo album, (Y/N) will be the muse.

- Surprise back hugs: She always sneaks up behind (Y/N) when they’re doing something mundane- cooking, brushing their teeth, folding laundry- and wraps her arms around their middle, swaying gently with her chin resting on their shoulder. She just wants to be close.

- Blanket thief but in denial: Sayaka always ends up wrapped in the majority of the blanket by morning, yet she insists (Y/N) is the one who hogs it. The solution? (Y/N) ends up getting a bigger blanket just so she can burrito herself and still share with them.

- Loves curling up in your lap: When (Y/N) is sitting on the couch, Sayaka will crawl into their lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She’ll curl up there like a cat, cheek pressed to their chest, arms tucked close as they stroke her hair.

- Says “I love you” when she’s half-asleep: When she’s drifting off, in that sleepy-soft voice, she mumbles “I love you” like a mantra. Sometimes it’s three times in a row. Sometimes it’s a barely audible whisper. But always sincere.

- Dates always feel magical: She plans the cutest little dates. Think picnics under fairy lights, karaoke at home in matching pajamas, or dancing around the kitchen with music blasting as they both sing terribly on purpose.

- The queen of matching fits: Sayaka lives for couple aesthetics. Matching accessories? Matching phone charms? She's already bought them. She even customizes (Y/N)’s stuff with their initials + a heart.

-  Protective but soft about it: She gets anxious when (Y/N) is sad or overwhelmed. They’ll catch her sneaking worried glances, always ready with a warm hug, tea, or even calling her manager to cancel practice so she can stay with (Y/N).

- Public affection? Yep: She’ll hold (Y/N)’s hand anywhere, sneak kisses when no one’s looking, and gush about them in interviews (with a shy smile and sparkles in her eyes). Fans adore how much she loves (Y/N).

Hello my friend, I hope that you are having a good day! 😊 Well, For my story request, I wanted to see if you could do a headcanon with Demon Slayer AU x short black!reader where they suffered and take medication from Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) or Multiple Personality Disorder where they act just like Junko Enoshima from Danganronpa but instead of killing their friends they are very protective of them to the point where they will kill/hurt someone else!~ 😂🥹💔😈

A/N: Of course, @lelewright1234! I want to make it known, though, I do not over-dramatize mental illness. DID is usually very overly portrayed to be "evil" or "harmful" in media, and I very much do not like that. I made sure to do some research before writing this, to make sure I am not doing any harm. Reader is aggressive, but only when it comes to keeping those they love safe :} Also, the gender of the reader wasn't specified, so I kept it gender neutral, but also also, the dialog is pink, cuz... Well... All the other colors were taken LOL

All of Me, All of You

Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya x GN!Black!Reader Headcannons

Warnings: Topics of Mental Health, Violence/Gore, and Trauma Responses

Word Count: 2108

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Tanjiro:

- Tanjiro is initially overwhelmed, but never fearful of (Y/N): Their energy reminds him of Zenitsu and Inosuke, but darker… sharper. He senses something fractured beneath the surface, and his kindness becomes a safe anchor.

- He learns the names and mannerisms of their alters over time: He is always calling them by their preferred name and tone. He’s especially good at grounding them during dissociative episodes- placing their hand on his heartbeat, holding eye contact, and speaking gently, “You’re here. You’re with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

- (Y/N) jokes about being "completely unhinged for their man,": Tanjiro just chuckles nervously until he sees them genuinely lose control when someone threatens him. One time, someone tried to kill Tanjiro during a mission and (Y/N) didn’t hesitate to gouge the enemy’s eyes out. Calmly. Softly. With a smile on their face. It terrifies everyone- except Tanjiro, who simply checks if they’re okay afterward.

- (Y/N) leaves bloodied love notes: “They touched you. I touched them back. With a blade.” Tanjiro keeps them hidden in a box because he doesn’t know what to do with them, but he can’t bring himself to throw them away.

- Medication and herbs help them sleep and prevents violent switching: But… It doesn't work all the time. When it fails, Tanjiro’s voice and scent help stabilize them. Tanjiro never forces them to change. Instead, he helps build routines that give structure without control.

