#why do I have terrible memory I should’ve known that

[hazieash]

It’s a Ratatouille situation

[karikarasuno]

part two | part three | wc: 2.1k

“Oh, shit.” Ace hears you before he sees you. And he tries to keep the memories at bay. But one look at you and his senses are flooded with images of you from last weekend. The two of you cramped in the cabin of your pick up. You on your back with your knees pushed to your chest. Your calves hooked over his elbow. He shouldn’t have folded you in half. He probably shouldn’t even have fucked you. 

Too late now. 

“This is my brother Ace!” Luffy shouts beside you. Pointing at Ace. Completely unaware of how familiar you already are with each other. Ace should’ve known better. Everyone knows everyone. He knew he would be running into you again. This is just the last place he expected to find you. 

“We’ve met,” you say, shifting awkwardly away from Luffy and pointedly not looking at Ace. If it was anyone else maybe he’d be offended. But knowing why you’re not looking at him scratches a satisfied itch Ace didn’t even know he had. 

“Yeah at Whitebeard’s,” he clarifies, even though it’s essentially unnecessary since he knows Luffy doesn’t care about the details. “But how do you know each other?”

“Apparently Luffy works for me,” you explain, but you’re looking at Marco. Ace cannot help the small smile that tugs at his lips. “Technically he was my grandpa’s employee. I just inherited him with the property.”

“Yeah she almost shot me this mornin’,” Luffy says casually and with a cackle. 

“He was going through my fridge at 6am. I thought he was a burglar,” you say, eyeing Luffy like he’s lost his mind. And whenever people first meet him that’s usually their initial impression. But he grows on you quickly. 

“She’s got some terrible aim on her though,” Luffy replies. “Maybe you can teach her to shoot, Ace!”

“No,” you say immediately. “I mean that’s not necessary. I don’t plan on shooting you ever again. Just warn me the next time you’re in my house.”

“I thought he got kicked in the head by a horse?” Ace looks at Marco. Confused as all hell. 

“I did,” Luffy says at the same time as you go “he did.”

“Seems like y’all had a busy mornin’,” Ace chuckles, eyes still glued to you. 

“About that.” You hop off the bed and wipe your hands on your pants. “I’ve gotta get to work. Thanks again, Marco.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid,” he answers, looking suspiciously between you and Ace.

“Nice seeing you,” you nod to him as you walk towards the door. The one he’s currently blocking. “Again.”

He doesn’t move, though. Not when you’re standing a few inches from him and waiting expectantly for him to do something. You look up at him through your lashes. Just like you did that night. Right before you– “Excuse me.”

Ace almost jumps out of the way, your words forcing him out of the flashback. “Sorry.”

“See you later, Luffy,” you call out over your shoulder, hurrying out of the room without another word. Ace watches you go. He doesn’t intend to. You’re just so interesting. 

“What was that about?” Marco says, clearly amused. And smart enough to read between the lines. 

“What was what about?” Ace asks, turning towards Marco trying his hardest to remain nonchalant. It’s not really working though. Marco knows him too well.

“What did you do?” Marco presses, crossing his arms over his chest absolutely amused. 

“Why do you think I did somethin’?” 

“Well, she was fine until you showed up,” Marco adds, lips shifting into a smirk that Ace knows well. “You made her run.”

“I don’t know if you heard her, but she said she had to get to work. Maybe this idiot made her late,” Ace points at Luffy, who’s watching the exchange curiously while his feet kick over the edge of the hospital bed. 

“Is she the one you were talking to Sabo about?” Luffy adds, not helping Ace’s case in the slightest. “Something about doin’ it in her truck?”

Ace pales. Or maybe he bursts bright red. He can’t tell. Other than the fact that he’s both ice cold and burning hot. He reaches over and grabs Luffy by the collar, bunching his shirt in a fist and yanking him off of the bed in one movement. 

“How hard did you get hit in the head? Must’ve affected your memory,” Ace says, avoiding Marco’s eyes entirely. 

“Nope,” Luffy grins, “Memory’s all good. Doc said so himself.”

“We’re leavin’ then,” Ace grumbles, ready to strangle Luffy but he’s already in the hospital. And three attempts on his life in a single morning would be overkill. Ace will just have to wait until tomorrow. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Marco yells to Ace’s back. He can hear the laugh in his voice. But he refuses to turn around. 

“Nothin’ to talk about!” 

****

Ace doesn’t think your hook up was a mistake. It’s actually the opposite. He wants to do it again. And then a third time. Perhaps maybe even a fourth if you’re up to it. What he regrets are the circumstances. Ace isn’t one for one night stands. He never has been. And in a town as small as this one, they are never a good idea. The only person who seems to get away unscathed and without a scarlet letter stamped to their forehead is Sabo. He doesn’t get it. But some things aren’t meant for Ace to understand. 

“So what exactly were you doin’ in SJ’s truck?” Luffy asks from beside Ace in his own truck this time. It’s much larger than yours. More leg room. But he refuses to spiral down that thought process.

“Who the hell is SJ?” Ace replies, slowing to a stop at a red light. They’re passing through the main part of town now. The dance studio is a block or so ahead. Ace wonders if you’re already there. 

“Are ya dumb? We were just with her,” Luffy laughs, removing the ice pack from his head entirely. 

“That’s not her name,” Ace says shortly, not really in the mood to entertain his little brother’s antics. 

“Yeah, but I can’t remember what it really is,” he shrugs, staring out the window. “And I don’t think she’d like it if I called her small Jinbe.”

“Probably not,” Ace agrees. 

“So what were you do-”

“We’re not talkin’ bout this.” Ace pulls into the diner and parks near the door. He’s starving. And he’s sure Luffy is too considering all the energy he’s burned in the few short hours they’ve been separated.  

Ace jumps out the car and Luffy follows, jabbering senselessly behind him. Ace isn’t listening though. He’s stuck thinking about you. He hasn’t really been able to stop since he saw you at the bar. He wouldn’t describe what he’s feeling as a crush though. It feels childish. Immature. And he doesn’t know you well enough to admit he likes you. Not like that anyway. But you’re obviously attracted to each other. And the chemistry is insane, especially considering you only spent a single night together and he can't seem to get you out of his head. 

Maybe it’s infatuation. It’s been awhile since Ace has actually felt anything at all for someone, so it feels like a bigger deal than it probably is. 

The bell chimes above his head. The diner isn’t crowded but the regulars are here. In their usual seats spread out amongst the tables. When Ace’s gaze falls on the cook and owner of the diner he suppresses a groan. One because Sanji is shamelessly flirting with the girl picking up her order. Two, that girl happens to be you. He quite literally cannot escape you.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask politely, sticking your hand in your bag to pull out some cash. 

“On the house,” Sanji replies, pushing the small paper bag towards you along with four drinks. 

“I can’t accept this without paying,” you urge him, pulling out a few dollars from your stack of cash. 

“A smile from a pretty girl like you is payment enough,” he says, leaning over the counter and into your space. Ace witnesses the way you smile and look away. Bashful. Well, now he’s jealous. That’s fucking great.

“Fine, but I’m at least tipping you.” You stick the dollars you counted before into the tip jar by the register. “Can’t have you thinking I’m taking advantage of your kindness.”

“Oh, sugar, I’d let ya do whatever–”

“Hiya, Sanji,” Ace interrupts, “we’ll have our usual.”

Perhaps, maybe just a little, Ace’s feelings for you are childish. A tad bit immature. He doesn’t like watching Sanji flirt with you. Even though he knows full well, as well as half the people in this town, that Sanji’s fucking the butcher. It’s harmless. Doesn’t make Ace like it any more, though. 

Sanji’s eyes slide over to Ace. He hears the edge in Ace’s tone, but he doesn’t say anything. Sanji is also very aware that Ace never orders at the counter. Luffy has a booth practically assigned to him at the diner. He sits in the same spot every time he comes in to eat. So obviously Sanji is skeptical. But thankfully he spares Ace the awkward confrontation and says “you got it.”

Before turning back to you and saying, “have a great day, beautiful. I’ll see you later.”

Ace watches you look through the bag to make sure everything is there before you glance over at him. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes since you were last together, yet Ace feels the silence between you starting to balloon uncomfortably. 

“Are you following me?” You pop it first. And he’s grateful that you sound much more playful than you did earlier. 

“No,” he smiles at you. “Seems like a coincidence if ya ask me.”

“Mm, right,” you nod, gathering your order in your arms. “Two times in an hour. What did I do to be so lucky?”

“I have an idea,” he says with a slight shrug. He knows what he’s insinuating and you seem to catch on quickly when the air shifts into something a little more thick. Dense. Flashes of lips, hands, tangling limbs is all Ace can think of. You’re standing so close he can smell you. Makes him feel like a creep. But he can’t control it. You had sex one time and it’s as though you’ve already permanently branded yourself to his memory. His senses. 

He doesn’t even know how. Or why. 

You bite down on your bottom lip. Chewing it between your teeth. He doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know your thoughts are probably going down the same tracks as his. He can see it in your eyes. In the way you return his gaze. 

“Listen, I usua–”

“SJ!” Luffy interrupts loudly. So loud it's as if he shakes the air around the two of you. Ace almost forgot you aren’t alone. But in public. “You joinin’ us for breakfast? Sanji makes the best corned beef hash!” 

“SJ?” You look over at Ace, evidently confused. 

“I’ll explain later,” he dismisses, not really in the mood to get into Luffy’s tendency to assign names to people.

“No,” you answer, turning your attention back to Luffy. “I just came over to pick up some coffees for the crew.”

“Bummer,” Luffy says before walking behind the counter and letting himself into the kitchen. 

“Does he always do whatever he wants?” You ask curiously, peeking over the counter through the small window to watch Luffy pester Sanji while he cooks. 

“Yes. All the time. Consequences be damned.”

“Ok well that’s good to know considering how often I will be seeing him.”

Ace chuckles at the concerned look on your face. He finds it endearing how you can’t seem to control your expressions. You wouldn’t even have to say anything and Ace could probably guess what you’re thinking. 

“Anyway, I should get going.” You angle yourself towards the door. “Can’t have Nami’s coffee getting cold.”

“I’ll see you around,” he tilts his head in goodbye. And this time when you leave instead of scurrying away from him, you smile at him over your shoulder. A feeling, weird and full and dizzying, fills his chest. 

“Can’t believe you already slept with her,” Sanji interrupts Ace’s thoughts abruptly. The feeling that he was indulging in immediately solidifies and falls rock solid into his gut. His head whips around to look at Sanji, who’s balancing three plates on his forearm and wearing an expression so casual that Ace is convinced he misheard him.

“What?”

part four

taglist: @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @nico-ith @chillerkiller @jozhenji @starchild-unnamed @certain-tragedies @hannahbarberra162 @kanekisheart

[thehighpriestess1]

Make a Wish: Mastermind

Warning: Strong themes. Manipulation.

Pairing: Gojo x y/n, Nanami x y/n

Word count: 13k

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You hummed softly to Matilda as the orchards blurred past, their blossoms flickering like ghosts of memories you weren’t quite ready to touch. Gojo tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel — rhythm absent, mind clearly elsewhere. Tangled in thoughts. Tangled in you.

Your confession had landed like a brick to the chest. You saw the flicker in his expression, mistaking his silence for disbelief. But there was nothing for him to question. He had always known. Every word you’d spoken rang true.

He should have said something right then — told you what he remembered, what he carried with him every day. But speaking the truth aloud would have fractured the fragile thing growing between you. And he couldn’t risk that. Not when, for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, you were looking at him like he was something more than the man who had failed you.

So he stayed quiet. If pretending meant keeping you close a little longer, he’d carry the lie all the way to the grave. From the corner of his eye, he watched you. Peaceful. A little distant. Beautiful in the kind of quiet way that undid him.

He cleared his throat. “How did it feel… coming back? The whole thing?”

You turned toward him, smiling gently. “So you do believe me now?”

“I always believed you,” he replied, his voice light with effort. “I just want to understand.”

You shifted in your seat, eyes drifting to the window. “It was... unnerving at first. Terrifying. But once the shock wore off—” you inhaled deeply “—it felt exhilarating.”

His brow lifted. “Exhilarating? Why?”

But he already knew. He just wanted to hear it from you. Wanted to trace every fracture in the old version of himself — the one who let you slip away — so he’d never make the same mistake again.

You exhaled slowly, fingers curling around the hem of your sweater. “Because I’d been stuck. In this loop. Pain, loss, silence… pretending everything was fine. Coming back felt like breaking out of that. Like I was finally breathing again. Like I had a second chance.”

“Pain…” he echoed. “Loss?”

You paused. The air in the car shifted.

“Yeah. Loss of my footing. My peace. Maybe even my sanity,” you said with a laugh that was almost too quiet, too sad.

His grip on the wheel tightened. “I really messed things up, didn’t I?”

“You did,” you said softly. “But not you-you. The other you. The one who kept me a secret. Who chose his clan’s approval over me.”

He swallowed hard. “But I’m still him, aren’t I? Same face. Same voice.”

You turned to him, expression gentle. “No, Satoru. That version of you lived in fear. You…” you smiled faintly, “…you listen. You chose me.”

A silence settled between you, soft but heavy.

Then, as if afraid to break it, he asked, “How did we even start dating?”

You let out a small laugh. “One-night stand. After a company party. We weren’t supposed to catch feelings.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Classy. Sounds like me.”

“Terrible behavior, really.”

“So does this mean you trust me?” he asked, taking another smooth turn.

You leaned back in your seat, exhaling. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

He glanced at you again. “Then… your walls. Ready to let them down?”

You smirked. “My walls?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “You don’t let me spoil you. You flinch every time I try to take care of you. Sometimes, your independence feels like rebellion. Like you’re guarding yourself from me.”

You huffed. “Wow. Didn’t know you noticed me so much.”

“What can I say?” he murmured. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, but sometimes… it feels like I’m not allowed to be. Like if I show too much, you’ll run.”

You studied his face. Even with the glasses, you could see the sadness in his expression.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Even if things are different now… I’m still not over a lot.”

“Yet here you are,” he said softly. “You should’ve told me you needed time. I would’ve waited.”

The words struck you silently. He was right. You’d kept him close, but always at arm’s length. Your heart sank.

Gojo noticed the shift in your expression. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. It’s just—this is a lot.”

“It’s alright.” You gave him a fragile smile.

After a pause, he said gently, “Tell me something I did right. Just one thing.”

You looked out the window, thinking. “You were a good friend. Always there for others. My family. Always ready to help.”

He hummed quietly, nodding. But everything you said, while true, felt distant. Detached. Not about him and you.

“What’s something I did for you,” he asked, “that you actually liked?”

You rubbed your arm, struggling. “I… I guess I liked how you always said the right thing. You always knew what to say.”

He nodded again, silent. It wasn’t quite the answer he was hoping for — but maybe it was the only one you could give.

Nanami flipped through the file with surgical precision, each turn of the page more agitated than the last. His jaw was clenched so tightly it seemed like he might shatter a molar. The frown etched on his face had settled into something permanent over the past few days, but now it deepened to something almost dangerous.

Finally, he slammed the file shut with a sharp thud that echoed through the sterile silence of his office. Papers inside shuddered at the impact. He exhaled through his nose—controlled, cold, and deliberate—then picked up the phone.

“Miwa. Come in.”

His tone was calm, but it carried the weight of a storm building on the horizon.

The door creaked open within seconds. Miwa entered with quick, polite steps, notepad already in hand.

“Yes, sir?”

Nanami held the file beside his face like it offended him. “You expect me to submit this to investors?”

She blinked, confused. “I— I reviewed the numbers three times. I thought—”

He didn’t let her finish. He slid the file across the desk like a dealer tossing a losing hand.

“You have two hours. Fix everything and bring it back before lunch.”

Miwa hesitated, catching the file with both hands. “But sir, the investor meeting isn’t until tomor—”

“Do you give me deadlines now?” Nanami’s voice dropped lower, dangerously even. His brow arched slightly, a cold challenge in his eyes.

Miwa’s lips parted, then closed. Her shoulders stiffened, and she bowed her head.

“Understood,” she said quietly.

She turned and walked out, her breath shallow as she pulled the door shut behind her. The moment she stepped into the hallway, she nearly bumped into Maya, who had been standing nearby, having overheard enough.

“Miwa,” Maya said, reaching out. Her face was knit with concern. “Are you okay?”

Miwa nodded quickly, trying to seem unfazed, but her fingers clutched the file a little too tightly. “It’s my fault. I should’ve double-checked everything.”

“Are you sure?” Maya asked gently.

“I’ll fix it,” Miwa insisted with a forced smile, the edges of her professionalism cracking slightly. “I’ll see you after lunch.”

And with that, she rushed toward her desk, flipping open her laptop with practiced urgency. Maya stood in place, her arms folding across her chest, her thoughts racing.

She'd been watching Nanami all week. There was a pattern. He hadn’t just snapped at Miwa—Hitoshi had been on the receiving end of a biting comment yesterday, and even his usual coffee run had gone untouched this morning. He hadn’t spoken more than five words in the team briefing. This wasn’t the Nanami she knew — thoughtful, composed, meticulous in words as much as in numbers. This version was distant. Cold. Preoccupied.

Something was very wrong.

She pulled out her phone and typed quickly.

Maya: Y/n, you need to talk to Nanami. Something’s off. The whole office is tense. Y/n: What happened? Maya: No clue. But it’s not just a bad day. It feels bigger. Y/n: I’m back soon. I’ll talk to him first thing.

Maya stared at the screen for a moment after sending the last message, her reflection dim in the glass of the office window. She didn’t know what was going on, but something told her this wasn’t just about a few missed calculations.

Still unsettled, Maya headed toward the break area, where she found Hitoshi hunched over a vending machine, aggressively tapping the "C2" button.

“You know that button’s not gonna listen to you faster if you bully it,” she said, attempting a light tone.

Hitoshi glanced up, chuckling as the machine finally coughed up his can of cold brew. “It fears me. That's why it obeys.”

Maya smiled faintly, then leaned against the counter. “I just saw Miwa. Nanami really tore into her.”

“Yeah,” Hitoshi sighed, popping the tab and taking a sip. “I heard the door slam. He’s been like that all week. Short-tempered. Snappy. Kind of… off.”

“So it’s not just me,” Maya said, her voice dropping slightly.

“Nope,” Hitoshi replied. “He even gave me grief for submitting the new vendor shortlist. And I triple-checked that thing.” He raised a brow. “Maybe he’s just missing Y/n.”

Maya let out a short breath of amusement. “I wish it were something that simple.”

Hitoshi tilted his head. “You think it’s something else?”

Maya hesitated for a moment, then said, “I didn’t want to overthink it, but… a few nights ago, I forgot my phone in the office. When I came back to get it, everyone had left. Lights were off except in Nanami’s office.”

Hitoshi straightened slightly. “Okay…”

“I peeked through the glass to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything. He was in there with a man and a woman I’ve never seen before. They weren’t dressed like clients. The woman had this… corporate air, but not from our usual circles.”

“You’re sure they weren’t new clients?” Hitoshi asked, frowning. “Nanami handles a lot of private consults. He’s always discreet about them.”

“I know,” Maya said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything then. But it wasn’t a typical meeting. No documents, no presentations. They were talking, but the vibe was tense. Like something serious was being decided.”

Hitoshi sipped his drink, watching her carefully. “You think it has something to do with his mood lately?”

“I don’t know,” Maya admitted. “But my gut says yes. I’ve worked with Nanami long enough to know he doesn’t unravel without reason. And something’s unraveling.”

“Maybe he’s trying to keep something under wraps,” Hitoshi said. “Wouldn’t be the first time leadership deals with high-stakes stuff behind closed doors.”

“Yeah… but this feels personal,” Maya murmured, more to herself than to him. “And I can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to affect more than just him.”

She looked toward the hallway that led to Nanami’s office — now quiet, the door closed, the storm temporarily sealed behind wood and glass.

“I just hope Y/n gets back soon,” she added softly. “He listens to her. If anyone can get through to him… it’s her.”

Hitoshi nodded, thoughtful now. “Let’s hope it’s not already too late.”

The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of clothes being folded and tucked away. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your suitcase open beside you, half-packed and slightly chaotic — a reflection of your thoughts.

You were folding your sweater when the door clicked open.

Gojo stepped inside, shades pushed up into his hair, wind still clinging to him like the scent of the cherry orchards. “Hey,” he said softly. “How’s the packing?”

You shrugged, not looking up. “Therapeutic. Kind of. Helps me think.”

He wandered in, lazily draping himself across the armchair like it was his throne. “What time’s the flight?”

“Same route back,” you said, eyes still focused on a tangled pair of headphones. “Early morning. The one with the layover in Helsinki.”

There was a pause. You felt him watching you. And then, for some reason, you stopped.

You turned around slowly, meeting his eyes.

“…Are you planning to come with me?”

Gojo didn’t answer at first. He simply reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a boarding pass, waving it in the air with a triumphant little grin. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You laughed — warm, genuine — but then he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a second one. A different one.

Now he was holding a ticket in each hand, one on either side of his face, like a magician about to perform a trick.

“I brought options,” he said, voice light. “Your commercial flight… or my jet. No pressure.”

Your eyes widened, half-amused, half-incredulous. “Your jet?”

He nodded, grinning. “Private. Smooth. No layovers. Less crying babies. Bonus points for having me all to yourself.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but the offer stands. If you trust me.”

You bit your lip, heart stuttering a little. “I do trust you.”

“Then?” he prompted, eyes hopeful.

“…But I still want to be independent,” you added quietly. “It matters to me.”

Gojo nodded slowly, smile fading into something softer. “I get that. I do. But you said you’d try to let me in. Just a little.”

You looked away, guilt suddenly heavy in your chest. Your hands paused on your suitcase, unmoving.

He noticed. “What is it?”

You exhaled, the words catching in your throat. “I feel awful. You’ve gone through all of this— every twist, every hard moment — and most of it wasn’t even your fault. I blamed you for things… things that belonged to someone else. Another version of you.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s still me. Past or present. I don’t get to dodge that.”

“I punished you anyway,” you whispered.

“You were hurting,” he said simply. “And I was part of that pain, even if I didn’t mean to be. I’ll take it — if it means I get to be here now.”

You blinked quickly, swallowing the emotion rising in your throat.

He smiled, tilting his head. “So… what’s it going to be? Cabin 14A with a window view and a crying toddler behind us? Or cherry wine and custom playlists on my jet?”

You rolled your eyes. “Such a hard sell.”

“Just being honest.”

