#like there was a time when i drew really well

[downbad4sylus]

“Don’t you have other friends…?”

part 1

synopsis: Sylus goes on another business trip so you decided to spend the weekend in Skyhaven with Caleb. Everything is great, until it isn’t.

content: sylus x afab!reader; use of Y/N; established relationship; big caleb cameo; caleb acts like caleb; mentions of injuries; teeny tiny baby zayne cameo; angst; mostly proofread

tags: @miffysoo @pinky27freak @rcvcgers @worshipthecrow @aikonecrosis @blorbohunter @wandering-spirit-1383

word count: ~4.8k (sorry)

a/n: so this is a continuation/part 2 to “come to drug my girlfriend again” with a much bigger caleb cameo. not sure if i’ll be adding more to this or not, but in the meantime i’m working on a purely-sylus-nsfw fic bc this latest event has me feral lmao

Knocking softly on Sylus’s office door, you waited for his reply of “come in” before entering. He sat in his chair, as casual as always, glancing up from his papers to watch you approach.

“Why do you look so nervous?” he drawled, leaning back and crossing his arms.

You were nervous.

Sylus was leaving on another business trip tomorrow and would be gone the entire weekend. You really didn’t want to be alone the whole time, so you reached out to Caleb to see if he was free, and it just so happened that he had the weekend off.

But telling Sylus…well, you weren’t sure how he would take it.

Sylus had never gotten mad at you, had never so much as raised his voice. Even when you were fighting—which wasn’t often—he would remain calm and collected, not at all fazed if you were yelling. You didn’t think he’d yell at you now, but he wasn’t exactly happy when he found out your childhood best friend had drugged you.

“What’s the matter, kitten?” Sylus asked, pulling you from your swirling thoughts. He grabbed your hand between both of his and traced soothing patterns on your palm. “Talk to me.”

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. “I’m going to Skyhaven while you’re gone,” you said, “to hang out with Caleb.”

His fingers froze, and you caught the minute twitch of his brows. “Don’t you have other friends you can hang out with?”

“Tara and Greyson are away for a weekend together so Zayne is picking up the slack at the hospital. Xavier is out doing whatever sketchy shit he refuses to tell anyone about. Rafayel is in another country for an art exhibition. And Simone and Andrew are holed up at the Association working on modifying weapons.” With each friend listed, Sylus’s brows drew closer until there was a deep crease between them. “But Caleb has the weekend off and said I could come spend it with him in Skyhaven.”

Sylus closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose, and you stayed silent as he processed this information. He knew you would’ve already bought train tickets, not that he would be able to convince you stay in Linkon—or even at the base—regardless.

“Y/N,” he said finally, opening his eyes to fix you with a hard stare, “the thought of you alone with him for an entire weekend, while I’m gone, does not sit well with me.”

You opened your mouth to defend your decision, but pressed your lips together when he held up a hand.

“I wasn’t finished,” he admonished, but his tone was soft, gentle even. “I know how much it means to you to spend time with him, so I’d like to propose a compromise.”

“Okay,” you breathed. “What’s the compromise?”

“For the sake of my sanity, I can be agreeable to you going as long as you answer my texts or calls in a timely manner so I know you’re okay, and you let me know what you’re doing so I don’t think something’s wrong if you don’t answer me right away.”

Considering the circumstances, you didn’t think Sylus’s requests were unreasonable. In fact, you loved the idea that despite being busy with business, Sylus would still be texting and calling you.

So you nodded excitedly. “I can do that, absolutely.”

He visibly relaxed, squeezing your hand as he whispered, “Thank you.”

You pressed a kiss to his brow. “It’ll only be a few days.”

Sylus huffed. “It sounds like you aren’t going to miss me, sweetie.”

“Not one bit,” you teased with a wide grin.

His red eyes darkened with a dangerous glint. “No?” He rose from the chair, now towering over you. “Well,” he sighed, fingers grazing your cheek, “I guess I’ll just have to give you something to remember me by.”

—

Stepping off the train and onto the platform in Skyhaven, you adjusted the collar of your shirt, hoping it still covered the hickey Sylus had left on your neck. He was a biter, and last night was no different. You had to give him credit, he said he was going to give you something to remember him by and he delivered on that promise. You chuckled to yourself, trying and failing to ignore the delicious soreness between your legs.

You fired off a text to your boyfriend, letting him know you’d arrived at your destination. He replied within seconds, saying he was glad you had a safe trip and to let him know when you got to Caleb’s.

“Y/N!”

Your head snapped in the direction of your name, finding Caleb waving excitedly as he jogged to where you stood on the platform. You smiled at your childhood best friend and met him halfway.

Caleb pulled you into a tight hug, one you returned, happiness flooding through you at seeing him again.

“How was the ride?” Caleb asked, pushing you back by your shoulders. His gaze caught on your neck, his eyes narrowing slightly as sense of possessiveness flared in his chest.

“It was fine,” you said, oblivious to his reaction. “A normal train ride.”

Caleb smirked, his expression smoothing. “Good to hear. You hungry? We can grab somethin’ to eat on the way back to my place, unless you want me to cook for you.”

Your smile widened. “I want you to cook for me!”

“Yeah? Your boyfriend can’t cook as well for you?” he teased, cocking his head.

“Caleb!” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “Please don’t start, I just got here.”

He laughed, throwing his arm over your shoulders and tucking you against his side. “I’m kidding,” he insisted. “I know no one’s food is as good as mine.”

You shook your head, but did not disagree with him, something he noticed right away. “Can you make chicken wings? I haven’t had yours in so long.”

“Of course, pip-squeak. You mind if we stop at the store to get the stuff I need?” He started steering you away from the platform toward the exit.

“Not at all, it’s been a while since we last grocery shopped together,” you said. “Remember when we were little and I lost you and Gran in the store?”

Caleb chuckled. “Yeah and you started cryin’ so loud we heard you from a couple aisles over?”

You laughed too. “Hey, you probably wouldn’t have found me otherwise.”

He jostled your shoulders. “You know I wouldn’t have left that store without you.”

You peered up at him, finding him already staring down at you with such fondness it made your heart squeeze. “I know, Caleb.”

Caleb kept his arm around you until you reached his car where he finally released you in order to open the passenger side door. You gave an exaggerated curtsy before you got in, Caleb’s laugh still audible even after he shut the door. As he rounded the car toward the driver’s seat, you pulled out your phone and updated Sylus on your plans.

Going to the grocery store to grab some stuff for dinner. How’s business?

His reply came shortly after Caleb slid into, and started, the car.

Whats for dinner? and business is fine boring as always without you here.

“Who are you textin’?”

“Hm?” You looked over at Caleb. “What was that?”

“I asked who you’re texting,” he repeated. “You’re smilin’ at your phone all weird.”

“Weird?!” you exclaimed. “I am not!”

“Are too,” he taunted. “Are you gonna answer my question?”

You dropped the phone into your lap with a huff, Sylus’s text still unanswered. “If you must know, I’m talking to Sk—um, Sylus.”

It was still strange calling Sylus by his real name to someone who wasn’t a part of his inner circle, but you knew better than to use his alias in front of Caleb.

“Been apart for a couple hours and you’re already textin’?” Caleb asked.

“We text all the time, Caleb,” you said, lifting your phone again to respond to your boyfriend.

Caleb’s making me chicken wings. I’ll send you a picture when they’re done. I miss you.

Sylus sent an emoji of a dove cuddling a crow.

Miss you too sweetie. i look forward to seeing your dinner later.

As you texted, Caleb’s grip on the steering tightened until his knuckles were white. It hurt him to think that you wouldn’t be giving him your undivided attention during your visit, and well, he just couldn’t have that. He’d have to come up with a way to solve this little problem of his before the weekend was over.

—

You decided not to send Sylus the picture of your chicken wings until after dinner since Caleb seemed to tense up every time you so much as touched your phone.

Dinner was delicious though, and you were happy to have shared the meal with Caleb.

The day had gone well, the two of you reverting back to your old ways, teasing and joking with each other like no time had passed.

Your heart was warm as you strolled into the bedroom you called your own at Caleb’s house, the one that was once his. You unwrapped the towel around your body, having just gotten out of the shower, and changed into comfy clothes. Caleb was showering now, then the two of you would settle in for the night to watch a movie. You took this opportunity to give Sylus a call.

He picked up after the first ring.

“Sweetie.”

Your face split into a grin. “Hey Sy.”

“All done for the night?” he asked.

“No, Caleb and I are going to watch a movie but I’m waiting for him to finish up in the shower so I figured I’d check in on my super important, big bad businessman boyfriend.”

Sylus snorted. “Super important, huh? I would much rather hear about your day, sweetie.”

“No, uh uh, you first. You know you can’t get away with that anymore,” you admonished.

“Fine, fine,” Sylus sighed, though you could hear his amused smirk through the phone. “It wasn’t all that exciting. I sat through a day full of meetings, keeping myself entertained by texting my beautiful girlfriend. Then earlier tonight I went to an auction where I bought you a few pieces for your growing jewelry collection. And now I’m talking to you.”

“That all sounds exciting to me,” you said, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Are you tired? I know how meetings during the day can exhaust you.”

“I’m okay,” Sylus murmured. “I’ll sleep for a few hours before I’m back in more meetings.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, please.”

“I won’t, sweetie. Now, it’s your turn, tell me about your day.”

You inhaled through your nose. “Well, Caleb and I went grocery shopping after he picked me up from the train station. We hung around for a little once we got to his place before we started dinner.”

“Oh? And did you help make dinner?”

You giggled. “No, you know I didn’t.”

Sylus chuckled. “You are a terrible sous chef.”

“Hey! You love it when I’m your sous chef!“

Caleb knocked loudly on the bedroom door. “Pip-squeak! Are we gonna watch a movie or what? I already popped the popcorn.”

“I’ll be out in a minute!” you yelled.

“Go watch your movie,” Sylus said softly. “Text me before you go to bed, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I love you, Sy.”

“I love you too, sweetie. Thanks for calling.”

“Of course, I’ll text you later.”

Caleb was waiting for you in the hall, as if he had been standing there listening to your call with Sylus (he was).

“How’s your boyfriend?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

You rolled your eyes at him and headed to the living room. “He’s fine, thanks for asking.”

Caleb scoffed. “Yeah, nooo problem.”

You whirled around and punched his right shoulder.

Caleb, feigning hurt, gripped his shoulder. “Ow Y/N, I think you broke it. You’re gonna have to take me to the hospital now.”

You laughed and punched him again.

“Oh that’s it.”

You squealed as Caleb reached for you, barely dodging his fingers before breaking into a run to avoid being caught. He chased you around the living room and into the kitchen where you two got in a stand off on either side of the island.

“Caleb stop!” you cried as he mirrored your every move. “I thought we were watching a movie!”

“You’re the one who assaulted me, pip-squeak,” Caleb protested, smiling from ear to ear.

“I’m sorry okay?!”

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re sorry?”

You raised your palms in surrender. “Yes, so sorry, I shouldn’t have done it. I take it all back.”

“Hmm.” Caleb tucked a contemplative hand under his chin. “I guess you seem sorry.”

You stretched your arm across the island, pinky first. “Pinky swear.”

Caleb flashed you a conspiratorial smirk and locked his pinky around yours. “Okay, you’re forgiven.”

“Yay! Can we go watch our movie now?”

“Yeah, come on pip-squeak.”

—

Sylus’s texts grew more infrequent the following day, and you knew it was because his worry was assuaged knowing your first night was without incident.

You were a little relieved, not because you didn’t want to talk to your boyfriend but because Caleb had made several comments about you being on your phone too much. He even went as far as to say Sylus was “breathing down your neck.”

“He’s just making sure I’m okay,” you had shot back at him. “You haven’t exactly given him reason to trust you, Caleb.”

Caleb couldn’t argue that. And maybe if he were in Sylus’s position, he’d be acting the same way. Worse, actually, he’d be acting much worse.

It was the only tiff you two had gotten in, and it far from ruined the nice weekend you were having.

Today, Caleb took you out to show you around Skyhaven. You went sightseeing and shopping, making Caleb carry your bags which he did enthusiastically and without complaint. And you decided to end the day with a nice dinner that Caleb paid for, the two of you now making the trek to the parking garage Caleb had parked in earlier that morning.

“I can take one of those bags, you know,” you said, eyeing the three bags hanging from Caleb’s right forearm.

“It’s no problem, I’m fine to carry them,” he insisted, shooting you a wide grin. “You really didn’t buy that much.”

“Can’t have a million bags to bring on the train with me tomorrow,” you quipped.

Caleb chuckled. “No of course not, that would be highly inconvenient.”

“I’d look like a lunatic!”

“Now that’s a little dramatic, pip-squeak.”

“I’ve never been dramatic a day in my life.”

Caleb abruptly stopped walking and just stared at you for a few seconds before bursting into hysterics. You followed suit, laughing so hard you doubled over.

“Okay, stop, stop,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t breathe.”

That only sent Caleb into another wave of laughter, clutching at your arm as if he needed to ground himself.

It took at least ten minutes for you and Caleb to calm down, both of you leaning against the wall of a nearby building, trying to catch your breath.

“Ah man, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” said Caleb, wiping tears from under his eyes.

“Yeah me too,” you said, looking up at your childhood best friend. You grabbed his left hand and squeezed. “I’m really happy you’re back Caleb.”

“Y/N,” Caleb breathed. “I’m really happy I’m back too—“

Your Hunter’s Watch chose that exact moment to start frantically beeping. Your heads jerked toward the Metaflux fluctuation mere yards away.

Caleb dropped the bags he was holding and pulled out two guns from underneath his jacket.

“I didn’t bring any weapons, give me one of your guns,” you said, holding out a hand.

“I can handle this, just stay here,” Caleb retorted.

The Wanderer appeared, sending any nearby people scattering.

You grabbed his arm, stopping him from advancing any further. “Caleb, I’m a Hunter, now give me a gun.”

Caleb leveled you with a hard glare, looking more like the Colonel than your best friend. “Stay. Here.”

He wrenched his arm from your grip and strode toward the Wanderer.

“Caleb!” You moved to go after him only to have the weight of his Evol surround you, keeping you locked in place. “Caleb!”

He didn’t answer, didn’t so much as turn around and acknowledge you. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest. How could he do this? How could he, after everything, still treat you like a little girl he needed to protect? You were hurt and frustrated and regretting ever coming to Skyhaven in the first place.

And worst of all, you knew you could never tell Sylus about this.

A second fluctuation formed close beside you.

“Caleb!” you screamed, desperately trying to get his attention. Again, he didn’t even turn his head. “Shit. Shit.”

The Wanderer appeared, its focus zeroing in on you.

You struggled against Caleb’s Evol, crying out for his help, but your pleas went unanswered and the Wanderer attacked.

As Caleb sank the killing shot into the Wanderer he was facing, he heard it. The sickening crack followed by your agonized shriek.

He whirled around and the world slipped from under his feet.

There you were, your shoulder obviously dislocated, and the second Wanderer backing away from where it had slammed into your side. Pain twisted the expression on your face and Caleb felt it as though you had grabbed hold of his heart and crushed it in your fist.

This was his fault. You were hurt because of him.

“Caleb.” His name was a broken, desperate sob from your lips, begging for his help. Begging him to let you go.

He did, releasing the hold his Evol had on you and you collapsed to the ground, holding your ribs with your uninjured arm. Caleb made quick work of the Wanderer then rushed to your side.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, where does it hurt?” he asked, his hands hovering over you, not knowing where to start.

You resisted the urge to cringe away from him. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt, you knew that, but if Caleb had just let you fight then this would’ve never happened.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to pick you up and we’re going to get you better. Okay, pip-squeak?”

You bit your lip and nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment.

Caleb swept you into his arms with as much gentleness as he could manage, but it didn’t stop the wave of pain that crashed through you. Your bags were forgotten as Caleb made a break for the parking garage.

—

You ended up passing out in the car on the way to Caleb’s house, the pain just too much for you to handle.

Caleb, who luckily had some medic training under his belt, was able to assess your condition. Your shoulder was dislocated, and he was pretty sure your ribs were at least bruised, at worst cracked.

By the time you regained consciousness, you were laying in bed with Caleb sitting beside you. His eyes were full of guilt and concern, the two battling for dominance within the purple hues.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing the hair from your face. “How are you feeling?”

You scrunched your eyes closed. “It hurts Caleb.”

“I know, pip-squeak, I’m so sorry.” When you didn’t respond, he sucked in a deep breath before saying, “I set your shoulder while you were unconscious, does it feel any better?”

You shifted your shoulder. It still hurt like a bitch, but it felt better now that it was back in the socket. “Yeah,” you managed with a nod. “Thank you.”

Caleb huffed a humorless laugh. “Don’t thank me, I’m the one who got you into this mess.”

“Caleb, please, I know you didn’t mean it.”

He shook his head.

You really didn’t have the energy to fight with him right now, to convince him of the intentions behind his own actions. “Do you have my phone?”

Caleb went rigid, his gaze hardening. “Why? So you can call your boyfriend?”

“Yes, Caleb,” you hissed. “Unless you want Sylus to come break down your door.”

He laughed again, a chilling sound. “He isn’t going to break down my do—“

Caleb was quick to eat his own words at the sound of his door being broken down at that very moment.

“Y/N?!”

You couldn’t help the relief that flooded through you hearing Sylus call your name. You never doubted for a second that he wouldn’t stay true to his word in coming for you if he thought you were in trouble.

Caleb, however, looked like he could commit murder.

You tried and failed to grab Caleb’s sleeve as he rose from the bed and marched out of the room all together.

Caleb didn’t think the several missed calls and dozen unanswered texts on your phone would lead to the head of Onychinus busting down his front door. Though perhaps Caleb was naive to underestimate Sylus and the lengths he would go to for you. If he weren’t the obstacle keeping you from Caleb, he might have had some respect for the snowy haired man currently seething in his living room.

“Where is she?” Sylus growled, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“She’s resting,” Caleb said simply.

Sylus huffed, unamused by the Colonel’s response. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it already is, Colonel.”

Caleb’s eye twitched. “What are you even doing here?”

“I’m here to take my girlfriend home because you clearly cannot be trusted to be around her,” was Sylus’s reply.

It only made Caleb angrier that Sylus wasn’t so much as raising his voice. As if Caleb wasn’t a threat but a mere nuisance getting in Sylus’s way.

The weight of Caleb’s Evol emanated from him like an aura as Sylus’s black-red mist swirled around his fists.

But before the two could break into an all-out brawl, you stumbled into the living room.

“Stop, both of you please stop,” you pleaded.

Sylus’s red eyes lit with fury upon seeing you. You hadn’t answered him because you were hurt. He was going to kill the Colonel for this.

“Y/N, what happened?” he asked, his tone noticeably softer when speaking to you.

“I’m fine, it’s fine, we just ran into some Wanderers on our way home from dinner. The fight got ugly,” you explained.

Sylus knew you better than anyone though, and he knew you weren’t telling him the whole truth.

“What did you do to her?” he snarled at Caleb, taking a step toward him.

Panic sluiced through your veins at that minute movement from Sylus, knowing he wouldn’t be letting Caleb off so easily this time.

So you did what any normal person would do in this situation.

You broke down in tears.

Sylus’s entire focus shifted to you and he was at your side in an instant. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his hands capturing your face so tenderly it made your heart ache. “Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”

You shook your head. “I want you to stop fighting.”

His brow buckled. “Sweetie, you’re hurt because of him, you know I can’t just let that go.”

“Please!” you cried. “Please stop, Sy, I can’t have the two most important people in my life hating each other. I can’t handle it!”

Sylus tucked you into his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll stop, but you’re coming home with me.”

You nodded, your cheek rubbing against his shirt. “Okay.”

“I’ll go get your bag. Don’t move.”

Sylus pushed you back and sat you on the couch, kissing your forehead before striding for the room you’d been staying in, not sparing the Colonel a glance.

Caleb had stood stock-still during the entire exchange, staring with wide eyes and an aching heart. The way your body melted into Sylus’s with the simplest of touches, the way your expression eased when he kissed your head. It was awful. It was so unbearably awful.

When you were left alone, he stumbled over to you as if in a daze.

“Pip-squeak,” he muttered, “don’t go.”

Your eyes, full of anguish, met his. “I’m going Caleb,” you whispered. “It’s the only way to keep you both from killing each other.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” he protested, collapsing onto the floor in front of where you sat. “I promise I wasn’t.”

You hung your head, defeated. “It’s too late. What’s done is done.”

Caleb was desperate. If you left, would he ever see you again? Would your stupid boyfriend forbid you? Or would you not want to be near him?

He grabbed your hands. “Please tell me you’ll come back.”

“Caleb.”

He stared up you with such profound sorrow. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me,” you assured. “We just need to let things settle for a while, okay?”

Caleb was abruptly pulled away from you, Sylus having returned from gathering your things and dragging Caleb by the back of his collar.