- When he asks them out, he doesn’t do a big dramatic thing: He just says, “I love all of you. Every version. Every day.” And (Y/N) genuinely glitches for a second before saying yes.

- Tanjiro lets (Y/N) carve protective symbols into his blade hilt: Some are from folk tales (Y/N) remembers. Some they made up. He never questions them.

Inosuke:

- Inosuke lives for (Y/N)’s unpredictability: Their switching between personalities reminds him of a beast showing multiple stances- it's wild, it’s powerful, and it intrigues him.

- (Y/N)’s main protector personality treats their crew like royalty: Friends are sacred. Anyone who hurts one of them? Their lifespan just got significantly shorter. Inosuke once saw (Y/N) curb-stomp a demon for insulting Tanjiro’s nose. He fell a little in love that day.

- (Y/N)’s manic energy and sudden voice switches never throw Inosuke off: he adapts on the fly, meeting their different states with a mix of curiosity and brute loyalty. (Y/N) will giggle and switch from baby-talking Inosuke to planning someone's murder in a split second, and Inosuke just tilts his head like, "Huh. That’s hot."

- They take medication daily: They store their herbs and things in a cute pouch they sewed themself, covered in wild patterns and a tiny plush of a pig (for Inosuke, obviously). Some days, it works great- other days, (Y/N) is unhinged in a dangerously loving way. On those days, they cling to Inosuke like a talisman, grounding themselves through physical contact.

- When they dissociate badly, Inosuke doesn't fully understand it: He recognizes the signs- the blank stare, the disconnection. So he drops his usual yelling and becomes weirdly gentle. He’ll sit silently with them in a tree, hand on their back until they come back to him. He doesn’t try to "fix" them. He just accepts them. All of them.

- All of the alters agree on one thing: Inosuke belongs to them. Try flirting with him and see how fast a blade appears. Tanjiro helped them all come up with a color-coded system to identify who’s fronting. Inosuke ignores it and just uses vibes.

- Inosuke doesn’t say "I love you" much: He says “You’re strong,” “You smell like home,” or “If anyone touches you, I’ll break their arms.” (Y/N) says “I love you” through their chaos- they’ll cook him an entire feast, braid flowers into his hair, then threaten someone with a dagger in the same breath.

- When they switch, Inosuke has learned to adapt his affection: He hugs one alter, spars with another, brings meat to another, and just sits silently with the one that prefers calm. Sometimes they both sleep outside, like wild animals. He holds them like a baby boar, and they twitch in his arms until they settle.

- They don’t do PDA unless they’re in a certain headspace: When that time comes, it’s all over. Straddling his lap, biting his neck playfully, dramatic love declarations. Inosuke never knows what hit him.

- (Y/N) once got mistaken for a demon because of their intensity: Inosuke jumped in front of them, screaming “THEY’RE MY DEMON, BACK OFF!” 

- (Y/N) writes love letters to Inosuke in different handwriting depending on the alter writing it: He collects them in a box he calls his "pride box." They both have a shared journal. Inosuke can’t really write well, but he draws them like a beast with heart eyes- every version of them.

Zenitsu:

- Zenitsu immediately falls for (Y/N)’s looks and protective aura- but is terrified the moment they switch alters in front of him for the first time: One second (Y/N) is soft-spoken and sweet, offering him a dumpling with a shy smile, and the next they’re standing on a table, eyes wide and grinning like a maniac, threatening to stab a merchant for “looking too long.” Zenitsu passes out. But when he wakes up and (Y/N) apologizes, stuttering and nervous, he just... melts. He realizes they weren’t trying to scare him- they were trying to protect him.

- Zenitsu learns to spot the signs of a switch: He respects each alter like a separate person. He greets them differently, talks with them differently, and never gets them mixed up.

- (Y/N) takes medication and herbs regularly, but sometimes it doesn’t work: Either the effects don’t kick in, or it causes physical side effects like dizziness or nausea. On rough days, Zenitsu becomes extra clingy and attentive. He holds their hand, braids their hair, lets them lay in his lap even when he’s panicking himself.