You sighed, picking up your sweater and pressing it to your chest like a shield. “Fine. We’ll take your jet.”

He beamed like a kid who’d won at a claw machine. “You won’t regret it.”

“I already do.”

“You’re still going to cuddle me mid-flight.”

“No promises.”

“You say that now.” He stood up and crossed to your suitcase, casually tossing in one of his hoodies. “You always get cold midair.”

You looked up at him. “Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you. For not giving up.”

He looked at you then — really looked — and said, quietly, “Never even crossed my mind.”

“And since when do you need a ticket for your private jet?”. You corked your head to the side and smiled.

“Oh it’s my boarding pass for our old flight, did it for the dramatics”. He grinned.

“You’re ridiculous”.

“Yet you love me”. 

Gojo leaned on his knuckles, elbows propped lazily on the armrest as he watched you, eyebrows pinched together in focus while you typed away furiously on your phone. His gaze didn’t waver.

“Who are you texting?” he asked, voice casual, but with a thread of curiosity threading through.

The soft hum of his private jet filled the cabin, punctuating the silence that followed.

“Oh, just Maya,” you murmured, eyes glued to the screen.

“All okay?” he asked, straightening up from his slouch.

You hesitated, thumbs still hovering over your keyboard. “Umm... I don’t know,” you muttered, the small frown between your brows deepening.

Gojo narrowed his eyes, interest officially piqued. “Can I help?”

You let out a dry chuckle and finally looked up at him, offering a half-smile. “It’s about Nanami.”

Gojo’s face twisted, barely perceptible but undeniably bitter. “What did he do now?”

The frustration in his voice wasn’t new. It tugged at the tail end of what had been one of the most serene holidays he'd ever had — and Nanami’s name had to sour it.

You sighed, your fingers slackening as you placed the phone on the glossy mahogany table between you. “He didn’t do anything. But Maya says he’s been acting weird.”

Gojo cocked a brow. “Weird? So... like himself?” he said with a smirk.

You gave him a flat look. “Yeah, sure. Maya said he’s been on edge. Irritable.”

Gojo leaned in slightly, elbows resting on his knees, the corners of his lips twitching. “Again — like himself.”

You let out an exasperated sigh and crossed your arms. “Come on, I’m being serious. Everyone’s worried.”

He scoffed and looked away, jaw tightening. “Everyone? Or you?” A beat. “And why are you even worried about him? He’s nothing but a conniving bastard.”

Your eyes sharpened. “Why do you hate him so much? He’s done nothing to you. He’s your business partner — you should have some respect.”

Gojo laughed. Not the joyful kind. The sharp, cutting kind. “Respect? For Nanami?” He tilted his head mockingly. “He’s not my partner. I’m his boss. I own his company.”

Your arms folded tighter as you leaned back, your tone clipped. “Well, he clearly built something lucrative enough for you to want to buy it and that deserves respect”

Gojo’s smirk vanished. His voice dropped an octave. “The only lucrative thing he did was hire you. I bought a loss-making company — overpaid for it, even — just to get close to you.”

You blinked. “Wh-what?”

He exhaled, tension surfacing. “Yes. The only reason I bought the company was because I— I found out you worked there. It was the only way I could... truly know who the woman from my dream was”

Silence fell. You stared at him, eyes wide. “You couldn’t just move to Kyoto? You had to buy a company?”

“Yes,” Gojo said without hesitation, tone suddenly raw. “Because it was the only organic way I could think of. Do you have any idea how pissed I was when I found out you worked for Nanami?”

Your tone turned sharp, defensive. “What’s wrong with working for Nanami?”

He shifted, jaw clenched. “I— never mind.”

You leaned forward, fed up. “Because of Mishki?”

Gojo froze mid-breath, the color draining slightly from his face. He turned his head slowly toward you. “What... what did you just say?”

Your chest tightened. But it was too late now. You inhaled sharply. “He told me. About Mishki.”

Gojo studied you — a long, unreadable stare. He could barely keep the fury from leaking into his tone. “And... what exactly did he tell you?”

“That... he was dating her. And you— you took her from him. Then mocked him when he confronted you.”

Gojo leaned back, slowly, lips curling into a dry smirk. “I took Mishki? From him?”

That look on his face made your blood boil. “Yes.”

“You believe him?”

“Yes.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”. You shrugged like it was the most obvious thing to believe Nanami.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed. “Would you believe me if I told you my side of the story?”

You lifted your shoulders in a slow shrug. “Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

You sighed, voice softer now. “You had history with Mishki. Not now, but... in the other life.”

His eyes darkened, and his heart dropped into his stomach. “And what history did I have with her in the other life?”

You hesitated, then said it plainly. “You cheated on me with her.”

Gojo’s fists clenched in his lap. He wanted to shout, to scream it wasn’t true — but he couldn’t risk it. One misstep and he’d give away too much. “Did I?” he said quietly. “How did you find out?”

“I saw the messages. The late-night calls. You ditched me for her, over and over.” You shook your head, bitterly. “So when Nanami told me about her, I had every reason to believe you’d do it again. That you’d take her from him, too.”

Gojo’s thoughts spun. Two lies — one from Nanami, one from the past. He took a breath. “Does Nanami know about your... thing?”

“What?! No! Why would I tell him?”

“Okay,” he said, slowly. “Well, I didn’t take Mishki from Nanami. It’s true they were together. But there’s more to the story.”

Your voice was cautious. “Like what?”

Gojo gave a sad smile. “Where do I even begin?” He picked up the glass, took a long sip, and placed it down with care. “Nanami used to work with me. He was family. Even my father admired him — he was loyal, smart, dependable. Suguru hated him, though. Said something was off. He wasn’t wrong.”

You listened in silence.

“Nanami met Mishki at my birthday gala. I introduced them. Mishki’s family handles our North America ops. Nanami liked her immediately. I knew she was trouble — but I let it go. Until he started slipping. Missing meetings. Skipping work. Obsessed.”

You blinked slowly.

“One day, my accountant found that Nanami was embezzling money. Millions. Properties, gifts — all in Mishki’s name. I was terrified. If my father found out... Nanami wouldn’t walk away with just a termination letter.”

You leaned in, barely breathing.

“So I threw a party. Invited them both. Tried to talk to Mishki first. She denied being with him. Said he was stalking her — buying her apartments, gifts, begging for attention. I didn’t believe her because I knew the truth”

“The truth?”

“Mishki was hitting on me for years. Even when Nanami thought she was his girlfriend. Once he lied and said they went on vacation together. Turns out she was with her friends. Nanami was just... funding it. Alone.”

You crossed your arms, uneasy. “So he was giving her money and she was taking it but she wasn’t his— girlfriend?”.

“That’s who Mishki is”. Gojo’s voice dropped.

“What happened at the party?”

“At that party, I texted Mishki to meet me. I offered her money to leave him alone. She didn’t want the money — she wanted me. She... came on to me. And right then, Nanami walked in.”

Silence again. Your throat felt tight. “Even if that’s true... why mock him?”

“I didn’t,” Gojo said. “I tried to protect him. She twisted everything. Told him I stole her. He didn’t believe my texts, photos — anything. Said I forced her. I lost it. That was the final straw. Soon after, my father found out, and Nanami was gone.”

Your heart pounded. It didn’t sound like Nanami. But...

Gojo saw your hesitation. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I... I don’t know what to believe.”

Gojo’s heart clenched. You were never going to believe him. He wanted to scream and tell you that he didn’t cheat on you. He wanted to tell you that MIshki was doing the same thing again. That she was threatening him with the photos taken secretly during his birthday. That he did what he did just to save you but he ended up hurting you. He wanted to tell you that yes he was wrong to hide things, but he was tired. The pressure of his clan, the company, Mishki, all with a common goal of taking you away and he did what he did to keep you with him and it all crashed on him in the end.How could he tell you that what happened with you was the aftermath of what happened with Nanami and Mishki .He had a bad feeling that the future will repeat itself.

“I understand," he whispered under his breath. It’s all he could offer. His understanding. 

You didn’t want to believe that Nanami was the man Gojo was painting him to be but if not that then you’d have to believe, accept that Gojo was lying again for selfish reasons and it pained you to think that you were making the same mistake again. 

“Did you ever have feelings for Nanami?” Gojo asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His tone was even, too even, like he was trying to play it cool, trying being the operative word.

You hesitated for just a breath, then nodded. “I did.”

Gojo nodded too, mechanically. His knuckles clenched into the leather armrest beside him, blood boiling under the skin. He looked away for a moment, jaw ticking, then brought his eyes back to you with forced casualness. “What changed?”

You exhaled softly. “You showed up. He backed off. Things changed.”

Gojo’s heart twisted. He leaned back slowly, like the movement would keep him grounded. “So if I hadn’t come to Kyoto… you’d be with Nanami?”

You gave him a small shrug. “Maybe.”

That word—maybe—stabbed him. The worst part wasn’t the uncertainty. It was the possibility.

He tried to laugh, but it came out bitter and dry. “Why Nanami?”

You met his eyes, calm and steady. “He’s kind. Sensitive. He understands me. He appreciates me. And…”—your lips curled slightly—“he has a nice smile.”

Gojo’s throat tightened. He laughed again, quiet this time, a low scoff masked as amusement. But his fingers were digging crescents into his palms.

He watched you as you said it—all of it—and something ugly settled in his chest. You were here, sitting in his jet, tangled in his world, but a part of you still lived in that soft corner Nanami once occupied.

Even if you were with Gojo now, you weren’t entirely over him.

And for someone like Gojo—who had the world at his feet—not having all of you was unbearable.

He nodded slowly, biting back the million things he wanted to say. The jet’s soft hum filled the silence again, almost mocking its constancy.

“Right,” he murmured, lips pressed tight. “Nice smile. Why me?”. Gojo asked, looking straight into your eyes.

You sighed and leaned back, for a moment neither of you said anything, “Maybe parts of it were remnants from the other life, but most of it was you. You showed me that you were not the same person. You were kind, sensitive, even though I pushed you away you didn’t hold it against me. You cared for my friends, family, and even me.”

Gojo smiled, but the pain spread through his chest. You loved him in comparison to what he used to be. He couldn’t blame you. 

Suzume sat up straighter in her chair, spine rigid, eyes locked on the screen. Her corner desk was tucked away from the main floor—half-hidden behind a filing cabinet, shielded by tall bookshelves and the lazy hum of the old air vent. Usually, she appreciated the solitude. Today, she was grateful for the cover.

Because she wasn’t working on the financial projections she’d been assigned. She was scrolling through your Instagram.

Images bled into one another on the screen: the slate-grey fjord against golden-hour light, a candlelit table at a rooftop restaurant, that blurred shot of the northern lights glowing like a celestial fire. Gojo was in most of them. Gojo was beside you in all of them.

It wasn’t the location that stung. She didn’t care about the fjord or the Michelin-star meals or the private jet snaps. That life—Gojo’s life—was too far removed from hers to even envy. What she did envy, almost bitterly, was the fact that you were with him.

The man she’d fallen for. She knew about his feelings for you. Everyone did. She wasn’t an idiot.

She’d watched him light up around you. Watch him invent reasons to stop by your desk. Bringing you coffee when you look tired. Sneaking you snacks during late meetings. That dumb smirk on his face when you rolled your eyes at his jokes, and the soft look in his eyes when he thought no one was watching. Suzume watched and she didn’t understand. Because you? You didn’t even try. Half the time, you looked like you were barely tolerating him. You dismissed his kindness like it was annoying background noise. And yet there he was—Gojo Satoru, the man who could charm his way into any heart, wagging his tail behind you like a stray mutt.

She didn’t hate you. Not really. But she couldn’t help the bile that rose in her throat every time she asked herself the same question: Why you?

You were ordinary. Safe. Pleasant in that forgettable way. Suzume had eyes. She knew she was more striking. Thinner. Sleeker. Smarter. Sharper. So why the hell wasn’t it enough?

She leaned back in her chair, resting her head against the high backrest. Her teeth gnawed absently at the blue cap of her pen. Her gaze stayed fixed on the latest photo you’d posted: a long-exposure shot of the aurora borealis. She could practically feel him beside you in the cold��his arm likely draped over your shoulder, that stupid grin on his face, dimples out, sunglasses probably still on like an idiot.

She kicked her foot against the desk. Once. Twice. Again—harder—until the dull thud in her shin began to match the sharp twist in her chest.

She remembered the first time she saw him in the office. He’d walked in on a Monday,  hair sticking up in chaotic spikes. He looked nothing like the executives she was used to. No rigid formality. No ego. He gave the receptionist a high-five. He called the interns by name. And when she spilled her lunch on her skirt at her desk two weeks later, mortified, he’d appeared out of nowhere with an emergency Tide pen and a bag of clean sweatpants from the company gym.

He’d winked. “I carry spares. HR disaster-proofing.”

She laughed—really laughed—for the first time that day.

Then there were the late nights when the office was nearly empty. Just her and him and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights. He’d stop by her desk with his sleeves rolled up, tie loose, tired but still smiling. He always asked about her ideas in meetings. Genuinely listened. He teased her, but never meanly. And he noticed things—like when she started wearing glasses, or when she switched to oat milk in her coffee.

He made her feel seen. And maybe that’s all it took. But all of that—every shared smile, every late-night report they finished together, every inside joke—meant nothing. Because his eyes were only ever on you.

And no matter how many nights she dreamed otherwise, Gojo Satoru had never looked at her the way he looked at you.

Suzume needed air.

She grabbed her mug with more force than necessary and walked briskly toward the break room. Her heels clicked sharply on the linoleum, each step a reminder of how hard she had kicked the desk earlier. There was a dull throb in her shin now, but it still hurt less than the thought of Gojo sharing a private dinner under the northern lights with someone who didn't even seem to see him the way she did.

As she turned the corner by the hallway, she collided with something—no, someone—solid.

Her mug tilted, but a steady hand reached out just in time to stop the spill.

“Suzume,” Nanami said, brows furrowed. “You alright?”

She stepped back, blinking up at him. “Sorry—I wasn’t watching.”

Nanami looked down, then slowly back  at her. “You’re limping.”

Suzume straightened. “I’m fine. Just bumped my leg earlier. Nothing serious.”

He didn’t press. Not directly. Instead, he tilted his head, observing her like one might examine a file they weren’t sure about yet. “Mm. Still,” he said calmly, “you look… tense.”

She attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Nanami glanced over his shoulder toward the corridor. “Why don’t you come to my office for a minute? You could use a break.”

Suzume hesitated. “Is this… work-related?”

He gave a barely-there shrug. “It can be.”

Something in his tone—nonchalant but warm—made it hard to say no.

She followed him. Nanami’s office was clinical but sleek, he poured her a cup of tea without asking, placing it in front of her as he settled behind his desk.

“Drink,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Suzume cupped the mug in her hands. The warmth helped. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but she didn’t speak.

Nanami didn’t rush her. He leaned back, fingers steepled, gaze careful and unreadable.

After a moment, he asked, “Long day?”

She gave a soft laugh. “You could say that.”

“Or… something else?” he said, voice gentle, almost curious.

She raised her eyes to meet his, but he didn’t look interrogative. Just… attentive. Safe.

She shook her head slowly. “It’s silly.”

“I don’t think you’re the type to get thrown by silly things,” he replied, with quiet assurance. “But I could be wrong.”

Suzume toyed with the edge of the cup. The steam fogged her glasses faintly. “It’s just—there’s someone I like,” she said, voice low, words curling cautiously from her lips, “but he’s… with someone else.”

Nanami kept his expression neutral, not a single twitch of surprise. But inside, he already knew. Her glances, her tension, the way her eyes followed Gojo around the office like a lost thread of light — it had been obvious for a while. But now, hearing her say it out loud, was confirmation. “Hmm,” he said, as though weighing a market trend. “That can be difficult.”

Suzume nodded, staring down at the swirl of tea. “It’s not just that he’s with her… I don’t get it. She’s not—” She stopped herself. “It’s confusing. Like I’m invisible. Like nothing I do would ever be enough.”

Nanami didn’t answer right away. He let the silence stretch just long enough to make her wonder if she’d said too much. Then, quietly, he said, “Sometimes people only see what they want to. And sometimes, they’re so focused on chasing one thing, they miss what’s already right in front of them.”

Suzume looked up. There was something comforting in his tone. Not quite sympathy. Not quite advice. Something in between. “You think so?” she asked.

Nanami gave the smallest smile. “I do.”

He watched her nod, her lips parting like she wanted to say something else, but couldn’t quite find the words. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Does he know how you feel?”

Suzume shook her head quickly, suddenly guarded. “No. God, no.”

He hummed. “Maybe he should.”

She looked away. Nanami leaned back again, pleased. He didn’t show it, of course. But there was a flicker of satisfaction behind his eyes. Her little crush on Gojo wasn’t just office gossip anymore—it was leverage. Delicate. Useful. He masked his smirk by adjusting his tie, sipping his tea as if the room hadn't just shifted in his favor.

Nanami glanced over the rim of his cup, his voice smooth, casual.

“By the way… do you know when Y/N is getting back?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, as though it were an afterthought.

He didn’t miss the way Suzume’s expression shifted—just a flicker, but enough. A tightening at the corners of her mouth. A dull shadow crossing her eyes.

“Monday,” she replied, curt and clipped. She set her cup down a little harder than necessary on the coaster.

Nanami smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth lifting as if in amusement. “Ah. Took a long break, didn’t she?”

It wasn’t really a question.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, adopting a thoughtful air. This was the moment. Time to drop the hook.

“Since we’re talking,” he said, voice dropping an octave into something quieter, more vulnerable, “can I… confess something?”

Suzume blinked and nodded, instinctively leaning forward. “Of course. I’m here for you,” she said warmly, offering a small, encouraging smile.

Nanami lowered his gaze, playing the part of reluctant sharer. “I’m in a similar situation, actually. The woman I—” he paused, allowing his breath to hitch slightly for effect, “the woman I love is in love with someone else.”

Suzume’s lips parted slightly, eyes widening with empathy.

“I had a chance,” Nanami continued, his voice soft and wounded, “a brief one. But I misread the moment. And before I could do anything… another man swooped in like a hawk. Took her from me. Effortlessly.” He chuckled, sad and self-deprecating, before shaking his head. “So I understand,” he murmured. “What you’re feeling. It’s not easy—watching someone give their affection to someone who doesn’t even realize how lucky they are.”

Suzume’s shoulders slumped, heart pinched by the unexpected vulnerability in him. “I know,” she said quietly. “We all know.”

Nanami raised a brow, a mask of subtle confusion. “Know what?”

She gave a small, almost conspiratorial smile. “About your feelings for Y/N.”

Nanami stilled. Not enough to seem alarmed—just enough to feign surprise. “Oh…” he said slowly.

“Believe me,” Suzume continued, “I’m on your team. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She seems… lighter. Calmer. Happier, when she’s with you.”

Nanami’s lips curved into something gentle—grateful on the outside, victorious on the inside. “I appreciate your confidence,” he said, voice wrapped in restraint. “But…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Never mind all that.”

“No, no,” Suzume said quickly. She reached forward on instinct, placing her hand gently over his. “Please. Let me help you.”

Nanami looked down at her hand—delicate, sincere, eager—and lifted his eyes slowly, with just the right amount of hesitance. “How, Suzume?” he asked, his smile tinged with sorrow. “No one can help me.”

“Yes, I can,” she said, nodding earnestly. “Y/N is my friend. And I want what’s best for her. I won’t sway her, but I can help her see. Help her realize that you’re the right man for her.”

Nanami blinked, like the idea had never occurred to him. Like it was too generous to believe. “You’d do that?” he asked, softly. “For me?”

“Yes,” Suzume said, with unwavering conviction. “I will.”

Nanami leaned back, hand still under hers, and smiled. A quiet, deadly smile. She had no idea she had just made a deal with the devil.

“I have a feeling something bad is going to happen”, Maya said as she slowly brought the coffe mug to her lips.

“Why?”Hitoshi asked mindlessly as he chewed on his muffin. “Y/n is coming back today, you should be happy”.

“I am happy, but..”, She trailed off as her eyes fixed on Suzume walking through the double glass door of the cafeteria. She looked, different. Her hair, usually in a pony tale, was now open and cascading down her shoulder in delicate curls. Her usual attire of straight pants, shirt and cardigan now replaced by a dress. Her tennis shoes now  replaced by pencil heels. She even had make up on. “Is that–”.

Hitoshi followed Maya’s gaze and his mouth hung open. “Oh my god. Why is she dressed like y/n?”.

“What?!”, Maya scoffed as she turned her attention to Hitohshi.

“Yes, She looks like y/n. The hair, makeup, even the dress. I think y/n has the same dress, no?”. He shrugged.

Maya hummed to herself. He was right. “Suzume!”. She called out and raised her hand to get her attention. 

Suzume smiled when she saw Maya and Hitoshi. She walked over to them with her coffee in hand. “Hello!”. She said cheerfully.

“Hello to you!”. Hitoshi exclaimed. “What’s with the new change?”.

Suzume smiled as she gracefully sat down between Maya and Hitoshi, “Oh I just wanted to experiment”.

“Experiment?”, Maya questione.

“Yeah”, She shrugged, “Do I not look good?”. She asked, looking at Maya and Hitoshi.

The surprised pair exchanged questioning looks. Hitoshi knew Maya would never ask this so he took one for the team, “You look so much like y/n”.

“What?!”. 

“Yeah”. Hitoshi shrugged.

Suzume felt attacked. She knew what she was doing but being confronted like this didn’t sit well with her. “I don’t think y/n owns a particular style”. She fidgeted with the hand of her coffee mug. “I just wanted to try something new. I thought you guys would be supportive”.

Maya sensed her agitation and gently put her hand on top of Suzume’s, “You look beautiful”. She smiled warmly. 

Maya’s voice barely left her lips before Suzume stood abruptly. “I should get back,” she said with a polite smile, brushing invisible crumbs from her dress. “Client call in ten.”. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her coffee and walked away, her heels clicking steadily down the corridor. But her pace slowed as she turned the corner leading to her cabin.

There he was. Gojo. Coming out of your office, running a hand through his silver hair with that same half-smirk he wore whenever he was satisfied with himself. Suzume froze mid-step, ducking slightly behind the wall. Her breath caught. He looked… smug. Relaxed. That soft confidence that always made her heart twitch. But seeing it now, right outside your door—it stung like salt in an open wound.

She waited. When he disappeared down the hallway, she emerged, walking briskly toward your office. She didn’t knock—just pushed the door open.