“You lost the privilege of being near her,” Sylus said, matter of fact.

Caleb snapped to his feet and slapped Sylus’s hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch her,” Sylus hissed.

A fresh wave of tears poured down your cheeks. “I said stop fighting!” you wailed. “Sylus can we please just go?”

“Of course, sweetie. Can you walk?”

You nodded, holding onto his arm with our one good one for support as you stood.

You said nothing to Caleb and he said nothing to you as Sylus walked you out of his house. You didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. Sorry didn’t cut it, even if you assured him it was okay. All he wanted to do was protect you, to prevent you from getting hurt and yet it was his fault that you had. It was his fault you were led out of his house by your boyfriend, leaving him behind.

Maybe he deserved this. Maybe it was karma for leaving you and still expecting you to welcome him with open arms once he came back. How could he possibly make it up to you now? How could he possibly convince you to love him when it was Sylus swooping in to rescue you?

This wasn’t how this weekend was supposed to go, and Caleb had no idea what it meant for his future with you.

—

“I know you aren’t going to like it when I say this, but I don’t want you going back to Skyhaven.”

You sighed, fidgeting with Sylus’s fingers as you both lay in his bed. “I don’t like it, but I also can’t blame you for saying it.”

Before returning to the base, Sylus had first taken you to Akso Hospital where Zayne looked you over. The doctor ensured that your shoulder was properly set and put in a sling, as well as determined your ribs were in fact bruised, and not cracked or broken. He sent you off with a prescription for painkillers and a treatment plan, knowing full well that Sylus would take care of you.

“Next time I have a business trip, you’ll be taking time off and coming with me,” Sylus said, brushing his lips along your cheek. “It’s so much better when you’re there anyway.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “Then I can pick out my own jewelry at the auction.”

Sylus chuckled. “I’ll buy you anything you could ever desire.”

He’d also make you forget about your childhood best friend, who seemed to be far more trouble than he was worth. Though Sylus knew better than to say so aloud, but made his silent vow nonetheless.

You turned your head and placed a chaste kiss on Sylus’s lips. “Thank you.”

“For what, sweetie?”

You kissed him again, more earnestly this time. “For everything, Sy.”

He drew back, wanting to look you in the eye as he said, “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N.”

—

Caleb’s phone buzzed and it took every ounce of effort for him to pick it up.

I forgive you, Caleb. We’ll talk later this week, okay?

Your text nearly brought the Colonel to tears.

okay, pipsqueak :)

He gripped his necklace tight, and read your message over and over again until it was burned into his retinas so, even with his eyes closed, he could still see it.

[oldsoul007]

kiss me

grumpy!joel miller x reader

summary: Joel despises the superficiality of Valentine’s Day, and you, a hopeless romantic who adores love in all its forms, find your friendship tested when you spend Valentine’s week together as single friends, only to discover unexpected feelings that blur the line between friendship and love.

a/n: a little valentine story for yall 💞

joel miller masterlist

Valentine’s week was my favorite time of year. Everything felt lighter, softer—like the world was wrapped in a warm, pink haze. Even if most people thought it was cheesy, I loved it. Love letters, heart-shaped candies, couples holding hands—it made me believe that love, real love, was still out there.

Joel Miller didn’t share that belief.

“Don’t even start,” Joel grumbled the moment he picked up my call, his deep, tired voice crackling through the phone.

I grinned, curling up on my couch with a cup of coffee. “Start what?” I teased, already picturing the irritated look on his face. “I was just calling to check on my favorite Valentine’s Grinch.”

He let out a long sigh, and I bit back a laugh.

“What do you want, y/n?”

“Well,” I drew out the word, knowing exactly how much he’d hate what I was about to say. “We’re both single this year. Why don’t we spend Valentine’s week together?”

There was a beat of silence. I imagined him blinking in disbelief.

“You’re joking.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” I insisted. “Movies, takeout, no pressure. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even convince you that love isn’t as terrible as you think it is.”

“Not happening,” he muttered, but I heard the faintest smile in his voice.

“Is that a yes?” I pressed, holding my breath.

Another long sigh, then—“Fine. But don’t expect me to wear anything pink.”

I laughed, my heart fluttering. “Deal.”

The next few days felt like walking a tightrope.

We spent almost every moment together, but never crossed the line. We did all the things couples do—late-night drives with music humming softly in the background, sharing breakfasts at the little diner on Main Street, walking through the park while I pointed out every couple holding hands just to watch Joel roll his eyes.

But neither of us said it. Neither of us dared to admit what was simmering beneath the surface.

“This is exhausting,” Joel muttered as we sat on a park bench, sipping coffee.

“What is?” I asked, smiling into my cup.

“All of this. People pretending for a week that they’re in love.”

I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Not everyone’s pretending, you know.”

He scoffed. “Name one couple that ain’t puttin’ on a show.”

I didn’t even have to think. “My grandparents.”

Joel raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve been together for 53 years,” I said softly, my smile turning wistful. “They met in college. My grandpa still brings her flowers every Friday. And she still laughs at all his bad jokes.”

Joel let out a low hum, like he wasn’t sure if he believed me.

“I’m not saying it’s common,” I added, reading his mind. “But just because it’s rare doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

He glanced at me then, his gaze lingering a little too long, a little too soft. My breath caught, but I looked away before my feelings betrayed me.

One afternoon, we ended up in the bookstore downtown, wandering through the aisles. Joel found himself in the history section, while I was drawn to the romance novels, of course.

“You’re really gonna read one of those?” he asked, leaning against the shelf with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, Joel,” I shot back, holding up a book with a dramatic cover. “It’s called escapism. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll stick to the real world, thanks.”

“Where love doesn’t exist?” I teased.

“Exactly.”

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re hopeless.”

As we walked out, I couldn’t help myself. I nodded toward an older couple sitting on a bench, their hands intertwined, lost in their own little world.

“Look at them,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me that’s not real.”

Joel followed my gaze, but said nothing. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

It started with a simple plan—cook dinner, keep things light, pretend my heart wasn’t on the verge of bursting every time Joel Miller looked at me.

I wasn’t exactly a gourmet chef, but I knew my way around a kitchen well enough to whip up something decent. Joel sat at the counter, watching me with an amused expression, a beer in hand.

“You sure you’re not gonna burn the place down?” he teased.

I shot him a playful glare. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. I, on the other hand, was trying not to melt under the weight of his gaze.

I turned on some music to fill the silence, letting the soft strum of a guitar filter through the room. And then it happened—one of my favorite love songs started playing. A soft, sweet melody that made my chest ache.

“Uh-oh,” Joel muttered, already sensing what was coming.

I grinned, turning to face him. “Dance with me.”

“Y/n…” he warned, shaking his head.

“Please?” I stretched out the word, giving him my best pleading eyes. “For me?”

He let out a long sigh, but when I reached out my hand, he took it without a fight.

His hand was warm as he pulled me close, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his calloused fingers. We swayed in my tiny kitchen, the smell of dinner forgotten, the music weaving around us like a secret only we knew.

“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, but there was a softness in his voice, in the way his hand rested on my waist.

“Maybe,” I whispered back, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. I could feel it—the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, the way his breath hitched when I leaned in closer.

For a moment, it felt like we weren’t pretending anymore. Like the feelings we never spoke about were real, tangible.

When the song ended, Joel pulled back slowly, his eyes lingering on mine. The air between us crackled with something unspoken.

“Dinner’s gonna burn,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he stepped away.

I laughed softly, but my heart still ached.

Because even when we danced around our feelings, I knew the truth.

Valentine’s Day arrived quietly, the way it always did.

I felt like I was losing my grip. Every smile, every lingering glance, every time Joel’s hand brushed against mine felt like it was unraveling me.

When I opened my apartment door that morning to find Joel standing there—grumpy expression firmly in place—holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, I froze.

“Uh… these are for you,” he mumbled, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I stared at the flowers, then at him, trying to process the fact that Joel Miller—the man who swore up and down that Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commercial scam—was holding flowers for me.

“Is this a joke?” I teased, even though my heart was racing.

“Do you want ‘em or not?” he grumbled, shoving them toward me.

I laughed softly, taking the bouquet from his hands. “They’re beautiful, Joel. Thank you.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… you like this kinda thing. Figured you deserved somethin’ nice.”

My chest tightened at his words. Joel Miller, who claimed not to believe in love, had just done something more thoughtful than any grand gesture ever could be.

That night, we ended up back at my apartment, a bottle of wine between us, laughing over old memories.

“I don’t get it,” Joel said, leaning back on the couch, his voice quieter now. “You got your heart broken—bad—and you still believe in all this love stuff.”

I swallowed hard, the memory of my past relationship still a dull ache. “Because I know what it feels like to be loved, Joel. Even if it wasn’t forever. And I know what it feels like to be alone, too.”

He looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re not alone,” he whispered.

And for a moment, I let myself believe him.

The night felt endless, every moment stretching out between us like a question neither of us wanted to answer.

I could feel Joel beside me, the weight of his presence grounding me, but also unraveling me. The flowers he’d given me sat on the table, delicate and unexpected, just like him.

“Joel,” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.

He turned to me, eyes darker than usual, something unreadable flickering in them.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could, Joel was already moving.

His hand cupped my face, rough fingertips trailing along my jaw, and then his lips were on mine.

This wasn’t a tentative kiss. This wasn’t careful. This was Joel Miller finally giving in, finally letting go of every wall he had built around his heart.

His mouth pressed urgently against mine, and I melted into him, my hands gripping his shirt as if holding on for dear life. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

I felt everything in that kiss—every unspoken word, every moment we’d danced around our feelings, every piece of him he’d kept hidden from the world.

When we broke apart, breathless, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his voice rough and low.

“I can’t fight it anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.”

I swallowed hard, my heart aching in the best way. “Then don’t.”

He kissed me again, softer this time, but with the same intensity, the same longing that had always been there—waiting for us to finally stop pretending.

In that moment, I knew. Joel Miller didn’t just care for me.

He loved me.

[astro-can]

Pjo x sbg art

Ashlyn is a legacy of Mars, the god of war. Mars is more disciplined, strategic, and warlike than his Greek counterpart, Ares. Ashlyn’s father is a son of Mars, and her mother is the legacy of Vulcan, which sort of makes her the legacy of Vulcan as well.

Ashlyn is a member of the Fifth Cohort. She is strong, fast, strategic, smart, and has the ability to control weapons.

NOW BEFORE YALL COME AT ME SAYING “oh Taylor would be a daughter of Hephaestus” LEMME EXPLAIN MYSELF.

I had to pick a god/ddess that would work for both of them because they’re twins.

Taylor and Tyler are the twin children of Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. Taylor is empathetic, caring, kind, and beautiful. She is similar to Piper and Selina, as she represents Aphrodite’s good qualities.

Tyler, on the other hand, represents the more temperamental and warlike side of Aphrodite. He is bitter, short-tempered, and somewhat rude. He is similar to Drew Tanaka in the sense that he doesn’t really believe in “love” like his sister does. However, over time, he becomes softer and nicer. Tyler has been blessed by Ares, while Taylor has been blessed by Hephaestus.

They have been at CHB for three years. They are year-rounders.

Logan is the son of Ceres, goddess of agriculture. His parents are deceased, and his grandfather is the son of Mars. He is a member of the Fifth Cohort. His abilities include being able to control plants, and he has limited affinity over some weapons. Unlike a lot of his peers, his preferred weapon are guns.

Aidan is the son of Dionysus, god of wine and insanity. He doesn’t know who his real mother is, because she abandoned him when he was a baby. He was adopted into an absuive foster family but ran away, and ended up in CHB. There, he found out that he still had biological family left - his cousin Ben.

He is a year-rounder and has the ability to control vines (specifically grapevines) and to drive someone insane/make them sane again. He has been at CHB for around two years.

Ben is the son of Apollo, god of music, healing, archery, etc. He has a loving stepfather, mother, and younger stepsister. He doesn’t speak because of his damaged voice, and instead helps Will in the infirmary a lot. He’s liked by a lot of the Ares kids because he is strong.

His abilities include healing powers, amazing archery skills, a limited affinity over music, and being able to glow in the dark. He goes home during the winter, and often invites his biological cousin, Aidan, to come as well.

ANYHOO THESE ARE MY HEADCANONS, FEEL FREE TO DISAGREE RESPECTFULLY THANK YOU

[captain-huggy-bear]

How does Jack ask you to be his valentine ?

Oh he's a sweetheart but also pretty conventional as well. I think he goes with your standard ideas of flowers, and chocolates, probably turning up at your door on the day itself because that's traditional and he just smirks and asks. The sort of lazy confidence in him that says he knows you're going to say yes, that it would be impossible for you to say no.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It's still new, this thing you have with Jack, early days as it were. Not quite boyfriend and girlfriend yet, but not just two strangers who've been on a singular date either. Talking wasn't the right term and dating was maybe closer to it, figuring out whether this was going to be something long term or just a drop in the ocean. So you didn't really expect anything from him on Valentine's day, especially not when he'd said he had a game that night and wouldn't be able to take you out in the evening like he wanted to. You'd accepted that because at the end of the day you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to the very first date with him. Hockey meant things wouldn't always go as expected, not all events would be commemorated. It also wasn't a given considering the early nature of your relationship.

It's why you're not expecting it when your front door bell rings and you're certainly not expect to look through your peephole to see Jack Hughes standing on the other side in a suit and tie holding what might be the largest bouquet of pink roses you'd ever seen. So large that they'd block out his entire head and shoulders if he held them upright.

"Jack?" You open the door to him, feeling decidedly underdressed in your casual everyday clothes when compared with Jack and his suit. The black one that he's matched with a black tie like he's going to a formal event rather than standing in front of your house on the 14th February in the cold.

"Hey..." The smile he gives you is nearly a smirk, that confidence that first drew you to him, firmly in place. His hair has grown longer at the moment, nearly reaching his shoulders, tucked behind his ears.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the rink for morning skate...?"

"Already been, decided this was more important than my post practice nap." It makes you feel warm all over, the way he says that so easily, like it's a given that seeing you is more important than his routines and rituals, things you know hockey players hold dear to their hearts.

"Oh?"

"Here," He hands you the bouquet that takes up your entire arm space, larger than a toddler and smelling sweetly of rose. He'd picked the scented roses, ones that smell strongly too a little detail that you can't help but take note of. "I picked the pink ones, thought it'd be a little less cliché."

You can't help the soft smile you give him because it really is sweet and unexpected. More romantic than any of your past boyfriends had ever been and he's not even in a relationship with you yet.

"They're lovely, Jack...you really didn't have to..." You feel bad knowing you hadn't expected anything and so hadn't got anything for him.

"I wanted to. I can't exactly ask you to be my valentine without flowers now, can I, angel?" Your positive reception of the flowers has him relaxing further, a smile turning into a smirk, leaning closer to you, arm leaning against your door frame. The invasion of your personal space makes you nervous in the best sort of way, giddy.

"You want to be my valentine?" You can't actually remember the last time you were actually asked to be someone's valentine...it makes butterflies flutter about in your stomach.

"Sweetheart, who else would I ask?"

You shrug, pursing your lips as you look up at him from under your lashes, all of a sudden unsure and lacking confidence because neither of you ever said you were only seeing each other. That you were exclusive. While you certainly weren't seeing any other guys, it would make sense for someone like Jack, popular and famous, to have a whole roster of girls waiting on him. It wouldn't surprise you if he had other girls he was testing the waters with, figuring out who was the best fit.

He seems to sense that your thoughts have gone that way, or maybe he just has good timing.

"You're the only girl I'm seeing and the only one I want to see, angel...I've not gone on a date with anyone else since before our first one." He doesn't like that it's clearly shocking to you, the way you look up him like he's just given you the world. Jack thinks it should be obvious to you that he's all in, that he's completely taken with you and has been since the first date. He's only waiting to ask you to be his girlfriend because he knows you need a little more time, not because he's not ready or doesn't want to.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Why waste my time with anyone else? They wouldn't be you." It's simply really. You're perfect for him. You're kind, you're caring, pretty and smart. You're understanding of his schedule and his moods. You get along with Luke and you treat him like Jack, just Jack. Not Jack Hughes, hockey superstar. Why waste his time on girls who fawn and giggle over his title, his status but don't really like him for him?

"Jack..."

He diffuses some of the heavy tension with his next question, not wanting to make things too serious too fast, not wanting you to feel pressure to respond in kind, "You still haven't answered my question. Will you be my valentine?"

"Yes, I'll be your valentine." You smile up at him all giddy and sweet and he wants to kiss you all over your cheeks, lift you until you're giggling uncontrollably, but he controls himself. Jack has to remind himself you're not his girlfriend yet, he's trying to take this slow, easy for you, a love confession might be a bit much 3 months in.

"Good because we have a lunch date, so go get changed into something nice." Not that you don't look nice, you always look nice, but he knows you'll feel self conscious if he takes you into a nice restaurant in casual clothes while he's in a full suit and tie.

"A lunch date?"

"Well, I can't take you out for dinner because of the game, but I figured lunch would work?" Your hesitation has Jack questioning himself, starting to second guess if this was a good idea, maybe you already had plans, "Or...you don't have to, we can stay here or...or I can go?"

"No, no! Lunch sounds...it sounds perfect."

The smile you receive is enough. It's more than enough, you think you might just do anything to be on the receiving end of that smile.

[604to647]

Crawling Back to You (Dieter’s Version)

3.7K / Dieter Bravo x fem!reader

Summary: A moment of weakness could lead to lifetime of regret unless Dieter can set things right with you.

Warnings: Angst, pining. Mention of drug use. Reader has a purposefully vague production/behind the scenes job because I don't know anything about movie production. Eventual HEA. One Friends reference - see if you can find it 😉

A/N: This was written for @happypedrohours’ Bouquets of Pedro Challenge. My Valentine’s prompt for Dieter was PDA. I’ve never written for Dieter before! I know he’s a chaos gremlin (affectionate), but I really like fics I read of him where he just wants to be loved? So, that's the Dieter that I wrote - I hope it's okay 🥹 (Sorry if he’s too OOC 😭) Musical inspiration is Hozier's cover of Artic Monkey's "Do I Wanna Know."

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Many thanks to @morallyinept for your character and dialogue database to help me try and get into a Bravo state of mind 😘

He considers doing something big and splashy, of course.  And public - very, very public.  Afterall, not being P with his DAs had been what tore the two of you apart. 

Well, part of it, anyways.

Double-paged feature in Variety.  Highway billboards with matching ads on the side of buses.  Live poetry reading on the big screens in Time Square.

But all of that would be very old Dieter Bravo of him and he was no longer that man - in large part because of you, for you.

Dieter had met you many, many moons ago.  Always a friendly face on whatever set or industry event it was where you might cross paths, the two of you had gone from familiar acquaintances, to friends, to someone the other actively sought out for good company or shelter when the bright lights got too hot, the clamouring crowds too loud.

When you first met, Dieter thought you must be an actress - you were too beautiful, too captivating not to be onscreen.  But while you did have a few extra credits to your name, he soon learned that your ambition lay behind the camera.  He remembers the first time he heard your melodic voice ring out across set - like a drunken sailor to a siren’s call, he followed it without question in a semi lucid state (Hey! What’s a little marijuana between a movie star and the teamsters?).  But upon the lifting of his fog, Dieter found not his destruction, but salvation: a sympathetic ally on set, someone with whom he could be a team – a calm in the chaotic storm that was most movie productions,

You worked hard at learning and mastering your trade, and your keen eye and intuitive sense for movie making sang your merits louder than that hypnotic voice of yours that first drew Dieter (and others) to you; that you were easy to get along with and impossible to say no to was no small feat in this business – especially for a woman.  Dieter watched as you dogged forward, paying your dues and solidifying your reputation and resume – whenever he hears your name being bantered about behind the doors of Hollywood’s most coveted meetings, he feels only excessive pride.  He would tell you himself if you were speaking to him. 

Dieter still remembers the night when the two of you crossed that unspoken line for the first time; even now he’s not sure what he would have done if Cupid hadn’t been on his side.  There had been some studio gala, nothing special – or so he thought.  Slipping away from the endless shmoozing and sycophantic hoards that tend to overrun these gatherings, Dieter escaped through the catering entrance in search of some obliging venue service staff (Hollywood hot tip: the wait staff always have the best drugs!).  Instead, he had found you - sitting on a table pushed to the side of the corridor, fancy ballgown fanned out, eating popsicles, legs swinging without a care in the world.

“Dieter!” your cheer was infectious, your smile mischievous and joyful, “I didn’t care for any of those tiny finger desserts they had going out on the trays so I asked the wait staff what they kept in the back for dessert and they gave me a whole box!”  His search for extracurriculars forgotten, Dieter happily joined you, choosing instead to get drunk on your pretty face, happy chatter, and the completely innocent yet salacious way your mouth worked that frozen treat.

