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a-little-lazy-cookie · 3 months ago

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Hello! If that's not too much to ask, may I request drabbles/hcs/short oneshots about how Luchino (survivor) and Victor (separately) would react and then act upon learning that reader's former friend arrived into the Manor (maybe even which exact words would they say when (or if) they confront the person)? Former, because they actually traumatized reader with their constant manipulations, insults and emotional rollercoasters. Reader may have vaguely told Victor and Luchino about their story with their ex friend before their arrival, but when reader saw their bully in the Manor as a new survivor, they quickly went back into their room and broke down crying, and ended up telling everything in details when their concerned partner came to comfort them. If that's something you are not comfortable writing, you may change that to that their former friend betrayed the reader or screwed them over in some other ways ^^'

No Rest for the Wicked

Tag: Luchino (sur) x reader, Victor x reader, Ann x reader (platonic), Gender Neutral Reader Warning: Trauma, Bullying, Angst & Healing, Karma, grammar & spelling

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Professor - Luchino Diruse

Luchino has always been patient with you.

When you first told him vaguely about your ex-friend and what they had done to you, he hadn’t pried. If you wanted to share, you would. If you didn’t, he would respect that.

But then they arrived at the Manor. And even after all this time, they still knew exactly where to strike. Exactly how to twist the knife.

"Still the same, aren’t you?"

Just a few words. That was all it ever took.

Even in the safety of your room, you could still hear them. Could still feel them crawling beneath your skin.

Luchino had found you like that.

Kneeling. Trembling. Your breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. And for the first time, you told him everything. Not just vague mentions. Not just hints. But everything.

Luchino listened in silence, his hands resting over his knees as he knelt before you. His fingers twitched,not in impatience, but in restraint.

You could see it in his expression. In the way his usually relaxed gaze had darkened into something unreadable.

Something dangerous.

"They are here?" His voice was calm. Too calm.

Of course, he hadn’t known. He was always buried in his research, lost in his work, dissecting knowledge piece by piece. He had no time for Manor gossip, no interest in the constant arrivals and departures.

You nodded. "I-I can’t be near them, Luchino. I can’t. They." Your breath hitched. "They act like they didn’t do anything. Like it’s all in my head."

Luchino exhaled slowly.

Then, just as carefully, he reached for you.

His hands were large,calloused from years of experimentation and survival. But when they touched your arms, they were nothing but steady, grounding.

"…They will never touch you again." He murmured.

You almost believed him.

──── ♡ ────

You weren’t there the first time Luchino confronted them.

It happened in the library.

Your ex-friend had been chatting with a few of the others, spinning their usual harmless, honeyed words, when Luchino entered the room.

Everything about him was composed, casual.

He didn’t look at them right away. Instead, he perused the bookshelves, claws lightly dragging along the spines of old tomes.

"I hear you are an old acquaintance of… my little one."

Your ex-friend blinked, glanced up and didn't take long before knowing who he prefers to "Oh? Yeah, we used to be close."

Their lips curled into something pleasant, too pleasant. "I don’t know what happened, though. One day they just… cut me off."

Luchino hummed. Pulled a book from the shelf. Flipped through it.

"And you do not know why?"

Your ex-friend scoffed, feigning innocence. "Who knows? People change, I guess."

Luchino closed the book with a soft thud. Then he turned to them.

He was taller than most. Broader. Even in his human form, there was something undeniably inhuman about him, the sharpness of his features, the unnatural grace in his movements, the way his eyes watched people like a predator watches prey.

He took a single step forward. Your ex-friend shifted in their seat. The air suddenly felt heavier.

Luchino tilted his head, voice still impossibly calm. "Do you know what fascinates me about predators?"

Your ex-friend hesitated. "What…?"

Luchino leaned in slightly, just enough that his presence was undeniable. "They do not lie to themselves. They do not pretend to be something they are not. Only humans do that."

His claws lightly grazed their cheek. Not deep enough to bleed, but enough to leave a sharp sting, enough to make them flinch.

The candlelight flickered, casting shadows along his face, accentuating the sharpness of his teeth as his lips curled into something unreadable.

"And I detest liars."

Your ex-friend went rigid. Luchino held their gaze for a long, suffocating moment. Then, just as casually as he had entered, he turned away, book in hand, his steps light and unbothered as he made his way to the door.

