#it's just left such a lasting impression on me

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 9 - Death

summary : maybe it is time for reader to move on from patterns that are now useless and reconsider things

content warnings : some angst, then some comfort, then more angst, then more comfort, some crude language an mentions of harassment

word count : 6.1k

author's note : okay i think i might write my old bg3 requests still sitting in my inbox after this but!!!! im excited to write the next chap

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world <3

masterlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt

You had spent your Saturday recovering, not without frustration. It was a waste of time, you thought. You could have taken advantage of a day without any classes or work like that to study and make more progress, but Selene had come to visit you, worried.

She officially met Sky, who had always admired her since her first lessons with her. Selene had come to your bedside, placing a gentle hand on your forehead for a moment, then letting it slide down to your warm cheek. She sighed, familiar with your overworking habits.

She asked Sky about your night, about the prescribed treatment, and Selene couldn't help but exchange a knowing glance with you when Viktor was mentioned, especially for such chivalrous deeds. She smiled a playful ‘see, I told you so’ which made you pull your cover over your head in annoyance.

When she left, Sky came back to you, bringing you a chicken broth to restore your health, which she hoped you'd consume to the last drop.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this and calling them, calling him. But..." She sighed, watching you finally eat something with relief. "You were working yourself to death, and with such a pace, you probably wouldn't have been able to pass the exams at all if you'd kept going."

You swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, a small knot of shame and regret tightening it. You'd been so obsessed, so fixated on outdoing yourself and winning back your number one spot from Viktor that you'd become nothing more than an information-gobbling machine.

You didn't even need it, you'd just decided to get ahead on the next year's syllabus in the hope of impressing in the papers and showing your dedication. How could you be so stupid? 

"Your state was deteriorating visibly..." Sky reflected, looking down at her hands before only meeting your gaze for a moment. "You really scared me, you know."

Your heart split in two. You placed your lunch tray on your bedside table, taking Sky's hands in yours and seeking her gaze despite her bowed head.

"Hey," you murmured in your tired voice as you smiled softly at her when she looked back at you. "You did the right thing, Sky. Without you..." you sighed, thinking back on your stupidity, "I don't know where I'd be right now. This was going to eat me alive until there would be nothing left of me but a white chalk outline on my desk."

She smiled softly, squeezing your hands. Her eyes glistened, her chin trembling slightly as she took off her glasses.

"Oh, Sky..." You pulled her into your arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry."

You couldn't imagine how tired she must have been, seeing you wasting away like that, not listening to her, not hearing her. She had her own revisions, her own things to do, and you had made your problem hers.

You could feel her forehead wrinkling, her hands trembling slightly around you as she twitched.

Since when did you become such an important part of someone's life that they cared that much about you?

What would have happened if, for one more year, you'd never had a flatmate? And if that flatmate hadn't been Sky, would she have had even an ounce of patience like your friend?

You'd fucked up and nearly gone off the deep end, and Sky had done everything she could to avoid it.

"I promise you to never do that again," you vowed, pulling away from her to run your thumb over her cheek and wipe away the tears. "Please, don't cry on me. Cry on... I don't know, Heimerdinger's hairstylist."

Don't cry for me, I'm not worth a waste of tears, not yours.

She laughed nervously, her eyes going to the ceiling. "I don't know why I'm crying, really, this is..." she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "this is stupid."

"No, it's not," you smiled, "It's good to cry."

She raised her eyebrows, wiggling her nose and shrugging. "Well, you never do."

"That's because I sold my lacrimal glands," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood by joking.

And it worked - she laughed, the sadness slowly evaporating from her face. "So you have no tears, but you still have your heart, right ?"

You closed your fist, banging it against your chest. "It's a dusty engine, but it does its work."

"Well," she stood up, "I hope it can still feel something."

You observed her for a moment, picking up a saucepan and filling it with water. No doubt to make coffee, or at least tea to ward off your addiction and prevent your mechanical heart from overheating under the caffeine. No amount of Piltovian gold could offer you anything like Sky's sweetness.

"My heart's full of room for the very few friends I have." You picked up your bowl of broth again, its warmth cupped against your fingers. "Its aorta is named after you."

She turned to you, smiling, her eyes filling again with tears as she breathed in. 

"You can't just say things like that and not expect me to ruin a box of these," she described movements in the air with her hands in ridiculous, exagerated swirls, "silk-soft tissues they have here."

"Their toilet paper is so thick and soft it feels like we're using pillows," you sneered before blowing on the bouillon.

"Right?!" Sky exclaimed, "It's only been like, a month and a half since I've been here and it all feels so fancy. Everything is so... clean."

"I know!" You laughed, "It's infuriating. The streets barely have a scratch, the buildings have colours straight out of a kid's colouring book, and they have trees."

She sighed, visualising the vegetation the city had before her eyes fell back on yours. "You never get used to it, right?"

You swallowed your mouthful of broth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Never."

She leaned back against the worktop, watching you for a moment. "Seriously though." She tilted her head to one side. "Don't ever do that again."

You smiled, bringing your forefinger and thumb to your ear and pressing on the lobe. 

It was a custom in Zaun to pledge your word. In the Undercity, you pressed your lobe as if you were piercing it, to imaginatively seal in the skin a ring other than the one on your finger. However, everyone knows that if you pull too hard on a piercing, you can tear the flesh, and find it difficult to retie the skin so that it can be pierced again. So the promise was made with a symbolic ring, anchored in the skin, that the promise would be kept.

"May my flesh tear apart if, by misfortune, I betrayed," you recited.

During the rest of the last week of classes before the exams, you resumed a much more normal revision routine than the original, much to Sky's delight. You'd revise with her in the afternoons outside class, asking each other questions about the subjects you shared while you were trying not to die laughing from the stupid ways you looked with your facemasks during skincare time.

When Friday came around, you decided to go to the library again. Unconsciously, it had become a ritual. With Viktor or without, you intended to surround yourself with knowledge as immense as possible.

You went and sat down at a table, alone, while many students who had come for the same reason were already crowding most of the available ones. You took out your things, rereading your index cards for the umpteenth time until you were almost ready to recite them by heart if the need arose.

You couldn't help but lose concentration when you heard your name spoken in the distance, coming from voices that weren’t familiar to you, further behind your back.

"And to say Viktor got put with her on Heimerdinger's subject," one said, chuckling.

"I wonder which of them pulls their hair out more in each other's company."

You tried not to think about it, but since, for once, the conversation wasn't all about the walking street lamp, you couldn't help but let your ears hang close to their mouths.

"Did you see her the other day? A vision of the apocalypse. Hollow cheeks and dead eyes like she hadn't eaten in a month."

"Gotta have hollow cheeks to suck the teachers better," her classmate sneered.

Your jaw tightened, trying to ignore their remarks. This wasn't your first time hearing such things - the previous two years hadn't been as gentle as this one, even if Viktor had caused a few problems with his arrival.

"Can you believe what she did to Tyler?"

"She's an animal." They both laughed, causing you to sink back into your chair.

"How do you think Viktor handles her?"

"He doesn't, she's just a handicap to him and he seems to have an embarrassing enough one as it is."

You inhaled. Someone will probably tell them to be quiet so as not to disturb the peace of the library. You hoped.

"Who's a handicap?"

Your eyes widened as you suddenly turned around. Viktor was standing there, facing them, both students suddenly looking very confused and ashamed.

"Viktor," one of them laughed nervously, "this was just a joke, she..."

But the student didn't have time to come up with an excuse. Viktor raised an eyebrow before speaking.

"She's an incredible person who no one can defeat," he informed them, the latter two lowering their eyes on their notes suddenly invested in their revisions. "Except me."

He punctuated his sentence, turning away from them and meeting your gaze. He seemed surprised, not expecting to find you there, at least not doing nothing when such needlessly cruel nonsense was uttered in your name.

Inevitably, of course, he moved towards you.

Except me.  The phrase made you roll your eyes for a moment before you tried to read information from your notes that hadn't needed reading for a long time. 

He sat down opposite you, keeping his hand on the pommel of his cane. "Your name seems to be on everyone's lips, Miss."

"What can I say," you sighed, "the obsession they have for me is an undying addiction."

However, Viktor didn't seem amused at all.

"Why do you let them say such things about you without lifting a finger?"

You bit the inside of your lip, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you as your eyes scanned uselessly over your revision sheets. 

"It's not the first time I've heard that kind of comment about me," you confirmed without much interest, "I'll survive it."

"So you spend most of your time worrying about the injustices other people experience but you push your own under a doormat?" Viktor summed up, not seeming genuinely thrilled at the idea.

"If I could push the injustice that Tyler is by his very existence off the face of this world, I'd be stepping on some rich blonde aristocrat every time I left and returned from home."

But Viktor still wasn't laughing, far from it. When your eyes finally met his, they were dark.

He sighed. "Are you trying to punish yourself for something by neglecting yourself so much?"

I'd like to forget more than anything else in the world. The thought was taking over your soul, eating away at you like a gangrene with an insatiable hunger.

"Of course," you chuckled, exaggerating a falsely happy tone.

"Stop this." His tone was firm.

"Stop what?" you questioned.

"Trying to make something funny out of this."

You frowned, raising an eyebrow. "What? You're not feeling in the mood for our ritual chit chats?"

"Do I look like I'm joking around right now?"

His eyes had the same gleam, carried the same weight as when he'd held you in place in your bed just a week ago. You almost gulped, speechless. Why was he reacting like that? Why was he worried about you?

You lowered your eyes, licking your lips as you returned to your notes.

"Fine," you admitted, dropping your sarcastic tone. "I guess I owe you for saving my life, anyway."

It didn't sound like it, but it was probably the closest you'd come to a ‘thank you’ for him so far. He seemed surprised that you were finally cooperating in the conversation, that you were at last sending him a very subliminal magic word.

His shoulders slumped, as if the idea of being angry with you was stupid.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.

"I'm no longer sick, if that's the question you meant to ask."

"It was, but also," he brought his cane up between his legs, clasping both hands on the pommel as he came to rest his chin on it, "I just wanted to know how you are doing."

Why are you doing this? You were thinking back over the last few weeks. His questions during the power cut, the attention he'd paid to you, staying awake all night by your side to make sure you were taking your medication properly, and now...

"Well," you swallowed, these thoughts unsettling you for a moment and sending a foreign warmth into your belly, "the exams are approaching and I think you've had quite the close look on their effect on me so... yeah."

He considered you, tilting his head to the side until his cheek was the one pressed against the back of his hands. He scanned you, his gaze sending a warm wind up your spine.

"You're still on the treatment, right?"

The horrible powder you had to mix in a glass at least twice a day wasn't the moment you were looking forward to most in your daily routine, but you did it anyway, under Sky's sharp eyes.

You remained silent, just to see how Viktor would react and whether, as he had dictated, he would make sure you stayed in bed no matter what.

Faced with your silence, he raised an eyebrow as he straightened up, finally wrinkling his forehead as he frowned.

"Right?" he repeated, almost menacingly.

"Relax." A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm taking it."

He sighed in relief at the news, while you shook your head in confusion.

"You're putting all this effort... for me? Why"

The phrase sounded alien in your mouth, as if you weren't worth the time or energy of such dedication. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes roving over your index cards.

"You know why."

"Because you can't have your best rival go against you while she's sick?" you recited.

"Because I don't want to be your rival."

You found this answer profoundly absurd.

"What do you mean-" But he cut you off, annoyed.

"What do you want, hmm? To become Heimerdinger's assistant?"

Of course, you thought, but the way Viktor had said it sounded... easy, too easy. Or at least, too easy for you.

"I don't intend to be his assistant, and I'm going to tell you why."

He stood up, walking around the table until he was beside you and leaning in slightly.

"Because I've already been his assistant, and I stopped."

The words echoed inside you, like the cracking of something you thought was indestructible. Your lips parted in shock, watching him with huge eyes as he straightened up.

"In any case. I wanted to make sure that you'd be back in good shape." He began to walk towards the library exit, turning one last time to give you a playful look. "And now that I'm sure you'll be in full shape, I know I don't need to hold back, hm, rival?"

He turned away, heading for the big door, leaving you with a short-circuited brain. What did he mean by "already been"? What did he mean he had stopped? How had Viktor ever been Heimerdinger's assistant?

When the sentence finally reached your mind after a long travel from your ears, you gathered your things in a flash as the questions began to fly and you almost ran to catch up with him. You caught up with him in the corridors, under the astonished gazes of all the students.

"What?" you asked, out of breath from the sudden exertion and the gust of wind the news had knocked from your chest.

He turned to you, slightly surprised that you'd practically chased after him. He'd probably expected you to sit at your table, mulling things over until the questions got too much for you and you decided to come and see him after a day or two of mental torment.

"You've been Heimerdinger's assistant?" you repeated, adjusting the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.

He shrugged, turning away from you. "Yes."

Was he really just going to leave like that? Leaving you in agony for answers you wanted more than anything? No, it wasn't going to be like that.

You grabbed his wrist, much to his surprise, and pulled him with you into an empty adjoining corridor. Once you were out of sight, checking from one end of the corridor to the other to see if anyone was there, you finally regained his gaze.

There was something in his eyes, like a hint of something that kept his lips parted until they closed and his eyes lowered to your hand still gripping his wrist.

You let go, the heat of shame spreading across your neck and cheeks for a moment as you took a step away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"When were you his assistant?"

He leaned against the wall, sighing as he stared at you.

"You do remember Jayce's trial, don't you?"

How could you forget? You hadn't been present at the trial. Selene had invited you to come as it concerned your friend, but you were too afraid of the aristocratic eyes and the pressure they would put on you.

The story remained vague. Due to special circumstances that remained under the security and secrecy of the administration as to the extent of Jayce's activities, he had been allowed to stay at the academy.

"Yes."

"By then, I had already been Heimerdinger’s assistant for a month.."

You now were certain you'd never seen him before. It was just one month into your summer holidays, and you had gone to Zaun to find Eris. Your chances of running into him were almost nil, no doubt about it.

"How did you get to become his assistant?" you quizzed.

He shrugged, and that simple movement made you want to scream. "I suppose he must have liked my assiduity enough to take me on. That and the fact that, with his little legs, I was bound to walk at his pace," he joked.

You held your breath in your lungs for a moment, before releasing it. He didn't seem to be lying, at least about the only serious part of his sentence. He was undoubtedly the best choice for Heimerdinger in any case.

However, it seemed to you that it wasn't so much exasperation that you were feeling - you were trying to understand what the feeling was... a relief, but not really about the fact that the assistant's place was free, no, a relief about Viktor that you couldn't really place at the moment.

"Why did you stop?" There was no longer any frustration in your voice, just a new-found curiosity.

Viktor seemed taken aback by your new intonation, straightening slightly against the wall. "It didn't interest me anymore."

What could he have found that was better? The thought, at last, that Viktor's aim was not to be an assistant for the rest of his life, crept into your mind. Viktor seemed to pick up on it.

"See? I told you we didn't have the same goal."

You finally realised what that feeling of relief was: you didn't have to hate him any more. You no longer had a reason to try to outdo him, no longer had a valid justification for becoming number one again. But why was it such a relief? There was rarely anything more gratuitous than hatred in what you knew, and it should have been the same for Viktor, so why was it such a relief not to have to hate him any more?

Hating him served no purpose, no motivation. It was useless, and what do you do with useless things?

You took half a step towards him.

"The truce you suggested, have you come up with any clauses?"

His eyebrows rose, his eyes widened. He lifted himself off the wall.

"Um no-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Find some, and I'll consider them."

And with that, you took off, leaving Viktor speechless. 

You moved quickly, trying to get home as fast as possible. You were afraid that the street air, so pure and fresh, would wash away your conclusions and fuel a hatred that no longer had any reason to exist.

But you didn't go home straight away, making a diversion to Emeline's shop. As soon as you entered her shop, she didn't hesitate to jump on your neck and give you a hug.

"My little lamb," she enthused as she squeezed you until your ribs broke before cupping your face as if to examine you, "are you feeling better? You gave me quite a fright, you know! When your friend came to visit me and told me you were ill I nearly closed up shop to come and see you myself."

"Everything's fine," you laughed, squeezing her arms, "I've almost completely recovered!"

You'd decided that, after your chat with Viktor and all the effort you'd put into your revision, you deserved a little something to comfort you.