About three popsicles in (each) the icy desserts began melting – you managed to save yourself and finish yours just in time, but Dieter’s blue-raspberry concoction was rapidly disintegrating and about to make a guaranteed mess of his dress pants when your hands darted out, catching the slush midair.

Dieter cackled, marveling at your wide-eyed expression and hands, now wet, sticky and blue, “What did you do that for?”

“I don’t know," you crowed, eyes crinkling, still holding your cupped hands out in front of you, "I just didn’t want them to make some kind of 'blue balls' joke about you and your stained crotch in the tabloids tomorrow!”

He clasped his clean hand in yours, adhering himself to you in more ways than one - the two of you giggling and giddy as you re-entered the ballroom.  After finding a free table, some clean napkins and a pitcher of water, you sat as Dieter lovingly washed and cleaned your hands so that they wouldn’t be stained with Blue Dye #1.  He was on his knees, drying and holding your small delicate hands in his much rougher, clumsier ones, when he happened to look up to see you gazing adoringly down at him, eyes grateful and looking at him like he was hanging the moon for you.

Dieter lifted up and unable to help himself, connected his lips to yours – hoping against hope that he wasn’t ruining one of the few precious, genuine connections in his life.  His relief was soon overtaken by desire when you kissed him back – the two of you somehow managing to make your way back to the service hallways, lips crashing together over and over like unstoppable waves of an inevitable ocean.  The kisses were sensual and messy, pure and happy – it made Dieter feel like a teenager again. 

“Is this weird?” he whispered at one point - vulnerable, no bravado.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” you breathed, though your voice was soft, your touch reassuring, “but don’t stop.”  So, he didn’t.  He kissed your lips swollen, pressing you up against the wall and succumbing to the intoxication of your pretty noises and tender affection. 

Nothing else happened that night, and in fact, you had run away!  After getting a text that your friend was currently giving birth, you rushed off to the hospital like Cinderella, ballgown skirts gathered in your careful hands while darting away in the night.  Dieter, dazed and higher than he’s even felt, caught the kiss you blew him, and while pressing it to his slackened, blissed out face, vowed to become your Prince Charming.

He found you on set the following Monday and for the first time in a long time, Dieter Bravo, famously chill Cool Dude™ had felt shy, nervous.  He needn’t have been – you responded to his earnestness with sweet generosity, only ever honest and non-pretentious; it was clear that for the both of you, there was no going back to just friends. 

The rest as they say, was history. 

Except being with you felt completely new to Dieter – for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he looked forward to waking up to the start of each day, genuinely excited for its possibilities, and even more to coming home every night, grateful for the newfound comfort of life’s simple pleasures.

Grateful, yes.  If there was one thing Dieter wishes he could tell you it’s how grateful he is for you.  While you were blazing your own path to success, you had also helped him redefine his - believing in and supporting the seemingly unflappable Dieter Bravo when he admitted to wanting more.  Hollywood’s unbothered bro, Tinseltown’s perpetually aflame trainwreck darling was capable of and itching for growth, who knew?  You did.

You read scripts with him and talked through his needs and ambitions; finally having a sounding board with no self-serving stake in the financial success of his career choices, Dieter began choosing increasingly more varied and interesting projects with your encouragement and support.  He’s happier now, more fulfilled, challenged, engaged.

And he got sober (Well, he still drinks, but that doesn’t really count, right?  It’s Hollywood).  Detox had been a fucking nightmare but Dieter likes the voices in his head now.  They’re gentler with him, more forgiving, thoughtful.  They sound like you.

Dieter loved you so much, he wanted to climb to the top of the Hollywood sign and shout it all the way across the Pacific; he thought a love such as yours was limitless.

His publicists discouraged it.  The world loved the Dieter they knew: eccentric, sex-crazed, tabloid staple, a spectacle.  They weren’t interested in another middle-aged actor trying too hard to be taken seriously, who had seemingly left his wild days behind for a boring, stable relationship with a non-celebrity.  The public wanted ✨salaciousness✨glitz✨scandal✨.

You had gone along with keeping your relationship hidden, valuing your privacy and preferring to keep the sacredness of your love for one another only.  “I love you, Dieter,” you vowed, “I don’t need everyone to know it, but I don’t ever want to feel like your dirty little secret, okay?”

He promised you without really understanding what that meant.

Your relationship blossomed behind closed doors.  Both of you walked red carpets alone, careful not to get papped together, and on sets, remained cordial and professional until you got behind Dieter’s closed trailer doors where his affection for you knew no bounds, even when contained.  You would tell each other that your love wasn’t a secret, it was private, protected and kept safe from the prying and critical eyes of the public.

When his PR team arranged a fake relationship with the young and upcoming nepo baby starlet with whom he acted opposite in his latest movie as a means to promote the film, Dieter had reservations.  But he hadn’t said no. 

And after several long and serious conversations with his management about his fading relevancy and the exposure that the arrangement would net him, the starlet, the film, Dieter eventually relented and agreed to go along with it.  It seems that fame was the one drug that he hadn’t quite kicked. 

Dieter will never forget the look on your face when he brought up the PR campaign – the way your eyes crinkled in disappointment and the curve of your pretty lips pulling down your entire face haunts him every night. 

“What happens to your real girlfriend when you’re out with your fake girlfriend, Dieter?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to ask you to wait, or stay by his side, but hidden.  It was beneath you, insulting.  And to ask was to break his promise.

Turns out he didn’t even need to ask for you to feel the full weight of his betrayal.

The last words he ever spoke to you had been uttered pathetically to the front door you shut in his face, “Baby, maybe I can fix it.  Let me try.”  Their only registered response was the sound of your sobs getting softer and softer as you walked away, shutting the doors in the house he could no longer call home.

He hadn’t been able to fix it.  By design, Hollywood’s PR machine is a force, the joint efforts of Dieter and the starlet’s teams a runaway train.  Their “relationship” had been Page Six news before Dieter even had the chance to call his publicist to say that he couldn’t go through with it.  The public ate it all up just as predicted:

Dieter Bravo, Hollywood Chaos Prince back at it again, charming and capturing the heart of Tinseltown’s newest princess.

His mind swims of you.  During every press tour interview he does with his pretend girlfriend, Dieter cringes at the fake touches and gestures of affection choreographed for the cameras; all the scripted flirting and empty terms of endearment taste like acid on his tongue (and not the good kind either).  But none of this compares to the shame he feels at having hurt you, the owner of his heart, and that he likely continues to do so with every orchestrated date night photo-op for TMZ, every “happy couple” glambot he poses for on the red carpet.

Dieter finally sees you again six months into his fake relationship.

At the MTV Movie Awards, he’s waiting for the starlet to finish her solo shots, rubbing his temple at the too bright lights, the garish and loud décor, the music that doesn’t even sound like music, when he sees you stroll in on the arm of a man he doesn’t recognize.  But Dieter couldn’t care less who the man is - it’s you he can’t look away from; you’re laughing, radiant, soft.  Unchanged.  Ethereal. 

Dieter thinks he might vomit.  He thinks he might need to do a line.  He can’t let you see him.

Without excusing himself, Dieter leaves the red carpet and locks himself in a bathroom, trying to push down his bubbling panic attack.  He knows his “girlfriend” is probably beside herself, and that his unexplained absence is likely giving rise to new rumours and speculation that he’s on some kind of drug-fuelled spiral, but he can’t bring himself to come out.

Someone slips a KitKat under the door of the bathroom. 

Dieter knows it’s you; only you would be so subtle, so gentle, so reassuring with one simple gesture.  Only you know him and what brings him the most comfort.  He picks up the chocolate bar and stares at it for a while before biting into it, thinking about how he got himself into this mess.

A moment weakness.  A lifetime of regret.

Not if Dieter could help it.

He “breaks up” with the starlet the following week; it would have been handled even sooner if he didn’t have to fight and threaten to fire his entire team, eventually dragging in Legal to help him break the marketing contract he had unknowingly signed in blood.

Immediately Dieter starts planning how he will make things up to you, beg for another chance – apologize; drafting and discarding every over-the-top gesture that pops into his buzzing mind, each more theatrical and outlandish than the last.

He finally settles on a letter – one that Dieter can’t stop writing after he starts and ends up being eighteen pages (front and back).  It begins with an apology – for having hurt you so callously, for breaking his promise to you, and for, even if only a second, ever making you feel like you weren’t important or enough.  Especially when it was his own bruised ego that had needed the stroking – this entire disaster a result of his own weakness, born from a dark place inside where he had been made small by an industry that thrived on the insecurities of its so-called stars, and Dieter’s fear of feeling even smaller.  You made him feel so good while the two of you had been together, he naively thought that your light had eradicated all such voids and pits within him – but it was unfair to heap the responsibility of his growth and self improvement onto you.  And though he knows that he still has work to do, he credits your influence and compassion for the progress he’s made so far.  Around page six of the letter Dieter’s Sorrys transition into Thank Yous. 

Dieter thanks you for every way you’ve made him a better man, made him want to be a better man.  He thanks you for all the times your unparalleled support, kindness, and generosity have gotten him through the day on set, or through his self doubts at night.  Words of gratitude overflow from his pen, pouring out nearly faster than he can write – you, you, you.  He’s thankful for you.

And he misses you.  And not just all the ways you meshed your gentle life with the squishy bits of his, but just you.  Your sweet laugh.  The crinkle of your nose and the watering of your eyes at his farts sarcastic jokes.  And your mouth.  Great Paul Newman, he’s always been obsessed with your mouth – and not just what he knows it can do and how it tastes, but everything that comes out of it.  Dieter could listen to you talk about anything for hours – he might not know a single thing about what you’re talking about, but he understands eloquence, passion, and the artistry of words when he hears it.  Having spent most of his adult life around industry blowhards, Dieter knows that intelligence without pretension is a rarity - fresh air that he longs to breathe in again. 

On page twelve, Dieter tells you he loves you - loves you for everything you are and what you stand for.  He loves how you’ve remained gentle, even though the business of show makes it its mission to sharpen everyone and everything it swallows.  He loves that your default is always thoughtfulness and compassion, that you embody a quiet type of beauty that doesn’t need to be paraded about or loudly lauded in order to shine.  How do you make even the mundane so fascinating?  It must be that confident grace of yours.  Dieter writes an entire two pages on how he just wants to watch you wash dishes again – he tries to describe the meditative calm that comes just from seeing the soapy water bow to your whim, as if it knows the power and majesty of its bender; understanding as he does now the magnanimity it takes to ensure that no small movement is wasted, to make every action purposeful.  He’s enraptured by you.  Admires you. Worships you.  So, so in love with you.

He reads the letter over a hundred times before tying the folded pages together with a bright red bow.  Using his Bravo charm, Dieter sneaks onto the set of your latest movie and leaves it in your trailer on top of a jewelry box that holds an ostentatiously luxurious diamond necklace he bought you before everything had gone to hell.  He had kept it all this time, unable to bring himself to return it, never even considering giving it to anyone but you.

Three weeks pass and Dieter hears nothing back.

He had tried to prepare himself for this possibility – that perhaps you might never forgive him, want nothing more to do with him, but still, it’s with a heavier than expected heart that he gets ready for his movie premiere, the very same film he’d promoted with his fake relationship.  Dieter didn’t expect any drama at the event – he and the starlet spoke last week and agreed that arriving separately but acting like friends was the best way to quell the outrageous reasons for the “breakup” speculated in the gossip rags.  In truth, even though they had grown to become actual friends during the meshugana of the last few months, Dieter can’t help but associate this entire project with his own regret and shame - he can’t wait for this evening to be over.

He goes through the motions of the red carpet.  Greeting his co-stars with boisterous cheers and hard gripping handshakes.  Hitting his marks and smiling almost manically for the cameras.  Waving to the fans and signing every piece of paper shoved towards him (this part he really did not mind; you always said that his fans were the best and they are).  Doing his time in the interview pit.  When he’s near the end of the gauntlet, with only the Entertainment Tonight interview to get through before he can (blessedly) retreat to his seat in the theatre, a vivid glimmer of brilliance catches Dieter’s eye.  Unlike the near blinding flash of a photographer’s camera, this sparkle beckons him, brightly winking – he almost puts up a hand to shield his eyes before he realizes what it is.

It's you.

You’re at his premiere.  Gorgeous, breathtaking, elegant – you’re walking down the arrivals promenade… and you’re wearing the diamond necklace Dieter left with your letter.  Inadvertently tuning out the ET interviewer, he stares, awestruck, mouth agape – hopeful.  The interviewer can’t help but follow Dieter’s gaze and asks him who you are. 

“An angel,” he answers honestly.

At that same moment, you finally spot him and your face breaks into a big smile, the luminosity of which nearly drops Dieter to his knees.  Instead, he breaks out into a sprint, running towards you. 

When you see what he’s doing, you pick up your skirts and start moving towards him as well.  Dieter dodges and weaves between the bodies on the red carpet, trying not to slam into any of the people that stand between him and his everything, only vaguely aware of the Entertainment Tonight interviewer and her cameraman hot on his heels.

Suddenly, the crowd seems to part and there’s a clearing right where the two of you finally meet, stopping only inches from one another.  Dieter’s panting (fuck, he’s out of shape!) but grinning like a fool when you drop the fabric of your dress to bring your hands come up to cup his face, thumbs running lovingly over his unkempt scruff – a familiar gesture that feels better than any high he’s ever experienced.  Your face is flushed bright and content, home.

“You got my letter.”

“I did.”

“You’re wearing the necklace.”

“I am.”  Your eyes twinkle, complimenting the serenity and invitation of your countenance - both saying everything without even a word.  It gives Dieter the boost of confidence he needs.

“May I kiss you?”

“Even though we’re in public?” You’re being cheeky on purpose.

But for once Dieter won’t play - there is nothing except sincerity in his response, “From now on, only ever in public.  No more hiding.”

An orchestral movie score heard only by the two of you swells as you both move to close the remaining distance between your bodies, crushing your mouths together.  The kiss is passionate, deep and heated – leaving no doubt of your feelings for one another; not even the gawking onlookers can deny what you mean to each other.  Camera bulbs pop and bright lights flash all around as your lips settle and mold in a tender slow dance, loathed to be parted ever again.  Your hands card through Dieter’s soft curls, delicate fingers cradling his head soothingly, warm; his hands spread wide to cover your back, covetous and protective.

“No more hiding,” you whisper, face lit with joy at the adoration and promise reflected in Dieter’s mirrored expression.

He nods and tightens his arm around your waist, love and resolution coursing through his veins.  Sharing one last private look, the two of you turn in unison, a team, towards the awestruck Entertainment Tonight interviewer whose microphone is practically shaking with excitement.  Dieter beams his megawatt Bravo smile at her, “Is this what the kids call a hard launch?”

🎶Artic Monkey's "Do I Wanna Know" lyrics (Hozier's version):

Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through Crawlin' back to you 🎶

[crimsoncandy04]

Have u ever thought of Scara w tentacles😳 like he was an experiment and we are the one in charged of cater for him, then one day he escape and take us with him to breed cause' he really likes us... Idk if it's possible but might lay eggs for him. Please try writing it one day!! Tysm for those fics u feed uso(≧▽≦)o

I should really check my inbox more often than I do. This is literally such a hot idea.

(also just a heads up, I'm absolutely blasted right now while writing this so if it's not perfect I'm so sorry. Cannabis gummies are a double edged sword for me. On one hand I get the BEST ideas to write but then on the other I forget how words work)

Hope you like it;)

You had seen some weird stuff in your 25 years. It was expected though. You WERE working for the fatui and under one of the more deranged harbingers known for fucked up experimentation too.

However, being put in charge of one of the less important projects involving the sixth harbinger had proven to be more than you were prepared to handle.

A LOT more.

You had no idea why he allowed this to happen or if it was just a bizarre side effect of another failed experiment. But one thing was for certain, the sixth harbinger had been altered physical and now needed to be restrained at all costs. He had actual tentacles growing from his back. Like REAL ones. And for some reason they seemed to have minds of their own at times.

Thrashing around and hitting the thick glass of the containment room as if trying to break out while the young man at their base sat on the cold concrete ground and refused to look at you each time you went over to slide him food through a small opening in the wall that your hand could barely fit through.

You weren't important enough to know the details of what went on in your boss's lab but you had to admit that the sentient tendrils were a bit pretty to look at.

They were a deep indigo. Almost black with small barely discernable silver accents along the sides.

They appeared almost metallic in the right lighting and you had to make yourself look away and stop staring sometimes because you didn't want to be rude.

You were here to complete a job and that was all.

Until the night everything went to shit of course.

You were summoned sometime after midnight along with two other subordinates to check the lab for accidents after a security alarm was triggered for unknown reasons.

You rushed in and immediately you felt your blood go cold at the sight before you.

He had escaped.

Shattered glass lay at your feet as well as blood presumably from the guard who was now nowhere to be seen and most certainly dead.

You heard a yell from the room next to you.

"Stay here!" The other man with you insisted as he drew his gun and took off after the source of the cry.

You didn't need to be told twice.

Because right now you were confused but also rightfully scared.

What happened to the sixth harbinger? He never once gave you reason to believe he was distressed or restless before. He never even spoke to you when you fed him and checked the condition of his holding room.

Did you perhaps miss something?

What caused him to suddenly lash out and attack the guard?

And most importantly what happened to-

*PLOP*

You hear something hit the ground next to you and slowly turn your head to look.

You shriek.

On the ground next to you was the decapitated head of the subordinate who had just left to search for the other man.

You immediately tried to run but were stopped in your tracks as something wrapped around your waist and hoisted you into the air.

You tremble and go silent. Preparing for the worst when you look down and meet eyes with the sixth harbinger.

One of his many new appendages coiled around your middle and rendering you helpless as you silently prayed to every archon you could remember that if you were to die here it would be quick and painless.

He narrows his eyes up at you.

"You. You didn't want to try killing me as well?"

You struggle to answer as you shake violently.

"No sir. I see you nearly every day. I assumed something was wrong and that you were seeking help. I didn't feel like it was right to murder you."

"Are you scared?"

You felt your heart race.

Something about his tone seemed off. Different.

Did he...enjoy the fact that you were clearly terrified?

You closed your eyes and sighed.

Alright.

Every life had its end. This was surely yours.

Don't think about it. Go to your safe place Y/N.

You suddenly feel more tentacles slither around your arms and legs.

You immediately open your eyes as you feel them spread your knees apart.

What the FUCK!?

There's a chuckle from underneath you.

"I must admit... I am enjoying your terror immensely."

Obviously.

You feel an indigo tendril slowly slide up your shirt and wiggle underneath your bra. coiling around one of your breasts and squeezing it roughly as you feel your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. It was cold and slimy but thanks to what you assumed was the natural power of the young man before you, the tentacles emitted a gentle electro current throughout their entire lengths and the sensation caused the muscles in your limbs and stomach to relax unwillingly as you were fondled.

The entire stimulation was now sending jolts of unwilling arousal through you. Scaramouche's eyes darken as he feels your nipple stiffen against one of his slick, muscular coils which had wrapped itself tightly around one of your tits and was now rubbing its head against your delicate peak. Making you struggle to stay quiet.

"Your body is betraying you. How does it feel existing in such a delicate and worthless form? I'm not even trying yet-."

Another tendril snakes up your thigh, sliding beneath your skirt, the cool slickness a shock against your bare skin as you didn't expect this so quickly. It inches higher, brushing against your clothed sex.

Scaramouche chuckles darkly at your soft whimpers then, his voice a sinful caress in your aroused mind as you're made to enjoy this against your will.

"I can still feel you with these. You're so wet already. Does it feel good being teased in such a disgraceful manner? Or were you always this much of a slut?"

He grins wickedly, a predatory gleam in his indigo eyes. The tendrils tighten their grip, squeezing and kneading your most sensitive places, stoking the fire within your core. The air crackles with his power and reeks of your excitement.

A small tentacle hooks into the waistband of your panties and suddenly rips them off completely, baring your glistening sex to the cool air. Another one quickly begins to rub against your slick folds, teasing your wet entrance.

"What a cute little hole~ hmm. I wonder what would happen if I-"

The thick tentacle at your entrance instantly rams itself inside in one painful push, stretching your tight pussy and curling in to rub against your sweet spot as it began to thrust quickly. You could only gasp and cry out as you felt another tentacle slither up your thigh and rub your clit at the same time.

Your eyes widened.

It hurt yet it felt like you had ascended to Celestia all at once.

You force yourself to cry out before you went insane.

"S-Scara! Please! It's too big! You're... stretching me!"

Scaramouche smirks up at your quivering body as he feels your tight walls clenching desperately around his invading tendril. He grinds it deeper, relishing your breathy moans and gasps, the electric current making your body shudder with every caress and thrust.

"Too big? Ha. Your greedy little cunt is taking every inch like it was made for it. Like it was made for me."

He pulls back slightly, then slams the tentacle in deeper. The wet squelching sounds of the violation fill the room, mingling with your increasingly wanton moans and whimpers.