Before he left, he paused. Didn’t look back. Didn’t raise his voice. Just spoke.

"Stay away from them."

And then, just as easily as he had arrived, he was gone.

──── ♡ ────

The Manor’s halls were quiet today.

You walked alongside Luchino, steps slow and steady as you shyly told him about your match, still not used to so much of his attention.

Luchino made a sound, something between a hum and a chuckle. His posture relaxed as he listened.

The sound sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Until a figure approached from the opposite direction. Your steps faltered.

Your ex-friend didn’t even glance at you. Not a sneer. Not a smug smirk. Not a single word.

You had expected something,a snide comment, a passive-aggressive remark, something. Turning your head slightly, you watch them disappear down the hall.

"Weird… They didn’t say anything."

Luchino didn’t respond.

You looked up at him, brows furrowing. "Luchino?"

His gaze was locked on the retreating figure, unblinking, unreadable. Pupils had thinned to slits. You caught the way his claws flexed at his sides.

Like a warning.

You swallowed. "You–"

Luchino blinked. His pupils rounded again. He turned his head, looking down at you, his expression shifting back into something easy, something unreadable.

Your heart skipped a beat as Luchino leaned in as you froze. His lips brushed against your temple, soft, lingering.

"You were saying?" He murmured, voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an edge of something unspoken.

You barely registered your own breath hitching. Fingers instinctively lifted, brushing over the spot where he kissed you, warmth spreading from the simple gesture.

Luchino chuckled, low and deep, as his gaze flickered over your flustered expression.

For all his sharp edges and predatory nature… he had never once made you feel like prey

Postman - Victor Grantz

Your ex-friend was good at pretending.

The moment they arrived at the Manor, they played the victim, painting themselves as someone who had grown, someone who had changed. They were charming, polite, and spun their words like silk, so smooth that even the other survivors didn’t notice the cracks.

But then, you noticed Victor.

Or rather, you noticed them watching him.

It frustrated you.

Victor was a good man, too good for his own sake. He never entertained them, never smiled, never encouraged their words, but he never shut them down either. He didn’t push them away the way you wanted.

──── ♡ ────

Dinner is like usual, the survivors chatting amongst themselves, the usual low hum of conversation filling the grand dining hall. You sat beside Victor, sharing a plate of bread, his fingers lightly brushing against yours whenever he passed you a piece.

"I was so worried about being here at first." The sound of them startled you as they said. "But then I saw you, Victor."

You stiffened.

Victor, who had been quietly eating his meal, blinked in surprise.

Your ex-friend smiled, sweet and sharp. "You’re just so… safe. So warm. So trustworthy."

Something inside you twisted.

They were doing it again. Wrapping their words in silk and sympathy, playing innocent while sharpening their knife.

"I can’t imagine how hard it must be." They continued, sighing softly. "Being surrounded by people who don’t appreciate you. Who take advantage of your kindness. Who pretend to be something they’re not."

And then, with a perfectly timed glance in your direction,

"Some people just don’t deserve the chances they’re given."

The words hit like a slap, even though they weren’t directed at you outright. But they didn’t need to be. The message was clear.

Even Victor takes the hint and sets his fork down.

Your ex-friend smiled, sensing victory. "I just worry, you know? That you’re wasting your time on people who don’t actually care about you. I mean, you’re such a good person, Victor. You should be careful. Some people only–"

And then, for the first time, he turned his full attention to them.

"Enough."

His voice was soft. Barely more than a whisper. But the sheer weight behind it made the air in the room shift.

Your ex-friend blinked. "Pardon?"

He set his fork down, hands folding neatly in his lap. Then, in that soft, steady voice of his, he spoke.

"That’s not true."

The words were simple. Quiet.

But the way the room stilled made it feel like he had shouted. "Did Victor just talk?" Someone whispered. "Well this is interesting." Another one.

Your ex-friend blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Victor’s gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t fidget like he usually did, didn’t shrink back under their attention.

"They’ve never used me."

He continued, softer now, but no less firm. "Even when they need help, they try to handle things alone. They think of everyone else first, even when no one notices. Even when no one thanks them."

His fingers lightly traced the edge of his plate as he continued, voice growing softer, but no less certain.