After a little chat with Emeline, she packed two pastries, one for you and one for Sky. Of course, she didn't forget to fill you up with an extra small packet of sweets that would have gone unsold during the day.

When you returned home, you greeted Sky with a smile and raised the two bags of treats to your head. She smiled in surprise.

"To what do we owe this feast?" she asked.

You shrugged. "Let's just say I've made resolutions for the better."

You'd been laughing all evening, stuffing your faces with these delicacies as you both took a well-deserved break from studying.

Your eyes turned to your tarot deck, you'd forgotten to draw any cards lately due to your revisions, so after wiping your hands full of sugar, you took the pack in hand.

“I see you pulling one almost every morning,” Sky remarked, lying on her stomach on your bed while you were cross-legged. “Why do you do that?”

You pulled out your cards in your hands. “To have a leitmotif to follow during the day. Although to be quite honest I don't follow their advice every time.”

She laughed softly, knowing by now your stubbornness like no other. “That doesn't surprise me at all.”

“Yeah well,” you smiled in turn as you shuffled the cards, ”some of them are not the best cards to wake up on to in the morning.”

So you cut your deck as usual, and looked at its underside. You raised your eyebrows.

“Just like this one.”

You showed Sky the card: Death.

She winced, her eyebrows furrowing as her mouth formed as if she were pronouncing the letter x.

“Okay, I get it,” she said, shaking her head. “Is it literal? I hope not, right?”

“Nah it's pretty safe.” You laughed. “The description of its meaning is in the little booklet.” You pointed to it with your chin, and Sky grabbed it, flipping through until she found the Death page.

“Transition. Underworld. Flux. Occultism. Letting go. Evolution requiring liberation. Metaphorical death.” She read. “Off to a great start apparently.”

You chuckled, observing the card as she continued reading. “Death moves across a field with a slow, steady march. A king lies dead. He represents the old systems of order cast aside. A bishop begs for mercy, a young girl turns away in fear and only a curious little girl looks up to greet death. She has not been taught to fear it.”

Your thumb passed over the little girl's drawing, your heart clenching. 

“A ship sails away, heedless of death's march. A sun rises between two towers to reflect resurrection and new beginnings. All endings give way to new possibilities. Transformation leads to renewal and growth.” She raised her eyebrows. “Ain't as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Yeah,” you considered, thinking back on your day and the fact that the cards were pointing you in the right direction, ”indeed.”

Exam week was over. You'd had absolutely no trouble at all with any of the exercises. All the subjects were in the bag and you were finishing virtually ahead of schedule in every exam room.

Today was the day of results. The teachers had spent the weekend correcting everything, and the results boards had finally been displayed.

You woke up feeling lighter than you thought you would. Since realizing that there was no longer any point in chasing Viktor to victory, you'd relaxed.

You went down the hall with Sky, passing the student mailboxes for a moment so you could check if either of you had received anything.

You opened the metal door to a single letter, sealed with a metallic black wax seal you knew all too well: Eris.

You took the key to your apartment, using its teeth to open the envelope and take out the letter, which you brought to your nose.

Her letters always smelled of the essential oils and herbs that constantly appeased you. Without further ado, you unfolded the paper and read its contents.

My sweet friend,

I thought you were a lost cause in friendship, but I guess this year the wheel is really turning on your side. I'm delighted, and I imagine the same goes for Selene. I'd love to meet her, that Sky, she sounds absolutely charming. I'm guessing, though, that the day with your Five of Wands must have been no picnic, especially if - from what I understand - Emperor Viktor is to blame. But I'm sure that the Immeasurable Grandeur of the Prestigious Piltover Academy will crown your success.

You giggled to yourself as your eyes passed over the elegant, forced curves that Eris had taken care to add in response to your own inky bows.

I miss you so much. You know how the days are here in Zaun; I open, sell and consult, and close in the evening before any trouble starts. I'm paid with golden trinkets, new flowers to dry and other plants from other regions. I have managed to get some new customers, though, and not the least important ones. Renata Glasc herself has been to my shop.

You'd already heard of Renata Glasc, an ambitious woman who was growing in influence on the streets of Zaun. She wasn't a Chem Baroness, but at the rate she was going, it looked like she was well on her way to becoming one.

In fact, it's through her that I'm hearing about worrying things here. Common for Zaun, you may say, but I can't help thinking the worst. I'll tell you about it myself when we meet. I'm planning to come here around December 23, so let's meet at the usual bridge at three o'clock. I'll be staying with you for a few days. I can't tell you more. But I've lit a candle for you, wishing you success and good health.

I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest trouble,

Eris.

What could she possibly be worried about? The situation was invariably complicated in Zaun, but what could it be that she was worried about?

You carefully tucked the letter into your bag, heading out to the shuttle stop.

“Not too stressed?” Sky asked.

You huffed, a cloud of warmth rising into the air. The cold had been gaining in intensity for over a week, and all the students at the academy had donned their scarves.

“No.” you replied, confident. “You?”

“A bit,” she admitted, her breath trembling slightly.

“Hey,” you pressed your shoulder against hers as she turned to face you, ”you've got this. I know you do.”

She nodded, smiling at you as the shuttle arrived. The journey was swift, some students over-excited at the prospect of their results, others apprehensive about what was to come.

As you arrived at the golden gates of the academy, you noticed that neither Viktor nor Jayce were in sight. Perhaps they had decided to go to the academy later?

The group of students walked up to the scoreboards, an army of others already huddled in front of them.

Sky went in search of her name, while you breathed in, waiting for other students to pass before you.

You didn't know what awaited you at the top of the board, which name would be at the head. Did it still matter? Yes, it probably did, or it didn't. Did you want it to matter? Probably not. But did your mind keep wandering? Endlessly.

What if Viktor was still number one - would you be disappointed? What if you were number one - would you be satisfied? And if neither he nor you were number one, would you be revolted?

“Look who it is!”

That voice alone was enough to make you frown, raise your eyebrows and lower your eyelids in boredom.

Tyler.

You turned to him for a moment, him seeming pleased that you responded to his voice as you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“What do you want, blondie? Searching for a new name on the boards to torment?”

He chuckled, stepping toward you. “You don't change a winning team, darling. Have you found your place at the very bottom of the ranking?”

It was your turn to chuckle, turning to face him. He had no idea about your academic results, it seemed. 

“Tyler you have as many neurons as you have eyes, and they're both fighting for any kind of connection.” You turned to the bulletin board, stepping forward slightly. “Do them mercy and close your eyelids for all eternity before we have to deal with a rain of fire and the horsemen and...”

But you didn't even finish your sentence, the words dying on your lips as your eyes came to rest on your name.

First place.

You were back in first place. Eyes and mouth wide open, you kept blinking to make sure your vision wasn't failing you. And the name underneath... 

Viktor.

Your scores were almost equal, yours barely beating him.

“Told you I wasn't going to hold back.”

You turned towards the voice, the tinkle you now knew too well of his cane echoing on the floor. He stood there, serene, a small smile on his face before his lips pressed into an inverted grin and his eyebrows raised.

“You fight well, Miss.”

You couldn't help it - you cracked a smile at him. And Viktor seemed astonished, as if he'd never seen such a thing happen. No stupid remark, no pettiness behind your drawn lips, just sincere amusement and joy.

“What the...” Tyler's voice died in his throat as he took in the bulletin boards, turning to you. “How did you...”

You turned to him, his sole presence now not even enough to ruin your happiness and relief. “As if you could reach me,” you replied with a triumphant smile, walking out of the crowd to join Viktor.

Once you got away from all this tumult, he nodded. “You got first,” he remarked, “congratulations.”

You observed him for a second, his posture reflecting a sort of disappointment. Was it from losing? Or was it from the fact you seemed so happy in your rivalry with him? You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Quit it,” you pronounced with a smile, shaking your head slightly. “We share this crown, and you perfectly know that.”

He said nothing, just gazing at you for a moment. There was this gleam, the tickling of a smile ready to be born on his lips as the satisfaction that, maybe, these ink duels you were both fencing would wash away and let something different be born from them. 

He was apprehensive about saying something, but Jayce came towards you both.

“Ah, Jayce, exams went well?” You asked, knowing without a doubt that he didn't have to worry about his results.

“Oh yeah, perfect.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting from yours to Viktor's, surprised that you weren't quarrelling. “Say, hum... can I talk to you guys for a minute?” 

Viktor and you exchanged a confused look, before ultimately following him.

“A masquerade?” you repeated, as if the word had never grazed your lips before.

Jayce had brought you to a room in the Academy where you could all talk without hearing the multiple cries of students as to their result. And considering what he had to discuss with you, he'd done the right thing.

“It's this thing Mel is invited to,” he explained nervously. “All the people of high aristocracy will be there, counselors, lords and ladies... Please, can you both accompany me to it?”

“As your dance partners?” joked Viktor, frowning.

“No, Mel's already my partner. But, she said that there would be no opposition for you both to come as well. You're the,” he seemed to search for words for a moment, ”croom dé la cram?”

“Crême de la crême?” you suggested.

He pointed at you, glad you understood. “Yeah, that. La crême de la crême of the Academy. Such prestigious students as the both of you sharing the top of the board deserve to be in such an event.”

“So you want us,” you pointed repeatedly between Viktor and yourself, ”to come to this event because you're too nervous to go there by yourself?”

The interested party scratched the back of his neck, sniffling before looking at you both with puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah?”

“Aren't you supposed to have a partner to come to a masquerade?” Interrogated Viktor.

“I thought you two could... go together?”

You chuckled, your mouth hanging open. You exchanged a bewildered look with Viktor, who didn't seem to be too upset by the concept.

“You're joking, right?” you asked.

“Please just-” he didn't finish his sentence, “put your bickering aside for one evening. You don't even have to show up together if it suits you better.”

“I don't see any problems with it,” Viktor shrugged, indifferent. “When is it?”

"Tomorrow night."

“Tomorrow night?” You exclaimed. “Jayce, if it's a society gala, I've got nothing to wear.”

He reached into his own wallet, pulled out some bills and handed them to you.

“Here, I'm sure you'll find something convenient with this.”

“Jayce,” you remarked, looking at the fresh bills, “what the hell.”

“This is not much for you to get a decent gown for the gala. Keep the rest, if there is any, to get some fancy accessories.” He grabbed your hand, placing the cash in it. “Truly, this is the least I can do.”

You knew Jayce's patrons were the Kiramman’s, but to have money to give away like this? Since when was that the case?

“Vik, I think it's time for us to go.” Jayce finally remarked before leaving the room, leaving the two of you.

You both stayed in silence for a moment, both digesting the information that had just been given to you.

“What a way to celebrate your victory,” Viktor finally sighed.

“I've seen worse celebrations than a masquerade,” you remarked, observing the tickets for a moment before folding them up, “but I think I've had better experiences than being in a room with nobility sipping glasses of champagne with petty innuendo in every exchange.”

He huffed in turn. “I suppose the next area in which we must excel in no time is the art of conversation in high society. Although, considering our usual conversation,” he leaned his head to the side with a smirk, "we'll fit right in."

“How exciting,” you raised your eyebrows sarcastically, letting silence take its rule back on the room before you finally decided to break it. ”Guess I better go and find myself something to wear. See you tomorrow, Viktor.” 

“Wait,” he called to you, seeming hesitant about what he was going to suggest, ”would you like us to get together first and go? Or...”

“Let's meet directly at the party,” you assured him.

He nodded, his lips pressing in a thin line as you turned away. “Oh and...” you turned back to him at his words, his eyes piercing. “Don't forget the mask.”

You nodded, leaving the room.

You had today and tomorrow to find an outfit, and get used to the fact that Viktor was no longer a threat to be eliminated. Easier said than done. 

But still… What a way to celebrate a rebirth.

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

"Gingerbread Houses" -HCs

Finals did not, in fact, kill me. Anyways, depending on how things go this may be my last real post of this year, so happy holidays and happy New Years if I don't see y'all til January ^^ --------------------------------------------------------

Heartslaybul

Riddle

He's never made a gingerbread house before OTL and his perfectionism will be his biggest pitfall. At least he's using Trey's cookies and icing so that it's not a matter of the quality of materials, but it's still something he's going to spend HOURS on, making sure every line is perfect and sharp. He's seen the sets before in stores, so he will pull up a reference photo on his phone to try and match the box as closely as possible. By the time he's finished, he's a mess. There is icing everywhere. He is ready to pass out. His hands hurt from piping. And he realizes too late he could have decorated the inside just for fun. He still enjoyed it, but he's going to aim for an easier design in coming years. He also only takes a few pieces of candy and a gingerbread man, before letting the first years eat it. (He got a picture before it was devoured though).

Trey

Oh he's so tired of baking. Are you kidding me. This time of year COULD be fun but he has finals on top of being resident big brother AND BAKER to a dorm just to go home and be Big Brother with his siblings. He's so tired. He will bake everything off for people after they submit what shapes they want/need for their creations and then while everyone is making their gingerbread creations he's going to his room and taking a fucking nap. Good for him. He'll munch on left overs if he feels like it, but he knows there's going to be mom and dad's baking at home so he'll just wait. Once he does go home though, it's a competition, half the family against the other half to make the largest, most impressive gingerbread creation. They may involve the community to vote on which one is better, and then they just let the elementary school kids in the area eat them both.

Cater

He buys one of the boxed ones just to put it together for the sake of social media. Makes it all cute and near perfect, it takes significantly less effort for him to do so than Riddle, mostly because he has some artistic background. He knows between that and Trey's baking, nobody is really going to want to eat it so he brings it to PMC for Lilia lmao. He already knows he's going to do the same thing again when he goes home, so his mom has something to post on social media.

Deuce

He's also never made a gingerbread house! His mom didn't have the means to buy all those ingredients or to buy a set she knew he wouldn't eat, so they always made stuff out of rice krispy treats. They're easier to mold into the shape you want anyways, especially when they're warm, so it prevented tantrums when he was younger too. He still does it, not just for traditions sake but because gingerbread just...isn't his favourite flavour.

Ace

Growing up, his mom was the only one really capable of cooking or baking, so when she passed (HC), his brother would just take him out to the dollarstore to buy a SHIT TON of different wafers and candies. They would make a candy wonderland of sorts before gorging themselves on their creations. Ace doesn't mind gingerbread all that much, but he likes how stable the wafers are in comparison when it comes to attaching them with icing. Sometimes he'll build a foundation with wafers and then attach the gingerbread to the wafers so it has something stable to lean against. It's really just an excuse to eat more candy. He also decorates the inside of his builds, usually using gummy bears as people. When he was a kid he used to bite off their heads and then scatter them around the build 💀

The rest are under the cut!!

Savannaclaw Leona

Could not give a flying rat's ass about gingerbread creations. The closest he gets is Cheka spamming his texts with pictures of his creation. Leona ends up paying Ruggie to make one so that he can send one pic back and the rugrat will stop bothering him 💀

Ruggie

They never really made anything like sculptures. Latino Ruggie is real in my heart, so Christmas time is when they would have saved up as much as they could to have a massive feast with the community. That being said, he can't exactly build with them but empanadas, you know the plantain ones with custard filling and a sugar coated outside??? Those ones? FUCK ton of those. Sometimes though, when Sam has leftovers in January of the kits, he'll take the kits back to the kiddos to enjoy.

Jack

Oh his family loooooves making gingerbread houses, the only rule is, no rectangles are allowed >:) (squares are technically a form of rectangle too) so every year his mom heads up the competition. Jack tries to help his younger siblings but he tends to break things by accident and they get mad at him lmao. He never makes a house himself, he just grazes on the candy, and eats his siblings houses after they've picked them clean of candy, leaving him with plenty of cookies to eat. His siblings also use a lot of coloured icing to decorate the "lawns" outside of their houses. (His mom always includes "ducks" on hers)

Octavinelle

Azul

Having been from under the sea, he hasn't made them before either, nor does he really want to. To me, he does not like the texture of icing. I think that would be gross to him. And why would he want to eat all that candy? He would rather go home and eat a dessert Nonna's whipped up, or even attempt to make cannoli's on his own. He may host a competition at the mostro lounge with a bring your own supplies event and whoever wins a competition gets free meal vouchers for a week.