- He once tried to fight off a switch manually: “No, no, no! Stay here with me! Please don’t go scary mode, I can handle this-!” Spoiler… He could not. The protector alter came out and bodied the guy trying to rob them. But after every switch, Zenitsu wraps them in a blanket and reassures them they’re still loved. No matter what version of (Y/N) he’s with- he loves all of them.

- Zenitsu calls them “Sunshine,” no matter which alter he’s talking to: He says they’re his reason for fighting. Sometimes they wake up from dissociation and find that Zenitsu’s already made them food and is softly singing to himself nearby.

- The protector alter secretly adores Zenitsu, even if they pretend to be annoyed by how clingy and scared he is: They’d wreck someone for hurting him. On bad days, all three versions of (Y/N) might blend into one- and Zenitsu will stay by their side the whole time, gently reminding them who they are, and who he is.

- The protector alter takes the lead if the fight turns ugly: Think elegant blade work, laughing threats, wild eyes under a blood-smeared smile. Zenitsu does not like seeing them that way, but he understands it’s necessary. He’ll fight at their back, even when trembling. After every mission, no matter who fronted, they always find Zenitsu. And he always pulls them into a hug and says, “You’re safe. You’re still you. I’m proud of you.”

Nezuko:

- Nezuko loves how expressive and animated (Y/N) is: Even when they're cycling through personalities or dramatic outbursts, she’s calm, patient, and strangely entertained. She’ll tilt her head and smile sweetly, like “Yep. That’s my partner.”

-(Y/N)'s protectiveness is legendary: If anyone dares to look at Nezuko sideways, especially those that judge her, (Y/N)'s demeanor shifts instantly. Think wide grin, slow clap, and then, “Awww~ Did you think you were safe just because she’s sweet? That’s adorable. Let me fix your attitude... permanently.”

- When they’re “off-meds” or their symptoms spike: Nezuko recognizes it almost immediately. She’ll gently guide (Y/N) away from people, softly humming, holding their hand or petting their hair until they calm down.

- They bond through quiet activities when things are rough: Doing each other’s hair (Even though it was a process to teach Nezuko how to do (Y/N)'s hair, with the different texture and all), flower-picking, or watching fireflies in silence. Even with (Y/N)’s chaos, Nezuko grounds them. And they adore how peaceful she is.

- They don’t hide that they have DID. But they do downplay it with dramatic flair: They say things like, “Oh you know, I just keep life interesting~ One (Y/N) at a time!” All while flipping their hair and spinning dramatically.

- Nezuko and (Y/N) often tag-team missions: (Y/N) is the chaos, Nezuko is the calm. It throws demons way off. Some demons have tried to mess with Nezuko by provoking (Y/N), which is a mistake. (Y/N) will absolutely go feral, all while laughing and saying things like, “Oooooh you think you’re scary? Honey, you haven’t even met all of me yet~”

- (Y/N) sings loudly and off-key in the morning: Nezuko doesn’t mind- she mimics them and makes silly faces until they laugh.

- They sleep tangled up: Nezuko is usually gently curled into (Y/N)’s chest. If an alter is panicking in the night, Nezuko will sit up and rest her forehead against theirs until the shaking stops.

- Their dynamic is very "chaotic sunshine and quiet strength": When (Y/N) goes full dramatic monologue, Nezuko just holds up a peace sign or pats their head like, “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Genya:

- (Y/N) is a compact firecracker, barely reaching Genya’s chest, but what they lack in height they more than make up for in intensity: Their presence is loud, chaotic, dramatic, and unpredictable- you’ll never know if they’re about to cradle you or cuss you out in three different accents.

- Medication is... complicated: With the time period, it's more herbs and calming agents passed to them by the Butterfly Estate, combined with daily grounding rituals they've invented themselves.

- Genya learns every single step of (Y/N)’s routine: He memorizes which teas help what symptoms. Which scents make them come back to themself. Which alter not to call cute unless he wants to get punched.

- At first, Genya didn’t know how to handle the... whirlwind that is (Y/N): He assumed they were unstable in a bad way. But then they saved him from a demon by breaking a bottle over its head, giggling the whole time, and said, “Touch my man again and I’ll make origami outta your spine.” That was the moment he knew. He was in deep.