"Listen to yourself, enjoying the feeling of being so ruthlessly defiled. You can't deny your true nature Y/N. You're a weak and disposable creature. I've seen how you go out of your way to try and care about me. How you act so..."selfless" and "considerate" when forced to tend to me knowing damn well it was all only to delude yourself into believing you were making a difference. Tell me, was it tiring?"

Tendrils squeeze your breasts harder, the electric shocks making your nipples stiffen into aching peaks. Another then pushes into your mouth, silencing your cries and leaving you gasping around the slick intrusion.

"It must have been exhausting. Pretending like you actually cared so much. Did you enjoy your little charade? Was it nice pretending like you weren't worth less than the dirt on my shoes because you were "helping "?"

Scaramouche's voice is a dark, lustful growl as he crosses his arms and continues to watch as his tentacles ruin you. The tendril pistoning into your cunt speeds up, the electric shocks growing stronger, pushing you closer and closer to a reluctant release.

"Come for me, Y/N. Come on my tentacles like the wanton slut you are. You wanted something like this right? To be seen and "loved"? Well let go then."

As Scara speaks, another tentacle snakes down to your puckered rear entrance. It teases the tight ring of muscle, the electric current making it relax. Slowly it pushes inside, stretching your virgin hole around the slick invader.

"Such a tight little asshole... I will enjoy breaking this in as well. You'll be my perfect little fuck toy, ready and eager for me at all times. How does that sound?"

The tentacle in your mouth begins fucking deeper into your throat, making you gag and choke a little. The one in your ass pushes deeper, stretching you impossibly further now as everything borders on pleasure and pain now in an overwhelming way.

"That's it, just like that. Take it all. Take every inch, every inch of my desire. You'll learn to crave this, to need this, to be nothing but a set of holes for me to fill and use. I'll give you a purpose. A reason to exist. Just like you always wanted."

Scaramouche's eyes blaze with sadistic lust as he watches you try to writhe and struggle, your body shaking with unwanted pleasure, your mind clouding with shame and need. He knows he has you now, knows that he can shape you, mold you, ruin you for all others.

And it's driving him insane.

You had caught his attention long ago but of course you were too stupid to notice. You always thought his tentacles were just being "aggressive". No. He had been trying to get you to say something to him. But every time you just stared at him, gave him a stupid little tray of food that he didn't even need. And then just left.

You couldn't blame him for getting a little frustrated and impatient. You had practically forced him to make the first move here.

A couple of minutes went by and suddenly you feel something else being stuffed into your stretched cunt alongside the enormous tentacle already buried inside.

Two smaller and practically microscopic sized tentacles wiggle in and begin to tease your cervix opening. Slowly coaxing their way into your womb as you feel yourself climaxing from the intrusion.

The tentacles writhe and squirm in your womb, painting your inner walls with their slick, tingling essence.

You suddenly feel a deep pressure as something is pumped directly into your womb. You wince and cum again as Scara begins to forcibly impregnates you with his offspring yet instead of your earlier nervousness or shame, you now feel oddly at ease. As if your new reality finally set in for you.

It was kinda enjoyable.

Scaramouche chuckles darkly as he feels your womb trying instinctively to reject his eggs. But the tendrils hold fast, forcing the small yet soft jelly-like lavender eggs deeper, stretching your most intimate space to its limits.

You had finally accepted your place it seemed. Utilizing your body's full potential from here would be far more easy with you now more willing to endure the process and transformation.

The tendrils continue their relentless assault, pumping more and more of the eggs into you, each one a cruel mockery of a seed, a promise of the countless times he will fill you after this as well. You had one purpose now. To be used, bred like a bitch in heat. All for the singular goal of birthing a new army for Scaramouche and his future plans.

You were important for this reason alone.

"Welcome to your new life, mortal. Welcome to eternity as my personal fuck toy, my breeding bitch, my eternal plaything. And you will love every moment of it. I promise."

A few hours pass and your belly swells quickly. During this short incubation period Scara manages to stretch your holes even further almost to the point of beyond recognition. Three tentacles now thrusted in and out of your ruined asshole and Scara had decided to reposition you both to keep an eye on you and to jam another thick tentacle deep into your pussy and continue to ravage it while he silently marveled at your swollen belly from where he now stood over you.

His hands roam possessively over the stretched skin of your stomach. He can feel the eggs he's planted inside you, each one a testament to his dark triumph, a promise of the future that he envisioned where he was untouchable by absolutely anyone. God or human alike.

"Look at you, already so round and full. And this is only the beginning, my dear. I will fill you again and again, until you know nothing but the feeling of carrying my offspring."

He leans down, his lips brushing against the taut skin of your stomach, his voice a dark, mocking murmur.

"Such an easy bitch to breed, so quick to take my eggs, to let them take root inside you. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were meant to be my incubator, my vessel. And now, here you are, already looking like a proper mother~"

The tentacles continue their relentless assault, stretching you impossibly further, The one now sucking on your clit pulses in time with your racing heartbeat, pushing you to yet another orgasm.

More tendrils move to your heavy, aching breasts again, squeezing and kneading the swollen flesh. They latch onto your nipples, suckling greedily, the electric currents making milk drip faster as it's quickly consumed.

More time goes by. You aren't sure how much exactly but then.

You feel movement in your belly and an uncomfortable shift as the eggs begin to hatch within you. The tentacles in your pussy immediately slide free and smaller ones seize your battered lips before rudely pulling on them to reveal your now loose and sloppy canal in its entirety.

Within seconds a small writhing indigo tentacle pushes its way out of your cervix and begins its descent.

Scaramouche's eyes widen with a fevered, manic light as he watches the first of his offspring emerge and fall to the floor with a small thud. He leans in closer, his breath coming faster as he watches the next little and writhing indigo tentacle push its way out, covered in fluids and its own natural secretions, a grotesque parody of a newborn.

"Look at that... your womb was actually able to grow these things without issue, your body has given life to my creation. I knew I made no mistake when I chose you for this."

The tentacles in your ass begins to writhe and pulse at that moment, easily pulling free from your body to make room for more of the "children " to emerge. Within seconds they start slipping out of your abused holes like nightmarish serpents and forming a horrific pile beneath your deflated body. Their movements are jerky and erratic, their beautiful flesh glistening in the dim light as they slowly start to slither up your legs in search of the warmth they once knew moments ago.

"Such a good mother, so efficient in your purpose. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were meant for this. And now, look at you... a true incubator, an ideal vessel for what is to come."

Scaramouche reaches down, his fingers brushing against the writhing mass of tentacles, stroking them like a proud parent would a newborn. They pulse and twitch at his touch, as if recognizing their creator, their master.

"They will be the first of many, the vanguard of a new age, a new era of power and dominance."

Your belly continues to churn from inside, more of the eggs hatching, more of the small tentacle creatures slipping out to join their brethren. The floor quickly fills with their jerking, twisting forms, a nightmarish scene.

Scaramouche's maniacal laughter then rings out, echoing off the walls, a sound of pure, unhinged joy at his dark triumph. He knows that he has won. Because with this plan now in action, no one would be able to oppose him for long.

And the world would be his for the taking.

[lydiasfalling]

SWEET CREATURE !

percy jackson x aphrodite! reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : use of y/n, nothing else really ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

happy valentine’s day everyone! hope you guys enjoy this. could possibly make this a series if it’s liked enough. love ya!!!

walking around camp half blood at this time of year seemed to mock you. the fellow aphrodite’s kids seemed to be focused on finding a valentine. now, dot get it twisted. you wanted a valentine. bad. the only problem with this was, well, your intense and completely obvious crush on percy jackson. something about his confidence and charismatic aura drew you in and ruined you for anyone and everyone else.

there was another problem with this. percy jackson happened to be your best friend. you had tried everything to get these feelings to go away. dating other camp members, having different flings, setting percy up with other people, and tartarus, you even had people give you love potions. nothing worked. it was getting unbearable for everyone surrounding the two of you. in particular, annabeth and grover seemed the most annoyed.

the pair had also tried to help you guys understand how perfect you two would be together. however, you and him both refused any sort of insinuation of romance. it’s not that you didn’t want to be with him. quite the opposite, actually. you just didn’t see the point of wasting your friendship by risking him not feeling the same way. keeping him close as a friend was better than loosing him.

infact, you had encouraged him to ask another camp member out. this led you to your current predicament, watching him as he walked with kailey ( a girl from cabin five ). this had been his choice—he insisted she was ‘interesting enough’. you could see by the look on his face that he didn’t truly enjoy her company all that much.

“ya know, this could all be avoided if you just told him how you feel.” annabeth said from next to you, throwing a pointed look in your direction. you chose to ignore the sarcastic tone of her voice as she spoke.

“how i feel? i feel like he’s my best friend and i can’t jeopardize that. they look to be having fun.” the second sentence came out as if you were trying to convince yourself as well.

as if the universe wanted to mock you more, percy and kailey made their way over to you. annabeth looked at you, praying that you noticed the bored look on percy’s face. you gave her a look as to say ‘stop it’ before turning to shoot a smile in the direction of the approaching pair. kailey seemed to have a permanent scowl on her face while percy’s expression shifted upon seeing you. his uninterested features changed to those of contentment when your smile entered his vision.

“hey, y/n!” percy’s pace increased the closer he got to you, leaving kailey slightly behind him.

“hey, perce. kailey.” you nodded in her direction, warranting an eye-roll from the girl. “what’re you guys up to?”

“just, ya know. walking around. sat at the dock for a little bit.” percy responded. him and kailey stood an unusual distance away from eachother.

“percy, im gonna go. come fine me when you’re done with. . . this.” kailey rolled her eyes for what seemed like tenth time in the short period that she stood there. she brushed his arm slightly before turning and walking away.

“well isn’t she just a ray of sunshine.” annabeth snorted, laughing slightly.

percy agreed quickly, “she’s. . . something. that’s for sure.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“not feeling it?” you asked. he shook his head no, moving to sit next to you. his arm quickly fell over your shoulders.

this made annabeth abruptly stand up. “well, as much as i would love so stay and chat, i have shit to do. see you two later?”

“mhm. later!” percy said.

“bye, annie!” you added. as the girl walked away, you turned in percy’s direction. “is she really that terrible?” you asked.

“she’s . . . okay, i guess. not really my type.” his arm fell from your shoulders, hand moving to hold your own instead. this was something percy had developed on the numerous quests you two had gone on together. his need for physical closeness was something that many found annoying, but you found endearing.

“oh yeah? and what might your type be classified as?” you laughed.

“oh, ya know. i like a girl who’s smart, kind, funny, caring. all the usual things. i also like a girl who sets me up on dates with other people because she doesn’t realize i’m hopelessly in love with her. that’s my ideal woman.” he shrugged as if it were nothing.

your jaw had officially found the floor. “i—i’m sorry. . . what?” you were sure you had heard him wrong.

“you know what i said, y/n.” percy’s face turned serious as he turned his entire boy towards you.

“do i? because it sounds a lot like a confession.” you tried to lighten the situation, laughing slightly before halting.

“y/n, you’re making this extremely hard for me.” percy’s face had begun to turn a shade of crimson.

“how so?” you kept a serious face, struggling not to crack a smile.

“y/n. . . i’m completely and utterly in love with you. the way you laugh, the way you smile, the way you laugh again because, dam, i love that sound, the way you twirl the strand of hair by your ear when you’re nervous, the way you stick your tongue out slightly when you’re focused. i love the way that you talk about your niche interests and the way that you always put up with my bullshit. i love how deeply you care about everyone, even the people who don’t deserve it. i love the contentment in your eyes when we’re sitting at the beach. i love you because you’re you, and that’s the best person you can be.” percy didn’t once break eye contact through his speech.

it was official. this was the first time in your like that you had been rendered completely speechless. your palms became sweaty and your heart was racing. being a child of aphrodite normally meant you reacted better to love situations. this didn’t help you much now, though. instead, the only thing you could think of doing in that moment was leaning forward to connect your lips.

it wasn’t beautiful or a ‘sparks fly’ moment. it was quick and chaste, you moving away as quickly as you moved forward. once you pulled away, you looked percy in the eyes. his expression had shifted from one of fear to hunger. his hand came up, finding the back of your neck and pulling you into him again. his lips were warm and soft against yours. he tasted of sea salt and blue pancakes, a combination that only percy jackson could pull off. his free hand found it way to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

once the two of you could no longer breathe, you both pulled away at a slow pace. he kept his forehead against yours.

“gods, i have been waiting a millennia to do that.” percy laughed, kissing your cheek. his head moved from yours to the crook of your neck.

“me too, perseus.” your hand reached up, lacing itself into his hair.

“fucking finally! gods, i was starting to loose hope!” grover said, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

“me too, honestly.” percy spoke, lifting his head to look at grover.

“you too?” you asked, confused.

“y/n, you’re literally the only person who didn’t know about percy’s massive crush.” grover explained.

you averted your gaze towards percy, who shrugged in confirmation. your face heated up. safe to say that you had managed to find yourself a valentine, though kailey from cabin five wasn’t too happy.

my masterlist

taglist : @lydiascabinsix @cowboylikemac @laufeysvalentine @raysmayhem-72

[nanamineedstherapy]

Seven Minutes in Heaven (Final Chapter)

F!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Previous Chapter 2 (Tumblr/Ao3) This chapter's (Ao3)

Summary: It was supposed to be a normal frat party. Just a stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Just him, king of never taking anything seriously, getting shoved into a closet for a dumb dare. And yet. Now, he can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t stop thinking about you. And one by one, his friends are starting to realize— Whatever happened in that closet? It never really ended.

Satoru didn’t know why he went back.

The frat had been sealed after that night.

Too many rumors, too much fear.

No one wanted to be near the closet, let alone open it again.

But he had to.

It was past midnight when he found himself in front of the door, his fingers numb despite the warmth of the hallway. The dorms were eerily quiet at this hour—silent, abandoned, the kind of quiet that made footsteps sound too loud and shadows stretch too long.

He exhaled slowly, forcing down the tightness in his throat. ‘This is stupid.’

And yet—

He stayed.

His fingers brushed the handle. Cold. Unnervingly so.

“Hey, princess,” he murmured, voice softer than usual.

No response.

A flicker of something twisted inside him. His hand hovered over the door handle.

"I know who you are now."

Nothing.

The air was still, heavy. His breath came out in a slow, unsteady exhale.

"I know what happened to you."

A whisper of wind stirred through the empty hall.

Then—

Faintly.

A breath against his ear.

"…You came back."

His pulse stuttered.

You were there. Real.

A shadow at the edge of the dim light. Barely visible, flickering like a dying candle.

Satoru let out a shaky laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Of course I came back. You stole my first kiss, remember?” His voice was light, playful. But his grip on the doorframe tightened.

You stared at him.

You didn’t smile.

Your head tilted slightly, hair shifting like mist over your shoulders.

"I thought you would leave."

The words were soft. Almost hollow.

Something in his stomach twisted.

Had everyone left you? Had no one ever come back?

His throat worked around an answer. "Yeah, well…” He exhaled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I guess I’m stubborn like that.”

A slow, tired smile crossed your lips.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, cautiously—like he might scare you away—he reached out.

His fingers hovered over your cheek.

There was no warmth. No softness. Just a whisper of cold air, the ghost of a touch.

Still—

He smiled.

“You’re real to me,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

And for the first time in a hundred years—

You cried.

The first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another.

They fell soundlessly, like drops of ink on parchment.

Satoru didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just watched.

Watched as something long dead cracked open inside you, spilling out in uneven breaths and trembling shoulders.

And then—

The world around him shifted.

Click.

His head snapped up.

The hallway stretched. The doors warped. The air thickened, damp and stale.

His stomach lurched.

The scent of old wood, dust, and perfume clung to his skin. The overhead lights dimmed, replaced by the flicker of oil lanterns, their golden glow casting long, eerie shadows.

Then he heard it.

Heels.

Slow. Deliberate.

Coming closer.

He turned.

The corridor extended endlessly. The doors on either side weren’t the ones he knew—these were old, carved wood with brass handles, student nameplates etched in curling script.

His chest constricted.

This wasn’t his university anymore.

It was yours.

The past was bleeding through.

The footsteps drew closer.

Laughter echoed—distant, distorted, bleeding through the air like radio static.

"She truly believed we were her confidants."

"Such a flawless little princess."

"Let’s see how sweet she remains after this."

Satoru swallowed, his fingers curling into fists.

This wasn’t like the horror movies Suguru made him watch, where ghosts dragged people under beds or whispered from mirrors.

No.

This was wrong.

His breath came out unsteady. “Okay, whatever game this is, I’m not playing.”

But his voice sounded smaller than before.

The figures at the end of the hall flickered.

Not just shadows.

Them.

The ones who had locked you away.

But their faces—

Gone.

Blank, featureless voids.

Something crawled up his spine.

A whisper curled against his ear.

"Run."

His breath hitched.

He turned—

And you were behind him.

But you weren’t the girl who had kissed him that night in the closet.

You weren’t even the girl who had cried moments ago.

Your dress was in tatters, hanging from your frame like a funeral shroud.

Your hands—bloodied, torn, broken—from where you had pounded against that door, begging to be let out.

And your eyes—

Hollow.

Shadows bled down your cheeks like ink, lips trembling as if you wanted to scream but had forgotten how.

Satoru felt his stomach turn.

Then you moved.

Not a step. Not a shift.

But the air itself warped—twisting, bending, the space around you cracking like glass.

Too fast.

Too wrong.

Then—

Your hands were on his chest.

Cold.

So cold.

Pressing.

Pushing.

The figures at the end of the hall stepped forward. Their laughter—warped, inhuman—grew louder.

Satoru’s breath came out in shallow, uneven gasps.

“Satoru.”

Your voice.

No longer soft.

Wrong. Distorted. Rotten.

“You should have left.”

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—

The door behind him slammed open.

A force yanked him back, and suddenly—

He was falling.

The moment his back hit the floor, everything stopped.

The dim hallway lights buzzed overhead. The dormitory walls stretched back into place.

His chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven gasps.

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

Then—

A voice.

A sigh.

“Fucking idiot.”

Satoru blinked.

Kento stood over him, arms crossed. Toji leaned against the wall, shaking his head.

“Should’ve let the spooky grandma keep him,” Toji muttered.

Satoru swallowed, forcing himself upright. His hands still shook. His pulse still thundered.

The closet door stood open.

Empty.

Like it had always been.

Like none of it had ever happened.

But his chest burned where you had touched him.

Where you had pushed him away.

His fingers curled into fists.

He swallowed, throat dry.

And stared at the dark, empty closet.

You weren’t there.

But somehow—

He knew you were watching.

---

A Few Days Before Satoru Would Find Out the Truth About You

They did it behind his back.

Satoru didn’t know.

Would never know.

Because if he did—if he ever even caught the scent of it—he would never forgive them.

Not that it mattered.

They weren’t trying to save themselves.

They were trying to save him.

Suguru wasn’t sentimental.

He wasn’t a believer in the supernatural, either—not like Haibara, who refused to walk past this hallway after sundown, or like Shoko, who swore she once heard breathing coming from the closet. He wasn’t even like Kento, who refused to acknowledge the weird shit happening in this house, like a man plugging his ears against a scream.

No—Suguru was logical. Rational. Practical.

Which was why he was here.

Because Satoru was losing his fucking mind.

Obsession wasn’t a new look on him. He had a habit of locking onto things—winning, digimon, the next high.

But this was different.

He wasn’t fixating.

He was unraveling.

The late-night pacing. The hollowed-out eyes. The way he forgot to eat, forgot to sleep, forgot them—unless it was to talk about her.

A girl who should not exist.

So now, at the godforsaken hour of midnight, Suguru stood outside the closet door with nothing but a lighter and a headache, stomach curling at the weight pressing against his ribs.

He lit the flame. Let it flicker. Watched how the glow barely reached the cracks in the old wooden door.

“You’ve got my best friend wrapped around your little dead fingers,” he said, voice casual, tone flat. “And while I’m sure that’s fun for you, it’s getting old for the rest of us.”

Silence.

Nothing moved.

But something shifted.

Not the air.

Not the room.

Him.

Like an invisible hand had curled through his ribs and squeezed.

The lighter flickered.

Then—

𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬.

Out.

Suguru frowned, thumb pressing against the metal wheel.

Nothing.

The air behind him went thick. Full.

Like something else was standing there.

“You don’t have anything to say?” he tried again, rolling his shoulders, forcing himself to stay loose. “Figures. You just like the way he looks at you, don’t you?”

Silence.

His lip curled.

“He’s beautiful,” he said, eyes narrowing. “We all know it. I bet that’s why you won’t let him go, huh? You like how obsessed he is.”

Still nothing.

He exhaled, pressing his palm against the wood. Ice-cold, like touching winter itself.