Jade + Floyd

They also have not made gingerbread anything before, but wHEN they do. Jade meticulously puts his together, every detail, every drop of icing, everything is planned. He has a sketch he did in a planner next to him and he's GOING to replicate it. He's grumpy at Floyd because he's eating gingerbread over his shoulder and it's crumbling and falling onto his work space and into his shirt but if he acknowledges it he knows it's going to get worse. Floyd does not have the patience to put his together. He essentially makes it one giant cookie/poptart thing and layers candy on top. He does ask if he's allowed to break Jade's when he's done (they will brawl after when Jade says no and Azul has to rescue Jade's creation for the sake of keeping what little semblance of peace he has.)

Scarabia

Kalim

The concept is new to him but once he's introduced to it - he loves it. And not a surface is safe from flying icing. He wants icing in every single colour and all the candies from all over the world. He'll try dipping gingerbread in eggnog. These traditions aren't widely celebrated back home, so he's going to make the most of it while he's with friends! He ends up eating so much candy he throws up rainbows. Sorry.

Jamil

He has no interest. You thought Leona was disinterested? No, Jamil is. He'd rather be doing nearly anything else.

Pomefiore

Vil

When he was a kid, it was tradition for him and his dad to decorate lebkuchen together. He looks forward to it more than he'd care to admit, because it's the one constant date he knows both he and his dad work to ensure they have free. Neither of them are very GOOD at decorating, but it's more of an excuse to catch up with each other. The nostalgia also just generally helps Vil show a little more holiday spirit and loosen up a little bit.

Rook

:) He and his sister never really got those kinds of things, but they loved making paper snowflakes together.

Epel

He never had the patience for gingerbread houses when he was a kid, so his meemaw would only make gingerbread men for him while his parents built a house. He would squeeze icing bags so hard they popped, and layer on the subsequent icing in a thick, uneven swab to the point when he went to go eat it it made him sick. He loved it though. Nowadays he tries a lot harder to make them pretty just because he thinks it's a fun activity, like apple carving, where every little detail can make a huge difference on the overall composition. Meemaw's baking is peak, and not even Trey can beat it.

Ignihyde

Idia + Ortho

When they were kids, they loved the pomegranate smashing tradition their dad used to do. Their dad would also make kourabiedes - while not exactly ideal for building with, they were delicious. Instead of building things out of food, they would build a "karavaki" (wooden boat) out of scrap metal as a family instead and decorate it instead of a tree. It's been a long time since Mama and Papa Shroud have managed to convince Idia to celebrate...anything with them, but this year they started a new tradition with Ortho, with high hopes for years to come. This year, they designed and built a cat cafe gingerbread house, just for the fun of it, but there were still plenty of kourabiedes to go around. (Mama Shroud is NOT allowed in the kitchen but she would make little reindeer button cookies if she could. However, that is one field of chemistry she just can't seem to handle OTL)

Diasomnia

...uh

Diasomily

Because of Lilia's many travels, he picked up on different traditions and cultures over the years. As a result, every year (that they've all been together), they celebrate a different tradition from around the world. Yes they've made gingerbread houses before. Malleus has gargoyles on his. Lilia's is completely inedible. Silver has icing on half his face bc he passed out. Sebek essentially made a giant cookie-face of Malleus and got pissy when he ran out of black licorice to make his horns. They're so sillayyyy

------------- LMAO I lost the plot about half way through but we bring it back

anyways

@nemisisnemi @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @lumdays @starry-night-rose @theleechyskrunkly

lmk if you want to be added/removed

happy holidays and please take a fat nap on my behalf at some point lmao

[gensideas]

LOVE IN THE SPOTLIGHT

summary Y/N Sánchez, daughter of Roselyn Sánchez, appeared on Jimmy Kimmel with her fiancé, Drew Starkey. While Y/N spoke confidently about her career, Drew couldn’t hide his admiration, often losing focus as he gazed at her. His lovestruck demeanor contrasted with Y/N’s composure, creating a sweet and memorable moment that left fans swooning over their undeniable chemistry.

features Fiancé!Drew Starkey x Fiancé!actress!reader

The bright lights of the studio shone down on me as I adjusted the hem of my flowing emerald-green dress. It hugged my figure perfectly, a piece from a designer who had insisted I wear it to highlight my poise and grace. But I wasn’t thinking about the dress or the cameras pointed at me. I was thinking about Drew Starkey, my fiancé, sitting just a few feet away. His piercing blue eyes followed my every movement, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Being the daughter of the legendary actress Roselyn Sánchez, I was a rising star in my own right. My breakout role in a critically acclaimed drama had catapulted me to the spotlight, and now I was the name on every producer’s lips. Despite my rapid ascent, I remained grounded, thanks in no small part to Drew, whose quiet confidence and unwavering support made him my anchor.

“We’re ready for you,” a producer’s voice called.

I gave Drew a quick glance. He gave me a reassuring nod, though his gaze lingered a bit too long. My beauty had always captivated him, but tonight, under the soft glow of studio lights, I felt otherworldly.

The interview set was elegant, with plush chairs and a backdrop of shimmering gold curtains. I took my seat beside Drew, the host across from us. The audience clapped enthusiastically, the excitement palpable.

“Good evening, everyone!” Jimmy began, flashing a practiced smile. “Tonight, we have two incredible guests: the stunning Y/N Sánchez and her fiancé, the talented Drew Starkey. Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The applause swelled, and my cheeks flushed. I glanced at Drew, who was already looking at me, his expression soft and unguarded. He seemed utterly unaware of the cameras or the audience—his world had narrowed to just me.

“Y/N, your performance in Eclipsed Dreams has been called transformative. How does it feel to step out of your mother’s shadow and establish your own legacy?” Jimmy asked.

My smile widened. “It’s surreal. Growing up, I always admired my mother’s work, but she encouraged me to find my own path. It’s been a challenging journey, but I’m grateful for the opportunities and for the people who believe in me.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And Drew, you’ve been quite the supportive partner. What’s it like watching Y/N rise to stardom?”

Drew chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it’s mesmerizing. She’s incredibly talented, hardworking, and… well, look at her.” He gestured toward me, his voice tinged with awe. “She’s breathtaking.”

The audience swooned, and my face turned a deeper shade of pink. “You’re too much,” I murmured, though the sparkle in my eyes revealed my delight.

“Drew, you’ve built an impressive career yourself,” Jimmy continued. “What’s the key to balancing your own busy schedule with supporting Y/N?”

“Communication and respect,” Drew said. “We both have demanding careers, but we make time for each other. It helps that we genuinely enjoy spending time together—she’s my favorite person.”

“That’s so sweet,” Jimmy said, turning back to me. “Y/N, do you find inspiration in Drew’s work?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Drew is so dedicated to his craft. Watching him immerse himself in his roles motivates me to give my all in my own performances. We’re constantly learning from each other.”

“It sounds like you have a wonderful partnership,” Jimmy said. “One last question: What’s next for both of you?”

I exchanged a glance with Drew before answering. “I’m working on a new project that’s still under wraps, but I’m really excited about it. It’s something completely different from anything I’ve done before.”

“And I’ve got a couple of films lined up,” Drew added. “But we’re also making sure to carve out some time for ourselves. Life is about balance, after all.”

The audience applauded as Jimmy wrapped up the interview. “Y/N and Drew, thank you so much for joining us tonight. We can’t wait to see what the future holds for you both.”

When the cameras stopped rolling, we lingered on the set, chatting with the host and producers. Drew’s hand never left mine, a quiet but constant reassurance.

“You were incredible,” Drew whispered as we walked toward our car. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“You’re biased,” I teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling me close. “But it’s the truth.”

We paused under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, the city’s hum around us. Drew cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’re a star, and not just on screen.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I leaned into his touch. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

Our lips met in a tender kiss, sealing a moment that felt timeless.

The interview aired the following evening, and social media exploded with praise. Fans gushed over my grace and Drew’s evident adoration. A clip of Drew’s comment about my beauty went viral, earning us the nickname “Hollywood’s Sweethearts.”

As we sat together in our cozy living room, scrolling through the flood of messages, Drew wrapped an arm around me. “Looks like people are just as mesmerized by you as I am.”

“By us,” I corrected, resting my head on his shoulder. “We’re a team, Drew.”

He kissed the top of my head. “The best team.”

And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter and love, I knew that no matter how bright my star shone, it would always shine brightest with Drew by my side.

© gensideas 2024

[aonemanarmy]

So, that had been Mother's deal with Vincent. Sephiroth didn't understand why Jenova had thought it necessary to use the other man as a guardian for him – he hardly needed protection – but he was under the impression that it was more of a ploy to keep the gunman close in case he proved to be a nuisance. It was quite strange though for Jenova to go that far, but Sephiroth knew that her thoughts were far beyond true comprehension even for him.

Before Sephiroth could voice any response Vincent continued and finally made his request known which left him more than a little perplexed. Of all the requests Vincent could have made, Sephiroth had never anticipated the gunman to make the one that he had. It made him wonder why the ex-Turk would request that he meet someone out of all the things he could've asked for.

A part of Sephiroth was immediately suspicious, honestly expecting this to be some sort of trick, but he couldn't detect any sign of deception in Vincent's eyes. However, Sephiroth would be the first to admit he wasn't exactly an expert in human emotion, although he didn't get the impression that the other man would waste such a golden opportunity for the sake of an ill-conceived attempt at subterfuge. It didn't mean that Sephiroth was ready to trust Vincent – not even close – but he was still willing to humor him if only because the ex-Turk had piqued his curiosity.

The sense of curiosity he felt only grew as he felt the sudden resurgence of Jenova's presence at the back of his mind, the alien entity tearing at his thoughts in an attempt to reassert control over him. A splitting headache began to form behind Sephiroth's eyes in response, but he forcefully shoved Jenova back and bound her tighter, even if it did little to stop her venomous threats and the steady spikes of pain that accompanied them. He could bear it just like he had everything else – stoically and without any real expression betraying his inner thoughts or the mental struggle that he had fought.

Still, why had Jenova reacted in such a way?

Sephiroth knew that she was determined to seize control again, but this didn't feel like one of her typical attempts. It felt more...direct and daresay urgent. Perhaps the madman was simply overthinking things, but his suspicions remained as he listened to Vincent indicate that the person he wanted Sephiroth to meet was the very same that Jenova had told the gunman to seek out.

'Why did Vincent think that he was remotely interested in who that person was? The human that the other man valued so much meant nothing to Sephiroth and he'd never bothered to ask Jenova for further details about them. It wasn't as if Jenova was ready to offer him any details in the first place, but he wondered why Vincent was making the whole thing out to be anything more than some sort of transaction between the two of them.

The madman didn't voice his thoughts, instead watching Vincent as he paced past him and stared out over the horizon at something only he could see. It was of little interest to Sephiroth, but he humored the gunman as he spoke and mentioned what that person wanted. Sephiroth was set to brush aside all interest in it when the ex-Turk spoke those last words which immediately had him on guard.

So, Vincent wanted him to see someone that sought to lay claim to him again. It wasn't as if it would be the first time that someone had thought to do so; all of Shinra and its Science Department had done so at one point or another and he was hardly keen on the idea. To humans he was an object, a thing to be possessed, used, and then thrown away whenever it suited them and nothing more. That simply was how things were and he'd come to accept that fact long ago.

“And they would not be the first one to claim me as theirs.” Sephiroth said flatly, not sure why Vincent thought those words would mean anything to him. “I have had many that controlled me over the years and many more that would seek to possess me if they could, so your 'person' would be no different.”

Another sharp stab of pain struck Sephiroth behind the eyes and he scowled, dropping the hand holding Hojo's severed head to his side.

Jenova's persistence was becoming quite bothersome. It certainly didn't help his mood, but having Hojo's head in hand made everything but the most egregious pain bearable.

“I shall not trade one master for another.”

Sephiroth refused to be enslaved again. However, with his true form entombed in the crater and undergoing metamorphosis it would be beyond anyone's influence. All that would be available to Vincent and this person would be the avatar he currently possessed, and that could easily be dismissed or destroyed without any real negative consequences on his part. So perhaps he could slake his own curiosity by humoring the request and if all else failed he could always teach Vincent a lesson by killing his treasured person.

Drawing his sword, Sephiroth stalked over to the lip of the crater and using it sheered the limbs off a small tree. Then, without a hint of hesitation the madman took Hojo's severed head and impaled it upon the sharpened trunk with a sickening squelching sound that painted the snow black with ichor and clotted, old blood. It was a fitting warning.

“I will see your person, but know that I will belong to no one ever again.”

In a morbid sense, it was a twisted yet beautiful sight to see Sephiroth holding the head of Sephiroth in his hand—staring in the face of the man who had both created and tormented him; the true source of all of Sephiroth’s nightmares. Even if Hojo had been the cause of everyone’s pain, including Vincent’s, at least he had tasted the goodness that came with humanity, imperfections and all. Sephiroth, on the other hand, had been robbed of all of it before conception. However, was this truly Sephiroth or Jenova?

Sephiroth’s response gave Vincent that answer, and the gunslinger blinked in a mild confusion at first. So it wasn’t Jenova after all… the shift in essence was curious. But if this was Sephiroth, then what was this powerful sensation he felt atop the mountain? Had Sephiroth truly gained the freedom from Jenova’s control? Vincent didn’t immediately respond to Sephiroth and briefly turned part way to look up at the mountain. The power shook the mountain. He could feel a strong pulse growing steadily stronger. He recognized that pulse… Was this where Sephiroth’s physical body had been entombed the entire time? The one he had witnessed falling into the pool of Mako several years back? Realization slowly crept through his mind, and Vincent turned to meet Sephiroth’s figment once more. Though his eyes were still somewhat harsh, they had softened as he began to put the pieces together. He couldn’t be sure if Sephiroth had yet gained the victory over Jenova, but he could easily test that. At least from what Sephiroth had told him thus far, it seemed as though he hadn’t been speaking to Jenova at all… but Sephiroth’s true conscience. The test hadn’t been conducted by Jenova, but by Sephiroth. Perhaps Sephiroth had already broken free from Jenova long ago and the man with silver hair only feigned it up till now. The power that Jenova wielded was beyond belief—having corrupted and destroyed many planets in the past. For Sephiroth to break free of the most terrifying and manipulative entity known to humanity, it bespoke the power of will that Sephiroth possessed. It was more terrifying than Jenova herself. Who was the puppet-master, now? “I see…” Vincent mused allowed, indicating he had realized he was no longer addressing Jenova as he once thought.

This was very advantageous, yet Vincent was also aware that Jenova wouldn’t simply let go of her most valuable asset—Sephiroth. After all, she took on the form of those who the victim was closest to, someone they hated, loved, or feared. But Vincent would give Sephiroth the benefit of a doubt until those signs once again showed themselves.

Directing his attention towards Sephiroth again, he felt those piercing eyes searching his thoughts. As intrusive as it felt, in a sense Vincent wanted Sephiroth to know the truth. Perhaps it now was the time. There was a strong chance Jenova would try to thwart the effort, or Sephiroth would simply deny Vincent's request. Nevertheless, there was no better time than the present. One thing that kept tugging at Vincent's mind was what would happen if Sephiroth did agree to follow through with his request. What would be the consequences? Would he be putting Lucrecia in danger? There was a strong possibility. But keeping Lucrecia in the dark also seemed equally cruel. Sooner or later, Lucrecia would discover her son was indeed alive. What would she do then if he weren't present to protect her? How could he be sure the one he was talking to wasn't yet again Jenova just playing 5D chess and manipulating the gunslinger? And would Cloud and the others be exempt from what he was about to attempt? 'Let me see him. Just once!'

Vincent could remember hearing Lucrecia's cries towards Hojo from within the mako tank; Sephiroth had been separated from Lucrecia long before she could even hold him. Would seeing her son's face finally put her soul to rest? Or would it rip the wounds anew? Was Vincent going to deprive Lucrecia of her son's audience, also? “There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Vincent began, his pair of crimson colors meeting Sephiroth’s with an equal measure of sincerity.

“In an effort to ensure your success and safety, Jenova made me promise to be your protector. And if I failed to do so…” His brows slightly furrowed, watching Sephiroth’s reactions keenly. “She would take what I cherish most.” Vincent turned in the direction of the cave as he continued to speak.

“Do you recall telling me to venture out? To find ‘my treasure’?” His voice lowered just above a whisper. “Jenova never told you who that was, did she?” Vincent asked, assuming that Sephiroth had been cultivating the seeds of doubt long before he had sensed it. Vincent began to pace and walk passed Sephiroth, looking out in the direction of the cave. “That someone…she wishes to see her one and only treasure, as well.” He then looked over his shoulder towards Sephiroth, only exposing his profile as long black strands hid part of his face. “That treasure... is you.”