You had just set your bag down on the couch and turned around, surprised. “Suzume!” Your voice was warm and genuine. “I was about to head to the cafeteria to see you and Maya.”

Suzume forced a smile, trying not to let her eyes drift, but they had already locked on it. The necklace. A delicate, glinting emerald resting on your collarbone. Elegant. Expensive. Real. Suzume knew the clarity, the depth of green—it wasn’t costume jewelry. She came from a family of jewelers; she could identify a genuine emerald from across a room. Gojo. It had to be him. Her chest tightened like a fist.

“You look amazing, by the way,” you said, tilting your head with a sincere smile. “That color really suits you.”

Suzume blinked, yanked from her spiral. She looked at you, really looked—and for a moment, her heart twisted with something sharp and ugly. But she kept the smile on.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “I… I just wanted to stop by and say hi. Welcome back.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” you replied, and she hated that you meant it.

Suzume’s eyes darted once more to the emerald on your chest. “I actually have a call,just stopped by to see if you were back” she added quickly, stepping back, “so I should head.”

You nodded, still smiling. 

But Suzume was already out the door. Her composure cracked the moment she turned the corner. Her breath sped up, her heels clicked faster, her grip tightened around her coffee cup until the lid popped off.

She didn’t care anymore. The bubbling jealousy, the polished mask, the forced smiles—she had shed them all by the time she marched down the corridor toward Gojo’s office. Her heels clicked with purpose against the tiles, and she barely paused before pushing open the frosted-glass door.

Gojo looked up, his thumb still mid-text. He was alone, seated in his usual relaxed sprawl, but his bright eyes narrowed slightly in surprise. “Suzume?”

She closed the door behind her gently, slipping into the room with a too-bright smile. “Good morning!”

He returned her greeting, still clearly puzzled. “Morning. What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothing urgent,” she said with a casual wave of her hand, her voice light, breezy. “Just wanted to ask—how was your trip?”

Gojo’s brows lifted slightly. “Uh, it was good.” He smiled politely, still trying to gauge what this was about. “Relaxing, I guess.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said, taking a step closer before tilting her head innocently. “By the way, have you seen Y/N this morning?”

There was a beat. Gojo’s expression didn’t change, but the air in the room shifted subtly. “Ye– Why?”

Suzume gave a shrug, feigning nonchalance, but her eyes flickered, sharpening with calculated mischief. “Oh, it’s probably nothing. Nanami was looking for her. Said he had something important to tell her.”

Gojo frowned slightly, lowering his phone. “Tell her what?”

“Well…” she trailed off, as if hesitant to continue, then leaned in just a little—enough to make it seem like she was trusting him with something fragile. “We don’t really know, but... word is, it might be a confession.”

“A confession?” Gojo’s voice lost its playful edge, and now he was watching her more carefully. “Suzume, be straight with me.”

She drew back, laughing nervously. “I mean, it’s just office gossip, so who knows, right? But please—don’t tell anyone I said anything. I don’t want to be dragged into this.”

Gojo didn’t respond right away. His jaw ticked once, and though he nodded, there was something unreadable in his gaze. “Right. No, I haven’t seen her,” he finally said, lying with practiced ease.

Suzume smiled sweetly, knowing exactly what he was doing. “I see. Well, I should get back to work. Have a good day, Gojo.”

She turned and walked out, her expression cool and composed until the door clicked shut behind her. Once out of sight, she pulled out her phone and typed a quick message.

Suzume: It’s done.

Nanami: Good.

Suzume: Now what?

Nanami: Wait. I’ll tell you when the time is right.

Suzume locked her screen and slid the phone back into her pocket, her heels echoing once again as she disappeared down the corridor—this time with a quiet, dangerous satisfaction curling at the corners of her lips.

Nanami placed his phone down like he was laying a relic on an altar. His smile crept in slowly, curling his lips into something unnatural. With a smooth, silent motion, he turned his chair toward the window, bathing himself in the golden morning light. It fell across his face like a halo, warm and soft—ironic, really, given the thoughts boiling beneath his skull. It felt like a divine signal, a blessing from whatever god still dared to watch. Victory, yes. That’s what this glow was. The light of inevitability.

He had been worried for weeks. The plan—his perfect, intricate plan—had been threatened by delays, unforeseen variables, Gojo��s arrogant presence. But then Suzume walked in. So eager. So desperate to be seen. And just like that, fate had handed him a scalpel. She would cut the way forward while his true machinery turned behind the scenes. Maybe, if he nudged her just right, she could even start a fire he could never be blamed for.

Let them call him evil if they wanted. Let them whisper about his darkness behind closed doors. He wasn’t evil. No. He was in love. A love so pure, so absolute, that it demanded sacrifice. When he first saw you—eyes bright with ambition, lips parted nervously in your interview—he had felt it crack open inside him. A knowing. Like the universe had ripped itself apart and whispered your name into the hollow of his soul. He had watched you through glass and paper and screens, your résumé memorized, your past dissected like a sacred text. Every friend, every interest, every secret you thought you had—he knew them already. But it wasn’t stalking. No. It was preparation. You can’t love someone if you don’t know them completely.

And when you chose his company over Domain Dynamics, he had wept. Literally fell to his knees and wept, because the gods had listened. You belonged to him. The first time you kissed—his fingers in your hair, your breath catching like a bird trapped in his hands—he felt the world stop spinning. Time slowed, warped, broke. Nothing else existed. He’d tasted you and knew: this was home. You were home.

But then… then you left. The moment Gojo arrived, it was like you forgot. Forgot the late nights, the trembling confessions, the way you said his name when no one was listening. You abandoned him. For him. A clown in a suit. A fool with a smile. A thief. You didn’t even hesitate. And that… that was where you failed him.

He could’ve given you everything. Power, money, worship. He would’ve sold his soul—his company—brick by brick to build you a palace. But you couldn’t wait. You were too blinded by Gojo’s laugh, his charm, his glinting lies. Nanami’s breath hitched, sharp and sudden, as the fury burned hot under his skin. It wasn’t your fault, not really. You were soft. Easily misled. Like a lamb. And Gojo? Gojo was the wolf. He knew what he was doing when he set eyes on you. He knew Nanami loved you. And he took you anyway.

But he wouldn’t have you for long.

Nanami leaned forward, his hands folded like a man in prayer. But his eyes were empty, cold pits of calculation. You would come back to him. You would realize your mistake. Even if he had to break the world to make it happen. Even if he had to burn everything Gojo touched and salt the ashes.

He would have you again. One way or another. A soft knock at the door shattered Nanami’s thoughts like glass underfoot. His head snapped toward the sound, every muscle in his body tensing—and then relaxing in slow, stunned waves as you stepped inside.

You.

The light from the hallway pooled behind you like a halo, making it hard to see your face at first. But he didn’t need to. He’d memorized your silhouette long ago. His heart kicked violently in his chest, thudding against his ribs like a prisoner desperate to escape. You smiled—soft, easy—and closed the door gently behind you.

“Hey,” you said with a casual warmth, walking toward the chair opposite his desk. You moved with the unbothered grace of someone who didn’t know you were the sun in someone else’s orbit. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

He swallowed hard and stood quickly, almost too quickly. “Not at all,” he said, voice unusually tight. “Please.” He gestured to the chair, already watching your every movement with obsessive intensity. You sat down and opened your bag, pulling something out wrapped in tissue paper.

“I got you something,” you said with a small laugh, setting it down on his desk. “Just a little souvenir. I saw it in this tiny shop in Bergen and thought of you.”

He stared at the package like it was a holy artifact. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for it, unwrapping the paper with a carefulness reserved for relics. Inside was a polished piece of carved wood—a traditional Norwegian troll figurine, its expression somewhere between mischievous and wise. Beside it, a small leather keychain stamped with a Viking ship.

Nanami’s breath caught.

You thought of him. In a foreign country. While with Gojo. In spite of Gojo. He felt the earth tilt slightly beneath his feet. You remembered him. You still remembered him.

“I know it’s a bit silly,” you said, brushing hair behind your ear, “but the shopkeeper said trolls are meant to bring good luck. And I figured you could use a little luck”

“It’s not silly,” Nanami replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s perfect.”

He meant it. You had no idea what that meant to him. You could’ve given him a rock from the side of the road and he would’ve kept it in a glass case. But this—this was something you chose for him.

“How was the trip?” he managed to ask, willing his voice to stay even.

“It was amazing,” you said, your smile widening. “We went on this hike outside of Oslo—up to the top of this ridge where the fjords just stretch forever. I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought I was going to pass out halfway through, but Gojo somehow made it look easy. Of course.”

The name made Nanami flinch internally, but he held the smile on his face like a mask stapled into place. He clung to your words—I thought I was going to pass out. He made it look easy. You weren’t impressed. You were tired. You didn’t enjoy it as much as you could have. You would’ve enjoyed it more with someone like him. Someone who would’ve let you rest, who would’ve carried your bag, wiped the sweat from your brow like a lover should.

He pictured the two of you on that ridge instead. Your legs over his lap. Your laughter echoing over the fjords. His jacket on your shoulders. Not Gojo’s. Never Gojo’s.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said softly, the words laced with deeper meaning you didn’t catch. “Things weren’t the same here without you.”

You smiled kindly, eyes bright. “Thanks, Nanami. That means a lot.”

You didn’t see the way his hand tightened into a fist under the desk, veins bulging with restrained impulse. You didn’t hear the scream inside his mind that begged him to reach out, to tell you how everything—everything—he was doing was for you.

“How have you been? Things have been quite intense here with all the new projects, right?”. You smiled.

“I am better now. It was stressful but-”, Nanami looked down at the little figurine, “I feel it was all worth it”.

“That’s good to hear. Don’t stress yourself too much Kento. We are all here for you”.

Nanami smiled. He didn’t know what it was about you but your presence brought him peace. Just being in your presence felt like finding an oasis in the desert. “Thank you y/n, it means a lot”.

“I should get going”, You stood up and smiled at him, “Lots of work to catch up on”.  

As you turned toward the door, Nanami’s voice stopped you mid-step. “I was wondering…” he began, striving for nonchalance, “would you like to grab lunch today? I’d love to hear more about your trip and I could catch you up on what you missed.”

You looked back at him, tilting your head slightly. “Sure,” you said with a smile that could melt iron. “That sounds good. It’s been a while.”

His heart slammed against his ribs. You said yes. So easily. So warmly. You wanted to spend time with him. You chose to. “Great,” he replied with quiet composure. “I’ll message you when I’m free.”

With a soft “see you then,” you stepped out of his office, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing like a slow exhale through his chest.

Nanami stared at the little wooden troll on his desk, the one you'd just handed him moments ago. It sat there, tiny and grinning, and yet in his eyes, it radiated something sacred. He reached for it gently, as though it might shatter if he held it too roughly. His thumb traced its carved smile.

You didn’t have a bag. That meant you had carried this in your hand. Through the corridors, past others—unconcerned about what anyone thought. You brought it straight to him. A piece of your trip. A piece of your time. Given only to him.

He closed his eyes and clutched the figurine to his chest. The heat of it, faint and imagined, felt like your warmth. Like a pulse in wood. “She thought of me,” he whispered, lips curling. “Even while she was with him.”

He leaned back, slow and reverent, placing the troll on his desk like it was a religious idol. He adjusted it carefully, so it would face him directly—as though it might speak, as though your voice could pass through it.

She hadn’t forgotten. No matter what mask you wore with Gojo—no matter how you smiled or laughed or touched his arm—your heart hadn’t changed. Nanami could feel it. Like a wire humming under the floorboards. You were still his. You had to be.

Lunch today would be just the beginning. He would listen. He would remember every word. Every pause. He’d find the tension in your stories. The disappointments. The subtle shadows you didn’t even know were there. He’d press, gently, carefully—until Gojo started to crumble in your eyes and when you were finally ready to see things clearly—when your heart remembered the truth—Nanami would be waiting. He always had been. The little troll sat smiling back at him, unaware it had become a symbol of devotion, obsession… and destiny.

There was too much to do and not enough time to breathe. The morning had been a blur of half-finished reports, emails demanding immediate attention, and forms that seemed to multiply every time you blinked. You were knee-deep in departmental approvals when your phone buzzed on your desk. A message from Gojo lit up the screen.

Gojo: Lunch? Just us?

You paused, thumb hovering over the keyboard. For a second, you considered changing your plans. But the polite smile Nanami gave when he asked you earlier flickered in your mind—and more importantly, the fact that it was a work lunch. You typed back:

You: I have lunch with Nanami today. He wanted to catch up on the Norway trip and go over some work stuff I missed.

You didn’t get a reply.

You assumed Gojo was busy. So were you. You buried yourself back into the digital avalanche.

An hour slipped by. You were focused on redlining a supplier contract when the door to your cabin burst open.

“Why are you having lunch with Nanami?” Gojo stood at the doorway, his brows drawn tight, his usual easy smile nowhere in sight.

Your eyes snapped up from your screen, startled. “Gojo, what are you doing?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “He asked me. He wanted to hear about the trip and update me on some things I missed while I was away.”

“Yeah, and why does he need to hear about your trip?” Gojo stepped fully into the room now, voice sharper than you were used to hearing.

You straightened in your chair, surprised by the edge in his tone. “It’s not that deep. It’s lunch. We work together.”

Gojo folded his arms, jaw clenched. “You could’ve just said no.”

“Why would I do that?” you asked, blinking in disbelief. “I’ve barely spoken to him since I got back. He was being polite.”

Gojo scoffed. “Nanami doesn’t do anything just to be polite.”

“What are you trying to say?” your voice rose slightly. “That I shouldn’t have lunch with someone just because you don’t like them?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice but not the intensity. “I’m saying I don’t trust him. You don’t know what he’s like behind that boring façade.”

You stood now too, closing the laptop with a soft snap. “Gojo, this isn’t high school. It’s one meal, not a confession of loyalty.”

“And what about us?” he asked. “You think I want to sit around wondering what Nanami’s whispering to you over coffee and spreadsheets?”

You stared at him, stunned by the jealousy flickering just beneath his words. “You don’t get to control who I eat with, Gojo.”

The room was thick with silence. For a moment, you both just stood there—he breathing heavily, you glaring back at him, pulse quickened not from fear, but from sheer frustration.

“Lunch is lunch,” you said, voice calm but firm. “If you have a problem, maybe talk to me like an adult instead of barging in here like this.”

Gojo’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything at first. His eyes searched your face, the fire in them slowly retreating. “Fine,” he muttered eventually, stepping back. “Enjoy your lunch.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving the door open behind him.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and sat back down. The lunch hadn’t even started, and somehow, it already felt like the beginning of something much more complicated.

Nanami had chosen a quiet, tucked-away bistro with soft lighting and minimal chatter—perfectly suited for private conversations. The little troll figurine you’d given him earlier that morning still sat proudly on the table beside his bento, as if it had been given a place of honor. You smiled faintly at the sight, touched by the gesture, and took your seat across from him.

He poured you a cup of tea without asking, and the two of you exchanged light pleasantries. You told him about the mountain hike, the freezing wind, and how the fog had rolled over the cliffs like a moving wall. Nanami listened closely, nodding occasionally, his expression warm—invested.

But even as he smiled and responded with quiet attentiveness, his gaze never left your face. He was reading you. Measuring every pause, every breath.

“You’re back, but you don’t seem all the way back,” he said, tone casual. “Something still on your mind?”

You gave a small, almost dismissive shrug. “Just a lot to catch up on. You know how it is.”

Nanami hummed thoughtfully and lifted his tea to his lips, studying you over the rim. “Gojo seems a bit… unsettled today. Did something happen?”

You blinked at him, mildly surprised. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to,” he replied smoothly. “He practically slammed a door in the hallway. Not like him to be that graceless.”

You laughed softly. “He can be dramatic sometimes.”

Nanami tilted his head slightly, keeping his voice light and conversational. “Let me guess—he’s not thrilled you’re here with me?”

You looked down at your food, your expression faltering just for a second. “It’s not a big deal.”

“That wasn’t a no,” Nanami said gently, almost teasing.

You sighed, letting your guard down without realizing it. “He just… asked me not to have lunch with you. Said it was about work, but I think he got weirdly possessive.”

“Hmm,” Nanami murmured, his voice soft, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “That sounds like him.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nanami set down his chopsticks and looked at you with an air of reluctant honesty, his tone carefully measured. “Gojo doesn’t like sharing attention. Or space. Or people. Especially not when he thinks something belongs to him.”

You straightened slightly, bristling. “I’m not a thing to be shared.”

“No,” Nanami said quickly, shaking his head. “You’re not. Of course not. That’s what makes it so frustrating to watch.”

You let the silence linger a moment, sipping your tea. Nanami leaned forward just slightly, his voice quiet, tinged with concern. “Look… if my presence is creating tension between you two, I don’t want to cause problems. If it’s easier for you, I’m happy to step back.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “Nanami, no. That’s not fair. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not going to cut off a good friend just because Gojo can’t handle it.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then gave a small, sad smile. “You’re too kind.”

You returned to your meal, unaware of how precisely you’d been steered into that exchange. Nanami picked up his chopsticks again, but he didn’t eat right away. Instead, he watched you—his fingertips brushing the troll figurine as if it were a talisman.

She defends me. Even against him. She trusts me. She chose to tell me.

The seed had been planted. And Nanami knew exactly how to make it bloom.

Gojo sat motionless at his desk, eyes staring blankly at the glowing screen in front of him, but his mind was adrift—caught somewhere between rage and restraint. The cursor blinked in the silence like a metronome ticking toward something he didn’t want to face.

He shut his eyes and drew in a long, steady breath, trying to anchor himself. You can’t mess this up again, Satoru. Not like last time. Not with her.

But how was he supposed to stay calm when Nanami was whispering poison into your ears, turning you against him with that polished restraint and deliberate calmness? Gojo knew exactly the kind of game Nanami played—subtle, precise, emotionally manipulative in the most maddeningly rational way.

He was playing from a disadvantage—he always had been. But this time, he wasn’t going to retreat and lick his wounds. No. If Nanami expected him to burn out and spiral, Gojo would do the opposite. If Nanami thought he had the upper hand, Gojo would shift the rules entirely.

He shut his laptop with a sharp click, the sound final and decisive. Rising from his chair, he left his office without another glance. His steps were fast, purposeful—cutting through the hallways like a blade. That’s when he ran into her again.

Suzume.

She almost stumbled when their paths crossed. Gojo caught her arm, steadying her.

“Suzume,” he said, polite but unreadable.

“Mr. Gojo,” she blinked, clearly flustered. “You haven’t gone for lunch yet?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Not yet. What’s in the bag?”

Suzume’s eyes widened as she instinctively tucked the paper bag behind her back. “Oh, it’s nothing—just a delivery for Mr. Nanami. He wasn’t in, so I picked it up for him.”

Gojo’s gaze darkened slightly. “Then why are you hiding it?”

Her smile faltered. She looked away, unsure whether to lie again or fold under the weight of his stare.

“Suzume.” His voice dropped lower. Stern. Cold.

She hesitated, then slowly brought the bag in front of her, reluctantly handing it over like a child caught sneaking sweets.

Gojo opened the bag, pulled out the velvet box inside, and let the packaging drop to the floor without care. He opened the box and stared.

A necklace. A delicate butterfly pendant, glittering faintly beneath the lights—an imitation diamond piece on a chain too thick for your taste.

He let out a shaky breath, but it wasn’t relief—it was disgust, coiled and venomous. “Tell Nanami,” Gojo said quietly, snapping the box shut with a sound that echoed off the tiles, “that if it’s for Y/N, she doesn’t wear fake diamonds. Also…” he paused, offering a cruel smile, “the chain’s too heavy for her neck. She hates feeling caged.”

He pressed the box back into Suzume’s shaking hands. She didn’t dare meet his eyes.

Gojo leaned in just a little, enough for only her to hear. “He should’ve known better. Or maybe he does… but still likes playing with things that aren’t his.”

Gojo had barely taken three steps when he felt a hesitant tug at his wrist. He stopped, head tilting slightly, eyes narrowing as he turned around.

Suzume was gripping his hand—not tightly, but enough to stop him. Her eyes widened as if realizing what she’d just done. She quickly let go, her hand recoiling like it had been burned.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said softly, brushing her hair behind her ear and looking down at the floor. “I just… um… I was wondering if you might… want to grab lunch with me?”

Her voice was light, nervous. A soft flush rose to her cheeks, whether from embarrassment or something else, he couldn’t tell. For a moment, Gojo’s instinct flared—his pride wounded, his mood poisoned by the pendant still etched in his memory.

He was about to refuse. Polite but distant. He didn’t have the patience for small talk or clumsy flirtations, not today.

But then, a thought struck him.

Suzume. Nervous. Observant. A little too eager.

She was clearly trying to get on someone’s good side—and it wasn’t his. Not at first. She’s closer to Nanami than I realized. And if she’s playing messenger for him, maybe she’s hearing things too.

Gojo's expression softened instantly—like flipping a switch. He smiled, slow and disarming.

“Lunch?” he echoed, the sharpness melting from his voice. “You know what… that actually sounds good.”

Suzume blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden change.

“Really?” she asked, a small hopeful lilt in her voice.

“Yeah.” He slid his hands into his pockets, gaze leveling on her. “Lead the way.”

As they began walking side by side, Gojo's eyes flicked briefly to the velvet box still clutched in her hand. He didn’t mention it. He didn’t have to. The pieces were already moving.

Let’s see what you know, Suzume, he thought, keeping his expression light. And let’s see how much you’re willing to say if I smile long enough.

They sat across from each other at a small café tucked between office buildings, a warm breeze brushing past the awning above them. Gojo stirred his iced coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking over Suzume as she glanced shyly down at her menu.

She had dressed up a little more than usual today. Lighter lipstick, earrings that caught the light just enough, and that tentative, hopeful look she gave him over the rim of her glass—he saw it now.

And it clicked. She liked him. Oh. Gojo leaned back in his chair, a slow grin creeping across his lips. This could be useful.

“You know, Suzume,” he said lazily, propping an arm up on the back of his chair, “I didn’t realize how cute you looked when you’re nervous.”

Suzume blinked. “W-What?”

“Just saying.” He sipped his drink with casual arrogance. “It’s kind of endearing. You should smile more—you have the kind of face that makes other people smile back.”

A visible flush bloomed across her cheeks. Suzume tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave a tiny, flustered laugh. “I… didn’t think you even noticed me most days.”