“Look,” he tried again, voice dropping low, coaxing. “I don’t give a shit about ghosts or hauntings or whatever tragic horror movie backstory you have. But Satoru? He’s human. He’s alive. And whatever this is? It’s sick.”

A pause.

Then—

𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳.

Low.

Amused.

“Is it?”

A slow, curling dread slithered down his spine.

Holy fuck, you were real.

His mouth went dry.

“Yeah,” he said, steeling himself. “It is.”

“But didn’t you want him to look at you that way?”

His breath caught.

The air behind him suddenly felt too close.

“Didn’t you hate that he never did?”

His throat went tight.

No.

No, this was stupid. He wasn’t playing this game.

Suguru clenched his jaw and turned his back on the door.

But the second he did—

Something brushed his cheek.

Soft.

Gentle.

Cold.

And a voice—

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

His stomach dropped.

His hands curled into fists, but his arms felt heavy.

“You wanted him to need you, too.”

The words dripped from the ceiling.

From the walls.

From inside his own head.

His breath turned ragged.

His foot landed wrong.

Something shifted beneath him—

A loose floorboard.

One that shouldn’t be loose.

Like it had come undone from another time.

Another year.

Another century.

“You thought you were better than him.”

His heart pounded.

The slow, creeping realization took shape in his chest, curling like rot.

The weight of his own self-hatred.

His breathing turned ragged.

“That’s why you could never leave, isn’t it?”

A whisper—

𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦.

𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

“Because Satoru is your ghost, too.”

A breath against his ear.

A touch at his wrist.

Suguru ran.

He had come in thinking he was the main character—cigarette dangling from his lips, lighter flicking like some noir detective. Thought he’d just say some cold, logical, therapist-coded shit and leave unscathed.

You took one look at him and cracked his spine open like an old book.

By the time he stumbled out, he was a hollowed-out husk of a man, staring at his hands like they were covered in blood, mumbling about how Satoru was his ghost too, like some poetic loser.

Didn’t even make it ten minutes.

The drunk dumbasses laughed at Suguru, beat their chest and went in next.

Shoko had two beers in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and a misplaced sense of invincibility holding her together.

Haibara, golden retriever energy personified, was just happy to be included.

“We got this,” Shoko slurred, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

“She’s just a little dead girl, how bad can it be?” Haibara added.

They walked in, already shit-talking you.

Bad move.

“Yo, how does it feel knowing you died before Snapchat was invented?” Shoko cackled, her voice bouncing off the walls like a stray bullet.

Haibara snickered. “Bro, no offense, but, like, you ever thought maybe you’re the problem? Like, statistically?”

Their laughter echoed.

No response.

Nothing but the steady hum of the dormitory’s ancient radiator.

They exhaled, relieved.

Then—

Click.

The door they walked through locked.

Shoko froze mid-drink. Haibara’s smile faltered.

The air changed.

The room didn’t get darker. It just got… wrong.

Like a house that had shifted an inch to the left, just enough to make you dizzy.

Shoko turned, already annoyed. “Okay, very The Conjuring, very I’m a tormented soul, but—”

Then you breathed in her ear.

Slow. Deliberate. Ice-cold.

Shoko didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

But her cigarette burned all the way down to her fingertips, and she didn’t even feel it.

“You pretend you don’t care about anything,” you mused, voice curling like smoke around her throat. “That you’re just watching everyone else lose their minds, like you’re the only person in the world who has it all figured out.”

She scoffed, chugged the rest of her beer. “And?”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

Silence.

That unsettling, crawling silence that wraps around your ankles like it’s trying to pull you under.

“If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be.”

She exhaled slowly, like it wasn’t getting to her, like she wasn’t suddenly acutely aware of how much time she spent orbiting around Gojo’s chaos, how her entire college experience was just one long, casual third-party observation of people who actually felt things.

“If you weren’t scared of what your life would look like without them, you wouldn’t be standing here, trying to prove you’re braver than a dead girl.”

Her fingers twitched around the cigarette.

“You’re not better than them, Shoko.”

No smirk now.

No biting comeback.

Just the slow, creeping realization hit.

She wasn’t watching the tragedy.

She was part of it.

The cigarette dropped from her fingers.

Shoko left without finishing her drink.

Then you turned to the kind of guy who made you feel like the world wasn’t a dumpster fire for five whole minutes.

So you shattered that.

“Tell me, Yu, what’s it like being a placeholder?”

He blinked, surprised. “A what?”

“A placeholder. A temporary happiness. A nice little buffer between the bad things in their lives.”

He frowned. “That’s—”

“Why do you think everyone loves you? It’s not because they need you. It’s because you make them feel better about themselves.”

His throat bobbed.

You smiled.

“Suguru’s nice to you because you remind him of a version of himself he barely remembers.”

His brows furrowed.

“Satoru keeps you around because you don’t ask for anything.”

His stomach twisted.

“They love you. But if you disappeared tomorrow? If you stopped smiling, stopped being easy, stopped being safe?”

You leaned in.

Soft. Close. Everywhere.

“They’d drop you.”

And he knew it was true.

Knew that if he wasn’t fun, wasn’t light, wasn’t the one thing in their lives that didn’t demand effort—

He’d just be another ghost in the hall.

Haibara left quietly.

They both didn’t even tell anyone what you said.

Didn’t need to.

But when they left, Haibara chugged a beer in dead silence, and Shoko smoked an entire pack without speaking.

They lasted fifteen minutes.

Which, to be fair, was a new record.

The “Unkillable” bastards rolled their shoulders and cracked their necks next.

Toji, who people were pretty sure had failed at least three years, rolled up with Shiu and Sukuna like they were about to fistfight a literal ghost.

“Easy,” Toji scoffed, cracking his neck. “If Satoru can survive this, it can’t be that bad.”

Satoru would not survive this.

“You’re gonna die first,” Shiu predicted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You scream ‘beaten by an eldritch entity in the first act.’”

Toji ignored him.

They went in.

It started fine.

Then it got not fine.

The lights dimmed. Not all at once, not like a dramatic horror movie flicker. More like something was breathing, exhaling, pulling the warmth out of the room in slow, dragging inhales.

Sukuna, ever the arrogant bastard, leaned against the wall and smirked. “What’s a little ghost gonna do? Make me reflect on my childhood trauma?”

“Yes.”

He scoffed. “You think you scare me?” He smirked. “I am the scary thing.”

Somewhere, something shifted.

The walls groaned.

Then—

A laugh.

Soft. Too close.

“Oh, Sukuna.”

A whisper in his ear.

“You don’t even like yourself.”

His grin flickered. Just a little.

“You love the idea of yourself, but the actual you? The real, empty, nothing version of you?”

His jaw tightened.

“You don’t even know him.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

A pause. A long one.

Too long.

“Tell me what you like. And don’t say sex, don’t say drinking, don’t say winning.”

His teeth clenched.

“Tell me what makes you happy.”

More silence.

“Tell me who you are—without the fight, without the performance, without the ego.”

The room creaked.

Something cold curled around his ribs, something deep and guttural and wrong.

It wasn’t touching him.

But it could.

And then, when he didn’t answer—

He left without another word.

Eight minutes later, Sukuna was outside with his head between his knees, breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

Shiu was cocky.

Came in expecting to win.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “My parents already traumatized me worse than you could.”

Said, point-blank, “I’ve already seen the worst parts of myself. Nothing you say can touch me.”

So you didn’t say anything.

Just waited.

And the longer it stretched—the silence, the weight, the knowing—the more his own thoughts started gnawing at him.

Then, finally—you spoke.

“But have you?”

The words curled around his spine like fingers.

Like something just behind him, just out of sight.

His breath hitched.

He turned.

Nothing.

But the feeling remained.

And then—

A whisper.

Right at his ear.

“Look down.”

And Shiu, against his own better judgment, did.

And in the dim, humming dark of the room—

His own shadow wasn’t his.

It was wrong.

The limbs too long. The head tilted too far. It wasn’t mimicking him.

It was watching.

Shiu left ten minutes later.

Looking ten years older.

Didn’t tell anyone why.

Then there was Toji.

Real tough. Hard, unshakable. The kind of guy who treated his own suffering like a joke, like it wasn’t real if he laughed at it first.

So you made it real.

“You should have been something else.”

His shoulders stiffened, jaw locked.

You smiled.

“Doesn’t it bother you? That there’s a version of you—somewhere, in another life—that didn’t just survive?”

His fingers curled into fists.

“A version that thrived?”

His pulse quickened.

“A version that finished school—that wasn’t stuck in this pathetic cycle of running and failing and drinking and fucking and wasting every chance he ever had?”

His chest ached.

“You could have been someone.”

“You should have been.”

Something clicked.

Not in his head. Behind him.

Like a jaw unhinging.

Like something getting ready to swallow him whole.

A breeze curled around his throat.

Not air.

Breath.

Something was leaning over his shoulder.

And its voice, soft, softer than a prayer, whispered—

“He is watching.”

Toji turned—

But there was nothing.

Just that crawling, wrong-feeling dark.

He left.

Mr. “I Fear Nothing.”

Mr. “I’ve Seen It All.”

Mr. “Shaking Like a Chihuahua After Twelve Minutes Inside.”

Didn’t even talk when he came out. Just stared into the distance, haunted.

“Yo, you good?” Shoko asked, flicking ash at him.

Toji blinked. “I need to drop out.”

The Lover Boy & The Soft Boy were next.

Kashimo and Choso walked in side by side—one radiating rizz, the other radiating empathy.

Kashimo smirked at the darkness. “A beautiful woman from another century haunting a frat house? That’s, like, peak sexy.”

Choso, soft-spoken and gentle, tilted his head. “I think you might be misunderstood, actually.”

Kashimo was competing for Where’s My Hug At Uncle, “You tryna make out or what girl?”

You didn’t even respond.

You just let Kashimo marinate in his own weird-ass thoughts.

The silence got to him.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his stance, trying to out-sexy a ghost.

“You know,” he tried again, brushing his hair back, “you ever get lonely? I could—”

“Didn’t you spend three hours crying over your ex last night?”

The temperature dropped.

Not supernaturally.

Just for him, frozen wasteland.

Choso looked at him, betrayed. “Dude.”

Kashimo swallowed. “I was drunk.”

“You called her fourteen times.”

The betrayal deepened.

Kashimo left immediately.

Choso turned back to the dark. Sat down. Crossed his legs. “I get it.” He sighed, staring at the floor.

He wasn’t scared of you; he just didn’t want to make you feel weirded out like Kashimo because what if you were an introverted or socially anxious ghost?

The two of you just talked.

No fear. No malice. Just an understanding that neither of you belonged here, but here you were.

Choso was quiet. Thoughtful. More self-aware than the rest.

“You think it’s your fault, don’t you?”

His throat bobbed. “What?”

“That you’re the reason they all fell apart.”

His breath hitched.

“That you could have done something.”

He looked away.

“You’re not their glue, Choso.”

His fingers trembled.

“You’re just the last one standing.”

A pause.

A deep, aching silence.

“I know,” he whispered.

He looked up to see you sitting in front of him smiling, looking like what he assumed you would have looked like today if you weren’t dead.

Twenty-five minutes later, he left looking sadder but stronger.

Because unlike the others—

He already knew his ghost.

No horrors. No psychological torment.

Just an open therapy session at 1 AM.

The “Too Drunk for Fear, Too Sober for Law-Breaking” duo was next.

Yuki and Hiromi barely made it through the door before they gave up.

“Bro,” Yuki sighed, staring into the dark abyss that had psychologically destroyed people tonight, “you want him? Take him.”

Hiromi nodded, swirling his suspiciously green drink like a man contemplating stock investments and not the potential of dying at the hands of an angry spirit. “He’s pathetic.”

“I mean, look at the material,” Yuki continued, waving vaguely at nothing, taking a sip of her questionable beverage and burping loudly. “Dude’s been losing sleep over a ghost. Cringe.”

You were sitting on top of the closet, but they were too drunk to notice.

Hiromi adjusted the nonexistent collar of his T-shirt, took another sip of his neon-green abomination, and squinted into the darkness like it personally owed him money. “Legally speaking, you are a hundred and ten years old, bro, and he’s like a child compared to you—”

“In her time, they married nine-year-olds, bro.” Yuki corrected, nodding sagely.

Hiromi exhaled, rubbing his temples like he was about to file a lawsuit against history. “Fair point.”

“Technically, I’m still a student.” You pointed out, mildly offended, that this entire conversation was not about the fact that you were a literal vengeful spirit but about legal precedents.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Yuki gestured wildly, sloshing her drink. “Like, what are we gonna do? Sue a ghost?”

Hiromi sighed deeply, the weight of his unfinished law degree heavy on his soul. “I can and I will.”

“Objection,” you deadpanned.

Yuki snorted. “Sustained.”

A slow, agonizing creak echoed through the room. The temperature dropped. The shadows shifted. The air thickened like something was pressing in from all sides, closing around them.

A shadow moved in the corner.

A whisper curled against their ears.

Something—

Yuki took another sip of her drink.

“Yeah, nah,” she decided, turning on her heel. “Good luck, girl. He’s all yours.”

And with that, she grabbed Hiromi by the arm and left.

You blinked.

They didn’t even close the door behind them.

Conclusion:

Satoru Gojo?

Absolutely fucked.

Analyst Went in Last.

Because Kento always went last.

Because when things got bad—when things got impossible—when Satoru was spiraling, it was Kento left standing, exhausted but steady, cleaning up the mess.

And Kento had tried. Really tried.

Tried to reason with Satoru.

Tried to convince him it was just stress. Lack of sleep. Anything but this.

But Satoru had gripped his arm, eyes too bright, too wild, voice cracking as he whispered—

“Please, Kento. She’s hurting. She’s so alone.”

So he had come.

Stepping past the threshold with the weary patience of a man who had done this a thousand times before, maybe in another life.

He expected the cold.

Expected the suffocating silence.

Expected the unsettling, crawling sensation of being watched.

What he didn’t expect—

—was how personal it felt.

Suguru had walked out of here shaking, white as a sheet, looking like he had seen himself for the first time and hated it.

Kento had never been afraid of that.

Until now.

“Nanamin.”

Satoru’s voice was hoarse.

But this wasn’t Satoru’s voice.

Kento exhaled through his nose, already exhausted. He took off his glasses, shoved them into his hoodie, and pulled up his sleeves, then shoved his hands in his joggers.

He saw the dates carved into the wood—1914, clawed in jagged strokes.

The second the door shut behind him—

The world changed.

The warmth of the hallway bled away.

The air grew thick, heavy, expectant.

It felt like stepping into a memory that wasn’t his own.

A whisper against his ear.

Soft. Cold. Curious.

"You’re not like the others."

Kento did not flinch.

He knew you were real because, as much as he didn’t believe in ghosts, he believed Satoru.

"You don’t believe in me."

He exhaled. “That’s not important.”

"But it is."

The voice curled like smoke around him, shifting from side to side, never settling.

"You took your time."

He ignored the way the fine hairs on his arms stood on end.

Kento Poker faced it. “Show yourself.”

The laughter came again, closer this time. A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye—a girl in a tattered dress, your face half-rotted, hair matted with dried blood. You were there for a heartbeat, then gone.

“You don’t want to see me,” You hissed, voice now a chorus of whispers.

Kento clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm. “I’m here to talk. That’s all.”

“Talk?” You sneered, voice dripping with mockery. “You’re here to save him. To prove you’re better than the others. But you’re not, are you?”

Your words struck a nerve, but Kento didn’t flinch. He couldn’t afford to. “If you know so much about me, then you know I’m not leaving without answers.”

The air shifted, the shadows in the room deepening. The ghost materialized before him, your form flickering like a dying flame. You were beautiful and grotesque all at once—your face half-rotted, eyes hollow, but your smile was soft, almost sad.

"I thought you might never come."

Kento remained still. Waiting.

"Tell me, Kento, did you hesitate because you were afraid?"

“No.”

"Liar."

“I had to make sure it was worth my time.”

A laugh. Soft. Amused.

“Is that what Satoru is to you? A waste of time?”

His jaw tensed.

Nothing moved.

Nothing stirred.

But the weight of your presence settled around him like smoke.

“You’re cruel,” he stated, adjusting his sleeves. “But I expected that.”

Silence.

“You say that like you’re not.”

His brow twitched.

The voice came from behind him.

Then beside him.

Then everywhere.

“You think that means you’ll win?” Kento asked, unbothered.

A low, lilting laugh.

It rattled against the walls.

“No.”

“It means you’ll break the most.”

Kento’s fingers twitched.

Not from fear.

From anger.

“You’re a selfish woman,” he said simply.

Then—

Soft.

Gentle.

Dangerous.

“Am I?”

“You know you are.”

A pause.

Then—

“Would you like to know what I see in you, Kento?”

He remained silent.

Then you started.

And Nanami Kento was not ready.

You took him apart.

Piece.

By.

Piece.

A scalpel to the ribs, a whisper beneath his skin, a laugh curling around his spine.

"You think you're here for him.”

“To be the hero.”

“But you’re here for yourself, too."

"You don’t want to lose him."

The words curled around his ribs, settling deep in his gut.

But Kento was not Suguru.

He did not waver.

Did not question himself.

He already knew.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said simply.

"And it hurts, doesn’t it?"

"You don’t even like the way he loves because he loves like fire."

"And you have always loved like stone."

His jaw clenched.

"You think he needs saving."

"You think you’re the one to save him."

"But really—"

A whisper against his skin.

"You just don’t want to be left behind."

His fingers curled into fists.

It got worse.

"You were always outside their door, weren’t you?"

A flicker of laughter.

Suguru and Satoru, golden and untouchable, light spilling through the cracks in the doorframe.

The warmth never quite reaching him.

"Always the last to be thought of."

"Always the first to clean up the mess."

His chest ached.

"Tell me, Kento," you whispered, her voice curling around his throat, "When was the last time someone picked up your pieces?"

His heart sank, but he didn’t show.

"Has anyone ever?"

His pulse pounded.

"No?"

A soft sigh. Almost—mocking.

"How tragic."

Then you found it.

The wound he had spent years ignoring.

The quiet, unbearable grief of loving someone who would never need him the way he needed them.

"You love him."

Not like Suguru.

Not with fire and passion and wild, reckless devotion.

"You love him like stone loves the earth."

Quiet.

Steady.

Unseen.

His heart was racing.

"And it hurts, doesn’t it?"

Her voice curled like a blade beneath his ribs.

"To love someone who will never love you the same way?"

Kento squeezed his eyes shut.

“Stop.”

You laughed.

"Suguru is his sun, and you were just…"

A pause.

"There."

His throat closed.

"Always outside the door."

"Always picking up the pieces."

Then you whispered the worst thing of all against the back of his skull.

The one thing even he had never admitted to himself.

"If you could take Suguru’s place—"

His lungs locked.

"—would you?"

His head snapped up.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—

You hummed. A quiet, knowing hum.

"I thought so."

He exhaled.

“You’re making this personal.”

“It is personal.”

The voice came from above him now.

He didn’t look up.

“You want to be his friend.”

“But you want to be his keeper more.”

For the first time in years, Kento wanted to run.

But there was nowhere left to go.

You kept him there.

Held him in the dark, pinned beneath the weight of his own grief.

You dragged out everything he had buried, set his ribs apart, made him bleed.

It went on for an hour.

And when he finally reached his breaking point—

He surrendered.

Kento’s hands clenched into fists. “You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I?” You whispered, voice suddenly soft, almost tender. “You’re just like me. Alone. Forgotten. Desperate for someone to see you.”

The walls of the closet shifted, the shadows twisting into shapes that made Kento’s stomach churn. He saw flashes of your life—a girl with kind eyes, mocked by her peers, dragged into the closet, her pleas drowned by laughter. He saw her die, alone and forgotten, her anger festering into something monstrous.

And then he saw himself—standing outside Satoru’s door, always watching, never seen.

“We’re not so different, you and I,” you whispered, voice now a broken sob. “We both loved someone who couldn’t love us back.”

Kento closed his eyes. “Let him go.”

“Why should I?” you hissed, voice sharp with anger. “He’s the first person who’s seen me in a century. The first person who’s cared.”

“Because he’s not yours to keep,” Kento said, his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his throat. “And because... I’ll stay.”

The room went silent.

The ghost materialized before him, your face a grotesque mix of beauty and decay. “You would die for him?” You asked, voice trembling with something like hope.

“Yes,” Kento said without hesitation.

You stared at him, hollow eyes searching his face. For a moment, you looked almost human—a girl, not a monster.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, but there was no conviction in your voice.

“I’m not,” Kento said. “I’ll stay. You won’t be alone anymore.”

The ghost trembled, form flickering between corpse and girl. For a heartbeat, Kento saw you—truly saw you—not a monster, but a girl abandoned.

"Why?"

“Because someone should’ve stayed for you.”

The air fractured.

A sob, sharp and sudden, rattled through the closet. Your form flickered—half-rot, half-1914, shifting between the girl you had been and the ghost you’d become.