Your ex-friend scoffed. "Okay, but that doesn’t–"

"They help Wick put on his scarf when it’s too cold." Victor cut in, voice a little firmer now. "They make tea for Emily when she forgets to take a break. They listen when Luca talks about his inventions, even when they don’t understand a word of it."

"They always know when someone’s feeling down. They–" He hesitated, swallowing, then pushed forward with a blush. "--they even leave little notes for me when I’m nervous about a match."

The table was silent.

Even Naib, who never seemed fazed by anything, had stopped eating mid-bite.

Victor, realizing that every single person in the room was now staring at him, suddenly went very red. He quickly looked down at his lap, ears burning.

A tense pause.

Then, from across the table, Kevin cleared his throat. "Darn, Victor." He muttered, smirking. "Didn’t think you had it in ya."

A quiet snicker from Norton. A muffled awww from Emma.

Victor groaned, burying his face in his hands.

You, meanwhile, were staring at him, warmth blooming in your chest.

Your ex-friend opened their mouth, expression twisting into something venomous, ready to spit something cruel–

But someone cut in first.

"Well, that’s suspicious."

It was Edgar, barely looking up from his plate, delicately slicing into his meal as if the whole conversation bored him. "You talk so much about them, but I’ve never actually heard them do anything wrong."

"Mm. Never directly say what someone did wrong, just hint at things." Melly added, stirring her tea thoughtfully. "It’s a very particular way of speaking, don't you think?"

The dining hall had gone eerily still.

Your ex-friend gritted their teeth, feeling exposed under so many eyes, let out a huff, and stood up abruptly, storming out of the room without another word.

The tension in the dining hall eased, conversation slowly returning

Lily leaned in, grinning. "So… when’s the wedding?"

Victor choked on his drink, face turning red as he coughed. You chuckled, patting his back as he hurriedly buried his face into your shoulder, too flustered to respond.

Disciple - Ann (platonic)

The letter had no name, no explanation, just a demand:

"Meet me at the chapel."

You knew who had written it. You should have ignored it. But the endless whispers, the lurking glances, the suffocating weight of their presence in the Manor had been gnawing at you since they arrived. They never let you rest. Every time you turned a corner, there they were, waiting, watching, always with that smug look, knowing just how to slip a few well-placed words into your ears, words that would twist in your mind for days, keeping you awake at night.

They hadn’t changed. They never would.

Your hands were shaking as you pushed open the chapel door.

Inside, candlelight flickered against the stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows. It was quiet, almost peaceful, until you saw them standing near the altar, their arms folded, watching you as if you were the one who had done something wrong.

"Finally." They sighed, tilting their head, eyes glinting in the dim light. "You've been avoiding me. That’s not very nice."

You clenched your fists. "What do you want?"

They took a step forward, slow and deliberate, as if you weren’t already one breath away from running. "I just wanted to talk." They said, pressing their hands together like they were about to pray. "I already forgave you, you know. I even prayed for you."

A laugh bubbled up in your throat, sharp and bitter. "Forgave you? After everything you had done? The manipulation, the insults, the cruel games that made I question my own reality?"

They were the one who did this to you.

"You don’t get to say that." You whispered, voice shaking.

Their smirk twisted into something colder. "You always overreact." They said, stepping closer.

You took a step back.

Then they suddenly lunged.

Pain exploded across your cheek as their fist connected, sending you stumbling into the nearest pew. You barely had time to process it before they grabbed your collar and wrenched you forward, fingers curling around your throat.

"You never listen." They snarled, pinning you against the stone wall. "Say you’re sorry. Say you regret it. Say you miss me."

Your lungs burned. Your vision blurred.

Then,

A low, guttural growl filled the chapel.

It was deep, rumbling, something primal that slithered through the air like a warning. The candle flames flickered violently. The air turned heavy, thick with something you couldn’t name.

Your ex-friend’s grip faltered. Their eyes darted over their shoulder.

A shadow stretched along the floor, long and twisting, pooling beneath the pews, creeping toward them.

Then, a figure stepped into the candlelight.

Tall. Unmoving. A black cat curled at her feet, its golden eyes glowing like embers in the dark. The woman’s face was partially obscured by her veil, but even without seeing her fully, you could feel it, the weight of her judgment.

"You dare speak of forgiveness here?" Her voice was soft, yet unyielding, carrying a quiet, bone-deep fury. "In this holy place, when your heart holds no regret?"