“I notice more than you think,” Gojo said, his voice dropping just enough to feel deliberate. “You’re sharp. Efficient. Kind of wasted doing Nanami’s grunt work, honestly.”

Suzume looked away, visibly flattered. “He just trusts me with stuff, that’s all.”

“Does he?” Gojo leaned forward slightly, pretending interest while quietly watching her squirm. “Or does he just like keeping you close?”

She looked up in surprise. “You think Nanami—?”

“I think Nanami doesn’t do anything without a reason,” Gojo said simply, then gave her a wink. “But hey, I’m glad he’s careless enough to let someone like you slip through the cracks.”

Suzume giggled softly, taking a sip of her water to hide the grin. Then, hesitantly she asked, “Does Y/N… mind? You having lunch with me, I mean.”

Gojo raised a brow. “Why would she?”

Suzume shrugged. “I don’t know. You two seem… close.”

Gojo gave a soft, amused chuckle and leaned in, resting his chin in his palm. “Let me be clear about something, Suzume.”

She looked at him, wide-eyed.

“No one tells me what to do. Not Y/N, not Nanami, no one. If I want to have lunch with a beautiful and intelligent woman who clearly deserves more attention than she’s been getting…” He let that hang in the air for a moment. “Then I’m going to do exactly that.”

Suzume practically glowed.

He tilted his head slightly. “Unless you don’t want to have lunch with me. I’d understand. Could always go eat alone, sulking in a dark corner of the office.”

“No, no,” she said quickly, too quickly. “I’m really happy you agreed. I mean—I didn’t think you would, but—”

Gojo smiled. “Good. I like being unpredictable.”

Their food arrived, and as Suzume eagerly launched into a story about a client she dealt with that morning, Gojo nodded along, half-listening. Under the table, he tapped his foot slowly, rhythmically. A quiet beat of strategy.

Suzume had a crush. Nanami was distracted.

If this was going to be a game, then he’d play it with the same recklessness that had always kept people guessing and now, he had a new pawn on the board. Willing, eager, and completely unaware.

Gojo smiled again, this time to himself. Let the game begin.

The office was unusually quiet that morning. The kind of stillness that settled like fog before a storm. Suzume walked in with a little spring in her step, still replaying yesterday’s lunch in her mind—Gojo’s laughter, his voice, the way he said beautiful and intelligent. She’d barely slept.

She reached her desk, fingers adjusting the collar of her blouse, and stopped dead in her tracks.

A box. Not just any box—a Cartier box.

It sat there, perfectly centered on her desk like it had been waiting just for her. Her breath caught. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out and touched the velvet red case, the unmistakable gold trim shimmering under the office lights.

She glanced around—no one was watching. With a shaky breath, she opened it.

Inside was a delicate Cartier Love necklace. Rose gold. Classic. Elegant. Undeniably expensive.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Tucked into the satin lid was a small note, cream-colored, embossed in neat calligraphy:

Only the best for a woman like you. —G.S.

For a full second, her mind blanked.

G.S.

Her lips parted, barely forming the words.

“Gojo Satoru…”

Her fingers traced the fine curve of the pendant. She had admired this exact design online more times than she could count. Daydreamed about someone thinking her worthy of something so precious. But this—this wasn’t a dream.

She unfastened the chain, almost too eagerly, and slipped it around her neck. The metal was cold against her skin, sending a chill down her spine. She clasped it shut and looked down at the reflection in her phone screen.

It looked perfect. Like it belonged there. She brushed her fingers lightly over the charm and smiled. Her cheeks flushed, her heart hammering against her chest.

She turned to grab her coffee, but something in the air shifted. A quiet voice in the back of her mind asked, Why would Gojo Satoru give you this? But she crushed it quickly, like snuffing out a candle. He noticed me. He said I deserved more attention.This necklace—this wasn’t just a gift. It was a message. He saw her and now, she was wearing proof around her neck.

The café across the street from the headquarters was buzzing, but your table in the corner had a little pocket of calm to it. You sat across from Suzumeand Hitoshi, Maya and Gojo sat beside you, leisurely sipping his iced coffee as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

You were halfway through your salad when a glint of light caught your eye—rose gold, delicate, unmistakably Cartier. Your gaze flicked up.

Around Suzume’s neck hung a Cartier Love necklace, the rose-gold band sitting perfectly against her skin like it had been made for her.

You swallowed and casually asked, “That’s a nice necklace. Where did you get it?”

Suzume’s fork paused mid-air. Her eyes darted to yours for a moment too long. Something about your tone made her shoulders tighten.

She gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s… from someone I’ve recently started seeing.”

There was something defensive in her voice. As if she thought you were mocking her—questioning whether someone like her could really wear something like that. Your brows lifted ever so slightly, not in judgment but in curiosity, though Suzume seemed to misread it completely.

Before you could say anything else, Gojo leaned forward, eyes flicking to the necklace.

“It looks beautiful on you,” he said smoothly, voice low and warm. 

Suzume’s face lit up. She tilted her chin down slightly, fingertips brushing the pendant as if to draw more attention to it. “Thanks,” she said, breathy.

Gojo offered her a small, knowing wink—quick, almost imperceptible.

Maya’s interest immediately perked up. “Oh? A new guy? Tell us more!”

Suzume leaned in, confidence blooming like a slow flower. “He’s amazing. Really thoughtful. Always knows what I like without me having to say it. Honestly, he’s the best man I’ve ever been with.”

Across the table, Hitoshi whistled, raising his brows. “He must be loaded if he’s giving you Cartier.”

Suzume gave him a look—half-playful, half-dismissive. “It’s not about the money, Hitoshi. It’s the effort. He notices the little things.”

Her eyes slid to Gojo as she said it, and she smiled again. Gojo didn’t miss the cue. He returned her smile with one of his own—charming and just vague enough to be misread by anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But Maya was paying attention.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She watched the smile pass between them like an invisible thread.

You tilted your head, tone light but curious. “He sounds like a catch. I’d love to meet him sometime.”

Suzume blinked. Her smile tightened just a little. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

You raised an eyebrow at her response, but before the moment stretched too far, she turned sharply toward Gojo. “So, Mr. Gojo, how was your trip?”

Gojo took a sip of his drink, eyes still glinting. “It was great. Norway’s always beautiful. The fjords, the little towns, the air—nothing like it.”

He kept his voice smooth and steady, dancing around any details that might tie his experience to you. He didn’t mention the quiet moments you shared on that secluded hike, or the way your laughter echoed down mountain paths. None of that would help him now.

Suzume listened intently, nodding as if she was memorizing every word. “Sounds like a dream.”

“It was,” Gojo said, glancing at you just once from the corner of his eye—just enough to see if you caught anything in his tone. Then his attention swung back to Suzume. “But it’s always good to be back.”

Suzume’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to go to Norway. It looks like a dream.”

“Maybe you can go with your new man”. Hitoshi commented with a wink.

“Maybe I will”. She quipped.

Gojo glanced at her with a lopsided smile. “Maybe we should.” Then he added, almost as an afterthought, “We should all go.”

You nodded, thinking nothing of it. “I wouldn’t mind going again”

Maya arched a brow at the suggestion but said nothing, simply sipping her drink.

Hitoshi chuckled. “If someone’s paying, I’m packing tonight.”

Everyone laughed, the moment light again. Suzume, however, was glowing. She turned her head, letting the pendant catch the light again, clearly relishing every second. And Gojo? He leaned into the moment, calm and unreadable, every move intentional

Nanami’s office was quiet, awash in the mellow glow of a desk lamp as late afternoon light spilled through the blinds. The hum of conversation and clacking keyboards beyond the glass was faint, almost muffled — a soft reminder that the day was still ticking forward.

Maya stood by his desk, holding a tablet, flipping through reports on the latest client onboarding metrics.

“I think if we stagger the internal review with client comms, we can bring the close date forward by at least two days,” she explained.

Nanami nodded, eyes scanning the document she’d just handed him. “That would work. Good call.”

There was a moment of silence as he leaned back, the chair creaking slightly.

Then, in a casual tone, Nanami asked, “By the way... how’s Suzume doing?”

Maya blinked, caught off guard. “Suzume?”

“Yes.” Nanami tapped his pen against the armrest, feigning disinterest. “Just noticed she’s seemed... a bit distracted lately. Not in a disruptive way — just not quite her usual self.”

Maya paused, unsure where this was going. “I guess... she’s been a little more talkative than usual. But I haven’t noticed anything serious.”

Nanami gave a nonchalant shrug, as if it hardly mattered. “Mm. I only ask because I’ve seen a few moments — in the team meetings especially — where she seemed a bit… off. And maybe a little cold toward you?”

Maya’s eyes narrowed. “Cold how?”

He held up his hands slightly. “Could be nothing. Maybe I’m reading into things. But she barely acknowledged your idea in yesterday’s review — which was strange, considering she usually backs your suggestions without question.”

Maya folded her arms. “Why are you telling me this?”

Nanami offered a smooth smile. “Just making sure there’s no tension in the team that could affect delivery. That’s all.”

Maya hesitated. Her instincts told her to be careful. But the concern in Nanami’s voice — so calm, so reasonable — made her guard falter.

She exhaled slowly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to someone about it, actually.”

Nanami leaned forward slightly, just enough to signal interest without pushing. “Go on.”

“I don’t know for sure,” Maya began, lowering her voice slightly. “But I think Suzume might be... infatuated with Gojo.”

Nanami’s expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker of recognition. “Really?”

Maya nodded, frustration creeping into her voice. “She keeps staring at him in meetings. Laughing a little too hard at his jokes. And last week at lunch, she couldn’t stop smiling at him. She even wore a Cartier necklace and claimed some mystery man gave it to her.”

Nanami leaned back again, arms crossed. “I don’t know. That doesn’t sound like Gojo. He’s... not exactly subtle if he’s involved with someone. He’d flaunt it.”

Maya frowned. “I didn’t say Gojo’s reciprocating. I’m just saying something feels off.”

“I see.” Nanami tapped the pen against his desk once, twice. Then stopped. “Maybe you should talk to Y/N about it.”

Maya blinked. “Why?”

Nanami met her eyes. “Because if something’s really going on — even if it’s one-sided — Y/N should know. Especially if it’s going to turn messy.”

Maya looked down, conflicted.

“You’re close to her,” Nanami added, voice low and measured. “She’ll trust you. Better it comes from you than someone else.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Maya gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll talk to her.”

Nanami smiled faintly and returned to the file on his desk. “Good. Let me know if you need anything.”

Maya walked out, still unsure whether she’d done the right thing — while behind her, Nanami’s smile slowly faded, replaced by something far more calculating.

The soft golden hue of the setting sun stretched across the quiet neighborhood, casting long shadows against the pavement. Trees rustled gently with the spring breeze, their leaves whispering secrets to one another as Maya waited outside your door, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her coat. The look on her face was unreadable — a blend of concern, hesitation, and quiet resolve.

You opened the door, surprised to see her.

“Maya? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just…” She gave a tight smile. “Thought you might like to go for a walk. Clear our heads. You’ve been cooped up with those campaign reviews all day.”

You hesitated for a beat — her tone was casual, but you knew Maya well enough to sense when something was off.

“Sure. Just give me a sec to grab a sweater.”

A few minutes later, the two of you were walking down the quiet, tree-lined street, the occasional car humming past. The air was crisp, the kind that makes your lungs feel clean, and for a while, neither of you spoke. You appreciated the silence — Maya often gave you space to think when she sensed you needed it. But today, she was the one struggling with her thoughts.

Finally, she spoke.

“You ever get a gut feeling about someone and you can’t shake it?”

You glanced at her. “This about work?”

She sighed. “Sort of. It’s about Suzume.”

You stopped mid-step, then resumed walking slowly. “Okay… what about her?”

Maya took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve been watching her the past week or so — not in a weird way, just… observing. And something’s changed. She’s constantly hovering around Gojo. Sitting closer in meetings. Laughing at things that aren’t even funny.”

You frowned. “Suzume’s always been a little… eager around new people. Maybe she’s just trying to fit in?”

“It’s not just that,” Maya said firmly. “She’s... infatuated. And I think she’s trying to get his attention. Honestly, I think she has it.”

You stopped walking. The word infatuated echoed in your mind longer than it should have. You stared ahead, lips pressed in a thin line.

“She’s been wearing that new necklace every day,” Maya added. “Said it was from someone she’s started seeing. At lunch, she couldn’t stop smiling at Gojo. He even winked at her.”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your expression even. “That could mean anything.”

Maya gave you a long look. “I know how this sounds, okay? I’m not trying to make you suspicious for no reason. I just… something feels off. And I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t tell you.”

You stayed silent, the wind brushing strands of hair across your face.

Internally, your thoughts swirled. A week ago, you might’ve believed every word Maya just said. But now? Things between you and Gojo had shifted. He’d opened up to you. Let you see a part of him he rarely shared with anyone. You couldn’t let your past — the betrayal you swore you’d never let happen again — cloud your judgment.

“I appreciate you telling me,” you said quietly. “I really do. But you don’t have any actual proof.”

Maya stopped walking. “So you’re not going to say anything?”

You met her eyes. “Not yet. If something is going on, it’ll come to light. But until then… I trust him.”

Maya looked unconvinced, but she didn’t push. “Okay. Just... be careful, alright?”

You nodded. “I will.”

The two of you continued walking, but the silence now felt heavier — weighted with things unspoken. Behind you, the shadows of the street grew longer, the sun dipping just beneath the horizon, as if warning that some truths were better seen in the dark.

Somewhere behind you, hidden in the folds of the night, a pair of eyes watched from across the street — from the shadows behind a parked car.

A phone screen dimmed.

Someone walked away, unseen, happy that his bait had landed.

@commandertorindhepard @inlove-maze @starlightanyaaa @missybrat @lem-hhn @valleydoli @definetlythinkimanalien @luckyangelballoon @sheep-infog @gojoprincesss @kanaojacksonofc @bubera974 @ginginha @mari-ho14 @mashtura @concretewishes

[coppy-catt]

found love

levi ackerman x reader, angst! death!

he was meant to kill you. to sever your head from your shoulders and return it to the scouts as proof of his victory.

you had slaughtered his squad—crushed them beneath your feet, between your fingers, torn them apart with your teeth. your betrayal had ignited a fury within the scouts, but no one burned with it more than levi ackerman.

he demanded to be the one to hunt you down. and after days without rest, after sacrificing half his squad, after enduring the agony of broken ribs, he finally had you cornered.

you had nothing left—no stamina to flee, no refuge to disappear into, no strength to shift. your back pressed against the rough bark of a tree, the towering forest swallowing you both in shadow.

levi stood before you, breath uneven, blades trembling in his grip. his bloodshot eyes, raw from exhaustion and rage, bore into yours with the promise of retribution.

but the moment his gaze locked with yours, his mind was ambushed—not with strategy, not with the cold certainty of execution, but with something far worse.

memories. of you.

memories of you laughing, your voice carrying through the barracks like a melody he once found comforting. memories of you fighting beside him, your movements fluid, calculated—perfectly in sync with his. memories of late nights tending to wounds, of whispered conversations, of trust that once felt unshakable.

but that trust had shattered the moment you turned against them. against him.

his grip tightened on the hilts of his blades, but his body refused to move. his instincts screamed at him—kill her, finish this—but the hesitation crept in, sinking into his bones like poison.

you, slumped against the tree, weren’t the same person who had stormed through the battlefield, tearing through his squad with inhuman strength. the fire in your eyes had dimmed. your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, your limbs limp with exhaustion. you were defeated.

and yet, you didn’t beg. didn’t plead. you just stared at him, as if daring him to do what he swore he would.

“do it,” you rasped, voice hoarse from exertion. “isn’t this what you wanted?”

levi’s jaw clenched. he should’ve answered with steel, should’ve ended this with one swift motion—but the weight of the past anchored him to the spot.

he had lost so much already. his squad, his comrades, his faith in you. but standing there, blades trembling in his grasp, he couldn’t shake the terrible, suffocating thought:

if he killed you, what would be left of him?

it was a sickening feeling—this surge of emotion toward a cold-blooded killer.

levi had spent every waking moment fueling his hatred for you, sharpening it like the very blades in his hands. it was the only way he could justify what had to be done. but now, standing here, face-to-face with the person who had once fought beside him, laughed beside him, bled beside him, he felt something he couldn’t afford to.

hesitation.

his grip on his swords tightened, knuckles turning white. he should’ve driven them through your throat the moment he saw you—should have—but instead, he stood frozen, drowning in memories that refused to stay buried.

the way you used to smirk at him after a sparring match. your smile across a campfire. your contagious laugh. the way your voice, firm and unwavering, had once declared you’d never betray the scouts. never betray him.

but you had. and he had watched you kill his comrades—his family—without remorse.

so why was it so hard to end this?

you let out a ragged breath, watching him with something unreadable in your eyes. not fear. not defiance. something worse.

adoration.

tsk.

“do it.” you murmured. “or are you just as weak as i am?”

the words stung more than they should have.

his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his heartbeat a war drum in his ears. he could kill you. he should kill you.

and yet—levi ackerman had never known fear. not in the face of titans, not in the heat of battle.

but right now, as he stood before you, blades poised to end it all, he realized the truth.

he was terrified to kill you.

it made his stomach churn, made his self-hatred burn hotter than the fury he had carried all this time.

he had promised himself there was nothing left between you. that whatever bond you once had had been severed the moment you betrayed them. the moment you became this.

and yet, his hands shook.

you watched him with tired eyes, your chest barely rising and falling. no fight left. no pleading. just resignation.

“you can’t do it, can you?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

levi’s jaw clenched. he wanted to deny it. wanted to silence you, to shut out the weight of your words before they could sink too deep.

“you deserve to die,” he said instead, voice sharp, but not as steady as he wanted it to be.

“I know.”

that should’ve made it easier. it didnt.

the forest was suffocating in its silence, the only sound between you the ragged breaths you both took. the ache in his ribs reminded him why he was here. the blood on his hands—his squad’s blood, your doing—reminded him of what had to be done.

and still, he didn’t move.

you let out a weak, bitter laugh. “if you’re not going to kill me, levi, then what the hell are you waiting for?”

his grip on the blades faltered for a fraction of a second. it was all the opening you needed.

with what little strength you had left, you lunged. not to attack. not to escape.

but to force his hand.

and as his instincts took over, as his blade finally met flesh, he realized—too late—that you had made the choice for him.

a sharp scream tore from your throat as the blade sank into your abdomen, dangerously close to your heart—definitely puncturing a lung.

levi caught you before you crumpled, steady hands lowering you against the rough bark of the tree. but he didn’t let go. he held you there, gripping you like he wasn’t sure if he was keeping you upright or keeping himself from falling apart.

“why?” his voice was steady, unreadable.

you exhaled a shuddering breath, blood bubbling at the corners of your lips. “why what?” you rasped.

his jaw clenched.

“why this?” you nodded toward the blade still embedded in your body, your fingers weakly clutching at its hilt.

“or why this?” your hand trembled as you gestured toward the lifeless forms scattered around you, the bodies you had piled one by one.

levi swallowed hard. his grip on you tightened, his knuckles turning white. “everything,” he bit out, his voice strained, raw.

your eyes found his, and despite the agony wracking your body, despite the blood loss dragging you closer to the abyss, you still looked at him the same way you always had.

like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

levi’s breath hitched—so slight, so fleeting that anyone else would’ve missed it. but not you. never you.

his grip on you was firm, grounding, even as you felt the strength slowly drain from your limbs. his hands—rough, bloodstained, calloused from a lifetime of war—were still gentle where they held you. and that was the cruelest part of all.

“do you know my family, Levi?”

the question caught him off guard. his brows furrowed as he shook his head.

“no, you never met them.” you continued.

your gaze drifted away from him, up toward the vast expanse of the night sky. “they live across the water,” you murmured. “back home. where I was born.”

levi’s mind reeled. across the water? the words gnawed at him, stirring unease deep in his gut. what did that mean? where had you really come from?

“my mother,” you continued, voice soft, distant. “she was the kindest person in our town. she loved everyone.”

something in your tone made Levi’s chest tighten. he could hear the love in your voice, see it in your eyes—the kind of love that felt too big for this cruel world.

it reminded him of his mother.

“and everyone loved her,” you went on, a faint, wistful smile ghosting over your lips. “but not as much as my father did.”

your gaze snapped back to his, holding him captive.

“I would do anything to see them again,” you whispered. “Please—please understand—”

a violent cough wracked your body, cutting your words short. blood spilled from your lips, staining your chin, and your breath turned shallow—ragged, wheezing.

panic gripped Levi like a vice.

your body trembled in his arms, cold seeping into your skin. every breath you took sounded like it could be your last.

and for the first time in years—maybe ever—levi ackerman felt helpless.

your body convulsed against his, another violent cough tearing through you. more blood dribbled from your lips, staining his hands, his uniform—another mark, another loss carved into him.

levi held you tighter, but it wasn’t enough. it was never enough.

you smiled, weak, tired. “levi…”

your fingers twitched, barely brushing against his sleeve before falling limp.

“you were always so stubborn,” you whispered. your voice was so faint now, barely a breath, barely there. “but so was I…”

your eyelids fluttered, the light in your eyes dimming like a dying ember.

levi shook you.

but you weren’t here anymore.

a final, shallow breath left your lips. your body slackened in his arms.

and then—nothing.

levi didn’t move. he didn’t breathe.

the night stretched on, silent, unforgiving. the weight in his arms grew heavier, sinking deep into his bones.

for a long moment, he just stared. at your face, at the peaceful stillness that had taken over. at the blood—your blood—soaking the ground beneath you.

his chest ached. not with anger, not with fury.

with grief.

slowly, with more care than he even knew he possessed, levi reached up and brushed a bloodstained hand over your face, closing your eyes for the last time.

his head bowed, shoulders trembling just once before he swallowed everything down, burying it deep where no one could reach it.

where you could no longer reach it.

for a long time, levi ackerman sat there, holding you.

and when he finally rose, he did so with your weight still pressed into him, a ghost that would never leave.

[ririsasaki]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Loki x Reader Slight Angst + Fluff

Summary: Loki is imprisoned for life, and you, his childhood friend, decide to visit him.

Inspired by the song It’s Nice to Have a Friend by Taylor Swift.

Note: It’s written in third person, and the pronouns at the beginning are she/her. It switches to the pronoun you after a while.

Word Count: 1.6k

Pacing around in his small cell, Loki was seething. His head still couldn’t get around what had happened to him. Imprisoned for life. How? How could Odin dare? Well, he thought miserably, staring into the opposite cell, I suppose he did always favor Thor. The thought stabbed him deep in the heart. He was always shoved aside. Always second. Always alone.