- (Y/N) calls him “baby bird” sometimes: It makes him blush and scowl at the same time. “I’m not a bird, dammit- stop ruffling my hair!”

- (Y/N) talks a lot: Genya listens more than he speaks, but (Y/N) likes to think out loud, switch voices mid-sentence, and dramatically throw themselves across the room while explaining how hot Genya looks when he’s angry.

- Genya doesn't treat (Y/N) like they're broken: He treats them like they're human. And that is a huge deal to all of them. He sometimes stutters when talking to their more aggressive alter, but (Y/N) finds it adorable. “You’re scared of me, baby? I only bite people I don’t like.”

- They have a system: a code word when (Y/N) is losing time, grounding phrases that Genya uses to help bring them back, and a little sketchbook (Y/N)'s alters leave notes in for each other- and for Genya, too.

- (Y/N) fights like a theatrical maniac: They use erratic, unpredictable movements that confuse demons- suddenly graceful, then wild, then eerily still before a kill strike. They’ve been known to laugh during battle. Not a villainous cackle- more like a delighted child at a fireworks show. Their combat personality is ruthlessly protective. If a demon so much as grazes Genya, they go absolutely feral, dragging it by the throat back into the sun with zero hesitation.

- Genya will hold (Y/N)'s hand when they switch mid-conversation: Hed whisper, “You okay?” like it's the most normal thing in the world. They made Genya a beaded bracelet with alternating colors for each of their alters. He never takes it off. - When they’re having a rough time, Genya wraps them in his haori: He rubs their back, and gently says, “I don’t care which one you are today. I love all of you.” One of their alters once asked Genya out without asking the others. It became a thing. Now, every alter gets to ask in their own way.

For my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Mondo with bondage and gags please? He gets the idea to try escaping bondage to prove how tough he can be. So he instructs his gang members to take him to an abandoned warehouse to shackle his barefeet to a heavy weight, handcuff him and tape gag his mouth.

For a potential angst plot, as Mondo struggles to escape his bonds, he reflects on his worth as a gang leader and if he'll be as good as his late brother. What do you think?

A/N: Sure, @princeasimdiya12! I can do that :}

Stronger than Chains

Mondo Owada Oneshot

Warnings: Physical restraint/bondage, Self-imposed suffering, Blood/Injury, Emotional distress/Self-worth issues

Word Count: 1762

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The clattering of chains echoed through the cold, hollow warehouse. The moonlight slanted through broken windows in thick beams, catching on the dust that hung in the air like fog.

"Alright, you punks," Mondo barked, pacing barefoot across the cracked concrete. His jacket flared out behind him with each swaggering step. "You heard what I said. Lock me down. Tight. I ain't playin'."

The Crazy Diamonds, his loyal gang, exchanged uneasy looks. They'd done a lot for their boss over the years- illegal races, turf fights, even the occasional back-alley brawl- but this was... new.

"Boss... You serious?" Asked Mondo’s right-hand man, scratching the back of his neck. "You want us to actually chain you up like some kinda... prisoner?"

"You deaf or somethin’?" Mondo growled, shooting him a look that could start fires. "Told ya! I gotta prove I ain't weak. No matter what tries to hold me down, I’m stronger. This ain't for you. It's for me."

A few nervous chuckles floated up, but they obeyed. Always did.

Mondo planted himself in the center of the room, arms crossed, head held high. His feet, bare against the freezing floor, shifted slightly as they brought out the iron shackles. Heavy chains linked them to a giant scrap engine block they'd salvaged from a junkyard- easily over 600 pounds. It clanked threateningly as it was dragged closer.

"Do it," he grunted.

The gang worked fast. Cold iron cuffs snapped around his ankles, biting into the skin slightly. The chain dragged heavy across the ground as they locked it securely to the weight. His legs were effectively stuck- he could shuffle maybe an inch at most, if that.