Your ex-friend stiffened, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. "I- I don’t know what you mean, "

"Then why are you trembling?"

The shadows moved.

Something shifted beneath the darkness, something alive.

Your ex-friend barely had time to scream before the blackness latched onto their limbs. Their body jerked violently as unseen hands dragged them back, fingers clawing against the stone floor. Their shrieks echoed through the chapel, raw, desperate. "Wait, Please! No ahhh-"

You tried to turn, to see what was happening,

A gloved hand covered your eyes.

"Don't." The voice was quiet, steady. "You don’t need to see this."

Your whole body shook, breaths ragged and uneven. The fingers over your eyes lingered a moment before lowering. The black cat at the woman’s feet brushed against your leg, purring, as if offering comfort.

Your throat ached. "Why…?"

But she only extended a hand, not forceful, not demanding, but offering.

"Let’s get you back."

Your knees buckled. Your vision swam.

The last thing you felt before the world faded was the warmth of a steady arm catching you, and the faintest whisper, laced with something almost… gentle.

"Poor child."

And then, nothing.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Picture: from Identity V official (not me) ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Damn! Who cook this ideas and let it simmer?!

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 4 months ago

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I had a copycat match in Identity v a few hours ago (I was a Detective) and... My god 😭 Why do I get mentally stunned so easily, when I get accused of being a copycat? Why does my social anxiety get better of me in such critical moments?

I was silent for 10 seconds during open discussion, and by that time it was too late to try to defend myself as almost everyone have voted for me, and all I could do was mumble "uuuh where was the body found again?"

I tend to sound EXTREMELY unconvincing, even if I'm telling the truth. When I suddenly get put on the spot like that, my anxiety skyrockets, and I find myself speechless, which, of course, makes me suspicious.

Because of moments such as these, I sometimes feel self-conscious and think that the problem might not be just my anxiety, but plain stupidity and inability to act fast enough. Maybe it's better to not play co-op games at all, even though I actually enjoy playing Identity so far (and yes, even copycat, to some extent).

I just wanna know, whether anyone who reads this can relate to my problems? This may sound silly, but perhaps someone would like to talk about it with me, or maybe just to chat in general? It would be a pleasure to have a conversation with an understanding person who wouldn't be judgmental over this stuff. So... Maybe send me a friends request in the game? I play in Europe & America server, my nickname is I_love_nerds and I have Victor from Sherlock Holmes' collab as my profile picture.

I hope someone would be interested!

(And that it didn't sound whiny and I didn't make too much mistakes while writing this; English is not my native language!)

#identity v #idv #i should and i think i will resume sessions with my therapist next week

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 4 months ago

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Silent Struggles, Steady Hands

Tag: Victor x gn!reader, Frederick x gn!reader, Luchino (survivor) x gn!reader

WARNING: grammar & spelling, injury, trauma, panic attack, hurt/comfort, low self-esteem

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Postman - Victor Grantz

You try to ignore the pain, forcing yourself to focus on decoding, but it’s so hard. The pressure mounts, and with every failed attempt, the fear of disappointing your teammates grows.

A small sound of barking breaks through the tension.

You glance down and see Wick, the adorable dog of your friend, standing there with the letter in her mouth. It must be for the decoding boost.

A sad smile forms on your face as you reach down to pat the dog’s head. She nudges the letter toward you, urging you to take it, but you shake your head gently.

Pushing it gently with your leg, the dog looks up at you with confusion, sensing the heaviness on your face. She hesitates for a moment before trotting away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You try to go back to decoding. Each attempt feels like you're sinking deeper, and the weight of not being able to keep up with everyone else makes it harder to focus.

The cipher blurs in front of you as your thoughts race, and for a moment. You clamp your mouth shut, fighting the wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm you.

You hear the sound of barking again, distant at first but growing louder with each passing second.

Victor's little dog comes back, trotting toward you with surprising determination. The letter, still intact, is gripped firmly in her tiny mouth, but this time, there's something more, a small bundle of flowers, their delicate petals bright against the dullness of the surroundings. The dog’s tail wags excitedly as she approaches, as if proud of her owner offering.

A smile tugs at your lips, despite the weight of everything pressing down on you. You reach down, gently taking the flowers from the dog’s mouth, feeling their softness and the subtle warmth of the gesture.