“You know he will never stop coming back.”

His chest ached.

“I do.”

Another silence.

And then—

Soft. Almost tired.

“What a shame.”

The closet door creaked open. Warmth bled back into the room, the shadows retreating like a tide.

“Thank you,” you said, voice breaking.

And then you were gone.

The weight of your presence lingered, pressing against his spine like a hand between his shoulder blades.

On Kento’s cheek, a frostbitten kiss lingered.

"Tell him… I’m sorry."

When he turned, the dates on the wall were gone.

Kento stepped out.

He found Sukuna waiting.

The second their eyes met, Sukuna froze.

“…She let you go?”

Kento hesitated.

Then, finally—

“No.”

Sukuna’s brows furrowed.

Kento exhaled.

“She let him go.”

And for the first time in his life—

Nanami Kento knew what it felt like to be left behind.

---

Kento was keeping an eye on Satoru when he was kicked out by you.

After a long time, Satoru gave up when he never saw you again.

Like everyone else, Kento never spoke of what happened.

But sometimes, in the quiet, he would touch his cheek—where your parting touch had lingered—and wonder.

If forgiveness smelled like old roses and dust.

And in the closet, beside the carved date of 1914, a name had been added, as if exhaling its final breath.

Kento Nanami.

It was your way of remembering him, not that you forgot anyone when no one had remembered you.

A/N: Haha made you read plot instead of smut. Loser. Go touch grass.

All Works Masterlist

[lucy90712]

My valentine forver- Jude Bellingham

5 years old 

"Y/n I want to ask you something" Jude said as we were playing together during lunchtime 

"What is it Judey?" I asked 

"Will you be my valentine?" He asked 

"Sure but what's that" I said 

"I don't really know but my mummy and daddy keep talking about a Valentine's Day and being each others valentine so I guess it's just something best friends do" he said 

"Ok I'll be your valentine as long as you push me on the swings" I said 

"Deal let's go" he said grabbing my hand to help me up 

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey sweetheart how was your day?" My mummy asked when she picked me up after school 

"It was good Jude asked me to be his valentine" I said 

"He did what?" She exclaimed 

"He said its something best friends do and he's my best friend so now we are each other's valentines" I said 

"That's exciting we'll have to talk to Jude's parents about that" she said 

9 years old 

For what feels like the first time in forever it's nice enough for us to be allowed outside at break time. Me and my friends all wanted to play football with the boys as they always think they are so good but we think we are just as good. There wasn't enough of us to make a full team to play the boys but we drew straws and organised ourselves into two teams. I ended up on the same team as Jude which is what I was secretly hoping for as we've played together before and we worked really well together so I was happy to get to play with him again. 

The years of friendship mean that Jude and I are pretty in tune with each other especially on a football pitch. Today was no different we didn't really need anyone else on our team as we both managed to run round the kids on the other team and pass back and forth until the ball went in the back of the net. It was so much fun but most importantly I was glad to make the other girls proud as maybe now the boys will take us seriously and let us play with them more often. Sadly we didn't get to gloat for too long as the bell rang meaning we had to go back to class. On the way back in I went to grab my water bottle but before I could Jude grabbed it for me as his was right next to mine.

"You played great out there you should really join a team" Jude said 

"My mum won't let me she says I can't do both football and dance and I'm committed to dance this year but maybe next year I'll do football" I said 

"Maybe you can join my club and we can play together" he said 

"That would be fun" I said 

"Wait y/n before we go into class I need to ask you will you be my valentine?" He asked 

"I'm sorry Jude I just don't like you like that I like being friends but that's it I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings" I said running off to go back into class 

Jude looked a little sad for the rest of the day which made me feel awful but I just don't like him that way in fact I don't like any boys that way because that's gross. I like our friendship we play together at school and he's taught me a lot about football but that's it nothing else. 

13 years old- Jude's POV 

Come on Jude you can do it. It's not that difficult just say the words. What's the worst that could happen. Well she could say no but she's done that before and I survived but this time it feels different we aren't 9 anymore and dating isn't something to be sneered at anymore. Being rejected now will probably hurt a lot more but I can't be thinking about that or else I'll chicken out for like the 5th time. 

I've had a crush on y/n for years but this past year it's only gotten worse. She's just so beautiful I can't stop myself from staring at her from across the room when we are in class together. I'm not the only one who has a crush on y/n all the guys in our year and even some in the year above are always talking about how pretty she is. I'm not as popular or as attractive as some of the guys who also like y/n but I'm hoping that after our many years of friendship she'll feel the same as me and if I can ask her first then I think I stand a good chance, at least that's what I'm telling myself. 

After school today we have football practice and y/n will be there as she plays with the team when she's allowed as the school doesn't have a girls team. I made sure to get changed quickly so I could be the first one out there so as soon as y/n was ready I could ask her out as we warm up. As she made her way outside she was talking to one of the other guys in the team Jack and she had a big smile on her face which isn't unusual but it did make me a little nervous. 

"Hey Jude" she said as she came over 

"Hi you seem extra happy today what's going on?" I asked 

"Jack just asked me out so we're going to go on a date this weekend as long as my parents let me but they like Jack so I'm confident" she said 

"Oh wow I didn’t know you liked him" I said trying not to give away my disappointment 

"I've liked him for a while but I never told anyone a I only ever get teased for saying I like anyone so I kept it to myself" she explained 

"Well I'm happy for you" I said completely lying 

It really broke my heart that she's with someone else but I really should've seen it coming she's the prettiest girl in school it was only a matter of time before someone asked her out. That doesn't mean it hurts any less but I'll get over it and at least we are still friends even if she can't be my girlfriend I can still hang out with her. 

15 years old - Your POV 

Maybe love just isn't for me. I've been with two guys over the last few years and both have cheated on me with one of my friends so I've lost a lot of friends but luckily I still have Jude. Since all the drama I spend a lot more time with him as I know he won't betray me and there's no drama surrounding him which is exactly what I want I don't care about being popular and having lots of friends anymore I just want true friends. I call Jude my friend but that's not really how I feel about him after spending more time together I realised that I truly enjoy Jude's company in a way I've never enjoyed being around anyone else. I'm not entirely sure when my feelings started to change but it must've been before my last boyfriend cheated on me as it hurt but I wasn't as upset as the first time because I just wasn't as emotionally attached anymore. 

I've had many chances to tell Jude how I feel but I just haven't been able to make myself do it. I'm not stupid I know there was a time when pretty much all of the guys in school had a crush on me Jude included but I don't know if he feels the same now. He used to get awkward around me which is what gave him away but he doesn't act like that anymore which makes me think that he doesn't like me that way anymore. Jude has been such a good friend to me since we were 5 but especially the last few years we are always together whether it be at lunchtime in school or kicking a ball around down the park at the weekend. I value our friendship so much that I can't bring myself to tell Jude how I feel, the possible rejection isn't worth our friendship to me.

I've put my feelings aside for a few months now but as it's approaching Valentine's Day and I hear my friends talking about that their boyfriends are doing for them it makes me a little sad and maybe a little jealous that I don't have that with Jude. In a completely genius move I'm spending the next few days with Jude helping him get some extra training in as he's playing a big match soon and he wants to play well and he likes to test his skills against me. Our plan is to go straight from school to the park where they have football pitch we can play around on until it gets dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're going to do great in that match you are definitely too much for me to be able to keep up with" I said 

"You're still coming back from injury though" he said 

"You still beat me fair and square like a million times trust me you've got this" I said 

"Do you have any plans Sunday?" He asked out of nowhere 

"Thats Valentine's Day right definitely no plans for that day" I laughed trying to make a joke of how sad my love life has been 

"Then would you like to go on a date with me?" He asked 

"What" I said completely in shock 

"That was stupid I'm sorry forget I ever said that" Jude panicked 

"No I would love to go on a date with you the question just took me by surprise I had no idea you still felt that way about me" I said 

"Wait, still you knew I had feelings on you" he said 

"Yeah you weren't exactly subtle a few years ago but now you are definitely better at hiding your feelings I had no idea you still liked me" I explained 

We laughed about it before actually planning our date after texting our parents to make sure they'd be willing to take us and make the reservation at the restaurant we wanted to go to for us as we aren't actually old enough to do that. On the way home from the park I couldn't stop smiling thinking about going on a date with Jude after all these years of friendship and feelings on both sides but never at the same time. When we got to my house Jude grabbed my hand and leaned in to kiss my cheek which made me blush like I've never blushed before but it felt right being with Jude in this way. 

19 years old 

I'd have never guessed that the airport would be so busy on Valentine's Day but I guess it makes sense with people going away or going to visit long distance partners which is what I'm doing so I guess I'm part of the problem. Since Jude went to Germany our relationship has changed quite a lot but we are still just as happy as before. Originally I was supposed to move with him and join Dortmund's women's team but I tore my acl over a year ago and haven't been able to play again since so instead I opted to go to university instead. Last year we couldn't be together to celebrate so we had a date over FaceTime but this year I'm surprising Jude as he has no idea I'm coming. With the help of some of his teammates who I knew well from coming to visit as much as I can I've planned dinner at a nice restaurant and then we are going to a show at a nearby theatre but most importantly I'm going to Jude's apartment to wait for him to come home from training to surprise him with it all. 

My flight landed a bit late but I got through the airport quickly so I managed to get to the apartment with about half an hour to spare before Jude is due home. I spent my time freshening up a bit and setting out the presents I got him on the coffee table. When I heard him opening the door I got up and ran to hide somewhere to really make it a surprise. He came in and saw what I'd left for him on the coffee table and started to read the card which is when I came out from the room I was hiding in and snuck up until I could sit next to him. I managed to make him jump then he just stared at me and didn't say anything. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked when he was able to speak 

"I thought I'd come and surprise you as we didn't get to spend valentines together last year" I said 

"I've missed you so much I'm so happy you're here" he said 

"I'm here for a few days so we can spend plenty of time together but tonight I have things planned for us so we need to get ready in an hour" I said 

"What have you planned?" He asked 

"We are going to dinner at that restaurant that you said is really nice and then afterwards we are going to the local theatre to watch a show" I said 

"That sounds amazing I'm so impressed you've managed to pull this off" he said 

"I had a bit of help so hopefully it all goes to plan" I said 

"As long as I get to be with you it doesn't matter what goes wrong I'll have a good time" he said 

21 years old - present day 

The last year or so has been a rollercoaster once Jude moved to Madrid and settled in I joined him to do my masters degree instead of staying home for another year. Because of all this last year we didn't celebrate valentines at all really as Jude was away for a game and I had exams but this year he's promised me he's going to go all out to make up for it. I have no classes today so Jude booked appointments for me to get my hair, nails and makeup done so all I have to do is pick an outfit when I get home which is already a lot but he made sure to make it clear that this is only the beginning. 

My first appointment was my hair appointment so I just got a trim and got it styled then came makeup which I left up to the makeup artist as she definitely knows better than I do. I already looked so much better just after that but I still had one more appointment. Jude remembered where I like to go to get my nails done so he booked the appointment with the girl I always go to so we got to catch up as it's been a while since I've had someone other than me do my nails. Usually I have ideas of what I want to do but this time I didn't so she suggested some someone French tips so that's what we did. My nail girl is good but today she took extra care in making sure they were perfect and wouldn't let me leave until she was happy but it was so worth it. 

After all of my appointments I felt really good about myself even more so when I got home and got dressed in the dress I decided I wanted to wear. Jude also put on his outfit which he looked so good in so I insisted that we take pictures together before we leave as we never both look this good one of us is always having a bad hair day so we have to take advantage of both feeling good about ourselves. After taking pictures Jude told me we needed to leave as there was a car waiting outside for us which was I was expecting to just be an Uber or something but it was actually a really fancy car. The driver greeted us and offered us glasses of champagne which is definitely not what I was expecting but Jude did say he was going to go all out so I should've seen it coming. 

The car took us to a really nice restaurant which surprisingly wasn't too busy despite it being Valentine's Day. The place was definitely decked out for the occasion as there were candles on all the tables and lots of roses all around including a few rose petals on each table. Dinner was lovely all of the food was amazing and we had a great time but that wasn't all Jude had planned so we got back into the car which took us to this beautiful park in the city. As it was dark no one else was around so we walked around for a bit and then made our way to the big lake in the middle of it. 

I was enjoying the view looking at the reflection of the moon in the water when I felt Jude's hand slip out of mine so I looked over to see if he was ok. When I did I saw him down on one knee holding a ring box. I really didn't expect Jude to propose tonight so I was shocked but also incredibly happy as he truly is the love of my life so getting married to him is something I've dreamed of a lot. Jude grabbed one of my hands while my other one went to wipe the tears that were falling down my face completely out of my control. 

"Y/n since we met when we were little kids we've had a connection that I've never experienced with anyone else and when we started dating I realised I was the luckiest person on earth get to be with my best friend and soulmate now I think it's time to ask if you'll marry me and be my valentine forever" he said 

"Y-yes of course I'll marry you" I managed to stutter out as he slid the ring on my finger

"Thank god I was so nervous you'd say no" he laughed 

"Why would I ever say no" I said 

"I don't know I was just worried you'd think this is too much or a bit corny to do it on Valentine's Day but this day has been important throughout our relationship so it felt fitting to get engaged on the day we had our first date all those years ago" he said 

"Its perfect it means so much to me that you thought so much about it that's what I really care about" I said 

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you" he said 

"Me too" I smiled 

[cochineal-leviat]

Valentine Special 2025 ships

Heyo, it's already midnight where I am, so Valentine's Day has passed, but I still wanted to celebrate it. Valentine's Day is weird for me because I am Aro&Ace, so I never really get to appreciate it. Every year, it just comes and passes, and I feel nothing, even though I do like the aesthetic.

But this week, I had the brilliant idea that even though I can't celebrate it conventionally, I can still do something for all the pairings and ships I have come to love over the years. So, I drew eleven ships that had helped me during my most challenging moments, from when I was a child to the present. They are ordered in no particular order but rather what I got on paper in my sketchbook.

Idk. Maybe this way me my fellow Aromantics shippers can still enjoy the holiday.

Which ship do you like best? I would love to know~ (even if it is simply from the technical perspective)

From the first panel to the last, we have:

Page 1

Kirfluff (is extra special to me as a fic I wrote for the pairing, including many other franchise characters, which led me to keep writing for fun and posting it online. Without I would not have the boost of confidence that I do now about my writing)

Metadede (Who doesn't love a good ship with a warrior's bond? They're hilarious)

Isafrin (my most recent ship. They make me soft and cry at the same time. Like this pairing adds a lot ISAT's story and manages to also be very entertaining and heartfelt)

Sonadow (I got into the ship before I was even into Sonic. There was even a long-ass fic I found back when I still read on Fanfiction.net that I reread every year because I found it so funny. I definitely enjoy the modern Sonadow writing more than a decade ago)

Snufmin (perfect balance between yearning and the needing space and the freedom to adventure. I want to read more of this ship)

Page 2

Ravioli(nk) (The name alone already makes it worth it. I also have an unholy amount of fics saved from this ship. They are the literal roommates meme)

Vidow (a classic. I enjoyed this one even before I got into Zelda. Like I was reading Four Swords without having any clue what the lore was or what the fuck was going on.)

Reguri (This was named Namelessshipping and Orginalshipping back in the day. Too tired to do research rn. But I think the difference lies in the manga and game versions. I prefer the game versions, personally)

Purpleshipping {Kieran x mc) (A little backstory: this is just the mc from Scarlet and Violet that I made an NB version for, which became their own person after writing a fic. Here, they are exchanging an Applin with Kieran. For those who know the custom, you know, you know. A friend of mine named this ship)

Shadowpeach (the most divorced couple I have ever come across. I remember back when this was considered a crack ship. Ah, good times. The character depictions were very different back then, too. I depicted them in their friend's era, but still. Btw Macaque is laughing at Sun Wukong's antics but I think it accidentally looks like he is laughing at Sun Wukong rather than with him. Oh well, it wouldn't be too out of character for seasons 1-3 Mac)

Marink (not a ship I read about a lot, but it hurt me so much when I played Link's Awakening for the first time. Everytime I think of Marin I feel sad)

[zexapher]

Stupid Cupid

Started this edit almost an entire year ago, right when RWBY Beyond dropped the boba episode. I immediately caught onto the idea of chibi Ruby being a little cherub to use for shipping characters. Of course, I immediately distracted myself with other creative projects and the Ship Wars 8 (which White Knight won in spectacular fashion btw) and life got in the way. But I came back around to it this past month. Perfect timing really, since it means I got it out for Valentine’s Day.

I just think it’s lovely how CRWBY have nurtured this ship subtly in the background, until they finally decided to get right up in our faces about it with Volume 9. That’s kind of what I wanted to portray here, with Cruby on a mission to make White Knight a reality, but Jaune and Weiss had already grown close without that final brazen intervention.

It’s really something special to start this meme essentially right as Rooster Teeth and RWBY closed down, only to come back and finish it with the news that Rooster Teeth was bought by Burnie and RWBY’s now moved on to VIZ. Both of them continuing on in their way. Kind of heartwarming to be honest, like a message of perseverance, keep on trying even if circumstances bring you down.

I can still see a few influences from my early work on the edit, was playing a little Republic Commando at the time, so we get Ruby’s comment about her skills with a bow confusing and frightening CRWBY. Speaking of, I think we can all see why I chose Cruby as Ruby’s cherub name. Perfect for someone tasked with building up White Knight. And, come on, the shipping rock is a perfect replacement for a bow. You may have noticed me sneak in the Golden Oreos or Rooster Teeth’s logo to celebrate the recent news (Jaune’s put a little sticker on the pummel of his sword).

With editing, I still run into trouble every now and then as I learn and familiarize myself with my software. Even now after a year of practicing it, and a decent chunk on gimp in particular. On this edit I ran into a weird issue with the color picker tool, where when I sampled a color, the brush would only apply a pastel or grayer version of that color. Wasn’t sure how I enabled that, if it was a glitch or I accidentally enabled some key shortcut or something. I worked my way around it though, in the most obtuse manner.

Pretty cool to be learning something new as I go through these edits. Like all the color correcting for my Vacuan Nights meme. Or even small quality of life things like how I decided to start making thicker outlines for the text about halfway through. That’s something that helps making the words pop, the outlines were a bit too thin before. And at the end I can really pump out some of the more complicated edits that used to take me a long time a year ago.

Redrawing Jaune for panel 9 was a ton of tedious busywork. The screenshot I pulled that from had bad lighting from the portal behind Jaune, so I needed to fill in colors for proper lighting. I think it came out pretty spectacularly.

And I just really like the premise for this meme. CRWBY helping push White Knight along, but the relationship was already well on its way in the background. That little bag of ‘cupid’ rocks just seems really cute to me, too. Fun, cheap little drawing.

Chibi Ruby is cute as can be; so happy they gave us this version of her in Beyond. Especially like that devious look I gave her. Yang looks great too, really enjoy Beyond’s style, and the exasperated palm to the face. And, of course, I loved writing and drawing up the cute interaction between Jaune and Weiss. She needs to see those shark pups! :)

Anyway, hope you all enjoy your Valentine’s Day, and this fun little meme I drew up.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

day well spent

college!zayne x fem reader

⤿CW: pure fluff

⤿word count: 3.6k

⤿a/n: hello lovelies! this is supposed to be a valentines treat but i got busy with college stuffs so it was kinda delayed. enjoy reading :))

⤿fifth part of code love series | previous part. > next.

ao3.

It’s been four weeks since Zayne officially began courting you. The day after that, he insisted on meeting your sister to ask for her approval as well. Although you assured him that it wasn’t necessary and that your sister would have no objections, he remained firm in his decision. He explained that his parents raised him to seek the permission of those closest to the person he’s courting, and he wanted to honor that tradition.

You also asked him if his parents knew that he was courting you. He smiled and admitted that he always mentioned you whenever he spoke with them. He explained that both of his parents are doctors, and their work often takes them out of the city—or even out of the country—for medical missions. Despite their busy schedules, they always make time to catch up, and you’ve become a frequent topic of conversation.

“Really? You talk about me often?” You asked him, you’re currently sitting at the lounge area of his department’s building as you decided to visit him before you go home.

Zayne’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t look away. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I tell them how smart and funny you are… and how being around you makes my day better.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his sincerity.“What do they say about that?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the warmth rising to your cheeks.

He chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “They’re curious about you now. They want to meet the person who keeps making their son smile like an idiot during phone calls.”

You laughed, the image of Zayne grinning goofily while talking to his parents popping into your head. “Well, I hope I make a good impression when that day comes.

Zayne’s expression softened even more. “You already have,” he said quietly. “Even without meeting you, they’re glad I found someone who makes me happy.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the unspoken feelings hanging in the air. But the comfortable silence was enough. You realized that Zayne wasn’t just courting you; he was already including you in his world, and that meant more than words could express.