The thought of staying in this small, public yet private area for the rest of his four thousand years of living was painful. He didn’t want to stay here. Why didn’t his mother do anything? Bringing him books was nice, he supposed, but wouldn’t she try to save him, at the very least? Because she’s not… his thought trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to think that. He loved her. He truly did.

It was the middle of the night, he could sense it, even if the dungeon was underground and had no windows. A distant patter of someone scurrying across the landing caught his attention. Man, it was hard, trying to fall asleep under these blazing lights. He swung his legs off the bed with little enthusiasm, sighed deeply, and walked towards the large window that exposed him to everyone who looked.

He wasn’t surprised when he saw the veiled shadow walk hurriedly, as if wanting to get something over with. What totally normal was, because no one liked to be here anyways, prisoner or not. What did surprise him was the flash of [h/c] hair that flew behind them, her steps marching toward his cell. His cell. A flash of memory flew past in his head, remembering. No, it can’t be. She wouldn’t… not after this…

Once she came to a halt in front of his giant window, he put on a tragic version of his signature smirk. But of course. He should’ve known. It was just another person about to rant how bad of a person he was. Just another being, about to tell him just now terrible and unworthy he’d been. But the person in front of his cell did neither. After a while of silent staring, she took her cloak off, revealing the one person he’d wished not to see: you.

You looked at him with tragedy glowing in your eyes. You’d never wanted to see him there, never. You knew of his familial troubles, but never knew he’d take it this far. It hurt, to see him like this. Imprisoned and lost. With no one’s support.

His heart also skipped a beat. How long had it been since he’d seen you? He couldn’t remember. He only knew that it was a lot longer than he wanted it to be. He doesn’t enjoy hurting people, especially not you. You were the only friend he had as a child, and never turned away from him, even after knowing he was a Frost Giant. You didn’t care about what being he was. You cared only about him. You were his sole glimmer of light in his realm of darkness. You led him out of sadness and misery. But he betrayed you. He left you, without thinking twice. Or maybe he didn’t think at all.

‘Why are you here,’ he asked, his voice determined but with a slight hint of longing, ‘Have you come to gloat? To mock? You’re just like the others, aren’t you? Just here to see me break, to see me fall.’

You stared back into his blue eyes but doesn’t say anything. This certainly wasn’t what she expected him to say when she decided to visit him.

‘Well?’ he hissed, his voice laced with venom and a sliver of guilt, ‘Say something!’ His voice raised.

You merely looked back at him, looking away when he half yelled at her. Guilt filled his entire being. He couldn’t- Why was he-

When you glanced back, your eyes were shining with unshed tears. You opened your mouth, your voice about to break. ‘I came,’ you whispered hoarsely, ‘because I missed you.’

These words hit Loki with a pang. I missed you. They echoed in his head, awakening every nerve and bringing out all the guilt that he hid away. His breathing became ragged, shallow. Before he could properly react, however, you pressed on.

‘You were gone for a year, I thought… I thought… I thought I lost you,’ you said, tears falling freely from your eyes. Every bat of your eyelids poured more down, until they collected at your chin and dripped onto the dungeon floor. Shakily, she steps through the barrier and leaves very little space between them. She stared up at him with her [e/c] eyes.

‘I was so worried,’ she said, taking his hand in her own and pressing her forehead against his chest. ‘I missed you,’ she repeated, fully leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Oh, how you missed his scent, his clothes, everything. He had meant so much to you. How many nights you’d curl up in his old room and cry. How many times hearing his name brought you new tears.

Slowly, his head came around. Tears were welling up in his eyes, too. He loved you too… But would he ever be able to love you like he did before? Before… a feeling of regret washed over him. If only he didn’t let go. If only he didn’t fling himself off the Bifrost… then maybe everything would’ve been alright…

His arms crawled up your back, holding you close. The emotions flying around his head was making him dizzy, unsure of what to do. Only two words made it past his mouth: ‘Don’t go.’

It wasn’t just an order. It was a plea, only found in the most desperate people in the world. Now he understood what people meant when they said that the most hurt people smile the brightest. Because they know. They know that everything is over. That everything will finally be alright.

You hugged him tighter. ‘I won’t,’ you told him quietly, your words slightly muffled by his clothes, ‘I won’t leave you. Not ever. I’ll stay with you, even after you go to Valhalla.’

Loki’s tears fell down his cheeks, his heart swelling. How he’d missed this. How he’d missed your voice, your soft body pressed to his. The gratefulness he had in himself was barely describable through words. In that moment, he felt like the happiest man alive. He was so damn glad you were there. Always there.

‘I never meant to hurt you, or any of them,’ he said softly, one of his hands coming up to pat your head. You nodded, showing your agreement. ‘Why,’ he gulped as he pressed on, ‘why don’t you… hate me like the others?’ Your answer didn’t come late.

‘Because I know you better than they do. I know you didn’t mean it.’ Your voice was soothing, like the fireplace in winter. ‘I know you’d never do something like that. Never. I know that it was him that forced you.’

His heard clenched when you mentioned Thanos. ‘That madman…’ his voice quivered, ‘He tortured me to the brink of insanity. Took pleasure in watching me break.’ You pressed further into him. ‘I know,’ you repeated, ‘I know. And therefore I love you.’

His heart skipped a beat again. Looking down at you, he asked, his voice barely a whisper: ‘Do you know, or even have the slightest idea, what I’ve become?’

‘You’re the exact same as before, just… you know. Tortured and broken.’ You were uncertain when you said this. You knew he was sensitive on this topic. You knew him so well.

‘Do you know what I’ve done?’ he asked, his tone sinking drastically, as if he didn’t want to know the answer.

‘Well, yes.’ You replied again, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

‘Do you know,’ he was fully shaking by now, ‘what monster lives inside me…?’

You lifted your head, staring into the depths of his eyes. The only things you found were sorrow, fear, and guilt. Choosing your words, you said:

‘Yes, and it’s a monster that was born out of darkness. And before that empty darkness, there was a heart, a source of light and warmth that lit up the whole place. You see, hearts need to be fed with love, otherwise they die away. That’s exactly what happened to yours.’ You traced your index finger over where his heart was, drawing a shaky breath out of him.

‘Without the heart, the place was submerged in darkness, and out of that darkness grew a monster. Something people despise. But all that it’s trying to do…’ you trailed off, bringing your hands off his waist to hold his, ‘is to not let anyone else grow a new heart in that blank, because it’s afraid that if it ever happens, it’ll be broken again.’ A second of silence reigned between you, your breathings heavy. Finally, he spoke.

‘Will you… grow me a new heart…?’ he asked, his eyes filled with plea, ‘Will you fill that unbearable blank?’

You answered without hesitation. ‘Yes, of course. And I’ll make sure it’ll never be broken ever again.’

Loki’s eyes glowed as you said this. It was as if someone had taken off the invisible weight weighing him down. He sighed in both relief and gratitude, bending down to kiss you. You returned his kiss, hungry for him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered against your lips, his breath mixing with your own. ‘The pressure killed me. I couldn’t bear-‘ you shushed him, closing the distance between your lips once more. His heart lifted, rising up into his chest. It was just as you described. Your love and care made a new heart bloom in his chest.

‘I’m so damn glad I have you,’ he whispered again, his eyes closing, feeling you. ‘I must thank you. For everything. You made me feel… alive.’

You smiled. ‘But of course. It’s nice to have a friend, isn’t it?’

Hope you enjoyed it!

Tags: @vbecker10 @simplyholl @mischiefmaker615 @lokisgoodgirl

Tell me if you want to be in my taglist!

[ravenclair]

In the Shadow of You | Hogwarts Legacy

☆ Summary | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

☆ Available on Wattpad

Chapter 17: M.G.

(Word count: 2,090)

Marvolo Gaunt.

M.G.

Ministry Official. Legilimens.

Ominis’ brother.

No. No, this can’t be happening—

The air seemed as though it had become dense, making it hard to breathe. Your locket was a burning flame against your skin.

“Keep dancing, little thief. We wouldn’t want to make a scene.”

He was in your head again, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You willed your magic to force him out, out, out, but nothing came.

“I don’t have the Elder Wand, surely you’ve realized that by now.”

“I have, yes. But now I’m aware you’re in possession of something far greater...”

You were going to be sick.

“I had quite an interesting conversation with Sebastian Sallow,” Marvolo went on. “Poor fellow didn’t even realize I’d been combing through his mind the entire time.”

Your eyes flew to where Sebastian stood at the edge of the crowd, watching you.

“Leave him out of this!”

“Ancient magic, Keepers, and something else…a magical repository. It was all there, in his memories.”

Your knees threatened to give out. You should’ve known better, should’ve seen this coming—

“Rookwood was an arrogant fool, thinking he could outwit the Goblins and take it for himself. But I’m no fool, Savior. I’ll find that repository, even if I have to break your mind to do it.”

With that, the song ended and Marvolo released his hold on you. He gave you a curt, taunting bow. “Thank you for the dance. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

He walked away without another word. You couldn’t move, your legs turned leaden. A gentle hand grabbed yours, and you startled. But it was Sebastian there, pulling you from the dance floor.

“Merlin, you’re shaking. What happened? What did he—”

“We need to get out of here,” was all you could manage to say.

Sebastian’s eyes widened before he nodded. “Of course, let’s go.”

When you walked past Anne and Ominis, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Anne said, voice full of worry.

“The Undercroft. Meet us there later,” Sebastian answered over his shoulder, leading you away.

When you were out of the Great Hall and in the empty corridors of the castle, you felt the air return to your lungs. You were taking deep, quick breaths, as if you were hyperventilating. Before you knew it, you were in the Undercroft.

You ripped your mask from your face and threw it to the ground in frustration.

“It was him. It was him, Sebastian,” you began frantically, pacing back and forth. “He was in my head again, he knows about my magic—”

“Alright, slow down,” Sebastian tried to calm you, removing his own mask. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

You told him everything Marvolo Gaunt had said, both aloud and in your mind. Sebastian’s face grew pale.

“This is all my fault,” he sighed. “I knew there was something unsettling about my conversation with him…that’s why I didn’t want him speaking to you alone.”

“No, it’s mine. I should’ve guessed he’d come after you. Or anyone else close to me, for that matter. I was right, I never should’ve involved you in this—”

“Don’t do that! Don’t push me away,” Sebastian retorted, coming closer. “We’re not debating my involvement in this again, we already promised we’d do this together.”

You shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze.

“We need to tell Ominis. He knows Marvolo best, he can give us insight on how to stop him,” Sebastian pushed on.

“Absolutely not, Sebastian! Ominis was tortured by his brother, this could have terrible consequences for him if—”

“You’re just being stubborn and you know it!”

Footsteps raced down the Undercroft stairs. Anne and Ominis.

“What’s going on? What did my brother say to you?” Ominis demanded. Both of their masks had disappeared, their expressions laced with concern.

You and Sebastian exchanged a weighted look. Anne crossed her arms expectantly.

“Nothing, Ominis, I—”

“Did you know Marvolo was a Legilimens?”

You glared at Sebastian. Ominis’ eyes widened.

“I…had no idea,” Ominis answered truthfully. “I haven’t spoken to him in years, since he moved to Whitehall and started his position at the Ministry. It must’ve been something he picked up there. What has he done to you? You must tell me.”

Your hands were balled in fists, your breathing still shaky. “There’s…there’s a lot I haven’t told you. Either of you,” you looked to Anne. “But you have to understand that I’m trying to keep you all safe!”

“Safe? From whom? My brother?” Ominis responded, voice growing agitated. “I’m more than aware of what he’s capable of. It’s not up to you to judge what we can and cannot handle.”

“Until tonight, it had nothing to do with you—with any of you!” You argued back. “It would've been selfish of me to ask for your help.”

Anne’s eyebrows furrowed. “Selfish? We’re your friends, of course we would’ve come to your aid! After everything you’ve done for us, for me…”

“I have a right to know, both as your friend and Marvolo’s brother,” Ominis said. “Whatever it is that’s going on, count me in. I’ll assist you in any way I can.”

Your eyes moved from Ominis to each of the Sallow twins, who were both wearing the same determined look on their freckled faces. Sebastian gave you an encouraging nod.

And so, you started from the very beginning. 

You told Anne and Ominis about your ancient magic, the Keepers, and what really happened beneath Hogwarts at the end of last term. Sebastian chimed in here and there with some details of your adventures together and what you had uncovered about Isidora Morganach.

Then, you filled them in on all that had been occurring over the last two months. 

The mysterious Legilimens, the shaky grasp on your ancient magic, the Deathly Hallows. Sebastian finally learned what happened on your trip to Diagon Alley with Garreth. And, lastly, the discovery tonight—who the Legilimens really was. When you were finished, the Slytherin trio was silent. You all sat around the wooden desk in the Undercroft, still dressed in finery, digesting everything you’d shared. 

Ominis spoke first.

“I’ve never heard of ancient magic, but I’m not surprised at my brother’s desire to possess it. He always was a glutton for power. It’s why he joined the Ministry–both that, and to please our parents.”

“And what do you know of the ring? The one with the Hallows symbol?” You asked. You had a strange feeling when you thought of it, like it was something of great importance.

“A family heirloom that’s been passed down to the eldest Gaunt son for generations. Marvolo never takes it off, it’s one of his most prized possessions,” Ominis answered. “The symbol...we've always referred to as the Peverell family’s Coat of Arms.”

“Like the brothers from the story?” Sebastian questioned, scratching his chin in thought.

“When my Aunt Noctua would read it to me as a child, she’d say they were our ancestors,” Ominis shrugged, a hint of sadness in his voice at the thought of his late aunt. "I always assumed she was just being theatrical."

“What do you think Marvolo plans to do now?" Anne questioned. "If the Repository is hidden beneath the castle, there’s no way he’ll be able to reach it, right?”

“That I do not know,” Ominis sighed. “He’s already on thin ice with the Ministry for behavioral misconduct. They don’t trust him. He’ll try to be as discreet as possible, so as to avoid drawing any more attention to himself.”

You pondered for a moment, trying to think of everything you knew about Marvolo Gaunt. A powerful wizard with the ability to sneak into another’s mind, sometimes undetected. Raised in a family of pure-blooded dark wizards, where he learned the Unforgivable curses and performed them on Muggles, on his own brother, for fun. Connections to the Ministry, where he’s worked since graduating Hogwarts…

Then, you realized.

Almost every single attack you’d experienced had occurred on Hogwarts grounds, with the only exception being in London where he tried to kidnap you outside of Gregorovitch’s shop.

“He’s…he’s already been sneaking around the castle,” you said breathlessly. “How else could he have been using Legilimency on me? You have to at least be able to see your target.”

“How is that possible? You can’t just apparate into the castle, there are enchantments against that,” Sebastian countered.

“But there’s hidden passages all throughout the school,” you turned to him, thoughts running wild. “Garreth told me about one last year, a one-eyed witch statue with a path that runs to Hogsmeade. He could know about it, or any other secret entrance we aren’t aware of.”

“But that doesn’t explain how you’ve never spotted him,” Anne offered. “If he had to be within a certain range of you, surely you would’ve seen him.”

“Unfortunately, there are many ways to remain out of sight,” Ominis said to Anne, voice grave. “Potions. Invisibility cloaks. Even a Disillusionment charm. If he wanted to remain undetected, he could’ve done so quite easily.”

You thought of Emrys with his cloak, how he’d wholly disappeared without a single trace of magic or trick of light. Just purely invisible. A shudder ran through you. How many times could Marvolo have been there, right beside you, without you knowing?

Sebastian must’ve noticed your nauseous expression because his next words were, “It’s getting late. Perhaps we should continue this conversation tomorrow.”

Anne, sitting next to you, grabbed your hand beneath the table and squeezed it reassuringly. You turned to her and managed a tight smile.

Ominis cleared his throat. “I…apologize. I confess I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for my eldest brother’s actions. I hope that…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words. But you knew what he wanted to say.

“Ominis, this doesn’t change anything,” You said earnestly. “You’re not liable for the actions of your family. You’re not just another Gaunt, you’re my friend.”

He only nodded in response, his expression softening.

As you all exited the Undercroft, Sebastian insisted on walking you back to Ravenclaw Tower. You tried to argue that it was unnecessary, too far out of his way, but he refused to take no for an answer.

“I’m sorry the ball didn’t go exactly as planned,” Sebastian said.

You shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps it was too much to hope for just one normal evening…”

“With an unheard of magical ability and a nickname like Hogwarts' Savior, I think you're much too far past hoping for normal,” he teased. 

There was a comfortable silence between you as you walked the empty corridors, the Prefects given the night off from patrolling past curfew. For a few minutes, the only sound was the ruffle of your gown’s skirts and the soft clack of your heels on the floor with every step you took.

“It means a great deal to Ominis, you know–that you still trust him,” Sebastian said, breaking the silence.

“Of course I do,” you replied firmly. “We’ve all been through a lot together, haven’t we?”

“No doubt about that. I suspect there’s plenty more to come…but whatever it is, we’ll be there to face it with you. Always.”

You felt your heart swell. There was no doubt in your mind that he meant every word.

You couldn’t help but wander back to your dance together, how electrified you felt at his touch as he led you through the steps. How close you’d been to jumping straight off into the deep end—with more than enough witnesses. As if reading your thoughts, Sebastian spoke again.

“I’m glad you agreed to be my date tonight,” he said as you reached the bottom of the Tower. “I can’t imagine fearing the trampling of my toes with anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful smack on his arm. “I’m a wonderfuldance partner and you know it.”

As he smiled down at you, it seemed as if he were going to say more. Instead, you watched as he slowly took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss right below your knuckles. You felt the shock of it seep through the silk of your gloves and spread steadily across your entire body until your nerves were buzzing. 

“Goodnight,” was all he said before he disappeared back the way you'd come from.

After being frozen-in-place at the bottom of the Tower for what seemed like hours, you began to make the ascent to your common room. You relived the moment over and over in your head with each step.

You could still feel the kiss as you reached the top of the spiral staircase—as if it would remain branded there, on the back of your hand, for all eternity. 

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon World Building

I should’ve written the history of my world in one of the chapters, like having Alastor explain it, but I didn’t want to info-dump. However, if you’re at all interested in the world (and some of the plot), then please keep reading. I do love info-dumping...

The storyline takes place hundreds of years into the future.

Back in the 2020s, a group of ghost hunters messed with the spirit realm and accidentally created a portal to allow Demons to cross into the world (inspiration from Sam and Colby). Spirits still exist, but Demons have their own physical bodies.

It wasn’t really a known event, though. It was a quiet thing that accidentally happened. Demons wanted to blend in where they could or, at the very least, hide. It’s much easier to hide on Earth than it is to hide in a small ring in Hell.

Anyways, years pass and Demons start having kids with normal humans, blending magic with normal people. Again, no one paid attention until people started having strange magic abilities and weird attributes (like horns or tails).

These Demon Hybrids (especially children) were hunted down to be studied—and we know how terrible it is to be on the other side of human curiosity. However, this was also around the time when World War III happened.

Cities and countries were destroyed and the all the horrible things you can imagine that happens in an apocalypse. My timeline skips way ahead of this apocalypse.

Mother Nature has taken over what is rightfully hers. People have rebuilt communities in these old abandoned structures and cities but still live primarily off the land. Vox managed to bring back electricity and everything started to look like a futuristic 1800s landscape.

Now, something I thought was interesting that no one pointed out, is that Alastor is WAY older than the reader. He was born in the 1900s, died in the 1930s, and arrived back on Earth in about 2087.

He’s ancient.

And still a prideful ass

And he’s been collecting books and records, piecing things together and trying to lay claim/influence in both realms. But he didn’t account for how BIG Earth is, which is why he worked hard on keeping his radio influence and appearance on Earth, while still terrorizing those in Hell.

Heaven never intervened big time until my timeline. God is the only one who has direct influence/say on the way of the world, but He sends his Angels to specific humans when He needs something specific done. Hence the whole we have free will.

Angels have always had access to Earth, but they’ve been under strict orders to remain out of sight unless specifically ordered to appear before a certain human. Such as Blackwater...

Because he was a very capable human who could take down the Hartfelts (and had a reason to), Heaven decided he just needed a little Angelic help.

Heaven was upset that the reader, a Demon/Angel hybrid, existed in the first place. Reader is evidence that an Angel went against orders to remain unseen on Earth and went even further and had a child. It caused an uproar in Heaven and the father was tortured, banned, practically striped of his powers, and memory wiped clean (almost). The Angels intervened and captured the mother and put her into the rings where she would most likely die, along with the baby.

Spoilers! The baby survived.

Alastor was never Heaven’s target, he was only Blackwater’s. Sure he made Heaven a little concerned because of how much power he was starting to build (just like any other Overlord), but their main concern was the Reader. And yes, they forced Zestial to pull Alastor from the realms and keep him away for 8 years.

Now, since the Reader lived—even though they weren’t supposed to—and since they’re not human, they are essentially immortal like Alastor and other Demons. Heaven didn’t like this because she could have more children like her with Angelic powers and ruin the balance of things.

She’s the reason they sent Blackwater after her and Alastor.

She’s the reason Adam was sent after her as divine intervention.

She’s the reason for the nasty storms that hit the haven all the time.

She’s the reason for the battle between Heaven and Hell.

And here���s something that might’ve been too subtle to pick up on…

Alastor was seen as weaker than Reader. The reason Heaven intervened and helped Blackwater capture his enemy (Alastor) was because to Heaven, Alastor was an easier shark to kill. Kill Alastor and you kill Reader. Heaven thought Reader was well in tune with their angelic abilities, even though we’re proven otherwise when Adam attacks her. They put Reader on a pedestal because of her growing up in a fighting ring and because she was half Angel half Demon - a being of strong power with the mentality of Demon. Deadly combo.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.”

The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

—

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

—

FORTY-FIVE EXCERPT:

The two memories played over and over again in Tom’s mind. He couldn’t even process how close Harry had gotten to losing his life or where the hell that truly horrific voice he’d heard had come from or how dark magic had tainted Harry only for it to disappear moments later—no, he couldn’t focus on any of those things.

No, it was these memories; they haunted him. They taunted him. He heard that monstrous voice on loop. ‘Come to die.’ He heard the nameon loop. ‘Harry Potter.’ Again. Again. And with every replay in his mind, the more questions Tom had.