But the letter… no, that remains untouched. You hesitate for a moment, your fingers brushing against the cool paper before pulling back. Insecure rock high, teetering on the edge, constantly questioning its stability.

"I... I'm thankful, but this should be sent to someone more useful than me."

The little dog doesn't seem content with your words, her tail wagging again as if trying to understand. She turns back the way she came.

The moment of distraction has passed, and you can feel the urgency creeping back in.

The cipher is now 70 percent complete. Every second counts. You can feel the weight of the clock ticking, your teammates are on their last chair, their trust in you hanging by a thread.

The panic starts creeping in again. You want to finish it, you need to finish it, but the pressure, the fear, the nagging feeling–

Bark.

You sigh, your patience worn thin, and turn toward the source of the noise. But then, you freeze. Standing beside the dog is its owner.

He smiles warmly at you, his presence almost immediately calming the frantic energy swirling inside your chest.

"Victor..." You murmur, caught off guard by the unexpected but welcome sight of him.

Without a word, he steps closer to the cipher, his fingers gently brushing over the lines you’ve been working on. His movements are steady and sure, a quiet reassurance that things will be okay. With each adjustment, the cipher seems less daunting, and the tension in your body eases, the shock of earlier no longer making your muscles tense.

Victor stops for a moment, rummaging through his pocket. He pulls out a folded letter and turns toward you, offering it with a soft smile.

You stare at the letter for a moment, a lump forming in your throat. You had almost forgotten about it, buried under the weight of everything else. The same letter the dog had brought, the one you’d turned away not one but two times.

But now, with Victor standing there, his calm presence offering a sense of quiet reassurance, you realize this might be the moment to take some kindness for yourself.

Third time’s the charm, as people always say. He’ll always find a way to deliver his message, with his heart on the line.

Composor - Frederick Kreiburg

In the middle of your musings, you notice that Frederick is staring at you with a slightly perplexed look.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked, his voice filled with concern. "You seem.... distracted." he paused, eyeing you up and down.

You nod slowly, your head trembling slightly.

"I'm fine. Let's just focus on decoding…"

You fail the calibration once more, a frustrated groan slipping from your lips. The adrenaline that had been coursing through you earlier, keeping you sharp and alert, begins to fade. The lingering effects of the chase are slowly draining away, leaving you with nothing but exhaustion.

He took a step closer, his eyes now fixed on you, his expression a mixture of concern and contemplation. "You're hurt.." His eyes flickering over the fresh wounds.

"I said I'm fine—" You snap, but another failed calibration hits. A jolt of electricity from the cipher shakes your fingers, and you grit your teeth, desperate to push through the frustration.

He steps in smoothly, gently swatting your hand away from the cipher. "You're doing it wrong."

You frown at him, your expression hardening as a rush of frustration and old pain bubbles up.

"Wrong?!" You snap, the words sharp and edged with disbelief. "How can it be wrong? I’m following the steps!"

Frederick rolls his eyes at your exasperated outburst, his expression bordering on annoyance. "Yes, wrong."

He takes a step closer, his eyes fixed on the cipher as he examines it, his gaze sharp and precise.

"Too much pressure, too much force." He mutters under his breath, his voice low and calm despite your snapping.

You roll your eyes, the sarcasm dripping from your tone. "You expect people to decode gently and pretty when we're being chased?!" You snap, the words sharp and frustrated.

Frederick's gaze turns to you, his expression hardening at your defiant response.

"No, I expect you to do it efficiently and effectively, not fumble like a panicked and reckless fool." He retorted, his words sharp and biting.

Before you can snap back, he presses a key to demonstrate. "See this? You're choosing the wrong key. If you don't time it right, you’ll get shocked."

With a couple of quick presses, he fixes it, making the system run smoothly again.You watch, dumbfounded as he presses a key effortlessly, his fingers deftly working the machine.

"Now you try."

With a begrudging huff, you focus your attention on the machine, trying to mimic his movements with your own trembling hand.

"Too much hesitation" He critiques, his voice calm and steady. "Be more confident in your movements."

After a moment, he leans in closer, his eyes locking onto your trembling hand.

"Confidence comes from practice and repetition."

He takes your trembling hand in his, surprisingly gently despite his cold demeanor. With a firm touch, he guides it to the key, showing you the correct placement and pressure needed.

"Try again." He instructs, the authority in his tone brooking no argument.