You glanced at the time and sighed. “I should get going,” you said, standing up reluctantly.

He stood up with you, his gaze lingering a bit longer before he spoke. “Let me walk you to the bus stop.”

“But what about your next class?” You asked him as he slung your bag on his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, and I want to make sure you’ll be safe.” He smiled, his eyes warm with reassurance. “Shall we?” He offered his hand, palm open and inviting.

You couldn’t help but smile back, a flutter of comfort settling in your chest. Without a word, you placed your hand above his, feeling the gentle strength in his grip. As you walked side by side, his hand naturally found its place on your lower back, guiding you with a subtle protectiveness that made you feel cherished.

The evening air was cool, a soft breeze rustling through the trees as the sky faded into shades of gold and pink. You could hear the distant hum of the city, but here, in this moment, everything felt quieter—almost like the world had slowed down just for the two of you.

His thumb drew small, absentminded circles against your back, a gesture so subtle yet so grounding. You glanced up at him, catching the way his lips curved into a gentle smile, his gaze fixed forward but clearly aware of every step you took together.

It was as if his presence built a safe haven around you, a place where nothing could reach you but the warmth radiating from his touch. You leaned a little closer, your shoulders brushing, and for a second, you wondered if he could hear the rhythm of your heartbeat matching the steady pace of your footsteps.

Neither of you spoke, but in the comfortable silence, so much was said.

***

A few weeks later, today is Valentine’s day which is also your University’s Foundation Week. Classes were canceled for two weeks to celebrate and there were booths and stalls all over your campus grounds.

You and Zayne agreed to meet at campus, just by the old oak tree near the main entrance. The area was bustling with students, laughter, and music blending into the festive air. As you approached, you spotted him leaning against the tree, his hands tucked in his pockets, a relaxed smile spreading across his face as his eyes found yours.

“Hey,” he called out, pushing off the tree to meet you halfway. “You look… really nice.” His gaze lingered, a subtle warmth coloring his cheeks.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a shy smile creep onto your lips. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

He laughed, the sound easy and genuine. “Shall we?” You nodded at him as you intertwined your fingers with his as he led the way inside your campus, guiding you through the crowd. His grip on your hand tightened as you entered, making sure that you won’t get lost.

As you passed by booths filled with games, merch, and food stalls, you noticed how his eyes sparkled upon seeing variety of sweets in the stalls. Zayne glanced at you and his smile is evident and it made your heart flutter.

“I heard their churros are the best, do you want to try?” He asked.

“Of course!” You replied, he smiled at you once again before leading the way. Luckily, the line isn’t as long as you anticipated when you reached the food stall which sells churros and a few other sweets.

You stood beside Zayne, he ordered churros which is good for two persons, two pieces of potato tornados and a milkshake. It hasn’t been long when your orders were now served, you and Zayne decided to sit at the bench underneath a tree to eat your foods.

With a potato tornado in your hand and churros in his, your drinks sat on the bench beside you. Zayne held out a wooden fork, eyeing the cinnamon-sugar-coated churros carefully. Using his hand as a fan, he made sure they were cooled off before taking a piece.

Once he was certain it was safe to eat, he held the churro out to you, his eyes warm with a playful smile. “Here, try it. It’s better when shared.”

You smiled at him before eating the churro, your eyes went wide as you chewed on it. “It tastes amazing,” you said and he chuckled in response before he took a bite of the churros.

“Here, try this as well,” you said, offering him the potato tornado. You used your other hand as a shield to catch any stray cheese powder, making sure it wouldn’t fall directly on his clothes.

Zayne leaned in, taking a bite with a delighted grin, “Mhm, that’s really good.” He said before he took another bite which made you chuckle because there were a few remnants of cheese powder on his cheeks.

“You look silly,” you giggled as you reached for your handkerchief to wipe the powder off his face. He just shook his head as he grabbed another churro and as if you acted on instinct, you leaned in to take the bite from him.

As you were busy munching, you suddenly heard a click. Confused, you glanced over at Zayne, only to find him grinning mischievously, his phone held up in front of him.

“Did you just… take a picture of me?” you asked, your eyes narrowing playfully.

He shrugged, completely unapologetic. “You just looked too cute not to.” He turned the screen to show you the candid shot—your cheeks puffed out as you chewed, eyes wide with surprise.

Your face heated up instantly. “Zayne! Delete that!”

He laughed, tucking his phone away before you could snatch it. “Nope. This one’s a keeper.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be annoyed. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “If it makes you feel better, it’s now my favorite photo.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the playful annoyance melting into a shy smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you mumbled, but your tone was light, your chest fluttering at the way he looked at you.

“Maybe,” he agreed, his eyes twinkling. “But at least I made you smile.”

And just like that, you realized he was right. You were smiling—unable to stop, even if you tried.

***

After a few giggles and pictures snapped together, you and Zayne strolled once more. What caught your attention was the photobooth tucked in the corner, its vintage design adorned with flashing lights that seemed to beckon you both closer.

Zayne noticed your gaze and grinned, his playful energy impossible to resist. “Zayne.” You called, but as you looked at him, his gaze was already fixed on you. With a smile, you tugged him toward the photobooth, its neon lights reflecting in his eyes.

He let himself be pulled, laughing as you both stumbled inside the tiny space. It was a tight fit, your shoulders pressed together, knees bumping as you tried to get comfortable. The screen lit up, giving you barely any time before the first countdown began.

For your first shot, you and Zayne’s faces were near to each other. You held out two of your fingers poking your cheek as you pouted at the camera. Zayne on the other hand poked leaned closer as he poked his finger on his right cheek.

As soon as the second countdown began, Zayne wrapped his left arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him. Both of you make a peace sign with visible smiles on your faces.

“Okay, quick! What should our next pose be?” you giggled as the last countdown began. You tilted your head to face him, only to find him looking down at you with a wide smile that made his dimples pop. You couldn’t help but lean in closer, your noses gently touching. Lost in the moment, neither of you noticed when the camera clicked, capturing the third shot.

The photo strip printed two copies with a mechanical whir, sliding out as you both tumbled out of the booth, laughing and breathless. Zayne grabbed the strip, his eyes widening as he saw the progression—silly faces, pure laughter, and finally, that close, almost-kiss that left your heart pounding.

“Let me take a look.” You said as you unconsciously intertwined your fingers with his as he gave you the other copy. “Oh, I love how these turned out.”

As you were busy admiring the photo, Zayne’s gaze remained on you. There was a softness in his eyes, his smile lingering as he watched the way your face lit up. The way you laughed at the silly faces, how your fingers gently traced over the last photo—the one where you were so close, your faces barely an inch apart.

He swallowed, his heart thudding as he replayed that moment in his head. It had felt so natural, so right, even if he hadn’t expected it. He opened his mouth, the words forming before he could stop them. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide in surprise. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, but he didn’t look away. “I mean… the way you’re smiling. It’s… nice.” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly shy. “Makes the photos look even better.”

You noticed his flushed reaction— how his cheeks and ears turned red, the way he nervously ran his hand through his hair and how he couldn’t even dare to look straight into your eyes.

“Zayne… are you blushing?” you teased, leaning in to get a better look. His eyes widened, and his cheeks grew even redder as he quickly averted his gaze.

“N-No, I’m not!” he protested, his voice higher than usual. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “It’s just… warm out here.”

You let out a small giggle, watching him squirm. “Right. Must be that blazing eighty-degree weather,” you teased, glancing up at the clear, breezy sky. You were about to tease him more, but then you heard two familiar voices calling out for the both of you.

As you turned your head, you saw Tara and Simone running towards your direction, their faces lit up with excitement. You smiled, waving as they skidded to a stop in front of you, slightly out of breath.

“There you two are!” Tara exclaimed, hands on her hips as she caught her breath. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Simone’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked between you and Zayne, her gaze dropping to your intertwined fingers. A sly grin spread across her face. “Well, well, what did we miss?”

You felt your face heat up, and instinctively, you tried to pull your hand away, but Zayne held on firmly, his own cheeks tinged pink. “Nothing much,” he said, his tone casual despite the way his thumb was gently stroking the back of your hand. “Just taking some photos.”

Tara’s eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the photo booth behind you. “Oh! Did you guys take one of those cute photo strips?”

You and Zayne both looked at each other before nodding gently. Tara groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on! Show us!”

Zayne smirked, patting his pocket. “Sorry, but these are classified. For our eyes only.”

Simone looked at you, her expression pleading. “You’re really not going to share?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Nope. But trust me, they turned out great.”

Tara crossed her arms, pretending to pout. “Fine. But you owe us details later.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And I expect all the details.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to act nonchalant even as your heart raced. “We’ll see about that.”

Simone linked her arm through yours, already steering you away. “Come on, then! We were just about to grab some snacks. You two lovebirds joining us or what?”

You glanced at Zayne, who still hadn’t let go of your hand. His smile was soft, his eyes warm as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice steady. “We’re coming.”

Together, the four of you walked off, laughter echoing as the teasing continued. And though the photo strip remained tucked away, the memory of that almost-kiss—and everything it meant—was impossible to hide.

***

As the sun had already set, the sky painted in shades of deep purple and navy, Zayne offered you a ride home. Of course, you didn’t refuse, the idea of spending a little more time with him too tempting to pass up.

The car ride was comfortable, the faint hum of the engine blending with the soft music playing from the radio. Streetlights cast a warm glow through the windows, illuminating his face in fleeting intervals. You couldn’t help but steal a glance now and then, admiring the way his jaw tightened as he focused on the road, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel.

“You know,” he began, breaking the silence, “today was… pretty great.” His voice was casual, but there was a tenderness there, a vulnerability you weren’t used to hearing from him.

You smiled, leaning back against the seat. “Yeah, it really was.“

The rest of the drive was filled with light conversation and laughter, the kind that felt easy and effortless. Before long, he was pulling up in front of your house, the porch light casting a warm glow across the yard.

Zayne put the car in park but didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softer now. “Hey… thanks for today. Really.”

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “No… thank you. I had an amazing time.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you charged with anticipation. Zayne’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was debating something.

“Oh, before I forgot—“ He muttered as he unclasped his seatbelt to grab something from the backseat. To your surprise he’s already holding a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers wrapped in white paper and tied with a light blue ribbon. The bouquet features a delicate mix of white and pale blue blooms, including roses and small, airy flowers resembling baby’s breath.

“Zayne-“ your breath hitched as he gave the bouquet to you.

“I inserted something in there.” He said, then you noticed a piece of paper tucked underneath the flowers. You placed the bouquet in your lap as you began to unfold the paper.

Your heart began to race as you saw a beautiful sketch of yourself. The lines were delicate, capturing every detail with surprising accuracy—the curve of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes, even the way your hair fell around your face. It was breathtaking, almost surreal, to see yourself through someone else’s eyes.

You looked up, your gaze locking with Zayne’s. He was watching you intently, his expression soft, almost vulnerable. “Do you… like it?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as if he was unsure of himself for once.

A lump formed in your throat, emotions swirling as you looked back at the sketch. “Zayne… this is incredible. I… I didn’t even know you could draw.”

He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… it’s just a hobby. I don’t show my drawings to many people.” His eyes softened as he continued, “But… I wanted you to see this one.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your chest as you realized the effort and thought he’d put into this. “You drew this… for me?”

He looked away, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. I… couldn’t get you out of my head, so… this happened.” He glanced back at you, his gaze intense. “I wanted to capture the way you looked that day at the park…when you were laughing.”

Your breath caught, the memory flashing in your mind—the two of you strolling at the park, your face lit up with laughter, Zayne watching you with that same look in his eyes. “You… remembered that?”

“Of course I did,” he said softly. “I remember everything about you.”

Emotion tightened your throat, and you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You reached out, your fingers brushing over the paper delicately, as if afraid you’d smudge the beautiful lines. “I love it. I really do.”

His shoulders relaxed, relief washing over his face. “I’m glad.”

You looked at him, your heart full. “Thank you, Zayne. This… this means more to me than you know.”

His eyes softened, his voice a gentle whisper. “You mean more to me than you know.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing once more. But this time, it wasn’t because of the sketch—it was because of him. The both of you stared at each other for a few moments before you broke the silence.

“It’s already getting late, I’ll head inside so you can go home.” You said as you folded the paper and tucked it back underneath the flowers. “Thank you for today Zayne, for keeping me company during the University fair, and for these gifts. I had so much fun.”

“It is my pleasure and I could say that as well.” He smiled at you, “Thank you [Name].”

The both of you settled in a comfortable silence. You stared at his hazel-green eyes as you thought of something cheeky. So, you leaned your face closer and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Be safe, goodnight.”

You giggled at his expression when he was suddenly caught off guard by your sudden kiss. You immediately gathered your things before opening the car door and ran inside your house, not even bothering to steal another glance at Zayne because you could already feel your cheeks heating up.

As soon as you got inside, you immediately got a text notification from Zayne.

Zayne: That was sneaky

You giggled as you hovered your fingers to type a reply.

You: You should’ve seen your reaction lol. Drive safe okay? Message me once you got home :))

Then, it hasn’t been a minute passed when you received another reply.

Zayne: Yes I will. Thank you again for today <3

Your heart fluttered once more as you saw his reply. You placed your phone back in your bag as you went upstairs to take a shower.

Once finished, you slipped into comfortable pajamas and made your way to your room. Without another thought, you plopped onto your bed, sinking into the softness as you hugged your pillow close. A giddy laugh escaped your lips, muffled by the fabric, as the memories of the day played like a movie behind your closed eyes.

You turned your head, your gaze falling on the bouquet resting on your nightstand, its delicate petals catching the soft glow of your bedside lamp. Beneath them, the folded sketch was safely tucked away, a beautiful reminder of the man who had given it to you.

Your phone buzzed once more, and you grabbed it eagerly, heart skipping as his name appeared on the screen.

Zayne: Just got home. Sweet dreams :)

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through you, your fingers dancing over the screen as you typed back:

You: Sweet dreams, Zayne. Today was the best.

You set your phone aside, still clutching the pillow as a contented sigh left your lips. Today really was perfect—better than you ever could’ve imagined. You hadn’t just spent the day at the University fair; you’d made memories, and shared laughter.

As your eyes grew heavy and sleep began to claim you, one thought lingered, wrapping itself around you like a comforting embrace:

Being with him just felt right.

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

looks like I owe everyone 4 bucks and a can of rizz soda 😔

... *record scratch*

OH HEY NOW WAIT A SECOND! This is the first time in a while that we got an episode with "SMG4:" in the title! and having peach's castle in the thumbnail?!

what. are. they. up. to. 🤔

(the following is my live reaction:)

oooh, what shenanigans are we up to now? and in Mario POV no less

FOUR IN HIS WOTFI OUTFIT AAAAA my boy 💙🥹

A DATE?! SINCE WHEN.... oh....

4... hun, don't tell me you drew her last minute for a date (same Mario same)

he really did the whole "I'm bi (myself)", just like me frfr

can't believe he would betray dasani like this smh /j

ARTHUR JUMPSCARE?! omg my childhood's coming back to me "That sign can't stop me because I can't read"

oh 3, you're on a date too? AND a fake girlfriend? what a coincidence... 🤔

somehow, all those smg34 fics that had 3 hosting a dinner date in his cafe are technically canon now, at least for 3's character (or has the Team been reading our fics oh god)

we even get a megari date? /silly

"JUST YOU WAIT, I'LL FIGURE IT OUT SOMEDAY YOU'LL SEE" I say as I get dragged into a mental asylum

OOF MARIO damn, I know you feel down but no need to do Luigi like that

oh hey E.Gadd! it's been a while huh

our lord and savior jesus, is that you?

well that's one way, very sweet (...depending on how you interpret death in this universe ofc)

PEAK SIBLING BEHAVIOR HELL YEAH

shit, we should've asked E.Gadd how to reverse that thing

*chokes on my coffee* HUH?! pause this episode right NOW, because I need to leave my room for a sec

...ok ok. can we talk about this? we're talking about this. alright so, let's start off with the basics: the fact that these two separately have a date with their inanimate objects and at one point, they decided to have a double date outside of the Showgrounds? no doubt all of the smg34 enjoyers are going to freak out about this one, I can hear it

Before I say anything else, why don't we put our smg34-tinted glasses (you got them on? cool):

Just this frame alone, I'm going to dissect this bit by bit. Look at 3's fake date: aside from being out of bombs, she's got a messy ponytail (bangs swayed to the right), big eyes, and a big smile. You got that? Now look at 4. I'll give you a second to take that in. You're back? Ok, because we're not done yet. Onto 4's fake date drawn digitally, appearance-wise, she's got straight and neat pigtails with bangs swayed to the left, calm/relaxed face. NOW look at 3. Their inanimate dates somehow mirror the other and likely this is their way of hiding insecurities/internal struggles (that includes whatever happens when they're TOO close to each other). Just by them being defensive about their own date/judging the other man's taste. Honestly, very in-character for both of them, it's simply how they are. I mean look at them, they're not even eating or chatting or looking at their dates. Just each other.

We unfortunately have to take these glasses off for a reason. Is it just me or does this whole thing feel strange? Not in the usual show shenanigans or the fact that this happened to begin with type of way. It just feels strange.

Usually with smg34 moments, there's purpose to their relationship. Even in the "Forced to Hold Hands" episode, though it was clearly fanservice, it establishes their relationship well in the obstacle course scene. Sure, they disagree, fight, get on each other's throats on some things but when the moment is dire or their goals align, they make a good team and chemistry. Their relationship grew from rough patches, at times realizing they needed each other (IGBP). Though they tease and banter, they still care for each other deep down. ALSO it was good foreshadowing to WOTFI '23 their dynamic and Guardian powers, and 3's notebook.

Basically "they're content with their lives on their own (even if they never met to begin with), but it's hard to imagine not having the other in the picture". That's why I can't imagine them being stereotypical lovey-dovey if they ever became a couple. Sure, it's cute but it's not them. Honestly, nothing would change between them for the most part, and that's totally fine by me.

That's why I find this moment strange because it doesn't carry the same energy as it had before. Instead of this scene being smg34 crumbs, it's more like "glitter splat on my face and being mildly blinded by it with confusion". Hopefully that makes sense, maybe that's just me. But anyway, we gotta move on.

I'M GOING TO KILL YOU... AND THEN KILL YOU AGAIN (alfred always giving out the best of lines)

why do i hear boss music?

I know right, at least E.Gadd got it under control

I guess we can't say the word spaghet— AW SHIT THEY'RE RIGHT OUTSIDE MY HOUSE

STOP THEM WITH WHAT? OH C'MON

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING

THE POWER OF THE 4TH WALL *waves at my laptop screen reflection*

oh wait hold up the animation style changed, 4's so bouncy *squishes him like playdoh*

*PV arc war flashbacks ensue* huh, what are we doing again? oh right Luigi

3 what on earth are you talking about?! You met the 4th wall a few times now

also 4's silly and yet somehow creepy face he has here. i need you to blink, buddy, for my sake.

...also why did 4's voice sound weird? (Luke, this better be normal for my theorist's sake)

...FUCK

I never imagine a lythero ref in SMG4 but here we are :)

good question, 3. i can't believe you're the sane one here in this episode, even if you also did the fake date thing.

huh... well that looks familiar *looks at you unpleased through the screen*

It's funny to think how we the viewer or at least the camera person is the same height as the star trio

Luigi: "I've been traumatized" you're so real for that Luigi

FOUR YOU DIDN'T SWITCH IT NOOOOO

4: "Dude, seriously?" let's just give him a moment

"Clone" and "More Clone"? close enough, welcome back "why did I make a self-destruct button?"

CAN I GET A DATE?

I was gonna say, which ones were the OG's? Now we know.

👏👏👏 WELL SAID

"if you're watching this, you must be clinically depressed" 😀

Congrats to Cookie for your art being featured at the end credits🎉 we love to see it 💙 and based on one of my favorite episodes too? hell yeah

(...wait Team, why did you choose this one? what does that imply? Team? TEAM?)

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Ok, I had a moment to think it over (and finish some biology).

I gotta say, this has been a pretty solid episode to see this Mario vs Wario dynamic. A rough start but I still enjoyed it. Hilarious moments and of course great animation (how many times have I not said that). A lot of the adorable faces made were by Shadow so applause to you bud for giving me this. And we got to see a more of Wiz' writing which is always a bonus, they have been going to a good streak so far! And I got to appreciate the Team putting 3 & 4 in their WOTFI suits, my absolute favorite matching outfits.

Now, come closer, can we talk about how strange this whole thing is?

The episode title is "SMG4:" now with no explanation by the Team after 56 episodes (44 episodes if we're only counting the main series) (also 44.... huh....) why now? Why this episode?

Change of thumbnail with one having Peach's Castle in the background, despite everyone knowing that it wasn't in the episode at all and is at the bottom of a monstrous pit (my moot managed to screenshot the YouTube glitch for me)

"Well, we can't exactly blame Ben. I'm sure it's whatever the Team wanted him to do for the thumbnail."