Next, they produced a pair of handcuffs. Mondo smirked through gritted teeth, shoving his arms behind his back himself, daring them to slap them on. They did, clicking tightly around his wrists, the chill of the steel stinging his skin.

"You sure about the last part, boss?" One of his men asked, holding up a roll of thick, industrial duct tape.

"Yeah," Mondo growled low in his throat. "No talkin'. No excuses."

With a nod, the man ripped a length of tape free and slapped it firmly across Mondo’s mouth, smoothing it down so tight it almost molded to the shape of his lips. The adhesive pulled at the stubble on his jaw, and Mondo instinctively let out a rough, muffled grunt-

"Mmph!"

He glared at the gang but nodded approvingly. Good. No backing out now.

The gang stepped back, watching in tense silence as Mondo shifted, testing the bonds. The chains clattered and groaned under the strain as he tugged at them. His muscles flexed, sweat starting to bead at his temples despite the freezing warehouse air.

"Mmphh-!" Mondo grunted fiercely through the gag, struggling harder, jerking his legs in place, but the weight was immovable. His bare feet scraped against the rough concrete, the iron cuffs biting deeper with each pull. He tried wrenching his hands free behind his back- the cuffs clinked mockingly.

He let out another low, furious moan- "Mrghhh...!"

His gang watched in awe. Their boss was thrashing like a wild beast, fighting every inch of steel with the pure stubborn force of will that had made him the most feared biker in the country. His hair clung damply to his forehead, his taped mouth twisting with every muffled snarl and grunt:

"Mmmf- rrmph! Nghhh!"

But no matter how he strained, no matter how violently he jerked against them, the chains held. His knees eventually buckled and he sank slightly, panting heavily through his nose, letting out a shuddering groan,

"Hrrmmphhh..."

Still... he grinned beneath the gag, the edges of his mouth pulling tight under the tape. He hadn’t given up. Not even close.

He was Mondo Owada.

And nothing- not even steel and concrete- was gonna break him.

The Crazy Diamonds hesitated at the edges of the room, exchanging another series of nervous looks.

"Boss said not to let him out 'til he tells us," One muttered, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "We better let him... work it out."

"Even if he's stuck like that all night?" another whispered.

There was no answer. He just nodded toward the exit.

One by one, the gang members filed out, boots scuffing against concrete, leaving Mondo alone in the vast, echoing warehouse. The heavy door groaned shut, and with a final clank, it latched.

Silence. Bitter, biting silence.

Mondo jerked his arms, muscles flaring beneath his jacket. The cuffs rattled mockingly. His bare feet strained against the shackles, toes curling against the cold floor as he heaved his body weight forward. The chain dragged maybe an inch, scraping noisily- but that was it. The heavy engine didn't even budge.

"Rrmmphh!" Mondo snarled into the tape gag, furious. Furious at the chains. Furious at himself.

He slumped forward slightly, panting through his nose. The tape clung uncomfortably to his sweaty skin.

Still bound, still gagged, still stuck. He squeezed his eyes shut.

And in that darkness, another weight- heavier than the iron- settled on his chest.

Daiya wouldn't have gotten caught like this, he thought bitterly. My brother... he wouldn't have needed some dumbass stunt to prove he was tough.

Mondo shifted again, writhing against the cuffs until the metal bit deep into his wrists. He groaned low, a strangled noise against the tape, "Mrghhh..."

Daiya had been fearless. Respected. Legendary. When he spoke, the gang moved like a single living creature. When he walked into a room, the air itself seemed to tense.

Mondo? 

Mondo still felt like a damn kid playing dress-up in a dead man's boots.

He growled through the gag, a long, furious noise, yanking so hard against the cuffs his shoulders ached. The cuffs held. The chains held. Nothing broke.

"Nhhrghh-!" he cried, thrashing again. His hair was plastered to his forehead, breath sawing out in desperate, muffled gasps.

He hated this feeling. This helplessness. This weakness.

Was he really just a shadow of his brother? Some reckless idiot who could bark loud but never live up to the legend?

Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he sagged forward, the chain rattling softly with the motion. He stayed there, kneeling on the cold floor, the weight of everything- the chains, the memories, the expectations- crushing him down.