One memory had come from the mind of a murderer. A baby in a cradle, a red haired woman who screamed to protect her son… That tiny child had been unmistakably Harry, which meant that woman had to be his mother—his mother, who’d been dead since Harry had been a baby.

So, why did Harry have a memory from the murderer’s perspective?

As for the other memory, it had been undeniably from Harry’s point of view. He’d been the Harry that Tom knew, except the monstrous man without a nose called him by a different name.

Harry had once been a Potter.

He’d been right.

“I saw something in your mind,” said Tom in a low voice, “by accident when the dementors were attacking.”

Harry swallowed. The blood drained from his complexion, a glimmer of true terror flooding through his eyes. “Did you?” he whispered.

It cut through Tom’s heart.

“Where—” Harry tore his face away and Tom stopped short. Harry heaved in a deep, shuddering breath. He curled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “Harry, where—”

“Don’t,” hissed Harry. “Don’t ask.”

Tom paused. The memories flooded his mind once more and he couldn’t let it go. “You can’t ask that of me,” he said quietly.

“I said no.”

“Harry—”

“I’m tired,” snapped Harry, abruptly pushing the covers aside and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll sleep somewhere else—”

Tom snatched him by the wrist. Harry’s head whipped back, brows pinched in irritation. He tried to pull his arm away, but Tom held on tighter.

“The fuck—”

Tom jerked Harry onto the bed; he landed on his back and bounced once, snarling. Harry struggled against him, scrambling wildly to get up and trying to shove Tom out of his way. Tom rolled over and straddled Harry’s chest, slamming his hands onto Harry’s shoulders and pinning him down.

“Ow!”

“Harry—”

“Get the fuck off me!”

Tom gripped Harry by the chin, forcing him to hold still and meet his gaze. Harry glared up at him. “Where did you get that memory?” he demanded.

“Fuck you—”

“How did you get the memory from your parents’ murderer?” snapped Tom. “Where’d you get it? How is such a memory in your head? And why did you change your name from Potter, a well known pureblood family, to Evans, an obviously common muggle name? Why would you hide your lineage like that? You should’ve kept your family name!”

Tears flooded Harry’s eyes; his face crinkled into a snarl. He fought against Tom with the rage of a feral animal, shoving at his face, chest, shoulders, twisting and turning beneath his weight—but he couldn’t throw him off. Tom’s grip on Harry’s chin tightened.

“Tell me.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”

‘Come to die.’

That cold, high pitch voice echoed once more in his mind.

A monster had lifted his wand against Harry, wielding the very same wand that had murdered his parents. The wand’s hilt was of an unusual design, easily recognized. There was no way to ascertain the core, but the wood was simple enough. Tom’s own wand was also made of yew. Perhaps, he could interrogate wand makers for information about the hilt design in the future.

And the forest… it had looked similar to the Forbidden Forest, but that was impossible, though. Harry couldn’t have been in the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore, at least, would’ve known if the Dark Lord was in the forest.

Except…

That monster wasn’t Grindelwald.

Tom had seen plenty of pictures of Gellert Grindelwald in the Daily Prophet before. He looked like a normal man, if not a large, very tall, and imposing man. Grindelwald backed up his magical prowess with immense physical strength as well. On the other hand, the monster Harry had faced had been nothing like Grindelwald. Though still rather tall, he’d been slender and sickly pale, waifish even—half the size of Grindelwald. He’d had snakelike slits for a nose and terrible red serpentine eyes—he’d been inhuman. Tom hadn’t heard of anyone like that.

Harry had lied.

Grindelwald hadn’t killed his parents.

However, not quite…

‘Yeah, well… that’s what happens when your parents are murdered… by a Dark Lord.’

He told Orion on the first day that his Dark Lord had no nose. He’d joked about it.

Harry had never specifically said Grindelwald had kill his parents. Merely ‘a’ Dark Lord. He’d dropped hints all along the way. How very Slytherin of Harry. And the memories were unmistakable: Harry’s parents had been killed by a Dark Lord and that same Dark Lord had attempted to murder Harry yet again more recently.

So, who was he?

“Why have you lied?” whispered Tom.

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART IV: “The Jacket Still Smelled Like Her” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— A vulnerable Reneé stepping into the aftermath of your honesty.

Requested | PART1 - PART2 - PART3 - PART4 - PART5 - PART6 - PART7

The hallway light flickered when you stepped into your apartment — a tiny reminder that you’d meant to change the bulb three weeks ago but hadn’t found the motivation. You stood in the doorway for a long moment, keys still in your hand, jacket still on your back, breathing shallow like you’d just run a marathon.

You hadn’t.

But your heart had.

And it hadn’t won.

You dropped your keys into the bowl by the door. The echo felt louder than it should’ve been.

The jacket slid off your shoulders, landing with a soft, defeated thud on the couch. It still smelled like her — that soft musk of vanilla and jasmine that clung to the collar, soaked into the seams like a ghost that refused to leave.

You should’ve told her to follow you.

But you hadn’t.

So she didn’t.

[12:36 AM — Your apartment, lights off]

There was something about a room in darkness that mirrored the inside of your chest. You didn’t bother turning anything on. Just walked to the kitchen by muscle memory, opened the fridge, stared inside like salvation might be hiding behind last week’s half-eaten Thai food.

You closed it again.

Unopened whiskey bottle. No. Not tonight.

You sat on the floor of your kitchen. Let your back press against the cabinet. Tucked your knees into your chest. The air felt heavier here — or maybe it was just you.

You whispered it again, like a confession only the tiles could hear:

“I love her.”

And this time, the silence whispered back.

[Flashback: 2 months ago — Her place, your toothbrush already there]

Reneé had fallen asleep on your lap, mascara smudged, hair spilling like ink across your thighs. She’d been crying — something about an article, a review, a comparison that stung too much.

You’d stroked her back in slow, lazy circles.

She murmured, almost asleep:

“Dunno what I’d do without you…”

You didn’t reply.

But your heart did.

In loud, terrible thumps that screamed:

“You’ll never have to find out.”

[1:02 AM — Your place, still no texts]

Your phone stayed silent.

You should’ve been relieved. You weren’t.

You wondered if she was still at the party. With red dress girl. With people who never had to be her safety net because they were too busy being her fantasy.

You got up from the floor and went to your room.

Stripped the bed. Sheets smelled like her perfume. Again. Always.

You punched the pillow before laying down.

One. Two. Breathe. She’s not yours. She never was.

[2:16 AM — Knocking]

It started soft.

You thought you imagined it.

Then again.

A little louder.

Three short knocks. Familiar pattern.

You blinked in the dark. Sat up. Heart roaring in your ears.

You knew that knock.

You padded barefoot to the door.

Didn’t look through the peephole.

Didn’t have to.

You opened it.

She stood there. Reneé. Hoodie up. Eyes wide and red like she’d been crying.

She didn’t say anything.

Neither did you.

Until:

“I walked.”

Your brow furrowed.

“From where?”

“The party. I left.”

You swallowed.

“Why?”

Her voice cracked.

“Because you left.”

[Entryway, front door still open]

You stared at her like she was an eclipse you weren’t allowed to look at directly.

She took a shaky breath.

“I didn’t know you felt like that. About me.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t change anything.”

She took a step inside. You didn’t stop her.

Her voice was quieter now.

“It changes everything.”

She looked around like the apartment had aged in the two hours since she last saw it. Her eyes landed on the jacket.

She picked it up. Held it like a memory.

Then turned to you.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That you love me.”

“Yes.”

You didn’t flinch.

She did.

She hugged the jacket tighter.

“I think I’ve always known.”

[Kitchen, dim lights this time]

You made tea without asking if she wanted some. She took the mug anyway.

You leaned against the counter. She leaned next to you.

The silence wasn’t empty now. It was full — with all the things you still couldn’t say, and everything you’d already said.

Reneé traced her finger along the rim of the cup.

“You always take care of me.”

You said nothing.

“Even when I don’t deserve it.”

Still quiet.

“You didn’t have to fight that guy outside the club.”

“He thought I was hurting you.”

“And you didn’t even hesitate.”

You looked at her now.

“Of course not.”

She bit her lip.

Looked down.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Too late.”

She winced.

“I’m sorry.”

You almost reached for her hand.

Almost.

“I know you don’t feel the same. It’s okay.”

She shook her head.

“That’s not what I said.”

You turned to her fully now.

“Then what are you saying?”

She blinked fast.

Voice breaking.

“I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of losing you.”

You let out a soft laugh. Bitter, cracked.

“Then you should’ve stayed away from red dress.”

She laughed too. Short. Guilty.

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You were.”

“Okay, I was. But I was trying to prove something to myself.”

You tilted your head.

“Prove what?”

She exhaled.

“That I don’t need you the way I think I do.”

Silence.

“Did it work?”

She looked at you with the saddest smile you’d ever seen.

“No.”

[Bedroom, 3:04 AM]

You didn’t invite her into bed.

She just… followed.

Climbed under the covers like she always did. Like she belonged.

You laid side by side in the dark, neither touching, both trembling.

Reneé whispered:

“I don’t know how to be with someone like you.”

You stared at the ceiling.

“Then don’t be.”

She turned her face to you.

“I want to try.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t want to be your rebound.”

“You’re not.”

“Then what am I?”

She hesitated.

Then placed a hand over your chest.

Right above your heart.

“You’re home.”

You didn’t kiss her.

But you wanted to.

You didn’t ask.

Neither did she.

So you both stayed still.

Side by side.

Breathing.

And for the first time in days, you both slept reassured.

Requested | PART1 - PART2 - PART3 - PART4 - PART5 - PART6 - PART7

[pollenallergie]

Some Older!Tom Grant x Reader Headcanons

Description: Exactly what the title says. (I’m lazy).

Warnings: Terrible attempts at using British/Cornish slang, some American-isms may have wormed their way in here, swearing, and smut is implied (and also sort of mentioned?? a male orgasm is mentioned, but that’s it). I think that’s it, but let me know if there’s more warnings that I should’ve listed here. 18+ only!! If you’re a minor, go away, do not read this!!

Word Count: Who cares? Just read it. (Again, I’m lazy).

A/N: I’m using a gif of Michael from Hoard because, in my opinion, that’s what older!Tom looks like.

You were the one that got away.

Tom met you when he was 18, while you were on vacation with your family at the caravan park.

You two hit it off and became great friends despite having only known each other for about a week.

You liked Tom as more than a friend, and he sort of felt the same way about you… sort of. Things were complicated because he was still hung up on his recent breakup with Ruth. Had he met you under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve fallen head over heels in love with you before you could’ve even said hello, but he didn’t. No, Tom met you while recovering from his first heartbreak, when he was still in love with his ex despite all she had put him through. He wasn’t ready to experience the kind of feelings being around you gave him, so he pushed them down, repressed them, smothered them, and pretended like they didn’t exist.

You’d managed to summon the courage to ask Tom out on a date on your second to last day at the park, and he’d declined. You’d thought he felt the same way. He'd been flirting with you ever since he first met you, and you’d done your best to reciprocate despite the fact that, back then, you weren’t used to flirting (nor being flirted with). But then he rejected you, leaving you to high tail it back to your caravan so you could lick your wounds and helplessly wonder if you’d misread the signs. Had he even been flirting with you at all?

Tom had been flirting with you but never with the intention to act on it. He never figured that anything would become of it anyway, never figured you were actually interested; Ruth wasn’t, so why would you be?

In retrospect, he sees how daft he was being. Ruth wasn’t interested in him because she wasn’t interested in men at all. What happened with Ruth wasn’t a personal slight against him, even if, at the time, it truly felt like it was. He was young, and he was hurt, and, frankly, she’d gone about the whole thing pretty poorly. Granted, she was young too.

Anyways, Tom was young and hurt, and he thought he was utterly unlovable and undesirable. So, he figured you only reciprocated his flirting to keep yourself entertained whilst you were so far away from home. You certainly wouldn’t have been the first tourist to give one of the guys at the caravan park that treatment.

When you’d asked him out, he’d been so taken aback and unprepared that he’d let you down quickly and, admittedly, not as kindly as he should’ve. All the years that have passed since then, and he still remembers exactly what he’d said, “What? Oh, er, nah. I’m alright. Thanks though. I’ll see you round, yeah?” Then, like an even bigger idiot, he’d run off under the guise of getting back to work. That memory continues to haunt him on nights when it’s hard to get to sleep, along with every other embarrassing fuck up he’s ever made in his life, of course.

Your friendship had fizzled out that very afternoon, and the two of you never even said goodbye when you left the park to return to your home country. You never spoke after that summer either, even though you’d exchanged contact information earlier on in your holiday, before that fateful afternoon.

Tom has spent years regretting the way things ended between the two of you. Mostly, he wishes that the two of you could’ve remained friends. However, there’s always been a part of him that’s been disappointed in himself for ruining his shot with you.

Fourteen years later, Tom miraculously gets a chance to redeem himself.

You move to the UK — Cornwall, specifically — for your new job, and, as luck would have it, you move to the very same town that Tom moved to after he left his work at the caravan park behind.

One morning, whilst working on a construction site across the street from your new job, Tom spots you carrying some supplies into your office. He can’t believe his eyes. You look almost exactly the same, albeit a bit more mature, with some more lovely curves as well, but with the same kind eyes and the same beautiful smile.

Tom can’t help himself; he has to go over to you and say ‘hi’ to you, at the very least. So, when he catches you leaving your building for lunch, he jumps on the opportunity, sacrificing the last fifteen minutes of his lunch break to talk to you.

He manages to convince you to come out to dinner with him at a nearby pub, framing it as two old friends catching up. Although, the lack of a ring on your finger sure gives him hope, more hope than it probably should.

What started as dinner, a quick chat and a bite to eat, turns into staying at the pub til the bartender calls out five minutes to closing time.

The two of you are drunk on cheap beer and ale, with your stomachs full of greasy pub food, and Tom, ever the gentleman, insists on walking you home.

When the two of you arrive at your new place, you insist that he stays the night, refusing to let him walk back to his place in such a state. He’s fully prepared to stay on your sofa, but, in your inebriated state, you seem to think it’d be better if you both just slept in your bed together. In his own inebriated state, he finds that offer impossible to refuse.

Nothing happens between the two of you that night; even drunk off his arse, Tom’s still respectful, insisting that he sleep in the same jeans and t-shirt that he’d worn out to the pub and, much to your chagrin, putting as much distance between you two as your bed will allow. However, the next morning, Tom takes a big risk and asks if he can kiss you before he leaves to go back to his own place. The eager nod and shy smile that you answer him with makes his heart soar.

If you ask Tom, that kiss was well worth the wait. However, if he could turn back time, he’d still have rather gotten his shit together back in ‘09 and kissed you then; then, he could’ve just been kissing you the whole time these past fourteen years.

After the two of you reluctantly pull apart, Tom asks if he can take you on a proper date sometime soon, maybe to get some dinner at a fancy restaurant or something like that. You agree, but only on one condition: Tom takes you to the spot in town with the best food, no matter how fancy or not-so-fancy it may be. He agrees.

Your first “proper” date ends up being at that very same pub, though this time, you two do much less drinking and catching up, and a lot more eating your weight in greasy chips and bantering.

Tom’s still just as cheeky as ever; you’d figured that out the first time you went out with him, but you get to see even more of that on your first date. He holds doors open for you, partly because he’s a gentleman and partly because it gives him a good opportunity to take a geek at your arse. Once he’s given the green light to touch you, he never really stops touching you. The whole night, he has a hand resting on your thigh or lower back, or an arm wrapped around your shoulders or waist so that he can subtly tug you closer to him. He lays the compliments on thick, too, but in a way where you can tell that he really means them, that it’s not just baseless flattery.

Tom’s also incredibly sweet and genuine, too, asking questions about your work, your family, your friends back home, etc. He asks if you’re settling in alright here in Cornwall, so far from where you’re originally from. He offers to show you round the town, show you where all the essentials are, like where to get the best produce, and to show you which places are nothing more than tourist magnets and which are actual local-approved spots. He talks about himself, too. He tells you about his mum, how he moved here so that he could be closer to her, so she wouldn’t have to be alone. He talks about his housemates: his mate, Callum, from primary school, who’s hardly home enough to truly be considered a housemate, along with the dog he (Tom) recently rescued and the stray cat that just sort of showed up one day and turned himself into a housecat. He pays for everything, always having some cash out and ready before you can even reach into your purse to get your wallet. He walks you home again, of course.

Tom ends up staying the night at yours again. Although, this time, it’s not because you think he’s too drunk to walk home. No, this time, he winds up in between your sheets for an entirely different reason, and he certainly doesn’t leave any space between the two of you this time around.

The next morning, Tom wakes up before you, as he’s used to waking up at 4:30 for work. By the time you wake up, he’s made breakfast, the closest he could get to a full spread with the stuff you had in your fridge (it’s basically just eggs and toast). You two eat breakfast together, and you find out that he’s still an adorably messy eater. He cleans up after himself well, though.

In fact, Tom doesn’t let you help him clean up at all, doesn’t let you touch a single dish because, according to him, he can’t, in good conscience, let you lift a finger after the way you made him cum last night. “You deserve the Nobel prize in shaggin’, love. I’m serious. I mean, I was seeing stars afterwards ‘n everything. You’ve gotta, at least, let me make you a ‘thank you’ breakfast and clean up after meself. ‘S the least I can do after that,” He says, like the dork that he is, before planting an emphatic kiss on your forehead.

He leaves a couple of hours later to go check on The Lads™, but not before asking you to come round to his place sometime next week so that he can make you “the best fucking lasagne you’ll ever have in your whole life. Seriously, it’s me mum’s recipe. It’s fuckin’ amazing. You’re gonna love it.”

[suffarustuffaru]

I think I read a while ago on reddit that you had a madoka magica au for re zero, do you still think about it? I can Imagine Subaru taking the place of Homura but the rest of the cast is harder to place. It's a fun thought exercise though.

WAIT wow your ask sent me down memory lane wkdndn i forgot i even had a madoka magica au in the works for a while. i made it in like late 2020 and last worked on it in early-mid 2021 hah mostly bc my skill with writing and art didnt match with how big of an idea a multichap plotty crossover/fusion au was and i was still just dipping my toes into more ambitious ideas!! but id love to revisit it again now that i got more practice 👍

i like read your ask then went WAIT A MINUTE I DO HAVE A MADOKA MAGICA AU and then i skimmed through my old google doc plot outline for it in a frenzy. but also i used to write in yellow comic sans at the time so i wont subject you to my old terrible (affectionate) writing habits too much. but i think its funny how i had some notes on vague (and Dead Serious) ideas for witch form symbolism and i just found this yellow comic sans monstrosity:

2020/21 me was on some drugs probably LMAO ���😭 but given madoka magica’s canon content that is probably a good thing if youre writing serious madoka magica fic.

also i did have a tiny bit of finished writing for it. here is the old synopsis past me came up with:

Stumbling across magic and witches, fourteen-year-old Natsuki Subaru follows his new friends and a mischievous cat spirit into a world where a single contract could grant you your greatest wish.

And at the end of it all, he really should’ve known this from the start: wishes always come with a cost.

i think that currently id probably change up this synopsis a bit if i worked on it again but it aint bad i think 👍 and yes youre right subaru would def be in homuras role for this fic… 😔 anyone whos seen both madoka magica and rezero would immediately make that connection i think hah they have. Similarities, as we know 😔

and i deaged some of the rezero cast as you can see hah. not sure if id keep that but i think an important aspect of madoka magica is that the main characters are that young. it helps add to some of their decisions and adds to the tragedy and whatnot. that and like. targeting vulnerable young girls, Literal Children, knowing that most would make a wish and sell their souls in a heartbeat and then easily be crushed by trauma without being able to fight back much, you know? :,) and then theyd make Lots and Lots of despair to harvest… and madoka was meant as a magical girl deconstruction and magical girls iirc tend to be arounddd early teens/preteens!! ill talk a bit more later on how id try to do this au with deaged rz cast hah.

also i did have a small drabble written for this au!!

The boy, no older than fourteen, stands there with an eerie sense of calm.

His frame is seemingly scrawny and lean, dawning dark clothing reminiscent of a mixture between a tracksuit and a school uniform - even if it’s adorned with golden ribbons and stripes - with a whip attached to the belt at his waist. Draped over that is a cloak, the hood of it casting a shadow over messy black hair and a cold expression. His keen eyes, emphasized by the deep bags underneath, narrow at the sight of Puck, mean and brimming with distaste.

With a steady hand, he raises a pistol to Puck’s head.

The moonlight shines dimly through the broken windows and onto the shards littered all over the floor. A beam illuminates a metal contraption, its appearance similar to a shield, strapped to the boy’s forearm.

“You know, I don’t quite recall making a contract with you,” Puck muses cheerily, though an undercurrent of a threat weaves itself into his tone. He stares down the barrel without fear, his sharp teeth revealed in his smile. “Who are you, really? And why are you so upset that I’ve been getting close with Lia? Jealous much?”