[kbstanny]

Treatment (Zayne/Reader)

✿ Fandom: Love and Deepspace

✿ Pairing: M/F

✿ Tag: NSFW

✿ Mentions: smut, mild injury mentions

✿ Word count: 5,051

✿ Summary: She had no choice but to see Dr. Zayne for treatment after a Wanderer left her injured, but his cure for her anguish wasn't quite what she had in mind.

✿ A/N: Hey! This my first fic on this website, and it's on a game I only started playing a week ago 😭

Because I'm a new player, I don't really know the world or the story very well, so if there are inaccuracies then you know why. However, I've also avoided specific plot details for this very reason.

I hope you enjoy!

Damned Knave.

She tightly gripped the gash on her thigh, limping her way down the dark deserted path. She'd received reports of disturbances down at the old munitions factory and had gone to investigate. Wanderers had been sighted after hours, so she'd gone late into the evening, and solo, as her ever-elusive partner had been unavailable. She'd handled herself fine, but a rather tricky Knave had managed to cut right through the top of her thigh.

Once she eventually hobbled her way to a street lamp, she could investigate her injuries properly. Shakily, she removed her blood-stained hands from the wound, then hummed — It didn't look too severe. The gash was long, but not so deep, stretching from her inner thigh up toward her hip. The blood made things a lot nastier than they needed to be, and the pain was bearable, at least for now. She'd hail a taxi and treat the damage at home, and if it didn't feel much better by morning, she'd consult her physician. But Dr. Zayne was a last resort.

Once morning came, she did not feel better.

The pain woke her up before her alarm did. It stung intensely, and the surrounding skin was hot and numb. Clearly rubbing alcohol, a cocktail of painkillers and gauze wasn't going to cut it. Carefully, she unwrapped the bandage to take a look at her injury — it still didn't seem too bad. Inflamed, a little gnarly, but far from incapacitating. Just painful. But she'd faced foes much fiercer than some stupid Herte Knave, and obtained injuries far more gruesome. For now, she'd suck it up. She had a job to do.

—

"Oh my god!" Tara gasped. "When did that happen?" Her friend asked her, leaning in to the picture on her phone. She'd snapped the pic before getting ready for work this morning, thinking it would be a funny story to tell to Tara at the office. But her friend's reaction was a little more alarmed than she'd anticipated.

"Last night, at the factory. There were some serious beasts down there, but you wanna know caused that? A Knave of all things." She chuckled, shaking her head. Tara didn't look so amused.

"Aren't you hurt? Have you been to the doctor?"

"It's just a scratch, Tara, I'll be fine."

"That is not just a scratch! That needs stitches!—"

"What needs stitches?"

Captain Jenna approached the two, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She had a scrutinising look in her eye, one that said 'Why are you chatting and not working?' It reminded her of her old teachers.

The hunters were silent, looking between each other. She shot Tara a warning look, but Tara ignored it, turning the phone to face Jenna. "This does."

Jenna leaned in, her eyebrows raising, breaking her steely expression. "Why yes, it does... Is this you?" She looked to her, and she sighed softly, a little embarrassed.

"Yes, but I feel fine. I promise. If I didn't, I'd take the day off."

"Have you had it treated?" Jenna cut to the chase.

"...No." She admitted, and Jenna sighed.

"Well go. At once. That could easily get infected." The captain straightened up, her tone commanding. There was no room for negotiation. "Honestly, I thought you'd have more sense than to leave an injury like that unattended." With that, Jenna walked away. She waited until her captain was out of sight before standing and addressing Tara.

"Did you really have to snitch on me?" Though she already knew she would — anything to impress Jenna. Tara gave a sheepish look.

"Well I had to do something! I'm only looking out for you." But she pat Tara's shoulder, shaking her head and smiling.

"I know, I know, you're right... as usual. I really shouldn't ignore it. Thanks Tara." Tara gave a knowing smile.

"I am usually right! Now go and see Zayne. He might be a little scary but he knows what he's doing." They both chuckled at that.

Tara knew what her friend was hesitant to admit: It wasn't that she was ignorant of the risks of open wounds, nor was she a particularly nervous patient. She just didn't want to see Zayne.

Not because the doctor was in any way cruel or unpleasant, he wasn't even scary as such. But the doctor was so cold, and the icy chill of his eyes permeated her core with a mere glance her way. Zayne had been an old forgotten friend, a dear one, but now he was a figurehead for her ailments. All that time they'd spent together as children seemed meaningless now. They couldn't have drifted further apart. Zayne was a bad omen, and a sign her past had been well and truly shattered.

But that was only half of the reason. The other reason, the more embarrassing one, was that she found Zayne stupidly attractive. Not only because he had the face of an angel and a body carved from marble, but for his work ethic, his dedication, his intelligence. And of course, she couldn't help but feel sentimental toward him over the time they'd spent together as kids. She yearned to reconnect with him. He had a potent effect on her. When she was near him, his mere presence was enough to suck the words out of her mouth, to reduce her to a shrinking violet with no resolve. Like a silly teenager with a crush. And that wasn't like her at all. She hated not having control.

She wasn't certain whether the feeling was mutual. There was something about the way that he looked at her, on occasion, that made her heart flare up. Sometimes she thought he had a tenderness to his tone that he just couldn't have used with everyone, but maybe that was wishful thinking? His concern for her health and wellbeing seemed obsessive, too. Never had her previous physicians been so zealous, but Zayne was a renowned surgeon. Perhaps it was just a sign he was good at his job, and nothing more? She didn't know, and she didn't like thinking about it.

With a deep breath, she rapped on the door to his office. With any luck, he'd be busy, and she'd be forced to return to HQ and schedule an appointment the long way.

"Come in." He answered — Damn.

She walked inside, standing by the door with her hands behind her back. Zayne was busy typing away at his computer, and he hadn't even spared her a glance. She hadn't realised she'd been quiet until Zayne spoke up again.

"Can I help you?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Yes, if you're not too busy. I injured myself while dealing with a Wanderer. I was hoping you could take a look."

It was upon hearing her voice that Zayne decided his patient was more interesting than his computer, and he turned to face her, scrutinising her slightly crooked form, and the way she carried her weight. He thought for a moment or two.

"Your left thigh." How did he know that? She looked down, but her injury was completely concealed, and no blood had seeped through her clothes.

"Yes, how did you—"

"What happened exactly? Take a seat." She nodded, heading to sit down on the chair opposite the doctor, but he shook his head.

"Not there. On the examination table."

"Right."

As she sat down, Zayne quickly punched one final sentence into the keyboard, before turning to face her, waiting for her answer.

"It happened yesterday. A Wanderer, as I said." She clarified, and Zayne hummed.

"So the Wanderer attacked you directly? You didn't sustain this injury through any other means during the battle?" She shook her head. Zayne made a note of this on his computer.

"And do you have any other injuries?" She told him no again.

"Alright. I need to examine you, if that's okay."

She nodded, looking down to where her legs were outstretched on the table, before coming to an awkward realisation: She was wearing pants. She couldn't just pull her skirt up, she'd have to strip the item off entirely.

"Yes, of course." She began to fiddle with the button to her pants, before Zayne stiffened, taking the curtain that surrounded the table.

"Tell me when you're ready." With that, he shut the curtain around her. She released a sigh of relief, grateful for the privacy, though she felt a little stupid for not closing it herself. She wasn't sure how she'd compose herself having to undress in front of him.

Once her pants were off, she came to a second mortifying realisation: Her underwear. The item was black and lacy, made from sheer mesh, hardly concealing her delicate areas. The type you'd wear for a lover, and not at all the sort of thing you'd wear to work. But she'd washed all of her more practical undies yesterday, and thanks to one pesky Knave, hadn't found the time to dry them before morning. If she'd known she'd be stripping down in Zayne's office for an examination, she would have stopped off at the shops on her way to work to buy something cheap and appropriate. Hell, she probably would have bought boxer shorts.

"Shit." She hissed under her breath.

What would Zayne think of her? Surely he'd think it was deliberate. She'd approached him for treatment, and she just so happened to be wearing semi-transparent lingerie? There was no way he'd find that coincidental. He'd think she was some sort of pervert. Was it too late to get out of here?

"Are you alright? Or are you struggling to get changed?" Zayne asked from the other side of the curtain. Her chest felt tight — how long had she been sat there worrying?

"No, I'm fine. I'm ready now." She panicked, blurting out the words despite herself, cursing internally as Zayne pulled back the curtain. The doctor said nothing as his eyes drank in the sight of her, nor did his expression give anything away — Not that she'd know, she avoided his gaze like the plague, staring intently at the floor. But despite his composure, Zayne certainly noticed her indelicate attire. And despite his healing instincts, and the rather prominent gash on her thigh, her panties were the very first thing that held his attention.

Zayne sat beside the bed, on the side of her injured leg, leaning in close to the cut. He took a long look at it, reticent as ever, before finally meeting her gaze.

"What time did this happen yesterday?"

"In the evening."

"And you didn't think to call me when it did?" Zayne pressed. Her words were trapped in her throat for a moment, before she finally pushed them out.

"Well... no. It was late, and it didn't seem so bad at the time."

"It's never too late to check yourself in to a hospital." Zayne stated the obvious. "Whether I was available or not, you should have had this seen to immediately." His tone was stern, his stare unwavering. She said nothing. "When something like this happens, you need to call me, no matter how late it is. I'm your primary care physician, it's what I'm here for. And if I can't see to you personally, I can find someone who can."

"I understand. I will do, next time."

"You really ought to take your health more seriously. You have a duty, as a hunter, to protect people. Lives depend on you. And you can't protect anybody if you can't take adequate care of yourself. Being anything less than thorough with your wellbeing is selfish, and neglectful of your duties." His words made her brows furrow, a mixture of annoyance and shame, but she still didn't respond.

"Injuries sustained through Wanderer attacks are more susceptible to infections. Some are serious, and fast-acting, as you should well know. I cannot stress enough the importance of getting wounds like these seen to as soon as possible—"

"I know, Doctor." She interrupted, a little snappy. "I told you already. I will next time, and I'm here now, aren't I?" But did she have any right to be annoyed with his tone? Deep down she knew she didn't, that she was only being stubborn, but she couldn't help herself.

"Please don't be so reckless next time." Zayne asked her, his tone softer, his eyes so tender she couldn't stand to look at them anymore. She couldn't take it when he scolded her.

The doctor sighed softly through his nose.

"This will need sutures, but I'll need to clean the wound and check for signs of infection first, which requires a physical examination. Is that alright?" His words nearly made her melt.

"That's fine." She composed herself well enough for an answer.

Zayne brought a gloved hand to her thigh, and although the gesture was purely clinical, she couldn't help the heat that rushed to the spot between her legs. His hands were cool, and his touch gentle, so gentle that if she closed her eyes and pictured a different context, it could've been a loving caress. Zayne pressed his fingers firmly against her thigh.

"Does that hurt?"

"No." She answered honestly. Zayne repeated the motion to the space surrounding her injury, his fingers travelling in a small circle, starting from the bottom of the cut, until they creeped inwards. Zayne gently pulled at her thigh, widening her legs as he continued his examination. She was trying her best not to react.

She cast her gaze downwards, to the fingers between her legs, and her heart dropped. From this angle, under the stark white lights, she was clearly exposed. Nothing was left to the imagination. She was so embarrassed she nearly screamed, looking to Zayne to try and gauge his reaction — but she couldn't. He was too focused on the task at hand.

Her breath became shaky as she observed the way he prodded at her, how his fingers crept ever-closer to her arousal. Just one budge in the opposite direction and those tough, broad hands would be swept over her cunt. Imagining how his fingertips would tickle the mesh of her panties was enough to make her wet.

She heard her name in the recesses of her mind, and then again. Only the second time did she realise it was coming from Zayne's lips.

She snapped back to reality, looking back at him with eyes wider than intended. He stared back at her with a cutting gaze.

"I asked you whether it hurt, where I was touching you." He repeated. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a few moments before she could cough the words out.

"No— no, sorry. I was a million miles away." She chuckled sheepishly.

Zayne looked back at her, giving nothing away. How exciting, he thought, that he could tell exactly what was going through her mind, yet she didn't have a clue what he was thinking? Zayne was extraordinarily good at hiding his emotions, but his patient? Not so much.

She was embarrassed, that much was clear. Whether the lingerie was a wardrobe malfunction or a bold decision she quickly came to regret, he wasn't sure.

What was also clear was that she liked it — what he declined to express was that he did too.

How could he not? If it were anybody else, he wouldn't give such scandalous attire a second thought. As a doctor, he was indiscriminate; a body was just a body. He'd seen the hidden corners of countless beautiful women and it never swayed his commitment to his work or hindered his professionalism — not once. But she was different. Surely, despite how reserved he was, she could tell that she was different? That this tension between them was all but ordinary?

"I don't believe you have an infection, but I'd like to see you in a week for observation. If anything changes, let me know immediately." He told her, his tone as stoic as ever. Yet his hand lingered at her inner thigh, so close to her cunt she was sure he could feel the heat through his gloves. Eventually, he did move his hand. Despite his feelings, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

Zayne then proceeded with the usual cleaning and dressing procedures, and she suppressed a hiss as he swabbed the wound with antiseptic. During this entire exchange, she'd been uncharacteristically quiet, whereas Zayne was as quiet as usual. The silence was unbearable, she wasn't sure she could ever recall a time where she'd felt so awkward that it hurt. Her body was so tense, and her lust swelled so needily that she couldn't suppress the words that left her mouth next.

"I'm sorry about the underwear." She blurted, her apology cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. But it didn't take long for the searing metal to scorch her skin — she regretted the words almost the moment she'd said them.

Zayne paused, placing down the suture needle he was prepping before staring straight back at her. There was a hint of mirth behind his eyes, that came into fruition through a small, teasing smile.

"Don't apologise." His tone was gentle and neutral.

Did he say that so things wouldn't be uncomfortable, or because he liked the look of them?

"I didn't wear these because I knew you'd see them, all my other pairs hadn't dried. And I wasn't even going to see you in the first place, I only did because Jenna told me to!" She couldn't help but explain herself, a grimace on her face, but Zayne remained quiet as he brought the needle to the cut.

The anaesthetic numbed the pain. She felt uncomfortable again, with Zayne's sudden silence. She wondered whether he'd respond at all, whether she'd made things too awkward, but Zayne was simply mulling over the best thing to say.

"You don't usually wear lingerie to work, then?" He enquired, meeting her gaze once he'd pulled the stitch through. She chuckled bashfully, dipping her head.

"No. Never. They've been irritating me all day." Zayne hummed at this, continuing with his sutures. "Why, would you prefer it if I did?"

She wasn't sure where such boldness had come from. Likely it was that her lips below were talking for the ones above, despite how twisted up she felt inside. Yet again, she quickly regretted her pitiful attempt at flirting, until Zayne seemed to bite.

He met her eyes again, his smile wider now. He loved seeing her so playful. "I'm not sure I can come up with an answer that's both professional and true."

Her desire burned at his words, so brightly that she swore she could feel a hole forming in her chest. She clenched, unwittingly, never had she been so eager to feel him. A Cheshire-cat smile stretched across her face, the type of smile that she was sure made her look silly, yet Zayne found it endearing.

She began to laugh, though at first it was deep in the pit of her stomach, and Zayne continued with his work. But she couldn't help her laughter, the swell of emotions overtaking her. Embarrassed, yet immensely satisfied. How unexpected that things were beginning to work out for her?

Zayne finished the sutures, gathering fresh gauze as he began to dress the wound, amused by her reaction. "Do you truly find me that funny?" He asked in a level tone, and her laughter died down so that she could respond.

"Zayne, you are the furthest thing from funny." Though she didn't elaborate, as there was no need. Her belly full of butterflies was clear without words. The doctor hummed and finished dressing the wound.

She watched him as quiet settled over them again, but this time it wasn't an awkward silence. Instead, it was charged with sexual tension. Zayne stopped looking at her thigh in favour of the warmth between her legs. He stared, unabashedly, and the look on his face struck a bolt of fresh arousal through her heart.

He took his gloves off, then slowly, he reached over, tracing his fingertip over the lacy edge of her underwear. "Why do you have underwear like this anyway? Do you have a partner?" He asked her. She thought he sounded almost a little possessive, but it was clear another man in the picture wouldn't stop him anyways. His eyes flitted up to hers.