A ragged, barely audible sound escaped him through the gag, "...mrmph..."

He wasn't good enough.

Not yet.

Maybe... maybe not ever.

But he would be. He had to be. For Daiya. For the Crazy Diamonds. For himself.

Slowly, gritting his teeth under the tape, Mondo lifted his head. His muscles burned. His skin stung. His wrists were raw against the cuffs.

Good. Pain meant he was still fighting.

Pain meant he was still alive.

And if he was alive- he could still win.

With a deep, snarling breath, he planted his feet against the concrete, every muscle in his body straining against the chains once more.

The engine didn’t move. The cuffs dug deep. But Mondo Owada-

"MMPH-!!" he roared into the gag, a savage sound of pure, unfiltered will-

Wasn't giving up.

The minutes- or maybe hours dragged by in a haze of agony and fury.

Mondo had no way of keeping time. Just the sound of his ragged, muffled breathing behind the duct tape, the constant clink and scrape of metal against concrete, and the burning fire in his muscles.

He thrashed harder. Again. And again.

The cuffs carved angry red lines into his wrists. His ankles ached from how tightly the iron shackles bit into them, raw and scraped from his jerking struggles. His jaw hurt from straining behind the tape gag, his skin tender and irritated where the adhesive pulled with every grunt and growl.

And yet-

He didn't stop.

"Rrrghh...! Mmmpghh-!" he snarled low in his throat, eyes burning, forehead pressed to the cold floor for a moment as he sucked in furious breaths through his nose.

He refused to let these chains keep him down.

He refused to be weak.

He refused to stay shackled to some damn hunk of scrap metal like a trapped animal.

With a savage roar, Mondo dug deep- deeper than he ever had before- and heaved.

Muscles screaming, he twisted his hands as violently as he could behind his back, wrenching against the handcuffs until-

CLINK- SNAP!

One of the cuffs popped loose with a painful jerk, biting his wrist open in the process. Blood welled up, but Mondo didn’t even flinch.

He staggered forward, dragging the chain still shackling his ankles. Sweat poured from him. His knees buckled. But his grin- God, his grin - split across his face under the tape, wild and triumphant.

He dropped heavily onto his side, forcing his hands in front of him, fumbling to rip at the tape gag with trembling fingers. His fingernails caught the edge of the sticky mess, peeling it painfully from his raw skin.

It felt like ripping off a layer of himself- but he didn’t stop.

"Khh-!" he hissed as the tape tore free, finally letting his bruised lips part. He spat out a heavy breath, his voice hoarse from grunting and growling for so long.

"Hahh... hahhh..." He sucked in deep gulps of air, tasting freedom, tasting victory.

Mondo sat there for a long moment, completely wrecked- wrists bloodied, face red and raw, legs still trapped by the heavy chain- and still, he laughed. A low, raspy chuckle that grew into a full, stubborn, defiant laugh.

"Heh... Heh-heh... Haah...!"

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing a bit of blood and sweat, his chest heaving from exertion.

Still shackled to the heavy weight, still hurting all over- but free from the cuffs, free from the gag, free from the worst of it.

And even now, beaten and bruised and practically vibrating from the effort, that same cocky, stubborn smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Tch..." he muttered, dragging himself slowly to his feet despite the heavy chain. "Guess... I ain't such a damn weakling after all, huh, bro?"

He could almost hear Daiya’s voice in the back of his mind- not laughing at him, not mocking him- but proud.

Mondo stood there, broken and bloody and still standing, and for the first time in a long time... he actually believed he was worthy of being the Crazy Diamonds' leader.

And he'd damn well keep proving it- no matter how many times he had to fight. No matter how many times he had to break the chains himself.

Art post!

These are some of my older, finished pieces. Most of my art is posted on insta, but I do have two art books posted ony Wattpad too (both of which are in my bio). I have a lot more of my old art in those, all from the age of like 12, all the way to current time. I won't lie, a lot of it is cringe, but art is a journey. It would be more surprising if I wasn't cringe in my early teens, to be honest.

Anyway, here is my art! It's a bit old, but I will post more recent art in another post :}