“Don’t you dare call her that,” the boy replies instead, bitterly spitting out each and every word. “Don’t you dare pretend that you only have her best interests at heart, or that you really care for her like a father figure would. It makes me sick.” He sneers as he digs the cool metal of the gun harder into Puck’s fur. “Because if you make even just one mention of creating a contract with her, or if you even come near her… I’ll definitely make sure that you regret it.”

yeah so. past me made puck kyubey apparently 😔👍 and if i revisited this au im not sure if i would keep subarus character development to be Exactly the same (ie it was very greedbaru/pridebaru/homura inspired) but this drabble was a fun exercise at the time!!

but anyway i will ramble about some more ideas i had for this au under the cut!! turned out past me had A Lot of ideas.

yes so this au was like. a fusion of sorts so yes i was assigning rz characters certain roles, blending worldbuilding together, etc etc but the general plot sort of followed the general story of the main madoka magica plot from the main show to rebellion!! it was like vaguely modernish too, but you know, madoka likes to be Creative with its backgrounds (see: the infinite amount of crazy chairs everywhere, which im still very fond of to this day) and also rz vainglory/school if has its fantasy world cast mixed in with subarus parents still being there iirc and a whole bunch of other details too (like beatrice being subarus adopted sister iirc?). so i was going the vainglory-ish route here in terms of “how modern is this world?” 👍

the main cast i was focusing on was gonna be subaru (homura), emilia (madoka), rem (sayaka), ram, beatrice, felt, and reinhard. also puck as kyubey haah and satella as walprugisnacht aka the giant witch at the end of the main show. i havent seen madoka in a bit wkdn i gotta rewatch. but anyway!! felt and reinhard got a mix of mami and kyokos roles narrative wise yeah.

quick rundown on their characters is that i wanted to stick to the rz cast’s canon characterization as much as possible while leaving room for fun experimentation!! and if theyre still younger than normal canon here—subarus still got his Big Ego/Im The Main Character mindset but in that way thats specific to his little kid self bc he hasnt gotten Completely Depressed yet (think like. arc 7-8 type stuff), reinhards still stuck in the middle of watching his dad gradually deteriorate, felts even Younger and still trying to find her footing a bit, rem is Guiltily and enviously trying to live up to ram’s Golden Childness (this is pre-Incident That Kills Their Whole Family). and emilia has lived a lonely life in the forest somewhere with no one for company :,) i cant remember if i had some Magic Mindfuckery ideas for her backstory here but ive definitely had ideas for modernizing her backstory for other aus like this!! but either way emilias family is still dead ;-; and i do consider like. the idea that modern emilia would have albinism, especially when there is discrimination in place against people with albinism that is a little similar to emilias canon struggle with her appearance so a modern take of emilia being that she is someone with albinism would be Very Relevant!! but!! not sure if id go all the way with that bc its a sensitive topic that needs to be treated with care and i dont personally have albinism 👍 or i could go the magic route and go “emilia looks like a previous magical girl thats become the most powerful witch yet….” ie satella ofc. so emilia would still be a bit of a “red flag” to other magical people.

but yes emilia wished for. im not sure but probably smth like “i wish not to be lonely anymore”…………. and then she got her wish granted via having magical girl/boy friends and puck!!!!! thisll totally end happily.

and quick note on reinhard is i didnt have much plot ideas for him yet but i considered different ideas for his backstory!! maybe theres some magic fuckery and theresia was a magical girl once? no clue how that works but it was an Idea i had for sure. also various ideas to modernize the Astrea Family Drama (dont worry the accidental indirectly/directly causing your family member’s death thing would still be there wkdndh this is an important detail to me.) but regardless of whats going on with reinhards backstory his wish was a naive little kid wish!! he wanted to be a hero who helps people ;-; good going reinhard ;-;

the entire plot of this au in general was divided in half, first half would be the first timeline where things go wrong. subarus gonna be the pov and hes the audience surrogate bc hes new to the world of magical girls/boys and no one in the group 100% knows the ugly truth yet!! and like in canon emilia/madoka has already become a magical girl here. emilia is also already close with puck—and emilia is the one person puck has genuine fondness for ;-; and i had a Lot of ideas for what exactly went wrong here—i had elsa and meili planned as witches? and i think i considered disemboweling felt :<<<< this is very sad bc her family gave her away to save her bc they were in danger (yes just like in canon rz) but then later felt had her life threatened or smth? and like mami, felt wished to keep living. but the wording felt used was wanting to “live strong”…………….. well she sure got it by fighting elsa valiantly but still losing 😔

also ok the first person to become a witch is beatrice. i had like wild ideas with beatrice—the possibility that echidna still made beatrice and puck and that beatrice couldve been a failed—whats the word for the creatures in madoka that collect/cause magical girls??? incubators i think?? yeah that. because whatre the two things a little kids gonna probably trust?? a cute cat creature and a tiny little girl offering free wishes, probably. and of course beatrice got assigned by her biomom echidna to look after echidnas library maybe. bc echidnas funny like that and beatrice didnt work out as an incubator so now shes gonna generate soooo much despair when she realizes that there is no That Person + the truth of magical girls/boys and what beatrice was meant to be used for….

yes more various shit hits the fan bc rem and rams canon witch cult backstory… i had plans to adjust it for this au and make it happen In Real Time. and also rem’s wish was probably something along the lines of wanted to be needed. and Better. so not just Like Ram. but rem wanted to be More than ram. which rem is guilty about but thats still what she wants so she wishes for it away from rams eyes. ofc rams feelings on this is that she just wants her sister to treasure herself and be safe and whatnot but rem is kinda in her pre-witch cult trauma mode and Oops now their town is destroyed in flames and their family is dead ;-;;; not sure how else id modernize rem and rams backstory but yes this is. this is how their plot went in that first timeline wkdnd. and ram is injured in some way ;-;;;

yes and then rem you know pulls a sayaka and goes a little crazy about everything bc beatrices whole ordeal already revealed how fucked they all are and then rem and rams Trauma just happened so rem feels like shit!! and then she becomes a witch too oops ;-; and then reinhard decides to be the hero and sacrifices himself so emisuba can escape ;-;; or at least that was my plan at the time. but yeah rem became better (a magical girl. bc ram didnt feel like making a wish bc her only wish would be wanting rems happiness but she didnt want to Cheat That. she wanted rem to find it on her terms. except rem became “better” and bigger than ram by being a witch also oops. also i think i still had vague plans to include rem being Obsessed with subaru to contrast what will later be subarus emilia obsession haha) and then reinhard. is the hero. </3

satella comes in somewhere at the end. she used to be a magical girl but she became a witch and shes Crazy Powerful for reasons i have forgotten now 👍 but i definitely wanted to have more shenanigans going on with her backstory to keep that sort of emilia-satella-subaru mystery connection. and theyre still connected anyway bc emisuba inevitably lose to satella bc shes too powerful ;-; emilia is gonna die and puck realizes OH SHIT I SHOULDNT BE FEELING LOVE BUT I DO GENUINELY LOVE EMILIA I CANT DEAL WITH THIS. WITH HER DYING. ID RATHER DESTROY EVERYTHING THAN LET THAT HAPPEN. and ofc subarus also in agreement bc oh god oh god—and yeah. subaru hasnt made a wish until this point but he makes a contract with puck to promise to save Everyone. like subarus promise in canon right before he dies for the first time you know? bc then he dies.

and wooooo the time loop officially begins!!! i had more ideas but i have typed lots on this post already akfnd maybe ill save it for another time if people are interested.

but yes thats all thats the au!!!! i am not familiar with stuff like magia record yet sadly ;-;; but if i ever wanted to expand the au thats def One option 👍 bc WOW the rz cast would be such a goddamn gold mine for those fucking incubators. little kid felix argyle would be a Top Tier candidate for them. like can you imagine???? thatd be the biggest disaster of all time ;-;;; and also theres Lots of possibilities for various witches the cast can fight!! very fun stuff its why i chose elsa and meili and satella :o !! but yes id consider exploring other candidates for magical girls and boys as well bc WOW felix would go insane here.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

illicit affairs | twenty seven

*Ellie’s POV* “I can’t do this Matthew.”

Tears were blurring my vision as his words kept being repeated in my head. He was right, he did deserve to be happy, but it would never be with me. I got out of his grasp, not bothering to take another look at him before going back outside. I stumbled past the boys who were gathering around the table to play uno. I declined their offer for now so I could compose myself a little bit. I blinked my final tears away as I put my feet in the pool, trying to calm myself down. I’m so fucking mad at myself for this whole situation, I had no one to blame but myself.

“May I?” I was snapped back to reality as someone I didn’t recognize towered over me. He sat beside down me and my eyes studied him up and down, his eyes were dark, he had curly hair hidden under a hat, and of course he had a lot of tattoos. I ran down the roster of Noah’s friends but … nothing. I couldn’t put a name to his face.

“I’m really sorry but who are you?” “Caleb.” He replied, bringing his hand out to shake mine, “I play in invent animate.” “I should’ve known that. I’m sorry.” I blushed as my memory finally clued in that he was just on tour with the guys. “You guys sometimes all blur together.” “Ah, don’t worry about it.” He assured me before taking a sip of his beer. “I couldn’t help but notice you were tearing up over here. You know you’re not allowed to be sad at your housewarming party, right?”

“I was fine until ten minutes ago.” I replied, bringing my knees up to my chest. “I just talked to someone I haven’t seen in a while and we have a history…” “Matt?” My breath hitched, “how did you…” “We’re roommates in Dallas. I’ve heard a lot about you.” “Bad things I’m assuming.” I scoffed, feeling my blood begin to boil again. I’m sure Matt painted a terrible picture of me to all his friends. Then again, maybe I deserved it. “It was fifty-fifty” he assured me, “Matt has a hard time admitting when he’s wrong, so I don’t know how much he embellished when he told me what happened. All I know is that you broke his heart.” There it goes again, that god awful sinking feeling in my stomach, “what makes you say that?” “He told me about your agreement and I think he played along so he could keep you around.” My eyes narrowed, begging him to continue. “I hate to tell you this Ellie, but he was really in love with you.” Fuck. “When he got home, he realized he made a mistake and regretted leaving while you were sleeping.” He paused, taking a long sip of his beer, “I don’t know if I should tell you this but, he was about to call you until he saw Noah’s location was left on, showing that was here…so he never bothered.”

My mouth opened but nothing was coming out. Here I was thinking this whole time he just needed space but it was much deeper than that. I felt so fucking stupid. I excused myself and walked back inside to find him, my heart was beating deeply in my throat the entire time. I went into the kitchen and he was still in there, this time he was sitting with Davis. I cleared my throat and they both stopped mid conversation, staring at me bewildered. Davis took the hint to give us some privacy, as soon as he left I instantly regretted my decision to come in here.

“Caleb told me everything.” I finally said, “why didn’t you reach out to me?”

He shrugs, pulling the tab off his empty can of Celsius. “If Caleb told you everything, you’d know I wanted to until I saw Noah was here.” 

“You should’ve talked to me Matt. It doesn’t matter if Noah was here or not. You were my best friend and you had me believing you just needed space!” I sobbed as he stared at me emotionless. “How the fuck was I supposed to know you weren’t fine?”

“Even if I told you, would it have changed how you felt for Noah?” 

“No, because that wouldn’t have been fair to you.” I whispered as more tears poured out of me, “I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

“Fuck… Ellie this fucking sucks! You know what the worst part of all this is? Is that I have to be fucking fine with you being with one of my best friends that I see almost every day. Actually, that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that means I have to see you every day! You know how much that fucks me up?” He gets up and begins to pace back and forth, his voice echoing heavily against the walls the more it raised. “Seeing you again just reminds me of what I lost before it was even mine.”

“I’m so sorry Matthew, I really am.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, as he walked over to me. His frame towered over mine as my back hit the fridge. “I should’ve known that I was still in love with Noah…”

He looked down at me and sighed, “trying to start something with you was a gamble in the first place. I should’ve known better, I’m sorry.”

I took a brave step forward, gently touching his face as he avoided my gaze. His jaw unclenched as he began to relax under my touch. His somber eyes eventually locked with mine as I sent him a soft smile he couldn’t return. It was killing me that he was hurting this much and I was the reason. If I could go back in time I would’ve never crossed that line with him. It was so selfish and he didn’t deserve that.  

“I hope you know I’ll always love you, just not how you want me to.”

“I can accept that.“ He breathed, almost in relief, “I spent the last couple months trying so hard to hate you, but I couldn’t. No matter how badly I wanted to.”

“Wow and hating comes so naturally to you.” I softly laughed, removing my hand from his face and onto his chest. “I’m glad you don’t hate me because I miss my best friend.”

And for the first time in months, I saw him smile at me, “I miss mine too.”

I returned his smile and gently kissed his cheek before he pulled me into a hug. He wrapped his arms tight around me, showing no signs of letting go as we stood here in comfortable silence. 

“Also super rude of you to block my number.”

“I got a new number. I had a date turn into a stalker.” He replied still holding onto me, almost tighter as if he was giving me some kind of reassurance. “I’m sorry you thought I did that.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

I froze, feeling Matt let go of me so quickly as we realized Noah was standing there. His dark stare was burning a hole through me, making my eyes begin to well up with tears. 

“Noah, it’s nothing - “ “Upstairs. Now.”

He never gave me a second to respond, he was already gone and headed towards the stairs. I turned to Matt, almost terrified of what was next. He gave my arm another squeeze before I left the room, not knowing what I was about to walk into.

[fictionkinfessions]

did you know i was her?

is that why you said that? is that why you compared us? did you see it in the dreams she gave me that were closed off to my waking mind? did you see it and never tell me, or were you hoping i’d remember? were you hoping she’d hear you and show me? you would’ve known what would happen if you’d told me. you would’ve known if it changed anything. i had these feelings i didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, every time i woke up. i thought something was wrong with me. could you have just… told me? warned me? let me choose for myself?

i’d say, oh, this must be how everyone else felt about me. but now i know it’s not. yeah, it’s hard knowing a mind reader. but if i kept their secrets, gained their trust, they knew we could be on equal footing. i could never be on equal footing with you if you were hiding that from me. things about my own mind. and sure, yeah, equal footing is a bit of a stretch when we’re talking about someone who can see so much more of the future but fuck at least maybe i could’ve understood why i wanted that equal footing so bad. maybe i could’ve known why it was so important. processed it all for myself.

was it shame? were you afraid i’d remember everything you did to her? or that she’d show me? let me remember one of her warnings for once? did you think i’d see the red flags and run? you out of everyone should’ve known, i was way too stubborn for that. you saw it. yeah, i “turned on you” but do you really understand just how much it took for that to happen? i don’t think you could’ve understood back then. you were so far gone, you didn’t even see the gravity of what you were doing. but now. do you ever think about it? do you think about me? i can’t imagine you don’t. what do you think of first? what do you feel? do you understand yet?

but maybe you didn’t even know. maybe you never knew. or maybe you figured it out, towards the end. maybe that’s what made it click, that i wasn’t fucking letting you keep going like that. i couldn’t. no matter how many terrible things i’d let happen up to that point.

maybe you started to wonder. maybe then. maybe now. maybe you want to ask me if i was her the same way i want to ask you if you knew. maybe it nags at the back of your mind, but you can’t make yourself face the possibility. it took me almost two years here to see it. or, i don’t know, admit it, i guess. maybe it’s the same for you. maybe it’ll occur to you one day down the road. maybe you’ll wonder.

i’d do anything to ask you but i don’t know if i want you in my life. if i can risk it. one of my only friends is another one of you, and i hate the way i feel when i see his messages. he may be one of the only people to ever even try to get to really know me but i still don’t like wanting his approval. it’s hard for me. i’ve repressed so much of what i remember of you. i’m trying to remember it, finally taking the steps to trigger new memories, push past the barriers i put up two years ago. i need to understand what i saw. what i knew. why i did what i did.

i wish i understood you again, but i’m not sure i ever really did. not like she did.

if she ever did.

🐸

[chibigingi]

Reviving the Dormant Seed

Chapter Fifteen: The Curious Case of the Phantom Memory

In which the prospect of a phantom memory has both Emmrich and Rook stumped, as well as an emergency infusion takes place…

Read the full chapter here...

And now, a sneak preview...

“What should we do…?” He parroted the question back, as though saying it aloud would help inspire an idea or provide an answer. He seemed lost. A frightening prospect, as this was a matter that was well outside of Rook’s expertise. If he didn’t know what to do, who possibly could? “I’ll need to consult with Manfred once the others return… it’s mostly which method Lord Ragnivald intends to use to resurrect Taash that will determine what must be done to prevent it.”

“There’s other ways? Besides the method you just mentioned?”

In a way, she should’ve known better. It’d be like asking if there were more than one way to steal a coin purse or how many different cheeses one could make. Of course she suspected there were other methods of resurrection to consider, but given the Mourn Watch’s strict rules, she just assumed that other methods were banned outright.

The look he gave her nearly had her reeling, but, as always, he was so patient and polite about it, even when he might’ve questioned his own judgment in falling head over heels in love with an outsider to Nevarra. “Plenty of ways, but none of which would work considering the fact that Taash isn’t dead. They could try, but whatever they’d bring back won’t be the one they want…”

His expression darkened, as if a terrible thought snuck through. One so terrible he couldn’t keep it to himself, as he spoke in a haunted tone. “Unless, that is what he wants…”

“You lost me.”

She could tell he was winding up for what was going to be a lengthy explanation, likely gathering all the information he needed to provide a satisfactory answer, but Clover’s insistent whining forced his gaze onto the Mabari and then back to Rook. She must’ve looked horrible for Emmrich to gently but firmly push Thistle off of his lap so that he could approach her once more, as well as for him to completely ignore her weak protests entirely. “I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not,” he said in a sharp tone, likely meant to silence her protests as he once again called upon his magic. The familiar green light returned to those hands and the air around them took on a soothing hue, the gentle hum emanating from deep within his skeletal structure filling not only the air around him but resonating deep within Rook’s as well as he waved his hands over her form, slow and deliberate. His eyes were a brilliant green, no doubt reflecting the veilfire behind the glamor; she could feel his gaze moving about her, never in an invasive or intrusive way, but it did make her skin crawl just a bit. What did she look like to him, she wondered, her mind drifting before he reined her back in with what felt like a completely mundane question. “When did you last eat, my love?”

“This morning… just toast, though. Bluebell got to the eggs and porridge.”

“Of course she did. Did you eat dinner the night before?”

“Yes.” Not that she could remember what it was. Fish. Some kind of fish that the twins or Manfred bought from Arlathan City. There were vegetables to go along with it, but she couldn’t remember which ones or what the dish was called. It didn’t last long on her plate for her to remember. She felt her stomach growling, its slumber ruined, but it wasn’t enough to combat the exhaustion gnawing at her insides. How, she wondered, failing to suppress a yawn and almost missing Emmrich’s deepening scowl as she nearly slumped over before catching herself on the slab’s edge. “I’m sorry, Emmrich… I’m just so tired, and I don’t know why… I slept throughout the night, but…”

She remembered the dream and the panic that ensued once she and Ren realized it. How could she have possibly forgotten such a thing? Even with everything that happened that morning during the meeting, how could she have forgotten all about it until that very moment? She straightened up and was ready to tell him, but the mere act of raising her head did her in.

The room spun around her. Little black dots danced just at the far edges of her vision and darkness threatened to close in on her. Despite being directly in front of her, well within arm’s reach, Emmrich seemed to be drifting backwards, further and further away… his voice was muffled, but not impossible to hear. He was calling out to her, asking if she was alright, to stay with him… a strange request as she was certain that he was the one drifting away. Or maybe she was, despite the marble slab not moving an inch beneath her. She glanced down, half expecting to find herself and her new boat adrift at sea, but in doing so, the darkness that had been slowly creeping up on her suddenly closed its jaws around her, swallowing her whole and casting her into the impenetrable night.

[kaorisun]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (3)

pairing : blade x reader

tags : hurt no comfort, angst, canon divergence

word count : 4.88k

chapters : one • two • three

crossposted to : AO3

Summary : “Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.

“Immortality.”

or

The full story.

Yanqing wears his heart on his sleeve.

Given this fact, you truly should’ve figured that Jing Yuan would know exactly who had taken his diary upon discovering it missing.

However, this thought doesn’t cross your mind, so when Jing Yuan arrives at the clinic that night to search for his young apprentice, you’re terribly startled.

Yanqing, who’d been carefully showing you the fruits of his training inside the clinic, drops his sword with a clatter, gasping upon seeing the General appear at the door.

“It wasn’t me!” he yelps indignantly. Jing Yuan gives the boy an amused look.

“Oh? I haven’t even mentioned what I’m here for. How did you know I’d accuse you?” the General questions. Yanqing deflates, having exposed himself and his guilt without the man having to do so much as lift a finger. You reach out towards Yanqing, wanting to defend the boy from any potential ire or anger.

All things considered, he’d done it for your sake. You wouldn’t let him take the blame for such a kindhearted action.

Bailu beats you to it first. Grabbing the journal from her desk, she tosses it to the General. The man catches it with one hand before looking at her curiously.

“Take it. I already read through all of it. I have a good memory. I’ll tell them the stories myself, whether you agree with it or not,” Bailu insists, turning away in annoyance. Unexpectedly, instead of disagreement or disdain, Jing Yuan chuckles and shakes his head.

“I think you’re mistaken. I didn’t come here to scold anyone or take this back. Actually, I commend Yanqing for taking a stand against me and remaining firm in his belief that you had the right to know,” Jing Yuan says with a small smile. Yanqing lets out a relieved sigh before picking up his sword, migrating to the edge of your bed to seat himself.

You tilt your head in confusion. “Why aren’t you upset?”

Jing Yuan suddenly looks sheepish, reaching back to rub his neck. “Actually, I went to the Divination Commission to inquire about this situation. Needless to say, the Master Diviner did not agree with how I handled everything.”

You hum softly, the thought bringing you some comfort. “Did she use the Matrix of Prescience to arrive at that answer?” you ask.

“Actually….” Jing Yuan trails off as he averts his gaze. Bailu pipes up with an amused huff.

“Fu Xuan scolded you, didn’t she?” she interrogates. The General sighs softly before confirming the healer’s suspicions with a small nod.

“Well, what she said, and I quote, ‘despite having the title Divine Foresight, you spend no time thinking about the consequences of your decisions. I don't even need a third eye to see why that’s wrong. Your apprentice has more of a head than you do,’ or something along those lines,” Jing Yuan recounts with a guilty expression.

“I’m glad someone got it through that thick skull of yours, General. The memories are a precious thing to the Vidyadhara race. I can hardly believe you hid so much myself,” Bailu chastises, crossing her arms.

“I know, I know. I realize my mistake,” he starts, walking over to you and sitting beside Yanqing on the edge of the bed. “I'm glad my nosy apprentice told you everything. I thought I was protecting you by keeping everything a secret, but I only caused you more stress in the end.”

You offer a gentle smile. “I went along with it without a fuss because I trusted you. It hurt, but I figured you wouldn’t hide things without reason.”

“And even knowing that I’ve been shielding you from something painful, you still want the truth?” the man asks, the worry clear in his expression. You meet his gaze and nod.

“Yes. Learning the truth is allowing me to feel more and more complete. Even if it’s upsetting, I need to know,” you insist. Jing Yuan chuckles.

“Even without your memories, you’re just as headstrong as you were back then,” he muses. “In that case, I’ll take responsibility, and I’ll be the one to deliver the truth to you.”

“At a later date,” Bailu interjects before Jing Yuan can flip open his diary to the relevant pages. “Save any new stories for tomorrow. I don’t want to strain them further.”

“Strain..?” the General mumbles. You quickly pipe in to clarify.

“Ren… I remembered my first meeting with him. I remembered loving him. But… everything else is still foggy,” you explain.

“But that was enough to make you faint! Lady Bailu is right. We should wait,” Yanqing adds. Jing Yuan looks at you and ruffles your hair affectionately.