Her face felt hot at the question. Goosebumps prickled up across her skin in an instant, her cunt twitching from the subtle contact. "No."

"No?" He tested, taking his finger directly over her heat, stroking it up and down over the thin mesh of her panties. He could feel her wetness soaking through, and the way she twitched under his touch. "Then I'm right to assume that these are only for me?" There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one that she mirrored.

"That's right."

Her answer pleased him. She spread her legs a little wider, resisting the urge to moan despite the fact he'd hardly touched her. Zayne slipped his fingers beneath her underwear, finally feeling her properly. The sensation made her gasp.

He merely trailed his touch along the length of her cunt, between her folds, sticky with her slick. He was teasing her, taking his precious time as he lapped up the look on her face.

"You're already so wet."

His voice was collected. He was completely in control, while the woman at the end of his fingers was quickly unravelling by the second. She said nothing, releasing a shaky breath. Zayne stood, sitting opposite her on the table.

He took his fingers from the lips below to the ones above, tracing them gently, before taking hold of her jaw. He pulled her forward, and their lips collided in a greedy kiss. She poured her desire into him, clasping him tightly, pulling him closer, her eyes clenched shut as he expelled the tension from her form.

Yet Zayne, as always, appeared composed. He parried her hungry affections effortlessly, his grip on her jaw becoming firm. Zayne led the charge, as he guided her lips against his, eventually setting their pace. She slowed down to appreciate him, but before long the kiss was broken. Zayne pulled away with a soft smile, his lips a little puffy as he pressed them chastely to her cheek.

He brought his fingers to her lips again. "Suck them for me." His command was gentle without losing its timbre, and she obeyed, sucking on the digits without question, briefly, until he pulled them out of her mouth. Zayne brought his wetted fingers back to her cunt, pulling her underwear to one side and sticking his fingers firmly against her.

She huffed at the sensation. His fingers were still a little cold, warmer now thanks to her mouth. She clenched, feeling empty, needing him inside of her.

Zayne rolled his fingers over her clit, and not too slowly, which took her by surprise. She moaned already, widening her legs for him. He wore a focused expression, lust sparking beneath his pointed gaze.

He sat more comfortably between her legs, taking her thigh, before inserting a finger into her cunt. She whined, though she was wet enough to offer no resistance. He pushed it deep inside of her in one, smooth motion.

She clenched tightly with her core, as if to hold on to him, wanting to keep him inside of her, sighing as he pulled his finger out, only for him to add a second.

This was a tighter fit. She moaned, trying to keep her voice down, angling her hips up to feel him better. Zayne slowly began to pump both his fingers, up deep inside of her then down to the tips. The friction of her walls against him was marvellous.

"You feel wonderful." He told her, his eyes locked on hers, fixed on every micromovement. Everything about her, from the sound of her voice, the small parting in her lips, the sight of her so uninhibited before him — it was poetry in motion. This woman, as capable and stubborn as she was, was helpless at his touch.

I do feel wonderful, she thought, scoffing at Zayne's compliment. She felt blissful, like a ball of a thousand knots had at once been untied, releasing a deep strain she'd been harbouring in her stomach. Ever since she'd reunited with Dr. Zayne, those ties had knotted. Every time she'd seen him, the palpable tension between them had grown and grown. Until now.

Zayne sat up straight, then hoisted her up, taking his fingers out briefly to pull her panties off entirely, carelessly discarding the item on the floor. It was only a momentary distraction — soon Zayne's fingers slipped past her walls yet again, though this time he was positioned beside her, his other arm hooked around her waist, holding her close.

He pumped his fingers faster, his motions mechanical, his rhythm never wavering, and she struggled to contain the sound of her mewls.

"Shh. You need to be quieter." He hushed her, gently. "As much as I love hearing you, the walls here aren't so thick." He managed a chuckle, dipping his head to her neck, pressing a short trail of kisses down its length. This made her shiver

"That's— that's the wrong way to get me to be quiet." She scolded, playfully, matching his smile. Her words were breathy and choppy from her efforts to conceal her pleasure.

"Noted." Zayne turned her head toward his, then caught her lips in another kiss, one more frenzied than the first. Zayne used his lips to muffle the noises coming out of hers, eating every moan and whine she poured into him. He pushed his fingers as deep as they could reach inside of her, stroking her walls with a beckoning motion. Meanwhile, he played with her clit with his thumb, breaking their kiss to observe her reactions.

She looked divine. Her lips were wet and inflamed, dripping with saliva, her hair tousled, her expression languid. And he could see how she tried so hard to keep quiet for him, how her whimpers bubbled in her mouth, how hard she breathed through her nose. She felt she must have looked silly, but Zayne didn't think so at all.

"So you can do what you're told?" He teased, sounding more playful than she'd ever heard him. She huffed at this, far too wound up to retort.

He suddenly began to pump his fingers again, faster than before, which took her time to adjust to. She gasped, but caught most of the sound in her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut.

She could feel her climax swelling. It couldn't be far away. Her body felt tight and hot, her face clenched with the torment of having to keep quiet. She held his hand, leaning into him, her movements becoming fidgety as she tried to channel her stimulation. Again, she clenched at Zayne's fingers, bucking her hips to take more of them. Seeing her so desperate for him was so exciting.

"You're doing so well." He didn't tease her anymore, cooing into her ear. His husky tone was enough to make her moan again, that one slipping right past her defences, ringing loud and clear. Oops.

She bit her lips, flashing Zayne an apologetic look, though he didn't seem to mind, nor did he slow down. Another pang of pleasure rippled through her, and at that she knew it was time.

"Zayne— I'm close—" She just about choked the words out, her hand coming to clamp her mouth shut. Somehow, in the heat of things, she'd forgotten she had that option.

He sped up a final time, his fingers flashing in and out of her with a series of thick squelches. Zayne fingered her like a machine, one clever in its design — to be so quick and accurate without being brutal. She felt her whole body tense, a flush of great heat washing over her, choking out her gasps as she buried her head in Zayne's shoulder. Then, at once, she reached her release.

Her body quickly went lax, the heat and strain fizzing out of her, skin tingling. It took her a few good gasps to regain her composure, eyes slowly opening. When she looked down, the light sheet on the table had been soaked through with her release, her legs glistening with sweat. Slowly, Zayne pulled his fingers out of her, earning a whine from the weary woman. He brought those fingers to his lips, sucking away her juices.

He sent her a smile, pulling her against his chest. "Did you like that?" Surely the answer was obvious, and she sent him a look that spoke a thousand words. His smile deepened. "I'm glad."

"I hope I wasn't too loud..." She mused, looking to Zayne, who leaned in to press a soft kiss to her temple. A delicate gesture that made her heart stir.

"You were. But don't worry about it." She scoffed at that, too tired to do anything but listen to him. Before she could return the favour and get Zayne off, she needed a few minutes to gather herself.

But Zayne didn't seem the least bit concerned about his own satisfaction — seeing her hit ecstasy was all he needed. He rubbed at her inner thigh, the one that wasn't injured, giving her a slightly regretful look.

"I have an appointment in twenty minutes, so unfortunately you're going to have to leave soon." The words weighed heavy on her chest, even though she knew that was stupid, nodding at Zayne with a cheeky smile.

"That's not a problem, I can make it quick." She reached over to the tent in Zayne's crotch, but he took her hand, moving it away.

"I can sort myself out." He assured her. She couldn't help but feel a little rejected. Sensing this, he stroked her cheek.

"You can make it up to me another time." They both smiled at that, staring at each other for what felt like hours.

"I'll never avoid making an appointment again."

They probably would have kept staring if it weren't for the startling knock at the door, and the concerned voice of one of the nurses that followed.

"Doctor Zayne? Is everything alright in there? I heard a lot of noise!"

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

im in need for sweet, cuddly ivy

Rainy morning

You stirred, the sound of rain against the window pulling you out of your slumber. You had come over late last night after driving for hours just to get to him. The plan had been completely different. You were supposed to be there before Ivy returned from the tour. Clean up for him, drop Cinnamon back but your work had given you a big fat L and left you stuck in the office till past 9. So you and your boyfriend’s lab had taken a night trip, one that Ivy wasn’t too impressed with considering the terrible weather. But his grumbling had stopped the moment Cinnamon had nearly took him out and even more so once your lips were on his.

Now the feeling of his arms wrapped around your middle as he cuddled into your neck made your stomach feel all fluffy. The weight of Cinnamon lying across your feet was a nice grounding touch too. Making it feel less like a dream. “So much for a white Christmas”, Ivy grunted, nuzzling closer to you. “It’s pouring down”, you whispered. Letting the sound of rain and wind wash over you. “Perfect excuse to not leave the bed”, Ivy muttered. You slowly turned into his embrace, moving to face him. His eyes were closed a light frown upon his face. “You’re too far away now”, he grunted, reaching for your hips. “I want to see you”, you muttered with a chuckle, reaching out to brush messy strands of hair away from his face. Ivy peaked through his closed eyelids, his blue eyes open only to grant you the biggest smile as your eyes meet.

“Missed this”, he hummed, softly massaging your hip, “Hotels and white walls get bit depressing after a while”. You softly caressed his cheek, “We missed you so much”, you muttered, “I showed Bunbun all of the videos you sent me. Should have seen her turning her head every time your mask was in the shot”, you chuckled, lifting your head to look for the fully passed out lab, completely unbothered by all the talking. “You’re fucking adorable”, ivy sighed, making you turn back to him. “Me?”, you frowned slightly. “Yes, who else is showing a dog a video of their owner”, Ivy snorted. “First of all that was a very rude sentence I’m glad OUR baby is asleep”, you shook your head, “As a father you should know better”, you narrowed your eyes at him only for Ivy to pull you back down. A light scream made the said fur baby instantly lift her head with a growl.

“Look who graced us with her presence”, Ivy chuckled after kissing your lips softly. Paws digging into your side as Cinnamon gracefully climbed over the two of you. Plopping down in between you both with a huff. “Did we wake you up?”, Ivy cooed, scratching her ear as she plopped her head onto his chest. You turned slightly, draping your arm over her and letting your fingers linger over Ivy’s lower stomach. “This is a dream”, he sighed, closing his eyes once more, “my two girls, a warm fucking bed with no springs”. “Don’t get fooled he called you a dog five minutes ago”, you whispered to Cinnamon making Ivy let out a laugh, “I love you”, he muttered turning his head to you slightly. “I love you even more”, you smiled, nuzzling against the Bunbun, watching Ivy watch you.

[moolovesyou]

thanksgiving | angus tully x reader

a/n: watching boy meets world while writing. I USED FEMININE PRONOUNS, let me know if that's something you would prefer to be vague instead!! thanks for requesting cutie patootie!! :-] lmk if u would... like a part 2 for the dance maybe?

request: "truly adore you for carrying the angus community on your back… could you maybe write something about reader and angus not getting along (only because angus is smitten & an idiot who doesn’t know what to do about it so he gives off a completely wrong impression)?"

s: your family invites the Clotfelter's for Thanksgiving dinner, meaning you have to tolerate an entire dinner with the off-putting Angus Tully.

w: cursing, female pronouns.

wc: 1.9k

"Mom. Please. I'd rather go to Alcatraz for a semester instead of have dinner with them."

"I don't understand what's wrong with the Clotfelter's." Your mom flattened the tablecloth.

"It's not necessarily all of them I have a problem with." You mumbled.

The Clotfelter's had been a family friend ever since Stanley had been introduced into the picture. Him and your dad were best friends, which meant your family was one of the first to be introduced to the new and improved Tully's turned Clotfelter's. There were countless dinners hosted that lasted hours too long. It was constantly back and forth between houses. It could've been like any other boring family event. Tolerable. Unfortunately, their son had proven to be quite the obstacle.

You don't know why Angus Tully hated you. He practically loathed you. At least, that's what it seems like. He never said it outright, but he didn't have to. Ever since the first time he came around, it was an acrobatic endeavor to have any sort of genuine prospering conversation. You would try everything. A funny anecdote. A thought-provoking question. A joint quest to the outdoors. None of the attempts amounted to anything. He would always just kind of sit in silence. It was worse when he would talk though; always accompanied by an eyeroll and a sassy huff. He was a complete mystery.

So, you weren't exactly excited for Thanksgiving dinner with them. This was the dinner of all dinners. The one that your parents would kill you for if there was an ounce of angst in your face. There was no hope stored for you. You were better off waiting for leftovers. Nevertheless, you were stuck waiting for them on the driveway.

"Oh! That's them." Your mom chirped. She walked over to you, straightening your collar.

The three of you moved aside as the Clotfelter family parked in your driveway. You took a deep breath, stuffing your nerves down with crisp cold air. The slam of the car doors lifted your head. Your parents instantly rushed over to them, causing you to reluctantly follow.

"Y/N! How are you?" Judy embraced you in a lung-crushing hug. She carried a glass platter of god-knows what.

"Hello, YN." Stanley hugged you as well. Your parents ushered them inside.

That left you and Angus standing awkwardly.

"Um. . . Hi." You spoke sheepishly. He stared at you intensely with his lips pushed together into a fine line. You could never decipher what he was thinking. Is he staring at you because you have something in your eye or because he wants to microwave you?

"Hey." Angus muttered. His height made him loom over you. He was like a socially anxious batman. He stook his hand out. You clasped his hand in a clammy, firm handshake. It had the same formality as a business negotiation. He dropped his hand to his thigh, rubbing it against the fabric of his pants. His head turned to glance into the street because apparently it was more interesting than you.

Just then, your parents swooped in like angels and called you inside. You hurried inside, Angus trotting behind you in swift steps. The table was already set with bowls and plates of food that would have you knocked out by dessert.

The Clotfelter's sat on one side of the table, while you and your parents sat opposite to them. Angus sat across from you. He fiddled with his curls, long fingers entangling in his strands.

Before you knew it, the chatter had begun. The adults exchanged in grueling conversation topics that made you rot in boredom. You swished your mashed potatoes around on the plate.

"Y/N, how's school?" Stanley asked, making you perk your head up.

"Uh, it's alright. There's a winter dance soon, that's all the talk." You smiled shyly.

"Oh! I've heard of that. It's between both academies right, Barton and Wickline?" Judy chipped in. You nodded along in correspondence. "You must have boys lining up to take you."

Angus froze mid-chew, glancing at you quickly. His gaze was expectant. He sat up straight, squaring his shoulders.

You chuckled nervously, "Not really."

"Unbelievable. You're such a pretty girl. Isn't she, Angus?" Judy nudged Angus with her elbow.

He choked on a bite of turkey, coughing so hard his face turned red. Judy patted him on his back, concern laced on her face.

"Uh, sure. Yeah." He muttered, before shoving a bite too big of food into his mouth. His cheeks were stuffed like a squirrel. You scrunched your face in confusion.

"I think it would be good for these two to pair up for that dance. Might get her out of a book for once." Your dad joked, causing the table to erupt in chuckles and laughs. Well, except for you and Angus. Your faces were beet red at this point.

From across the table, Angus rolled his eyes. He stabbed his fork into a piece of chopped carrot. You couldn't help but be hurt. Was the idea of going out with you that repulsive to him? You narrowed your gaze at Angus. He chewed on his lips as your stare burned into his forehead.

"So, Angus. I heard about the vacation you guys are planning. Are you excited?" Your mom questioned him.

"Saint Kitts, yeah. Just glad to get some time away from school." He gave a small toothy grin, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I think a bit of sun will do you good." You piped in, your heart beating fast. It was code talk for "I hope you burn to a crisp." Your nails dug into the skin of your palm as you clenched your fist.

He brought his hand to his pale face, his jaw slightly ajar. The parents laughed, slipping into another general bit of gossip. Angus furrowed his brows, his gaze flickering between your eyes. You scowled at him.

The rest of the dinner was forgettable. Two-thirds of the table was engaged in oblivious chatter. The other half had a blanket of tension sending the both of you into a blazing vacuum of fiery nerves.

Cutlery clicked against plates as everyone leaned farther into their seats. The food was obliterated. Not a trace left except for the struggle to breathe everyone shared.

"Y/N, Angus, could you both clean up?" One of the parents spoke up. You both instantly peeked at each other. They had all decided to abandon the table, retreating to the family room.