You attempt to mimic his movements again, your hand now guided by his steady grip. He watches closely, observing every minor movement. His eyes scan over your trembling form to the wounds that litter your frame.

Eventually, you get the hang of it. The movements become smoother, more confident, and the cipher is almost prime now. A sense of contentment washes over you as you take a moment to look back at him.

"Much better." He remarks, his voice filled with a hint of approval. "Wait at the gate. I'll prime it." His eyes linger on you for a moment before he turns back to the cipher.

I should thank him later, you think to yourself as you run toward the gate. You can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for his steady presence, even if you’re too caught up in the moment to express it.

Your rhythm’s a tangled mess, but fortunately, as a composer, he knows just how to bring it back into harmony.

Professor - Luchino Diruse

You reach the cipher first, your body screaming in protest with every step. Every movement feels like a battle as you bend over the machine, the sharp, searing pain from your dislocated ankle making it almost impossible to focus.

The match has dragged on for far too long. With only two left, the air is thick with tension. But there’s still one more cipher to decode.

You’ve tried your best, pushing yourself to fight and find a way out, but the others don’t take it seriously.

To them, it’s all a joke, lost to the madness of the game. No matter how many times you try to save them or cover for their mistakes, they keep messing around, laughing like there are no consequences. You’re fighting alone, and with every failed attempt, the weight on you grows heavier.

You want to decode the cipher, you really do. But instead, you find yourself drawn to the corner of the small, cold house, your feet stumbling as you retreat into the shadows.

The harsh noise of the match, the ticking of the cipher machine, all fade away into a muffled blur. You curl up against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around yourself.

Later on, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the small house. Luchino enters, his movements swift, the urgency in his eyes clear. The sight of you stops him in his tracks.

You avert your gaze, feeling a pang of guilt. You know how much the survivors hate it when someone isn’t decoding or doing something useful. Bracing yourself, waiting for the inevitable harsh words.

The last thing you ever expected was for him to come closer, kneeling in front of you. The weight of his presence makes your breath catch in your throat.

"Hey... are you alright?" His voice is warm, softer than you'd expect given the circumstances.

His hand reaches toward you, and instinctively, you flinch, but no pain comes. Hesitantly, you peek your eyes open to see him holding out one of his scales to you.

"Here. You’re gonna need it for later." He says quietly, his voice low but steady. The words hang in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning.

He observes you for a while, his gaze softening as he takes in the quiet exhaustion in your eyes. "You tried your best." He says, the words gentle but carrying an unexpected weight.

The sudden warmth of his recognition breaks something inside you, and before you can stop it, tears start to spill from your eyes.

"I– I don't deserve–" The words break through your tears, but you can't finish the sentence.

"You’ve done enough, and you’ll make it through." He reassured, his words feel like a promise, though they hang heavy in the air.

He wipes away some of your tears, his touch surprisingly gentle. With a soft gesture, he signals for you to be quiet, his eyes scanning the room as if to remind you of the danger still lurking.

After you take the scale, he stands up and returns to the cipher. You watch him for a moment, sitting frozen in the corner, your body tense. Doesn't he know? Decoding the cipher will reveal both of your locations to the hunter.

The heavy sound of footsteps grows louder, each step echoing through the room. Your heart races, the fear tightening in your chest. The hunter is coming closer, and you watch Luchino, standing in position.

For a brief moment, he glances over his shoulder. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a strange, knowing expression in his eyes.

Ping: The dungeon is here!

You widen your eyes in confusion. At the back of the house? But for the dungeon to open, there must be one of you left.

The hunter’s attention shifts immediately, chasing after him into the open. In the chaos, they don’t see you tucked in the corner. A mixture of fear and gratitude rushes over you. You grip the scale tightly, an invisible shield form around you.

Trapped in this madness too long, genius and insanity have fused in his mind. Looking at you reminds him of his last humanity.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Art work: Identity Wiki ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

The ideas is awesome! ❤️ I hope you don't mind me changing the plot a little. I just wanna write some unique sight of how they would react in different circumstances other than just escorting us to the gate. This fic can both read as a slow burn romantic or platonic as you wish.