EXACTLY! The Team wanted him to add the Castle in just as it happened with the last episode's thumbnail with Mario. And we all know what Peach's Castle means.

(that boarded room again, curse that door)

4's Breaking the 4th Wall scenes (and 3 somehow not knowing what that is???)

(should we count 3 & 4's strange dates? maybe not)

Oh, and one more thing...

Chat, we might get goop!4 after all...

LET'S GOOOOOO🎉🎸🔥

Well, it turns out that the 3 & 4 scene really was glitter spat at my face just so it would distract us from what was REALLY going on, the Team is up to something. Hell, even my "for you" section was like "dude you have to focus on the mystery in hand" /silly

The hints we've gotten so far from the episodes and the Team, it has to be goop!4. And it all comes down to the Steam page, still waiting on that though.

We might have a "man on the inside"/failsafe route with 4 here, I've told you all it might. The Team is really testing us on this one, but we'll wait. Well, chat, I'll see you all in the next one, and remember: numbers go first!

*knowing smile :)*

...wait I still owe you all money and soda FUUUUU—

[flawseer]

Hey Flawseer, love your art. I wanted to ask if you have any headcanons for some of the supporting characters who aren't really tied to the school, like Chameleon, Icicle, Hailstorm, etc.

Headcanons for specifically those characters? Hm...

This isn't really a headcanon, more of a "this is implied but not outright stated" kind of thing, but Chameleon's childhood was the stuff of nightmares. He hatched with a physical deformity that prevented him from sleeping more than an hour at a time. Think about what that would be like, to never be able to rest, to be tired and exhausted every day.

Child Chameleon is also an interesting window into the darker aspects of Rainwing society. The books often portray their society as idyllic, something pure and optimistic, something to aspire to. But then they had this kid who was suffering in his body, who didn't develop the expected Rainwing traits properly, and they shunned him. Even sweet, lovable, couldn't-hurt-anyone Jambu calls him weird and off-putting for not being able to change colors. We don't know why Chameleon ended up exiled; maybe it was a malicious act or maybe Chameleon lashed out and had to be removed for being dangerous. But it definitely makes you wonder if there are any other skeletons in the Rainwings' closet.

None of this excuses any of the stunts he pulled later as an adult, especially not the emotional manipulation of his daughter. But thinking about his crappy childhood may help you understand how he ended up the way he did. I hope he can find some help.

Here's a picture of him I drew once. He probably has an official design by now, I don't know.

As for headcanons about Chameleon... I think he eats meat. His biology isn't really wired for it, so it tastes absolutely disgusting to him. But he does it anyway, because while he hates the taste of meat so much, he hates the idea of being a Rainwing several times more. So he puts up with it because he knows it is the least Rainwing-like thing you can do. In a strange way, it helps him cope.

For Icicle, I think it is interesting to note that we technically never see her under normal circumstances. She appears in Jade Mountain in book 6 and certainly leaves an impression, but it's easy to forget that everything she does, she does with the awareness that Scarlet currently has a proverbial knife to her brother's throat. Thus, we never get to see what present day Icicle is like when she is able to relax.

Headcanons... The books aren't clear on how or when Scarlet made first contact with her. It could have been in school, as Moonwatcher overhears. Personally, I think Scarlet actually contacted Icicle months prior to the school opening, and instructed Icicle to insert herself as a sleeper agent. I have trouble believing that immaculate Icicle would WANT to be cooped up underground in a dirty cave with a bunch of strangers several miles from home. I think Scarlet made her do it, and she then begged Queen Glacier to send her there, knowing full well she was gonna hate it. Winter then overheard her begging and begged to come along too.

This lends weight to the scene where Icicle finally breaks down in front of Winter. The part where she's her authentic self for the first time, crying and begging Winter not to let her fall asleep so the woman who has been tormenting her inside her own head for months can't tell her that she failed and that her brother is dead.

In the end, her brother is alive. But in trying to get him free, Icicle ruined her own life.

This one might be controversial, I don't know. While I do think Icicle served in the war, and she did definitely kill Mudwings while doing so, I don't think Icicle is the one who killed Crane. Sora insists it was her, but Umber and Marsh do not recognize her, and Mudwing siblings usually fight together, so they would have both been present during her death too.

I think the story becomes more meaningful if the trauma of war just ruined Sora to such an extent that she sees her sister's killer in every somewhat outspoken female Icewing. Then she ran into the library and confirmation-biased herself into believing her hunch by reading unverified essays on Icewing genetics. You know, the same library whose references on Mudwing physiology consist entirely of The Slug-like Qualities of the Mudwings. If Wisemind penned an examination of Icewing physiology too, one can probably imagine how reliable that one would be.

This kind of turns Sora and Icicle into tragic parallels. They are both children born into a war that took their innocence from them, and in the end it ruined them both.

For Hailstorm, I believe after the battle of Jade Mountain ended and Winter got banished, Hailstorm went back to the Ice Kingdom and lived with his mother Tundra for a while. Tundra took the death of her mate very badly and became embittered. She blamed everything bad that happened to their family on Winter, insisted that Winter caused the family to rot. Winter killed the Queen, Winter killed Narwhal, Winter, Winter, Winter, she should have smashed his egg when she had the chance. Hailstorm tried to get her out of the house, to stop talking and thinking about Winter, but nothing worked. She just had her mind set on hating this kid she'd been abusing since his hatching, insisting she gave him the world and he was ungrateful.

Eventually, Hailstorm just couldn't take this constant bleakness and hatred anymore. A few months ago Icewing tradition almost made him kill his little brother and he is just done with the Ice Kingdom. Completely disillusioned. Leave it all behind.

So he goes to Winter, and he starts to ask odd questions, like "If you had never found a way to turn me back from being Pyrite, would you still have loved me", and "If I was a Skywing, would you disown me?" Winter assures him that he will always love him, but starts to get worried about the questions.

Eventually, Hailstorm just flat-out states that he was actually kind of happy with himself as a female Skywing, not having to think about their messed up family and the stupid rankings all the time. He kept thinking about it through their mother's ramblings, how he felt in that body. He's figured out that he wants to go back to being Pyrite, just obviously without the brainwash-y parts. Winter doesn't entirely understand, but wants his brother/sister to be happy, and gives him/her his blessing.

And I guess there you have it. Some of my headcanons. Chameleon the meat eater, the absolute train-wreck that is Icicle's life with a side of Sora, and Hailstorm finds self-affirmation in exploring their gender identity after cutting their toxic mom out of their life.

[arsquare]

Happy Valentine's Day!

This is my Heishin Exchange piece (event hosted by @heishinvalentineexchange2025) for oreganocactus on Ao3! The prompt I used was: "heishin yuri would be awesome…i love explorations of how gender would affect how characters behave/change so that would be cool :)"

Thoughts and process under the cut!

And also an NSFW sketch at the very bottom btw. as a treat for clicking on the readmore

So originally I had wanted to do a comic retelling the Murdered Diplomat Case Except They're Both Girls This Time AKA Heiji's debut case, but I got about 8 pages into the storyboards before I realized it would be impossible within the exchange's time frame. The Murdered Diplomat case is really really long, even if I cut everything about the case out LMAO... here's what I had if anyone is curious!

It was already sprawling by my standards here. We're on page 8 and Heiji has nary shown her face in the Mouri Detective Agency (also boy Kazuha is there? The part with the details of the case was supposed to be sort of timelapsed through a bunch of texts Kazuha sent Heiji because he was worried about where she was) So in my desperation I tried redoing it from page 7 to be more concise:

This was the point where I was officially like yeah this is not happening this is going to take one william pages at this rate and I just am not going to have the time to do that!! So I scrapped it and started working on the final product you see up there.

(BTW IT'S REAL!! about 80-90% of the comic actually exists in the real world!! I actually drew and inked it physically this time!)

I had really WANTED to retell the Murdered Diplomat Case because I would have been able to totally recontextualize Heiji and Shinichi's relationship, because I do think it would have been kind of different.

For one, I think Heiji's adoration of Shinichi would have had a more desperate quality to it. Between the two of them, Shinichi is definitely the more self-assured one of the two. With her laissez-faire parents who just does whatever they want, I'm sure they would have been fine with letting Shinichi pursue her detective dreams (though I'm sure Yukiko's even more sad about Shinichi not being a child actress </3 whatever though who cares about that), and so she's more confident that it's something she can be.

Heiji on the other hand comes from a more traditional family. I think her parents would highly disapprove of her detective pursuits, and as a result she becomes a more rebellious child-- but one who harbors a deep insecurity about whether she's doing the right thing or not, even if she knows she wants it.

When Shinichi vanishes off the radar, it's more than just a person that Heiji's developed an intense parasocial relationship with going off the grid, it's an entire nail in the coffin of the idea that being a female high school detective is something that's possible at all. That's why she's so desperate to find Shinichi-- she needs assurance that this hiatus that Shinichi is taking is not because society or the world put her into her place and made her quit doing this, but because of... something else. It has to be something else.

This I think would really bleed into how Heiji ends up treating Conan. In canon Heiji's super dismissive of Conan, initially only treating his as a nuisance on the crime scene before he figures out that he's Shinichi, despite the fact he no doubt was in those shoes a decade ago. But because of the continual pushback from her parents, the officers on the scene, and friends (cough boy kazuha), the struggle of being treated like she isn't supposed to be there on the crime scene is much fresher in her mind. She sees herself in Conan much more than he does in canon.

So I guess all I'm saying is that I think Heiji would have been nicer to Conan in my retelling LOLLL

As for what's going on in the comic I actually posted... well, you know, this wasn't my first choice precisely because I don't think it's necessarily gendered as much? Like, I can see this playing out if they were both still guys as well, maybe even more. After all, girls in general are more able to be physically affectionate with each other while suffering fewer consequences.

At the same time though I think Shinichi has an intense "not like other girls" thing going on. This whole thing is actually a subset of my genderbend universe where the whole teenage cast gets swapped and actually it was originally me just wanting girl Shinichi to comfort boy Ran (but badly because she's lowkey kinda autistic and not great at that...) as his parents got divorced LMAOOO. But anyways it would mean that Shinichi's closest friends are... Sonoko and Ran? Who are both guys...

So I think she would intentionally distance herself from that physical affection girls are able to have. She feels like if she indulges in that, then everyone else will take her less seriously and think "oh she's just a girl after all" and all the negative connotations of not being as capable or as smart as she actually is. In my head, she associates physical affection with being manhandled as a kid.

Another thing I kind of waffled on was... what should Heiji and Shinichi call each other? And maybe it's a bit of a weird choice for them to still refer to each other by last name but like. Hear me out.

I think to refer to each other by their last names is a token of respect, especially from Heiji to Shinichi. He keeps slipping up in canon and accidentally calling him Kudo, and while I do agree that part of it is him being careless and possibly inconsiderate to some degree, I also think... he really wants to call him Kudo? Like, this is someone he deeply respects. He wants to be professional equals to him more than he wants to be friends at the start, but never was able to actually GET that kind of relationship due to contrived circumstances of Shinichi getting shrunk. He can't call Conan "Edogawa", that's weird as fuck, so he has to wait until Conan's back to being Shinichi to even begin calling him "Kudo" for real. I think he'd really relish it, as a long-time-coming kind of thing, and I don't think it's any different as girls. In fact I'd argue it's even more intense because of that.

These two characters are both in such an intense hurry to grow up. Hell, Shinichi even dislikes it in canon when his mother calls him Shin-chan, and I think it's because he feels like this diminishes his self-perception as a "grown person". All the more since they're girls: I think this type of affectionate, diminutive name-calling would have been used against them to try to coax them away from crime scenes they wanted to be at. Like, "Oh, come on~ You're just a little girl, you shouldn't be here, Hei-chan~", something like that.

I think this is sort of an implicitly understood undercurrent that lies between them. If we have nobody else in the world who respects us we at least have each other. So when Heiji tries to push their relationship a bit, tries to become more than just friends, Shinichi sees this as a betrayal in some ways. Even if she rationally knows that Heiji isn't trying to belittle her, she can't help but conflate her recent experiences as a little girl again with how Heiji treats her now in the comic.

This whole thing could have been avoided if Heiji was more straightforward about her intentions btw but of course see above careless and possibly inconsiderate PLUS he's also kind of a tsundere character like everyone in detco when it comes to the person he likes so. inevitable... </3

Anyways thank you for reading all of this nonsense. Originally this comic was going to be longer and like, (this is a grossly incompetent summary,) they'd have a yuri makeout session in the Kudo Mansion Study. But we can't have good things in this world because there's not enough time so I only have this to show for :(((

I hope everyone likes it 👍️

[thatfragilecapricorn30]

rain check?

msr, post-detour romance & humor | 1.6k words | ao3 tagging @today-in-fic & @poangpals

written for the @unremarkablehouse for the secret valentine exchange. my fellow poangpal, i hope you like this & i'm v happy our paths crossed on ye olde discord <3

After a few years of working together, Mulder and Scully started an unofficial tradition of closing a case with a night out at O’Callahan’s, a dive bar not far from the Hoover Building. Mulder liked it because it reminded him of his Oxford days and Scully liked it because her Aunt Olive sometimes brought young Dana and her siblings to the local pub when she was supposed to be babysitting.

O’Callahan’s was a little grungy, but its drink specials and decent nachos drew a pretty large crowd on a Friday night. Luckily, Mulder and Scully arrived early enough to snag a booth in view of the bar but not too far from the bathrooms, the ideal spot in Scully’s mind.

Usually they drank a beer, shared an appetizer, and commiserated about work for a few hours, then went home to their respective apartments. But tonight, Scully was feeling a little tense, so she ordered a tequila soda. Mulder raised his eyebrows, then ordered whiskey neat for himself.

It had been a long week. They were on loan to the BSU; Scully had conducted a few autopsies and the paperwork they generated was another part-time job. When she wasn’t at Quantico, she was sitting in on briefings, where she was distracted by Mulder. For once, he wasn’t actually doing anything distracting, but his mere presence produced feelings of longing that Scully found difficult to suppress. Those feelings had been there for a while, but this week they were simmering even closer to the surface. Mulder and Scully had just gotten back from Florida and Scully thought she was throwing out all kinds of signs. Signs that she wanted him more than a partner or a friend. Signs that she was ready to take the next step. The fact that Mulder ignored them, consciously or unconsciously, was driving Scully crazy.

Hence, the hard liquor.

Scully finished her first drink quickly and relished the way the alcohol warmed her stomach. Mulder followed soon after, then got up to get them another round. She watched as he walked to the bar, enjoying how his pants pulled across his ass. Scully shook her head. The alcohol was supposed to be dulling these thoughts, not enhancing them.

Mulder returned their glasses to the bartender, his rolled-up shirtsleeves exposing toned forearms. Just a little bit of skin and Scully wanted to unbutton the top of her blouse to cool off. She really needed that second drink to tamp down her desire that was beginning to overwhelm her.

While Mulder was waiting for their next round, the pub started filling up with patrons. An attractive, well-dressed man went up to the bar, presumably to order drinks, and he greeted Mulder. The stranger was smiling, talking animatedly, and then gently touched Mulder on the shoulder before heading back to his table. Scully’s eyes bugged out of her head. Who was that? And why was he touching Mulder? Someone hitting on Mulder always annoyed her, but tonight it was especially grating.

Mulder returned with fresh drinks and Scully didn’t waste any time grilling him.

“Mulder, who was that?” she questioned.

“Who was who?” he asked, as he slid back into the booth, pushing her tequila soda across the table.

“That man at the bar.”

Mulder shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. He just asked if I came here often. I said sometimes after work.”

Scully sighed and looked heavenward. No wonder Mulder ran out of his motel room when she brought over wine and cheese. “Mulder, you didn’t realize he was flirting with you?”

“No, he wasn’t,” he scoffed, but then looked a little unsure. She saw him glancing toward where the man was seated.

Things were starting to click in Scully’s mind. It was becoming apparent that she was going to have to make the first move if she wanted their relationship to progress.

“Straight men are so oblivious,” she complained.

“Who says I’m straight?” he asked, leaning back in the booth and looking her in the eye.

Scully couldn’t say she was totally surprised but it was still disconcerting (and, let’s face it, very hot) to hear Mulder divulge something about this sexuality. And the images his proclamation conjured were definitely not helping matters.

Scully took a large gulp of her drink and made a proclamation of her own.

“Well, if I have to compete with both men and women, I’m not going to be happy,” she said, emboldened by the tequila.

Mulder choked a little on his own drink. “Compete?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Mulder looked at her for a second and then grinned. “You know, it’s cute when you’re jealous.”

“Mulder, I’m armed,” she threatened.

Mulder smiled even bigger and took a sip of his drink. “Scully, you have to know that you’re in a league of your own.”

Now it was her turn to smile. She knew that alcohol was the cause of these admissions but at this point she didn’t care.

Then Mulder started crooning terribly off-key, leaning across the table to get close to her, “I only have eyes for youuuuuu,” which cemented the point.

She pushed him away. “Ugh, Mulder you need voice lessons!” And maybe some black coffee to sober up.

He laughed. “Okay, you sing something then.”

“I don’t sing.”

“You sang on the mothman case.”

“That was life or death.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Fine, it wasn’t, but it wasn’t in public.”

“So, I guess you don’t like karaoke?”

“Do I look like someone who does karaoke?”

“Wow, Scully, don’t let anyone tell you that you’re no fun.”

“What! I’m very fun!” she argued.

Mulder clapped his hands together. “Let’s do something fun then.”

“Like what, Mulder?” She hoped his idea of fun was going back to one of their apartments for some adult time.

He grabbed his jacket and pulled her out of the booth by hand. “l have an idea.”

They ended up at an ice cream parlor.

“Really, Mulder?” Scully sighed. So much for the naked pretzel.

“Neither of us have eaten dinner and dessert before dinner is always fun! Plus, it’s winter and ice cream is always more enjoyable when it’s cold out.” He had that look of boyish glee that appeared on his face when talking about cryptids or aliens.

Oh, you precious angel, she thought, then stopped herself. Wow, the tequila was really working tonight!

Scully let him drag her into the ice cream parlor. She was not allowed to order frozen yogurt because that was not “fun.” For some reason, “fun” had a lot of rules. Mulder got a banana split and Scully got a hot fudge sundae.

“Do you want a bite?” he asked, holding out his spoon full of ice cream. He had some whipped cream stuck to his lip, which gave her a better idea.

“Yes,” she said and leaned over to press her lips against his. After a moment, she pulled away and used her napkin to clean up the whipped cream on his face that her lips didn’t get.

Mulder looked shocked, still holding the spoon out to her. She took it from him and cleaned it off with her tongue. Mulder’s eyes widened even more.

“I told you I can be fun,” Scully said with a wink. She placed the spoon back in his bowl.

“Scully!” Mulder hissed. “You can’t do something like that in public!”

Scully noticed him discreetly crossing his legs, even though G-rated Disney movies had more passionate kisses than the one she just gave Mulder.

“Your apartment is closer,” she said, swirling her spoon through melted fudge.

“Let’s go,” he said and pushed their ice cream out of the way so that they could get up from the table.

“What’s the big hurry?” Scully teased.

“A beautiful woman asked to go back to my apartment, that’s the big hurry,” Mulder responded.

She laughed and let him pull her along, out the door. Luckily, there was a taxi idling on the corner and they hopped right in. Mulder told the cabbie his address and then leaned back next to Scully.

He smelled nice, like his cologne at the end of a long day combined with the aroma of fresh waffles from the ice cream parlor, so Scully pushed her nose into his shirt and breathed in. She wanted to do more than that, cab driver be damned, but unfortunately the buzz was starting to wear off and common sense was returning. Mulder put his arm around her and pulled her close.

Scully couldn’t wait to kiss him again, to hopefully do a lot more, but wanted to wait until she could do it properly and not with an audience. When they arrived at Mulder’s apartment, Scully beelined to the bathroom to freshen up. She was excited but also a little nervous and wondered if Mulder felt the same way.

When she came out, Mulder was fast asleep on his couch, snoring in time to the water filter on his fish tank. Scully sighed. Despite his bigger size, she always held her liquor better than him, so she should have expected this outcome. She could wake him – and was sure he wouldn’t mind – but he looked so peaceful. Instead, Scully draped the Aztec blanket over Mulder instead, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and wrote him a quick note before heading home.

---------------------

When Mulder woke up the next day, the sun glaring through his open blinds, he was confused. The last thing he remembered was eating ice cream with Scully and now he was on his couch. He saw a note propped up next to a glass of water. It read: Rain check?

Mulder let out a sigh, the memories returning. Scully kissing him. Them getting in the cab to come back to his apartment. Twice in two weeks he fumbled the best thing that ever happened to him.

Mulder put the note in his pocket and grabbed his wallet and keys. The sun was shining, and it wasn’t going to rain today.