You had almost forgotten to breathe. It was like time froze and it was waiting for one of you to do something. As if fate yanked you both, the two of you leaned to grab a plate; fingers brushing against each other for a second. Angus flinched away. What the fuck is his problem?

You stacked a load of plates, lugging them to the kitchen. You started on washing the dishes. Angus creeped over in silence, slowly placing more plates beside you. He stood beside you, lingering. Every second he spent not doing anything, not saying anything, would turn your aggravation up one tick. You couldn't take his silence anymore.

"Why don't you like me?" You slammed the sponge into the sink, water splashing everywhere.

"W-What?" Angus stuttered, his eyes wide with fear and surprise.

"I said, Why. Don't. You. Like. Me." You stepped forward with each word, backing Angus slowly into a wall. He touched the wall with a small thud.

"Where did you get that impression?" His face was flushed. Angus was buckling under pressure. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, a dry mouth materializing.

"Oh, I don't know." You spat sarcastically. You waved your arms in the air sporadically. "You don't look at me. You don't talk to me. I mean, I thought you were just shy. It was cute at first. Now, it seems like the mere idea of going out with me is revolting."

"Woah." Angus's face morphed into a confuzzled but serious expression. He grabbed you by the wrist, lowering your arms down by your waist. Yet, he didn't release his grip. It was a featherlight grasp. His eyes held a solemn look. "I'm sorry."

That was easy. Too easy. You bit your lip, refraining from rambling and hurling accusations.

"I wish I didn't appear that way. I just get nervous. . . around you." He continued.

What? "Huh? But-. . . I don't get it? Why? You rolled your eyes and acted like a whiny bitch, no offense." You shook your head in disbelief.

He chuckled, licking his lips.

"It's okay. God, I'm such an idiot." He threw his head back, banging it against the wall softly. "I would act like a whiny bitch because every time I said something, I thought it was completely stupid. I didn't want to embarrass myself. Now, I'm realizing everything I did was stupid. . . I'm so sorry, Y/N. You're just so. . . cool and awesome and. . . attractive."

"So, you don't utterly despise me?" You whispered, the thought seemed appalling now.

"Not at all." Angus took a deep breath, smiling at your shyness. "It's. . . actually quite the opposite."

"What does that mean, wallflower?" You grinned, biting the inside of your cheek to halt your smile.

"I think it means I like you." Angus leaned close, murmuring into your ear. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"You think?"

"I know."

Your breath hitched. The two of you looked at each other with smitten smiles. It would send Shakespeare into overdrive.

"Can we start over?" You said in a hushed tone.

"Sure." Angus chuckled. Without missing a beat, he turned around swiftly, before turning back around with a surprised expression. "Hello there."

"Hi." You giggled.

"I'm Angus. " He reached his hand forward.

"I'm Y/N." You connected your palms. It was much different than earlier. Your nerves had traveled and evaporated out of your skin; your body felt like it was floating away and Angus was the only thing keeping you grounded. "I heard there's a dance this winter."

"Yeah?" He breathed, a smirk on his face. His eyes were half-lidded, his stare never leaving from your face. He was making up for all the averted glances that kept him from keeping your face etched into his mind forever.

"Would you like to go to the dance with me, Angus?" You took his other hand, interlocking fingers. Angus caressed your hand with his thumb. The more you looked at him, the more he absolutely bewitched you. Every curl in his hair looped straight to your heart. His scent was something you wished they sold in bottles. How could you ever neglect this beautiful boy?

"I'd love to, Y/N." He brought your hand up to his lips, planting a small peck. All that time spent thinking he was a complete recluse, you hadn't even considered he had a romantic side to him. "Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"Save it for the dance, handsome." You placed your hand on his chest. His skin prickled with goosebumps at the feeling of your touch. "We got dishes to wash."

Angus flashed another toothy smile, scooching beside you and picking up another sponge. Your faces were flushed with infatuation. You never would've thought at the end of the day you would be caught blushing by the one and only Angus Tully. But here you were, and god were you thankful for it.

[starealm]

Cursed To Slay

SUMMARY: nico pissed off drew, so she put the worst curse on him: ✨glamour!✨

WORDS: 2,510

TAGS: fluff, lowkey gender identity questioning (like when you squint), boys kissing, one shot, canon compliant, leo shows up at the beginning (!!!), permanent makeup, boy in makeup

inspired by this post

─── ✹ ───

The first inkling that something was wrong came as Nico di Angelo made his way toward the pavilion for breakfast. Campers turned to look at him—not the usual fleeting glances he’d grown used to as the son of Hades, but lingering stares that prickled at the back of his neck. Some even whispered to each other, their voices too low to make out. A knot tightened in his stomach. He’d endured plenty of stares over the years, but this felt different. 

As he passed a group of Demeter kids, they giggled, their heads ducking together like they were sharing a private joke. Anxiety flared, and he snapped at them. “What?”  

They froze, wide-eyed, before muttering hasty apologies and scattering like startled birds. The interaction left him even more unsettled. His discomfort grew with each step, his shoulders hunching as he tried to ignore the attention that seemed to follow him.  

“Chico Nico!”  

Leo Valdez’s cheerful voice rang out, cutting through the tension. The son of Hephaestus jogged up, slinging an arm around his’s shoulders with his usual casual ease.  

“Hey, Valdez,” Nico muttered, shrugging off Leo’s arm.

“Ay, still so distant. At least call me—whoa!” The Latino’s words faltered as he leaned closer, studying the younger demigod’s face with a tilt of his head. Then he whistled, his grin widening. “Looking sharp today. What’s the occasion?”  

“What are you talking about?” Nico asked, frowning.

Leo gestured vaguely at Nico’s face, his expression equal parts amused and impressed. “The makeup. Got an anniversary? Or are you just trying out something new?”  

The son of Hades froze. “What makeup?”

“Uh, all of it?” Leo tilted his head. “Or are you telling me you just woke up like this?” He laughed lightly, but Nico didn’t share his amusement.

Panic rose in Nico’s chest. Without another word, he bolted toward his cabin, ignoring Leo’s confused shout behind him. His heart pounded as he slammed the door shut and rushed to the bathroom. Flipping on the light, he stared at his reflection.

His stomach dropped.

Leo wasn’t joking. 

Smoky eyeshadow framed his dark eyes, sharp eyeliner accentuated their intensity, and his lashes looked impossibly long and thick. Highlighter shimmered on his cheekbones, making them look sharper than ever, and his lips were painted a deep, rich burgundy, completing the look. The makeup wasn’t subtle or understated. It was full glam and flawless, as if applied by a professional.  

“Tanaka,” he snarled, his hands gripping the edge of the sink. 

It could only have been Drew Tanaka. He’d bumped into the daughter of Aphrodite on his way to breakfast, and their brief exchange had been anything but friendly. Of course, she’d curse him over something as petty as telling her the truth. Immature as always.  

He stared at his reflection, the weight of the situation sinking in. No wonder everyone had been staring. A boy in makeup? This was practically begging to be laughed at. He felt his stomach churn with humiliation. As if being gay and the son of Hades wasn’t already enough to ostrich him, now he had to look like a girl too?

“This is so embarrassing,” he muttered. “How long is this supposed to last?” He splashed water on his face, scrubbing furiously with soap, but the makeup didn’t budge. Not even a smudge. It was as if it had fused to his skin.  

He groaned in frustration, leaning heavily against the sink. There was no way he could go out like this.

And yet, as his gaze lingered on his reflection, a small, treacherous thought crept into his mind. The longer he looked, the less horrified he felt. The makeup… didn’t look bad. He… actually looked nice. The eyeliner made his eyes look even more striking, and the lipstick gave him an air of elegance he’d never associated with himself before. 

‘No,’ he shook his head violently, as if trying to dislodge the thought. ‘This is ridiculous. Makeup is for girls.’

Running a hand through his messy hair, Nico walked back to his room and grabbed Will’s old hoodie (one he had outgrown) from his closet. It was oversized and worn, the kind of thing he liked to steal because it smelled of his boyfriend and comforted him. He pulled the hood over his head, hiding his face from the world—even though he was in the safety of his cabin. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. His mind raced as he debated his options. Should he stay hidden until the curse wore off? Maybe he could walk around wearing a mask and sunglasses? No, that would draw even more attention.  

Brooding, the son of Hades stared at his blanket, his thoughts spiraling.  

─── ✹ ───

At noon, his solitude was interrupted by a knock at the door.  

“Nico? Are you in there?”

“Go away!”

There was a pause, long enough for Nico to think he’d been left alone. But then the door creaked open anyway, and Will Solace stepped inside, because of course he did. When did he ever listen? Sometimes he hated his worrisome boyfriend. Why did he have to care so much, to the point of checking on him in person? Stupid Will.  

“Well, you are awake,” the son of Apollo said, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He sat on the bed beside Nico, without being invited. “What’s with the hoodie? Are you sick?”

The Italian teen shook his head, his voice flat. “No, I’m fine.” 

“Then what is it? You weren’t at lunch. Or breakfast, for that matter.”

Hesitantly, he turned to face Will, face still hidden. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

Will’s brow furrowed, his tone softening in worry. “I promise. What’s going on?”  

With a reluctant sigh, Nico tugged the hood down, revealing his painted face. He closed his eyes immediately, bracing for the worst. The silence stretched, and he felt the heat of Will’s gaze on him. Then, finally, a gasp broke the quiet. Cautiously, he opened his eyes.

“Wow,” Will breathed, his voice filled with awe. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then his lips curved into a wide smile. “You look amazing, Angel!”  

Nico scowled, heat rushing to his cheeks. “It’s a curse,” he said quickly. “Tanaka did this to me. I didn’t choose it.”  

The blond tilted his head, studying Nico’s face with a mix of awe and admiration. “Maybe you should. Curse or not, this look suits you.”

The son of Hades glared, yanking the hood back up, though his blush deepened despite himself. “Are you messing with me right now? Boys don’t wear makeup, Will.”

“No, I’m serious,” Will countered, gently pulling the hood back down. “Look, I get why you’re upset, but there’s nothing wrong with guys wearing makeup. Anyone can wear it. If I had the time or skill, I’d totally try it. And you—” He gestured at Nico’s face. “You definitely got a face for it.”

Nico’s glare faltered, his expression softening into uncertainty. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do I have a girly face?”  

Will cupped his lover’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against the skin. “No. It means you’re beautiful, Nico. And the makeup just highlights that.”  

Before Nico could respond, Will leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

The touch was brief, but it left him reeling. He blinked up at Will, his heart pounding, and found him grinning, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. He knew that look all too well. “What are you thinking?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just wondering…”

“About?” Nico prompted, narrowing his eyes.  

Without warning, Will pushed the younger down onto the mattress, his hands firm on his shoulders. Nico let out a startled yelp, his heart racing as his boyfriend loomed over him.  

“Will—” he started, but his words were cut off as the medic kissed him hard. There was no hesitation, no explanation, just the press of Will’s lips against his own. Nico’s initial shock melted into something warmer, and he found himself kissing back, his hands clutching at Will’s shirt. The kiss was unhurried yet intense, their movements perfectly in sync.  

When they finally broke apart, Will sighed dramatically, still hovering over his lover. “Well, that’s disappointing,” he said, his tone laced with mock dejection.  

Nico blinked up at him breathlessly, his mind still catching up. “What?”

“I was hoping the lipstick would smear,” Will replied with an exaggerated pout. “But nope. It’s still perfect.”  

For a second, Nico just stared at him, stunned. Then, to his own surprise, he burst into genuine laughter. The sound was light and unrestrained. “You’re ridiculous,” he said between chuckles.  

“Hey, a boy can dream,” Will quipped unabashedly. “In books, love and kisses always break spells!”  

The son of Hades rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. He reached up, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck and pulling him closer. “Shut up and try again already,” he whispered, his voice low and playful. “Try harder this time. Or better.”

Will hummed, his grin turning into a smirk. “Is this a challenge, darling?”

“Maybe it is, amore mio,” Nico replied, his tone daring.

The blond didn’t need more encouragement. He leaned down again, closing the last inch between them, and their lips met once more. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with a quiet intensity that made Nico’s chest ache in the best way.  

They easily lost themselves in the moment, tangled together. Nico’s fingers tangled in Will’s hair, and Will’s hands cradled Nico’s face as he kissed him again and again. Each time, the younger teen would pull back, breathless and laughing, only to have Will pull him close once more.

Despite Will’s greatest efforts, the makeup remained perfectly intact.

“You’re terrible at this,” Nico teased, grinning, when they took a break and Will inspected his face with furrow brows.

“Or maybe the curse is just too good.” Will sighed defeated, but still smiling.

“Or maybe you don’t love me enough to break it.” Nico feigned offense.  

The son of Apollo gasped theatrically, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Di Angelo. How dare you doubt my feelings for you.”  

With that, he dove back in, peppering his lover’s lips with quick, playful kisses that made him giggle uncontrollably. 

The world outside the cabin and the curse itself faded into the background. All that mattered was the two of them, their laughter and whispered words mingling as the sun slowly moved across the sky.

─── ✹ ───

Later that evening, they lay tangled together in comfortable silence, Nico’s head resting on Will’s chest as he listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He absentmindedly fiddled with the older teen’s fingers, unsure whether to voice the thoughts swirling in his mind. Meanwhile, Will’s free hand gently carded through his messy black hair, the motion soothing and familiar.

“Will?” Nico eventually called out, his eyes still fixed on their hands.

“Yes?”

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Nico looked up at his boyfriend, his fingers still fidgeting. “Does… Do I… really not look foolish?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Will’s hand stilled, and he met Nico’s gaze with a gentle expression. “Not at all,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I think you look stunning, Nico. Red looks really good you.” He took his hand into his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “But more importantly: what do you think?”

Nico hesitated, his gaze dropping back to their hands. “I… I don’t hate it,” he admitted after a moment, his voice laced with uncertainty. “Maybe. I don’t know. This is all so new to me.”

A soft smile curved into Will’s face. “That’s okay. You don’t have to decide anything right now. But for what it’s worth, I think you should experiment—try new things—once the curse wears off. Even if it’s just for yourself here in the cabin.” His hand slid from Nico’s hair to rest on his hip, pulling him closer. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to his lover’s forehead.  

The younger teen considered his words. The idea was strange, foreign, but not entirely unappealing. The thought of exploring this side of himself felt daunting, yet… intriguing. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice carrying a note of quiet confidence. Then, closing the small gap between them, he pressed a soft kiss to Will’s lips. “Thanks, amo.”  

Will smiled against his lips, his arm tightening around him. “Always, Angel. Just remember, whatever you decide, I’ll love and support you.

Nico’s lips twitched into a small smile and a teasing glint appeared in his eyes. “Even if I decided I wanted to be a girl?” He asked, half-joking but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

“Babe, I’m bi,” Will pointed out amusingly. “I’ll like you no matter what. Even if you decided to shave off all your hair and walk around in a potato sack.”

Rolling his eyes, Nico let out a snort. “I’m not shaving my hair. Don’t worry. Nor will I ever walk around in garbage.”

“Good. Because I love your hair. It’s so soft.” Will ran his fingers through it again for emphasis.

“I’d never do it,” Nico assured him, leaning into the touch.

Unfortunately, their peaceful moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, Kayla’s voice came through. “Will, it’s time you got back to the infirmary. You can be all lovey-dovey later.”

The medic sighed dramatically. “Duty calls,” he said, pressing one last kiss to Nico’s lips before detangling himself.

Nico sat up, watching as Will headed for the door. The daughter of Apollo stood there, arms crossed, but as he stepped out, she handed him something. Then she turned and tossed an object at Nico, which he caught reflexively.  

It was an apple.  

“Eat that,” she commanded.

Nico raised an eyebrow, holding the apple up. “What am I, a horse?”

Kayla smirked, crossing her arms again. “Nah, horses don’t sulk as much as you do. But you’ve been hiding in here all day, and Will won’t be able to focus knowing he left you hungry and alone.”

“That’s… true,” the son of Apollo agreed with a chuckle, already munching on his own apple.

Nico rolled his eyes, biting into the apple with an exaggerated crunch. The apple was sweet. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” she replied, while Will also hummed approvingly. They said their goodbyes and turned to leave but Kayla paused, glancing back at him. “By the way, the makeup? Kinda badass.”

Caught off guard, Nico blinked. “Thanks, I guess.”  

Then they were gone, leaving the son of Hades alone with his thoughts—and the apple. He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. Maybe having people who cared wasn’t so bad.