#yay thank you)

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 4 months ago

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I've started playing Identity V a few days ago; I really like it so far, it's so much fun! I decided to make a tierlist regarding on what would characters from Project: Eden's garden specialize, if they were from a different game, I guess??? Please, feel free to share your opinions, maybe even ideas about their skills! 🌟

#heck yeah I'm interested!#feel free to share your thoughts)#sorry for late response

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 5 months ago

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 5 months ago

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Howdy! So... How about drawing Ulysses... Who's looking really happy? Like, smiling and having a good time? :3 (He deserves the world I love him so much)

a smiling fellow. i like the look of sincerity on him

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 5 months ago

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My Eden's garden tier list :)

#project: edens garden #p:eg #project: eden's garden #just an opinion #originally made in my native language #I decided to post it in English though #i hope i didn't offend anyone!#tier list

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 5 months ago

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I'm in love with the game, and this character in particular 🥺 I wish he was real

#project: edens garden #p:eg #desmond hall #project: eden's garden #i wasnt gonna post anything on Tumblr but...#also im currently writing a little analysis thingy on Desmond #im going to publish it in a few hours

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 2 years ago

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— OCTAVINELLE : twisted wonderland

cw: somebody gets run over by a car

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 2 years ago

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a sparrow in the storm.

summary: though many plucky suitors have tried unsuccessfully to vie for your hand, Jing Yuan has to be the most persistent of them all.

notes: 6.7k words, fic, fluff, lovers to exes to lovers, author's notes

You’ve had many arrogant suitors over the years, but this newest one might be the most arrogant yet.

A row of sumptuous gifts line the entrance to your room, and when you properly step inside, you’re greeted by a spray of flowers: orchids, pink roses, and white lilies, the perfume of which makes you dizzy. You snort as you make your way to your desk, waving your hand to the various servants who are abuzz in your room.

“Get rid of all of them,” you instruct.

“All of them? Are you sure?” one of them questions.

“Yes. I don’t want to see a single petal left in here. Make sure you return all of the gifts, too,” you snap, and they all bow as they rush to carry out your orders.

You sit in your plush desk chair, and it’s only now that you see the red-ribboned, cream-colored letter sitting on your desk. You don’t open it before tossing it aside.

Many people have tried to win your hand over the years, as the sole heir to the alchemy commission. One of your mothers has a noble, storied family line, dating back to the very beginning of the country’s founding, and your other mom is praised as a genius in the alchemical field. It’s no wonder those who want a taste of wealth and power flock to you like flies. You’ve managed to successfully ward all of them off so far, either with flat rejections, threats, or, in the rare case, by matchmaking them with a different prospect.

But your newest suitor, a general? A newly minted nobleman, granted a title for his contribution and victories in the recent war? It’s only been a few days since he’s arrived back in the capital, but he’s been sending you an endless stream of presents since his first day in the city, no matter how many times you return them or burn them in the yard for his slack-jawed couriers to watch. It isn’t just physical presents, like rare silks and flowers, either. It’s reserving your favorite restaurants for you to dine in, all expenses paid, and hiring the most famous musicians to woo you with sweet love songs outside your window.

It’s disgusting, frankly, and every rejection just seems to spur him to try a different approach.

You're no stranger to dalliances, courting your fair share of lovers over the years, starting with a snowy-haired soldier you met in your youth to traveling musicians and merchants. But you were clear to all of them: this would be a passing fling and nothing more, for you had no desire to bind yourself to someone as of yet.

Marriage, after all, is a political game, and you would only enter it once you had a hand that would ensure your success. You would have to marry eventually, but you plan to do so only on your own terms. You want someone who can bring glory and wealth to your house, who wouldn’t try to usurp your position or play games over power, who would be a prudent match, and who’s intelligent enough to keep up with you. Love is not a necessity, but a potential bonus, as you do not often have the habit of mixing business and pleasure.

When you dine with your mothers in the evening, you tell them as such. They are long used to your schemes and strategies, and only smile at you over glasses of wine and plates of tenderly steamed white fish.

“This general courting you should meet your expectations then, no?” your mother poses. “He’s recently been awarded a noble title, and he was clever enough to claim victory against our enemies with minimal loss.”

“And–” Your mom winks at you, nudging your mother. “--He’s handsome. I hear all the eligible girls and boys send him proposals, but he turns them all down. It seems he’s set on someone. I wonder who?”

“Hah.” You spear a piece of marinated cucumber with your chopsticks. “Well, I’ve refused his advances, and I will continue to refuse them.”