“In that case, tomorrow. After our duties, I’ll sit down with you and tell you more. Every single day that Bailu allows it, I’ll tell you something new,” he promises. You feel your heart warm, a weight lifted off your chest.

“I’ll hold you to it. I’m sure Yanqing will, as well. Every day…” you murmur, a small grin making its way onto your face at the thought of finally securing a way to retrieve all of what you’d lost.

Soon, you’ll have all of the pieces of your past life. Once you do, you’ll finally know everything that transpired that led you to where you are now.

As excited as you are, you can’t help but feel a sense of dread.

There’s bound to be many joyous tales from your past, but the story of heartache and loss looms over you. It reminds you that, as happy as things may be, you have to prepare yourself to accept the pain and suffering of your previous life.

You can only hope that it’s something you’ll be able to handle when the time comes.

Dusk turns to dawn, and the sun rises on a new day.

True to his word, Jing Yuan begins visiting you in the evenings at the clinic to tell you new anecdotes from your past. Filling your head with stories that feel familiar— nostalgic, he tells tales each night until your head aches, a sign that you’ve taken in enough for the day.

The General helps you recall your first meeting with him— introduced as mutual friends of Imbibitor Lunae. You slowly remember the way you would watch the two spar, happy to clean up any wounds that came as a result.

Beyond that, Jing Yuan even shares how he’d been the one to push Lunae to introduce Ren to you, having always thought that you’d be a good influence on the man. Lunae agreed, and the General had considered it a personal victory.

However, he speaks of the way you fought alongside him in battle. This fact has you curious, having always assumed you were nothing but a healer.

Jing Yuan clarifies that you were a healer, and you once took up a sword to fight against the Denizens of Abundance precisely because of that reason. Each battle he recounts has your hands ghosting over areas where you swear you feel a slight pin prick of pain.

The General mentions that each place you touch is a place where your skin had once scarred over with wounds from each fight. It makes you smile— it seems the body truly never forgets.

Days continue to pass, and with time, your mind becomes less and less fractured. With each new tale, you grow more and more sure of who you are now and who you once were. Skills you once forgot become second nature once more. Memories return to you sometimes with the assistance of Jing Yuan and Bailu. Others enter your mind naturally, a byproduct of the newfound exposure to your past life.

Bailu notes your increased skill and confidence in healing, recognizing the way you improve as you remember the techniques of your profession. Your heart fills with warmth. You start to feel like yourself again— no longer a wanderer with nothing but shards of the past to their name.

Yet, as elated as you are to make such progress, it’s bittersweet.

You know they’re still deliberately avoiding how it all ended— how your Ren became Blade, the nature of your relationship, anything to do with him. Given that they’ve yet to broach the topic, all of those memories remain locked behind a wall. Unlike other moments, you’re unable to recollect it on your own— likely too heavy a topic to be triggered without help.

A frown appears on your face. You haven’t felt more sound of yourself in ages. Are you still unprepared? Is everyone coddling you once more?

How tragic a topic is the reality of your disappearance to cause them to hold off for this long?

Either way, it fills you with uncertainty and unease. You resolve to ask about it that evening, but it seems you don’t have to, for fate aligns itself at the perfect time.

As the sun begins to fall beneath the horizon, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, and Bailu all approach you, seating you on the bed as they surround you. Their expressions are all terse— hesitant.

You’re about to ask about what’s occurred— unsettled by the tension, but Jing Yuan is the first to speak up, interrupting any thoughts you have.

“You’ve made significant progress with your memory recovery. Bailu has deemed you mentally sound enough to learn of the truth. I’ll tell you everything. Who he was in regards to you, what happened to him… and how it all ended,” the General explains. Your heart flutters in nervousness and anticipation alike.

“Everything…?” you echo. Bailu nods.

“You’ve retained everything else well. I can’t promise that this won’t cause some sort of physical reaction. Much like the first time, it’s likely you’ll experience some pain, but… if we’re right, this should be the last time,” the healer promises with a determined gaze. You smile, feeling comfort in the resolve of those around you.

“Alright. I trust you,” you say. Bailu nods to Jing Yuan, who seats himself beside you as he begins to recount his experience from his memories.

He starts. “There’s one thing I’m certain about. The way you could never tell how Ren felt towards you seems to have stuck. You were the same back then, but I knew— everyone knew that Ren loved you more than anything in this world.”

“For a while, you didn’t realize just how hard Ren had fallen for you. It was incredibly obvious to the rest of us, though. Perhaps… it was because you were always looking away. When he regarded you with nothing but pure adoration, you were inevitably turned in the other direction.”

Ren lets out an affectionate sigh as he looks at you, head propped on his hand as he watches you stare down at your work table in pure concentration. The soft grind of pestle against mortar resounds through the building. Jing Yuan chuckles softly, looking at Ren with a smirk.

“Do you plan on saying anything to them? Or are you determined to long in secrecy for the rest of your life?” he questions, teases slipping off his tongue. Ren narrows his eyes at the man.

“Watch yourself, General,” he retorts. Jing Yuan lets the empty threat slide off him with ease, refusing to back down.

“All you do is sigh and stare in every moment you spend in their presence. Why are you so hesitant?” he asks. Ren glances away towards the herbs and medicines lining the walls— all fruits of your labor.

“They’re dedicated to their craft. They wouldn’t have the time for such frivolity,” he laments. Jing Yuan hums and gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Nonsense. They have plenty of time to spare. I often hear them complaining that they have too much time to Lunae,” Jing Yuan counters. Ren tenses, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I doubt they feel the same affection for me as I do for them,” he mumbles. The General has to hold back from barking out a laugh.

“Please! That’s absolutely absurd. All I hear from you are excuses,” he insists. Before Ren has a chance to retaliate, another voice speaks up.

“The General is right about this, as boastful as he’s acting currently,” Imbibitor Lunae adds in, seating himself at the table with the two. “Both of you have a limited amount of time, Ren. It’d be unwise to waste it wondering if they feel the same.”

“Exactly. Besides, if you hold back on making a move, maybe I will,” Jing Yuan jests with a smirk. Ren shoots up in his seat.

“You will not!” he seethes before rolling his eyes, practically stomping off to retreat to your side. Jing Yuan watches in amusement.

“Do you think he’ll say anything or just sulk as per usual?” he asks. The dragon beside him hums.

“Have more faith in him. You pushed him right where he needed to be pushed. Just observe for now,” Lunae says, and Jing Yuan does so.

“I guess Ren really was at his wits end at that point, and Lunae was able to pick up on it. We watched, and you leapt into his arms after he professed his love. All of us knew it was a matter of time before you ended up together, but seeing it… it was a weight lifted for all of us.

“You two were finally happy.

“For a while after that, things were calm and comforting. Ren came to terms with his short life since you’d be there to spend it with him. I’d never seen anything make him happier than the day you became his, and he, yours.

“Truthfully, I think, that day, he found something worth living for in his relationship with you. Of course, he had the rest of us, but we were all long-life species. In you, he came to understand why life was so precious— why he had to treasure his existence, no matter the length of it.

“Alas, he was still… reckless, but just in the normal, stubborn, and headfast way that he always was. You were always there to scold him for it, but we all could tell it was different. Ren was fighting for his beliefs— no longer careless about his life. He was, in lack of better terms, himself.

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, such tranquility couldn’t last forever.

“Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.

“Immortality.

“It was supposed to be another battle, but the two of them had been taking far longer than usual. Both of us were worried— aware that something was amiss, but afraid to speak it aloud lest we manifest it into reality…”

Jing Yuan watches you pace nervously outside of the hall. From where he leans against the wall, he can see the frenzied fear in your eyes as you look out in the distance every few minutes, hoping to see Lunae and Ren in the horizon.

The General is equally as concerned, but he knows that he must remain grounded to keep you sane.

“Imbibitor Lunae and Ren are both capable warriors. I’m sure that they’re fine. They’re probably just falling behind,” Jing Yuan reasons. You shake your head in disagreement.

“It’s been weeks. That’s not normal. The last time it took this long, someone—” you cut yourself off, flinching. The man’s expression becomes grim. He knows you’re right— that your worry is not unwarranted.

Neither of you wanted to be “too late” again.

Walking up beside you, Jing Yuan nudges you gently.

“Let’s head out. We’ll find them ourselves,” the General assures. You offer a wry smile and nod, but before either of you can make a move, another voice interjects.

“No need. We’ve returned,” Lunae says as he approaches with Ren by his side. Jing Yuan can see your excitement, but then watches as you freeze, expression falling as you look at Ren. The General notices what you do, too.

It isn’t uncommon to return from prolonged battles covered in blood, tattered with memories of the ongoing war. However, Ren seems far too pristine to have just returned from a battlefield. He’s glowing in a way that seems… unnatural.

Your eyes shift to Imbibitor Lunae, and suddenly your eyes are cold— distant.

“I think you caught something in his mannerisms that I couldn’t. You saw something that I couldn’t see, quickly catching on that something was inherently wrong— that they were hiding something.”

“What happened?” you ask, a seriousness in your tone that felt incredibly off-putting, given that you were referring to your lover and close friend. Instead of a response, Ren reaches towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace as if his life depended on it.

You pause, carefully wrapping your arms around Ren, running fingers through his hair as you repeat your earlier question.

“What happened?” you inquire, almost pleading now. Ren stills in your arms, silently burying his face in your neck. You frown, looking to Lunae once more for answers. Jing Yuan doesn’t move from his spot, either, trying to make sense of what it is you’re picking up on.

Eventually, beneath your persistent gaze, Lunae cracks.

“Ren nearly died on the battlefield,” he admits. You tighten your grip on your lover, eyes wide with a shock that Jing Yuan mirrors.

“He looks perfectly fine… he’s walking on his own two feet, and there isn’t a trace of blood on him…” you note in disbelief. Imbibitor Lunae looks away, seeming guilty in the way his eyes fall.

“I know. That’s because I…” Imbibitor Lunae goes quiet, unable to bring himself to finish his thought. Jing Yuan narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest as he looks at the other.

“You what?” the General interrogates. However, the dragon doesn’t spare him a glance, instead looking to you with something that makes your eyes fill with fury. Before he can raise questions, you’re quick to clarify.

“You made him immortal? Why would you do such a grievous thing?!” you snap, forcefully separating yourself from your lover. Ren reaches for you desperately, but you take a step back. Jing Yuan easily recognizes the look of betrayal on your face.

“I can explain—” Ren starts, but you cut him off harshly.

“What is there to explain here?! I’ve treated the Mara-Struck— victims of the Sanctus Medicus, and you want to explain? I’m a healer and even I’m aware that immortality isn’t a remedy of any sort! It’s a venom! A curse!” you yell, eyes brimming with tears. Jing Yuan remains mute, unable to understand why anyone would resort to such a taboo method for any reason, especially given all that they’d witnessed together.

“Please, calm yourself and allow us to talk this o—” Before Lunae can finish his thought, you interrupt.

“Calm myself? Imbibitor Lunae, have you forgotten that I’m dying? In a few decades, I’ll be gone! Ren no longer has the mercy of dying by my side! He’ll have to witness everything!” you cry out, voice cracking as tears slip down your cheeks.

“He’ll endure so much suffering, and he’ll never be able to die…” you whisper, finally gathering enough strength to meet Ren’s gaze. “You promised.”

Ren is quick to scoop you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I also promised to return to you. We’re both here now. That must count for something. Without immortality, I wouldn’t have returned to greet you again— to hold you again. And immortality doesn’t change a thing. I still plan to remain by your side for eternity,” he promises softly. You look up at him, an unfathomable sadness in your eyes.

Briefly, Jing Yuan catches you glancing at Lunae. There’s a wordless exchange in the expression you share with the Vidyadhara. The General has no idea what it is that you both say, but it’s enough because soon you’re releasing a defeated sigh.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Ren,” you say softly. Ren smiles, leaning down to kiss you gently. You reciprocate for a moment before pulling away, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of his presence.

Despite everything, Jing Yuan can tell that it isn’t something you’d ever move on from.

“You never brought up Ren’s immortality of your own accord ever again after that day. If it came up in conversation, you always excused yourself to be alone for a while.

“There was a time that I confronted you about it, though. I knew it was forbidden, but I needed to know what was going through your head. Honestly, I don’t think I could ever forget what you said to me that day.”

“Why wouldn’t I be upset, Jing Yuan?” you start, head in hands as you shut your eyes tight.

“There will come a time where Ren suffers unimaginable pain, and I won’t be there to help him. There will come a day where myself, Imbibitor Lunae, and even you aren’t there to support him through his suffering,” you explain. The General pauses, not having thought that far into the future.

You continue in his silence. “My death is just the start. I don’t think Ren understands how much of a tragedy that is. Soon, we will all leave him, and he’ll come to understand that death is far more merciful than being the last person left alive of all those you’ve grown to love.”

You frown and walk off, your words weighing heavily in Jing Yuan’s heart.

“I grew to understand exactly how right you were in your assumption as the years passed. When you faded away and crumbled— I witnessed firsthand how cruel his affliction was.

“Ren knew he couldn’t live without seeing you once more, I don’t think he ever thought about the inevitable day where he’d have to learn to live without you entirely.

“The day you disappeared… I could tell everything weighed heavily on your mind. In the face of your inevitable demise, you still worried for Ren.”

Jing Yuan lets out a soft sigh, watching Lunae and Ren leave for their duties. Glancing back to you on the bed, he tilts his head.

“You looked like you had more to say back then. Something else on your mind?” he asks as he seats himself on the edge of your bed. You look at him, a serious look in your eyes.

“I promise that, one day, I will find my way back to you all. One day, I’ll return, so Ren won’t have to suffer on his own,” you swear. Jing Yuan offers a sympathetic smile.

“Unless you’re a Vidyadhara, reincarnation is just a legend,” he mentions. You don’t respond, instead humming in acknowledgement to the General’s statement.

“Of course, I didn’t know you were one back then, but what I did know is that you were incredibly firm in your desire. Either way, I’d brushed it off.

“I left the room to make your medicine, but you had disappeared when I returned. Only then did I realize… that promise was your last wish— your final resolve.”

Jing Yuan continues his explanation, telling you the results of your disappearance.

Ren was never the same. He spent countless hours looking for you— searching for a body, but you’d vanished completely, much like the Mara-Struck who faded into nothingness. From that day forth, Ren’s mind fractured and he grew resentful of his curse.

As you predicted, the rest of your group slowly began to die out, your lover forced to suffer through each and every one knowing he’d never be granted the same reprieve.

Then came time for Imbibitor Lunae to pass and reincarnate.

“After Lunae died, Ren disappeared entirely, his mind shattered beyond repair— a shell of who he once was. Losing his bosom friend was the final straw.

“I tried to search for him, but he’d vanished from the Xianzhou Alliance entirely. I figured he didn’t want to be found, so I was forced to move on lest I suffered the same fate:

“Lost in our past without direction or will to live.”

Jing Yuan sighs as he finishes the story, shaking his head. “I thought it all a distant memory, then I saw you again on the Luofu as Bailu’s assistant. You looked the same way you did back then.���

“At first, I thought you just looked similar, but then I saw the horns and tail and I knew— you’d found your way back as promised, and you were a Vidyadhara. I’m sure I acted strange when we first met, but I was trying to confirm that it was really you,” he admits.

The memory of that day rushes to the forefront of your mind. The Arbitor-General had followed you and Bailu back to the clinic. His eyes were trained on your tail, watching the way it swayed as you worked before his gaze settled on your horns.

Jing Yuan had carefully observed you as you made medicine at Bailu’s work table, humming a tune that you’d heard from earlier in the day. It startled you how attentive he was being, but now it made sense.

“I confirmed it through your mannerisms and habits. I saw the way you carefully healed others. Then, you expressed familiarity towards me and that sealed it. Unfortunately, I knew you were without your memories.

“I had been keeping tabs on Blade since he appeared on the IPC’s most wanted list, and I vowed to protect you from him. If he saw you and you didn’t remember him, I had a feeling it wouldn’t go well,” Jing Yuan says, frowning.

“I thought protecting you meant guarding you from the truth so you never had to learn of the tragedy that became of your past lover, but I know now that you have to make this choice yourself. By deliberately concealing this, I’ve already hurt you enough,” he finishes softly, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You remain silent and still, staring blankly ahead. From the corner of your eye, Bailu frowns.

“Are you alright?” she asks, preparing for any sort of pain that might occur as a result of everything.

Instead, tears begin to slip down your cheeks, dripping down onto your hands as you grip your robes tightly in your lap. Smiling sadly, you blink rapidly in an attempt to clear your vision of the glistening drops.

Jing Yuan is the first to react, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away your tears gently as you sniffle softly.

“What’s the matter?” the General questions, concern etched into his features. You shake your head, words caught in your throat.

Everything in your mind is clicking into place, pieces falling and fitting together.

Ah, of course. I promised this so long ago, your mind echoes. I said that I’d return— that I’d remember— so I could make it back to you and protect you from the curse you fell into.

Your shoulders shake as you begin to sob. The General pulls you into a tight embrace, Yanqing leaning against your side in an attempt to provide comfort as well.

You usually never remember any last reincarnations as a Vidyadhara. Memory is a spectrum for your kind, and you always ebbed on the side of starting with an entirely clean slate. It’s why you were so certain you’d die when you left to be born again.

You wouldn’t take any memories of your past with you, and you wouldn’t recall them.

Except, this time you did.

Dying and rebirthing with such a strong resolve meant that, since you awoke in this new life, you’ve always felt that something was missing.

Now, you know what it is.

But it’s too late, isn’t it?

You bury your face in Jing Yuan’s shoulder as you cry, mourning the past you lost, and the lover you abandoned in this world.

If Blade’s mind fractured so long ago, do you even hold a place in his memories anymore?

Is there anything you could do in your current state to help him?

Or was all of this remembrance for naught?

For this, you had no answer.

Hidden away somewhere in the Luofu, a woman observes a man from afar.

Kafka recognizes the distant expression Blade wears as he stares out at the scenery and passing Starskriffs. It’s vulnerable— longing— one that he only wears when he thinks no one is watching.

However, her attention is diverted elsewhere when her phone vibrates with an incoming text. Glancing down at the device, she smirks as she reads the message.

Kafka. Plans have changed. Blade’s initial wish will be granted.

The woman raises a brow in amusement, typing and replying to his message with a teasing response.

Even we aren’t capable of necromancy, Elio.

Instead of commenting on her witty remarks, he merely sends back a simple text which serves as enough of an explanation for Kafka.

The Vidyadhara has remembered themself, thus returning to who they once were.

Await new instructions.

The woman looks back up at Blade, smirking as she pockets her phone.

What new side of him will she be able to witness? What sort of expression will he have when Elio surprises him with this?

Kafka can’t wait to see how this story plays out.

tag rqs : @ceylestia - @thetwinkims - @astralsity - @kaminari-no-ritsusha - @jotaro-souped

[enchxanting]

our love is god [ethan landry]

read part 2 here || all parts

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: nothing yet but this fic is heathers-inspired, so be warned for the future.

author's note: hi guys, long time lurker first time poster. this is my first time WRITING fic so feel free to leave any critique. also i don't know if i did the cut right lol i have a lot planned and hope you like!

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Dear Diary,

I should’ve never let Mindy convince me to start this operation. 

Sure, it’s nice to have a steady cash flow, but nothing is more aggravating than everyone and their mother asking for doctor’s notes, report cards, prescriptions, and absence notes when I’m just trying to make it to fourth-period math. When I was ten, I expected to use my Nancy-Drew-inspired skills to unearth hidden staircases or find whistling statues, not help someone’s checked-out mom get a Xanax. 

Yet I forged three (3) permission slips today. Why? Because, next to mysteries, I love the sweet smell of cash in the morning. Yesterday, I added $150 to the rainy day fund. Hopefully, when the weather’s right, I'll be inspired to buy a car and ditch Woodsboro. This town is fucked, alright. Just ask Chad, Mindy, Sam, or–

“Tara! Jesus Christ!” I rub my leg where her sneaker connected. “What’s your damage?”

“Are you done, Shakespeare? You said you’d get lunch with me like, fifteen minutes ago.”

Tara isn’t so great with patience. But, again, I am not so great at keeping track of time. “Yeah, whatever,” I say. “Let’s go see what they’ve cooked up for us today.”

I follow her through the winding path of tables, chairs, and teenage bodies. As we go, I collect bills from outstretched hands and replace them with papers of varying sizes. Tara turns to smirk at me. “What was the event this time?”

“Oh, you know. It’s report card season, and this school is not known for its stellar GPAs.”

“We just have you to thank for keeping it floating below a 3.0,” she teases. “Tell me, Y/N. Does all that extra brainpower of yours get used up matching the way people dot their i’s and cross their t’s?”

I roll my eyes at her. “Sure, Tara. Let’s just get some lunch. I’m seriously starving.”

We grab trays and join the line, aimlessly chattering about the day. Tara’s been my friend since the beginning of the year when I was the only new kid in a town struck by tragedy. We were the only new buyers in Woodsboro over the summer. The rest are still empty, the memory of last year’s Ghostface attacks having driven out long-time residents.

What’s surprising, though, is that the so-called “Woodsboro Four” are still here. Sure, Sam, Tara, Mindy, and Chad mostly stick together, but despite the terrible tragedy that they witnessed, they let me and Annika, Mindy’s current girlfriend, into their lives. I could never measure up to that. I’m just glad they want to be my friend.

I’m taken out of my musings on friendship when I feel someone’s eyes on my back. Without turning around, I recite my usual speech. “$5 for report cards, $10 for prescriptions and absence notes, and an extra $5 for rush fees.”

“Woah, um, tempting, but I’m not looking for any forgery.”

Confused, I turn around to put a face to an unfamiliar voice. The guy’s tall, almost as tall as Chad, with curly brown hair and brown eyes that widen when I meet them. “Sorry, I was just going to get my lunch, but you dropped some cash back here.”

For some reason, my voice is not working. All I can do is look up at him, suddenly captivated by how shy he seems to be. When I pause for a few moments too long, Tara reaches around and takes the money from his hand. “Uh, thanks. I’m sure my friend here appreciates it. Usually she’s more talkative.”

“Oh, god, yeah, sorry,” I finally get out, stumbling over my words. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Suddenly, I think he remembers to be bashful and walks away without another word.

When he’s gone, Tara laughs. “God, Y/N, drool much? I’ve never seen you like that before.”

I flush red. “Whatever, Tara, you’re the worst.” I give her a playful shove and walk off to buy my lunch. I hand the money to the cashier, but all I can think about are those big, brown eyes, and I know I’m fucked.