And in the end, the curse didn’t feel much like a curse at all. More like a blessing in disguise.

Maybe.

[doggishgirl]

i'll be waiting || kaeya alberich

pairing: kaeya alberich x reader

word count: 2,850

content: sfw, angst, childhood friends to nothing, first love, first heartbreak, written pre-sumeru release, based on the webtoon

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

“I’m leaving in the morning. Master says this is the last leg of my training, and she’s gonna take me to study in every nation of Teyvat. But… she says it could be years before we return.”

“You brought me all the way out here just to tell me that? I already know you’re leaving, you didn’t have to pull me away from training just to rub salt in the wound,” Kaeya huffed, looking like he was about to turn and leave. 

“Wait, Kaeya,” you gasped, your eyes widening in surprise before you lurched forward to grab his wrist and stop him. “That’s not what I meant. I just… uh, I wanted to reminisce a little bit before I left. You used to always come out here with me at night when we were younger. What, you don’t like me anymore?” you huffed. 

He didn’t say anything, but his expression seemed to soften, even if just slightly, so you smiled and tilted your head to the side. “So, did you get me a going away gift?” And then his expression fell again and you realized quickly you had said the wrong thing. 

“Enough about leaving, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve spent enough time helping with your studies that I feel like I should’ve been invited too, but instead I’m finishing my training with the Knights, because I actually want to stay in Mondstadt!” he exclaimed, pulling his arm out of your grip in order to stalk off. 

“Kaeya!” you yelled after him, sprinting the distance he’d already put between you so you could stop in front of him and put both your hands on his chest to stop him from walking. “Fine, fine, I won’t talk about… it. But, c’mon, you can’t just avoid me,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his for a moment, hoping for some sort of response, but still, he didn’t say anything. 

“Tomorrow is my birthday,” you offered, still waiting for something. “We’ll both be 16 now. You’re already a Knight, one of the youngest, and my training is practically done. We’re pretty impressive, don’t you think?” you asked, offering him another tiny smile. 

“Aside from my not having a vision,” he grumbled, and though the statement made you frown, his voice was enough to satisfy you. You moved your hands down to clasp his hands in your grip and pulled him backwards to the small clearing you’d started in. 

“Why does that matter? Everyone else is impressed with you. *I’m* impressed with you. You just have an issue with yourself,” you responded, sitting down carefully on the top of a flat stone. You’d pretty much grown up together in the Whispering Woods; sneaking out to this exact clearing several nights a week to lie on your backs to talk while you practiced with your weapons or studied by lantern light. Nothing much had changed about it aside from some overgrowth of the shrubbery and the gradual growth of the trees whose trunks were twisting beautifully along the outskirts of the area. 

“What type of Vision would you even want?” you asked, patting the spot next to you to beckon him over. 

Kaeya sighed but relented his stoic pose and chose to sit beside you. “Probably Anemo, just because anyone with an Anemo Vision in Mond is treated like a celebrity.”

“Oh, c’mon, that’s no valid reason. You’re already treated like a celebrity, plus that means we’d hardly be able to fight together. Dendro doesn’t react with Anemo,” you complained. 

“You probably should’ve thought of that before you got all into nature,” he retorted. “Besides, you hardly fight to begin with, so what’s it to you?”

“Well, I think we make a good pair, don’t you?”

He seemed to contemplate his answer for a moment, causing you to gawk at him before you nudged your elbow into his side. “Please, I know you don’t have to think about it that hard,” you whined, then scoffed when he started to laugh. 

“Fine, fine, we do make a good pair,” he acquiesced. And really, you were. Sure, he and Diluc made good brothers and they were the talk of the town, but you and Kaeya had an easy friendship. When Diluc got his Vision and went on to join the Knights, even becoming the Cavalry Captain, you and Kaeya were left to your own devices. 

When a moment passed and you had yet to say anything else, Kaeya’s eyes flickered over to look at you, only to find you staring at him tearfully.

“Hey, hey, hey, what are the tears about? I already said I agree!” he said incredulously, but you just shook your head. 

“It’s not about that. I just… I’m gonna miss you. I know I said we wouldn’t talk about me leaving but it’s happening and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone and I’m gonna miss you, okay! You can’t blame me. I just feel like I’m going to miss out on so much and I know I wanted this, I know I’ve been training for this for years but it doesn’t mean I won’t miss Mondstadt, or my friends, or you! So can’t we talk about it?”

You were expecting some sort of response, or most likely that he would just up and leave again. He was never the sentimental type, even though you and Diluc were the only two people he’d be the most open with, so topics like this weren’t common when you were alone together. You figured a part of his hesitation to hear about your upcoming journey was due to jealousy, or perhaps he was having a hard time with the idea of you leaving. But however you were thinking he would react, none of them aligned with him grabbing both your cheeks and pulling you in until he could slot your lips together. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” was the first thing he said after you both pulled apart, “because I’ll miss you too. I’d rather wake up and have you already be gone than deal with an impending sense of doom. I… I don’t want you to go, but I want you to do what you love and see the whole of Teyvat, even if it means leaving behind someone else that you might… love,” he said quietly, looking away. 

“You haven’t kissed me in a while,” you answered, to which you received a scoff and a flick to your forehead. 

“That’s your answer?”

“Hey, I didn’t say I was done!” you huffed. You were silent afterwards for a minute, the only sound being the whistle of the wind through the trees. You placed your hand on top of one of his, still gently cupping your cheek, before you finally spoke. “It’s not like I’m never gonna come back, or forget you, or any other impossible thing you might be thinking of. Before anything else, you’re my best friend, and when I come back, you’re the first person I want to see and you’ll tell me everything I wasn’t around to witness. You’ll show me your Vision, which will hopefully react with Dendro, and you’ll be the captain of some brand new division of the Knights and maybe I’ll even join like they’re begging me to. Maybe… maybe we’ll be together, when we’re older and better and… I’ll come back. No matter how long it takes, I promise.” You kissed him again, albeit briefly, before you wrapped both your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek against his shoulder. 

“Fine, then. I’ll be waiting.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“Earth to [name], are you there?” 

With Amber’s voice breaking you out of your thoughts, your eyes widened and you turned to look at the young Knight apologetically. 

“Sorry, there’s just… So much has changed. You’re all grown up now, look at you, an outrider. I’m surprised you even recognized me, it’s been so long. I would love to stay and talk but I promised my master I would report to her as soon as I got back. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow during the festival and we can catch up!” you said gently. “In the meantime, take good care of… I’m sorry, you said your name was Collei?” you asked, glancing towards the younger girl standing just behind the Knight. Upon receiving a nod, you smiled again before you left the two girls to continue walking past the front gates. 

The city was particularly busy, which you were sure mainly had to be attributed to the eve of Ludi Harpastum, but there also seemed to be some sort of underlying tension which you couldn’t quite pinpoint. However, your first concern was meeting your master, who you hadn’t seen in 3 years, before you caught up on everything you’d missed out on. Your master had traveled with you for the first two years of your journey, but had deemed you capable enough of continuing the journey alone. Still, you certainly hadn’t planned on being gone for another 3 years. However, your time alone had marked the true beginning of your career. You’d made a name for yourself in the beginning with the aid of your master, but as you conducted your own field studies in each nation and began to publish your work, your journal eventually garnered its own renown, to the point that you had received invitations to study with scholars from the Akademiya or offered funding from the Fatui to submit your research to them exclusively. With the amount of people begging for your attention, it was only recently that you found the opportunity to return to your beloved homeland. 

“[name]?”

You stopped again when you heard someone else say your name, and turned until you found the source of the voice. 

“Jean? Lisa?” you asked, as if you couldn’t believe the appearances of the two in front of you. 

“It’s Master Jean, actually,” Lisa suggested, to which you gaped before looking towards the blonde once more. “What do you mean? Where’s Master Varka?”

“It seems a lot of our letters didn’t reach you, even though we got wind of all your publications. Very nice work, by the way. There’s a section in the library with all the volumes so far,” Lisa added with an amused hum. 

“Master Varka left Mondstadt on an expedition, so I’m Acting Grand Master for now. Lisa’s right, it seems there is a lot for you to catch up on. We actually have a bit of a problem we need to attend to…” Jean said, glancing towards Lisa momentarily. “But tonight, if you’re not too tired and you don’t have plans, we can meet in the library, have some dinner and tea?”

“Oh, I’d love to, and that works out, I have to meet with my master now anyways, so I will see you both later!” you said cheerfully, bowing your head before turning again and continuing towards your master’s house. 

Your meeting was rather brief, with your master mainly offering her congratulations and asking you about the various details of your journey that you hadn’t elaborated on in your letters, while you tucked your belongings away until you could move them into, hopefully, a place of your own. 

“By the way, dear, I suggest you confer with the Knights soon about possible research opportunities so you could stay home for a while,” your master suggested, after you finally sat in front of her at the tea table again. “I’m sure you could talk to that Knight fellow you were always with before we left. Kaeya, was it? Have you seen him yet?”

You clasped your hands together firmly and shook your head quickly. “I, uh, haven’t. Haven’t gotten the chance to speak to anyone even if I have bumped into them. But I’m apparently meeting some friends later so I suppose I’ll catch up then.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“So have you seen Kaeya yet?”

You were dreading this question from the moment you saw the twinkle in Lisa’s eyes. For some reason, the tea and dinner you’d been promised had turned into poring over some nondescript research in the library with Lisa, Jean, Amber and the mysterious Collei. 

“No, actually. Nor have I heard anything from him in 3 years. I assume there’s a lot I must have missed if he’s the first thing everyone wants to ask me about,” you huffed as you turned over the page you’d been reading. They’d caught you up quickly on the most recent events regarding some Fatui diplomats, as well as Varka’s expedition and some other changes within the Knights, but it also felt like there was something they weren’t saying yet. 

“Well, uh,” Jean spoke this time. “Around that time, there was something that happened he most likely didn’t want to write to you about.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“Diluc!” you exclaimed as soon as you stepped foot into the tavern. 

“[name]?” he said quizzically, upon raising his gaze from the glass in his hand. 

“Yes, yes, it’s me, I just got back this afternoon. Um, I want to say…” you looked around for a moment. There were a few patrons still milling around the bar and there was a familiar bard cloaked in an ugly green outfit who seemed to be singing drunk in the corner, but otherwise there was no one at the bar and no one to eavesdrop. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know I’m three years too late, but I’ve only just found out and I’m very sorry about your father,” you told him earnestly. “Jean told me you went on your own journey, too. Even quit the Knights. So I suppose we both have some catching up to do.”

Diluc was quiet for a moment, but eventually he gave you a small smile and ducked his head in acknowledgement, before he paused again and seemed to hesitate. 

“Has Kaeya spoken to you about anything, by any chance?” 

You felt like you wanted to throw the polished glass against the wall. “No, I’m sorry, I haven’t even seen him yet. Feels like I’ve seen everyone else in the whole city though. I might as well meet Barbatos at this point.”

“Master Diluc,” you heard a hiccup from somewhere next to you and looked to the side to catch sight of the green bard. “Another glass, please,” he said cheerfully. 

“Anyways, Diluc,” you started again as he begrudgingly poured another glass. “I’ll see you tomorrow during the festival.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“[name]! Have you by any chance seen Collei?” a breathless Amber asked, to which you squinted at her and shook your head. 

“No, I actually just got down here, I was talking to Albedo for a while. Why? Is something wrong?” 

“There shouldn’t be. But Sir Kaeya sent me on a hunt for one of those contraptions we were studying last night and now I can’t find her, and she’s not particularly good with crowds. Would you mind helping me look for her?”

“Oh, uh, of course. Leave it to me,” you said firmly, before you threw a longing glance towards the waning festivities. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“Sir Kaeya!” Amber’s voice echoed down the empty stairwell, meanwhile you could not muster a single sound. By the time you made it down the icy stairs, Amber had already landed in front of Collei to shield her from Kaeya. 

You weren’t sure if anything you were seeing was right, and you didn’t know if you knew enough about the entire situation to form an opinion on it, but you were pretty sure that Kaeya had drawn his sword on a child. A heated argument came and went before your eyes, and you had yet to say anything. At some point, Amber swept Collei away and left you and Kaeya in front of each other amidst the frigid air. 

The man in front of you said nothing yet, just tucked his sword away before he crossed his arms and seemed to look at you expectantly. 

“I got back yesterday,” you offered. 

“I know.”

“Everyone was asking me if I’d seen you.”

“And what did you say?”

“Well, I said no. I wasn’t sure if you even knew I was in town.”

“I did.”

You pretended those two words didn’t sting, and just lowered your gaze to the floor in front of you. 

“A Cryo Vision–” you started again, but were cut off. 

“I stopped waiting three years ago when your master came home without you. She told me you chose to keep going, even after she told you that your training was complete. You promised in all your letters before that, that you were going to be back soon. And then… you didn’t come back. So I stopped waiting, and I stopped writing. I figured I just wasn’t worth coming back for, or worth keeping a promise to. So yes, a Cryo Vision. I know it doesn’t react with Dendro, but I’m not sure we ever made a good pair to begin with,” Kaeya said, without so much as a waver in his voice, before he turned and left, and this time you had no reason to get him to stay.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

talk to me about kaeya!

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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“Hehe.”   

You stare down at your brand-new selfie—taken with none other than Gojo Satoru . He’s smiling and posing while making peace signs with his fingers, and on your end, you’ve got a stupidly wide grin on your face, looking like you’ve just won the lottery. Which, in all fairness, you kind of did .   

“There you go,” Gojo hums, then he stops to cross his arms for a moment. “But why the selfie request all of a sudden? I’ll admit, I’m pretty popular in the world of jujutsu sorcerers, but you shouldn’t know about any of that.”   

“I don’t,” you nod. “I just think you’re really hot—I mean, really cool. Y-Yeah. You just seem really cool.”   

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Fushiguro staring at you in disgust.   

Goddammit. That dude must have an absolutely terrible impression of you so far.   

“Very true,” Gojo grins, swiping his hair back like some kind of L’Oréal shampoo model. “I am pretty cool, if I do say so myself.”   

Fushiguro looks even more disgusted now.   

Gojo claps his hands together. “Anyways! Time to head out. Take one last moment to make sure you’re not forgetting anything, because once we’re there, well… I can’t guarantee when you’ll be able to come back.”   

It’s a good thing your parents aren’t actual parents, because it’s safe to say that there’s no longer anything tying you to this place. Of course, you’re terrified of what the future may hold, but you made the decision to be brave, and to try to help people in the process. If you play your cards right, maybe lives can be spared. Maybe not everyone has to die.   

So, yeah. You’re ready to leave. You’re ready to start this new chapter.   

And you also now have a selfie with Gojo Satoru. So far, life is pretty good.   

The trip to Tokyo takes a couple hours by train, but fortunately, you’ve got Itadori to keep you company the whole time. You try to engage Fushiguro in conversation as well, but he mostly keeps to himself and just stares out the window without saying anything. It doesn’t help that he’s clearly suspicious of you, but whatever. Not much you can do about it right now.   

Some time passes, and eventually, you reach your destination. Fushiguro separates from the group and goes off on his own to receive treatment for his injuries, so you’re left behind with Gojo and Itadori as you venture further into the mountains. 

“I can’t believe this is really Tokyo,” Itadori marvels.  

“Even Tokyo’s like this on the outskirts,” Gojo brushes off. “More importantly, Yuji, you’ve got an interview with the principal right away. If you mess up, you might get rejected, so do your best, okay? No pressure.”   

“Huh? Does that mean I’ll get executed right away?!”   

“What a disappointment. So, you’re not even the leader?”   

A familiar voice. You freeze up at the sound of it, unsurprised to find Sukuna’s mouth on the side of Itadori’s cheek. A partial manifestation, or whatever the hell you might call that. Either way, it gives you the creeps.   

“A hierarchy not based purely on strength is boring, if you ask me,” Sukuna chuckles.   

Itadori slaps his palm over his cheek in a hurry to shut Sukuna up. “Sorry about that. He pops out sometimes. I can’t always help it.”  

Unfortunately, Sukuna refuses to disappear, and this time, he manifests on the back of Itadori’s hand instead.   

“You really did a number on me earlier. I’m letting you know right now. Once I make this boy’s body completely mine, you’ll be the first one I kill!”   

That stinky old bastard is just running his mouth (quite literally), so you’re not really fazed.   

At least, not until he turns his attention to you.  

“And you ,” Sukuna mutters. “The strange girl. You never answered my question before. What are you? What in the world is going on with your cursed energy? It’s bothersome. Hurry up and give me a straight answer, or you’ll regret it.”   

“Ugh, again ?” Itadori fumes, stomping his foot in frustration. “Go away, already! You’re so annoying! And leave [Name] alone!”   

Fortunately, Itadori manages to fully suppress him this time, putting an end to Sukuna’s incessant yapping. Dude is seriously in love with the sound of his own voice.   

Unfortunately, Gojo already heard everything he said loud and clear.   

“Sukuna appears to have a fixation on you,” Gojo remarks, pressing his hand to his chin. “Well, I guess it’s not really that surprising, considering the ridiculous amount of cursed energy you’re constantly emitting. It’s obvious that you’re not a sorcerer because you don’t seem to know how to control it, but in terms of sheer capacity, it far surpasses that of an ordinary human.”   

“N-Neat,” you reply stupidly.   

Gojo stares at you for a few moments, then throws his head back and starts laughing.   

“Haha! Sure, I guess you could call it that. Being strong is pretty neat, without a doubt. I was going to say how honored I am to be the target of Ryomen Sukuna, but it looks like he’s even more interested in you, so you’ve got me beat in that regard.”   

“I’m not honored at all. I want nothing to do with that nasty guy.”   

Gojo laughs again. “Yeah, I bet. I can only imagine how confused you must be right now. Not to mention freaked out.”   

“So, is Sukuna really that famous?” Itadori asks.   

“Yes,” Gojo nods. “Ryomen Sukuna. He’s a demon of lore with four arms and two faces. But the truth is that he was actually a human who existed, although it was well over a thousand years ago. In the golden age of jujutsu, sorcerers gathered up all their might to challenge him, but ultimately, they failed to defeat him entirely. Crowned with the title of Sukuna, we couldn’t even destroy his grave wax, and he thus traversed the ages after his death as a cursed object. Without a doubt, he is the King of Curses.”   

“So, who’s stronger, you or him?”   

“Hm. Well, if Sukuna were to regain all his power, then it’d probably be pretty draining.”   

“Would you lose?”   

Gojo slows his steps for a moment, then tilts his head towards both of you, a cocky grin plastered across his lips.   

“Nah,” he chuckles. “I’d win.”   

Oh my god. I really got to see him deliver that iconic line. And he looked hot as hell while doing it.   

You stare at him with hearts in your eyes, already in full fangirl mode (which is pretty much your default mode, to be fair), but Gojo beckons the two of you onwards before you can get lost in your thoughts.   

He leads you inside one of the buildings, where you’re greeted by a familiar face.   

“You’re late, Satoru. Eight minutes late. Not quite enough to chastise you for, but I thought I told you to fix that bad habit of yours.”  

It’s the principal, of course—Yaga Masamichi. He’s currently in the middle of crafting a new puppet, and he’s also got more than a handful of them already surrounding him. At first glance, they’re adorable, but you know that their appearance is awfully deceptive, and they’re a lot stronger than they look.   

Poor Itadori’s about to get bitch-slapped by one of those puppets soon.   

“That old dude’s randomly making really cute stuff,” Itadori whispers in your ear.   

“If it’s not enough for you to get mad about, then cut me some slack, will ya?” Gojo sighs. “I figured you’d just be making your dolls anyway. Eight minutes is no big deal.”   

Principal Yaga gestures towards Itadori. “That’s him, right? Sukuna’s vessel. And the girl beside him… must be the other student you mentioned. The one with the abnormal amount of cursed energy.”   

“My name is Itadori Yuji!” your friend introduces, bowing his head in a hurry. “I like girls like Jennifer Lawrence! It’s nice to meet you!”   

Shit. Is it my turn now?   

“I-I’m [Last Name] [Name],” you say, bowing as well. “And I like, um… I guess I like cool guys. Like Gojo. And funny guys, like Ryan Reynolds. I also think Timothée Chalamet is pretty cute—”   

“Stop, stop.” Principal Yaga presses a palm to his forehead and exhales loudly. “I never asked either of you to start listing your personal preferences. Cut it out, already. And why was Satoru’s name randomly thrown in there?”   

“I can’t help that I’m extremely cool,” Gojo shrugs.   

“Satoru, that’s enough out of you. More importantly, why did you come here?” Principal Yaga asks, now addressing Itadori.   

Itadori looks confused, of course. “Uh… I came here for an interview. I’m pretty sure.”   

“But why Jujutsu High?”   

“To learn… jujutsu? And stuff?”   

“I mean beyond that. What do you hope to find once you’ve studied curses and learned how to exorcize them?”   

This time, Itadori glances towards you, almost as if he’s seeking some kind of guidance. “Beyond that…? Well, I mean, I’m gonna collect all of Sukuna’s remaining fingers. It’s dangerous to just leave them as is.”   

“But why ?” Principal Yaga presses.   

Gojo chuckles and taps you on the shoulder. “This is probably going to go on for a little while. Come. Let’s go wait over there. The principal likes to ramble every now and then.”   

You offer Itadori an encouraging smile. You obviously know what comes next, but that also means that you have full confidence in him. You know that he’ll pass Principal Yaga’s test and get accepted into Jujutsu High. It doesn’t seem you’ll be put through any interviews yourself… probably because you’re not Sukuna’s vessel, but you expect that most people are probably going to be pretty wary of you anyway. Since you’re an anomaly and all that. And since Sukuna couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.   

So, you watch. You watch as Itadori gets smacked around by one of Principal Yaga’s puppets, all the while having to answer the questions he keeps throwing at him nonstop. It’s definitely not fun to have to see your friend get beat up, but again, thanks to the knowledge you have of this world, you’re not worried. And it’s certainly not like anyone’s life is at risk right now.   

That won’t always be the case, though.   

“You pass,” Principal Yaga eventually states, and he cracks a small smile, even offering Itadori his hand so that he can stand up.   

Itadori smiles back at him. “Thank you. It’s nice to properly meet—”   

He promptly gets pummeled by the puppet again.   

“Oops,” Principal Yaga mumbles. “Sorry. I forgot to stop the incantation.”  

“Looks like everything went well,” Gojo muses. He peers down at you curiously. “But I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised. You didn’t look concerned at all. Weren’t you worried that he’d fail? In which case that would mean that his execution date would be pushed up.”  

You shake your head. “I believe in Itadori. I knew he’d be able to pull it off. And… I believe in you too, sensei. You said you’re the one that convinced the higher-ups in the first place, right? I can tell that you’ll protect Itadori. You wouldn’t let him be executed. I trust you completely.”  

You grin ear-to-ear, and even though you can’t see it, Gojo’s eyes briefly widen, underneath his black blindfold. Of course, it’s not the first time people have relied on him. Being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, it comes with the territory. But it’s strange that you’re already willing to put your full faith in him, despite not knowing anything of this new realm you’ve just ventured into.   

Admittedly, it’s rather endearing.  

“You’re exactly right,” Gojo chuckles, reaching out to gently pat your head. “Leave it all to me. I don’t intend to let any of my students get hurt on my watch. It’ll probably all seem overwhelming at first, but you won’t be alone. I promise.”   

Gojo Satoru is patting my head! %$%^*@^$!*!  

Your brain short-circuits for a few moments, and you briefly think that, honestly, you could probably die happy right now.   

Itadori approaches you while you’re still stuck in fangirl mode, and fortunately, you snap out of it in time to congratulate him for passing the principal’s test. Meanwhile, Gojo and Principal Yaga step off to the side.   

“The boy is one thing, but the girl, [Name],” Principal Yaga frowns. “I’ve never come across cursed energy like hers before. And you say that Sukuna himself expressed interest in her?”   

Gojo nods. “It’s even weirder than no one’s noticed her before. With that kind of energy, you would think she’d have stood out a long time ago. But she clearly hasn’t been trained in the ways of jujutsu. It’s almost like she sprung up one day, completely out of nowhere. But surely that kind of cursed energy can’t just randomly appear on the spot. It would make sense if she’d been born with this kind of power and had cultivated it over the years. Do you think it’s possible one of the great clans have been hiding her all this time?”  

“I suppose we can’t rule it out, but it wouldn’t make any sense. If that were the case, she would surely have been trained from a young age.”  

“Well, we’ll just have to look into it, I guess. It’s fine. Better to have her nearby so we can keep an eye on her. I knew from the moment I saw her that I couldn’t just let her go.”   

Gojo stares at you from afar, watching as you and Itadori happily converse. The two of you are so carefree and innocent. You have yet to be exposed to the horrors that the world of jujutsu has to offer. He knows he won’t be able to spare either of you from the bitter reality of things, but all the same, he’s going to fight for your futures.  

After a brief pause, Gojo smiles, then claps his hand together.   

“Alright! With that out of the way, let me show you guys to your dorms.”

“Perfect!” Itadori grins, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Namely, the giant poster of Jennifer Lawrence he just put up on the wall. “Man, these dorms are huge, huh? I wasn’t expecting us to have so much space!”   

“They’re nice,” you agree. “My new dorm is even bigger than my bedroom.”   

Both in this world, and back in the real world.   

“I’m just relieved I was able to make it through the principal’s interview. I wasn’t expecting those dolls of his to come to life! That was pretty crazy, huh?”   

“Y-Yeah. Who could’ve seen that one coming…?”   

“Anyways, Gojo was saying they’re gonna need me to help locate the rest of Sukuna’s fingers,” Itadori continues, adjusting the poster slightly. “‘Cause I’m not just a vessel, but some kind of radar, too. Honestly, I don’t get what’s happening with my body, but I guess there’s not much I can do about it at this point. I really don’t think Sukuna’s gonna cooperate, though. I doubt we’ll be able to come to an agreement that easily.”   

“I’m sure he wants to find the rest of his fingers, because he’s trying to regain his full strength. There’s no way he’d miss out on an opportunity to become more powerful. But… yeah. Be careful,” you nod gravely. “He definitely can’t be trusted.”   

“Why’s he so obsessed with you, anyway? Everyone keeps going on about how you have a whole bunch of cursed energy. Have you always been able to see curses and stuff?”   

“Uh…”   

You’re not sure how to respond. Technically, yes , as in, you’ve been able to see them from the moment you materialized in this world, but you’ve only been here for a solid few weeks. Perhaps you’re better off being honest this time.   

“Only recently,” you admit. “I think I started being able to see them roughly a few weeks ago. I noticed them right about when I transferred into our old high school. There were a couple of small curses hanging around and clinging to people from time to time. But I thought I was going crazy, so I didn’t mention it to anyone.”  

“Damn. That must have been scary. Oh,” he realizes. “Is that why you said you weren’t interested in joining the Occult Club? Because of all the weird stuff you kept seeing?”   

“Um, pretty much. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was all in my head, but I kind of wanted to keep my distance, just to be on the safe side. Sorry. I would’ve been upfront from the start, but… obviously, it’s a bit hard to believe. Especially since you weren’t able to see the curses with your own eyes.”   

Itadori smiles. “You don’t have to apologize. I get that you must have had a lot on your mind, and you’re right that it’d be a pretty difficult topic to bring up. Anyways, don’t worry! I’ll keep Sukuna away from you. It sounds like things are gonna get pretty complicated, but I’m gonna collect all those fingers so that no one else has to get hurt. Including you.”   

“Are you saying you’ll protect me?” you chuckle.   

“Of course! If you ever get scared, don’t hesitate to use me as a shield!”   

Itadori proudly flexes his bicep, and you giggle in response. You have no doubts that he’ll be looking after you along the way, because that’s just the kind of guy he is, but hopefully… you’ll be able to protect him too. You’d like to make his painful life at least a little bit easier.   

“By the way, you asked Gojo for a selfie earlier. I didn’t realize you liked him that much. I guess he is pretty cool, objectively speaking.” Itadori scrunches up his brows. “Is he the kind of guy girls are usually into?”   

“I think it depends. Girls like all kinds of guys. Especially strong, caring guys like you,” you grin.   

You were just being honest and trying to hype him up a bit. Itadori’s a friendly, extroverted guy, after all. You don’t even remember him ever looking embarrassed when you first watched the anime.  

Which is why you’re surprised to see him blushing.  

“R-Really?” he chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I feel like you’re just saying that. But thanks! I appreciate it. While we’re on the topic, I bet most guys would have a crush on you , [Name]! Because you’re so pretty and nice!”   

If there was water in your mouth, you would have probably spat it out right about now.   

You start melting into a little puddle of embarrassment, but thankfully, Fushiguro steps into the room and saves you from some of the humiliation.  

“You guys are so loud,” he grumbles. “And seriously, why’d they put you next door to me? There are a bunch of empty rooms to choose from.”   

“Oh, hey, Fushiguro!” Itadori waves. “Glad to see you look better now. Also, Gojo was saying it’d be more lively and fun if all our dorms were close by.”   

“Classes and missions are more than enough,” Fushiguro mutters, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He stops just in front of you, and of course, that crease in between his brows deepens.  

You strain a smile. “Um… yes? Is there something you wanted to say to me?”   

“Not really. You’re just kind of confusing, if I’m being honest. And you’re weirdly obsessed with Gojo.”   

“Only because he’s hot,” you protest. “I mean—dammit! Because he’s cool ! I like him because he’s cool, okay?!”   

Fushiguro makes no effort to hide his disapproval, and you let out a heavy sigh, eventually hanging your head in defeat. It’s no surprise he doesn’t trust you yet. Your circumstances are far from ordinary, and you even told Itadori outright to eat Sukuna’s finger. If you were in his position, you’d probably have your doubts too.  

Itadori taps both you and Fushiguro on the shoulders. “Hey, guys. [Name]’s selfie with Gojo earlier got me thinking. Now that we’re all gonna be classmates and dorm buddies, we should commemorate this with a photo or something. Right?”   

“I like that idea,” you smile.   

“I don’t ,” Fushiguro grimaces.  

“Okay, let’s all take a selfie together!” Itadori exclaims, and he proceeds to pull you and Fushiguro close—despite the latter’s protests—then he uses your phone to snap a picture of all three of you.   

Just like that, you have a new picture saved. Fushiguro is scowling irritably, of course, and your smile looks a little dorky because it all happened so spur-of-the-moment, but you decide that it’s good as it is. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.   

“I like this picture even more than the one I took with Gojo,” you beam. “I’m gonna make it my lock screen right now.”   

Fushiguro blinks. He wasn’t expecting such a bright, infectious smile. It’s just a selfie. Is it really worth making such a big deal over? He’s not sure why, but something about your expression makes it difficult for him to maintain his grumpy demeanor.   

Even though he doesn’t really want to admit it… you’re kind of cute.   

[yurucamp]

This might be silly, but I just played & completed your game "flesh, blood & concrete" and it was so amazing. Gave me chills that will last a whole day. Great work! Have you ever posted about the process of making the game/about the story anywhere else?

Either way, thanks for the great experience and good luck with your studies!

of course it's not silly! thank you so so much, deeply flattered to know that it was able to leave such an impression on you <3

i really wish that i'd left more notes while i was developing it, i sporadically updated a twitter account but besides that i don't have anything saved ;;

thank you for taking the time to play my little game!!!!

[eteledhasanaxe]

the fact that I read that and saw red/white color scheme and immediately thought of DeKiller despite not even finishing that case and it being not at all Ace Attorney related in the slightest absolutely kills me

its not even been like four months since I've started playing/liking Ace Attorney but this fandom has already absolutely wrecked my brain and I love it

[loveshotzz]

what are some steve fics u find yourself going back to reread

pbv! steve by @carolmunson

slow motion love potion by @upsidedownwithsteve

boxer!steve by @rustedhearts

baby, kiss me by @superblysubpar

it’s simple and it goes like this by @usedtobecooler

wicked games by @stevenose

aftermath by @sweetsweetjellybean

[the-knife-consumer]

The weirdest thing in totk so far has been finding out that there was an intended method of finding mineru where you were supposed to get hints steadily on who the fifth sage was and you weren't supposed to just force your way through zero visibility thunderstorms for the sake of exploring and then getting jumpscared by a talking construct head and realizing you just triggered a major plot centric quest early to mid game with only two other sages

[chirpsythismorning]

Ya'll catch the final rose ceremony at the end of s4?!

[cisthoughtcrime]

.