“A pity!” your mom groans. “Just when it seems like someone meets your exacting standards. What is it about him, then, my dear child, that you dislike so?”

“I dislike his attitude,” you say bluntly. “And, more to the point, I detest being pressured like this. He doesn’t even have the sincerity to meet me in person, and gives me favors I never asked for. If he is hoping for a love match, then he shall be sorely disappointed.”

“How cold,” your mother says. “But I understand your reasoning. But would it not be prudent to give him a chance? We have never pressured you to get married, as you know, but…”

“But?” You arch an eyebrow.

“What your mother means to say,” your mom interjects, “Is that we want you to be happy! And this could be a good opportunity for you. Your pool of suitors is dwindling, and if you wait too long, you may not have a partner at all.”

“Which is to really say,” your mother says, putting her utensils across her clean bowl, “I will force your hand if you do not make a choice soon, or at least make an effort to. This general meets all of your standards, and an union would be beneficial to all of us. So try to hear him out… or I will make you.”

“Mother, what you’re giving me is the illusion of choice. Will you force me into a marriage against my will? What if I do something drastic? What if he is a foul villain, and you doom me to unhappiness, in your haste to settle a match?”

“Well, that would be most unfortunate for you. But I am your mother, and mothers are allowed to be unfair, no matter how old you are,” your mother says, and your mom tries to hide a laugh as she leans into your mother’s side.

“What’s the name of the general, again?” you say sourly.

“Jing Yuan,” your mother says. “Now, why don’t you try to meet his courier tomorrow? You could stand to learn a little more about him before you cast such hasty judgment.”

—

The next morning, you rose early, pacing around the gardens until the general’s daily present was delivered. If nothing else, he is punctual, sending presents around noon, in between the breakfast and lunch hours. But what would it take to get him off your back? Insult him at the next commission meeting? Hire someone to place a curse upon him and his household? Or march over to his residence and start a commotion, burning something down in the process?

But, no. Your mother has all but threatened you to play nice, and, as loath as you are to admit it, she does make a certain sense about gathering information on him. It is prudent to have knowledge of your enemy if you wish success in battle.

At noon, one of your servants comes to find you. To your surprise, a young boy trails after her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as his head whips around, taking in the sights of your garden, fresh and fully bloomed at this time of year. There’s a sword strapped to his back, and when he sees you, he waves.

Is this part of the general’s plans? Does he really think a cute child would be enough to make you throw yourself at his feet?

Still, you guide the boy to one of the garden’s open-air pavilions, shaded by rose bushes and intricate wooden carvings, pillows cushioning the hardness of the benches. You wave for refreshments to be brought over, chrysanthemum tea and sugar cubes and egg tarts and red bean buns, certain to tempt the appetite of a child. And you are right, for the boy immediately picks up a bun, munching without a care in the world.

“So, what brings you to the chief of the alchemy commission’s residence?” you say mildly.

“I’m Yanqing, and I’m here on behalf of the general. He’s worried because it doesn’t look like you’re happy with any of your presents, and he wants to know why.”

“Ah, I see.” You smile at the boy, whose cheeks are stuffed with pastries. “It’s quite simple. I do not like them.”

“Then what do you like? … is what he said to ask if you said you didn’t like any of your gifts.”

“Anything that doesn’t come from him,” you say bluntly.

“Oh.” Yanqing tilts his head in confusion before his eyes light up, springing up in his seat as he leans forward. “Well, the general is pretty cool, you know! He’s the youngest person in years to be awarded a title! And he’s the reason we won all those battles in the war so quickly! His strategies are genius, and it’s like he knows what the enemy is thinking every time he makes a move… He even trained me! I’m the best with the sword, you know, but the general is stronger than me! So he’s pretty impressive!”

You want to smile at the way Yanqing presents the general, clearly expecting you to be impressed with the general’s credentials. “And what is your relationship with the general? Are you his child?”

“What? No, no, no! Our relationship isn’t like that. I’m just his disciple!” Yanqing flails, waving his hands wildly. “He wouldn’t let relationships distract him on the battlefield! He never even left his tent when the other soldiers went out to town!”

“So he wouldn’t love me if we were in a relationship together?” you ask dryly. “I would just be a distraction?”

“No! He would definitely treat you well! He treats everyone well! That’s why everyone loves him! All the soldiers, and townspeople, and everything!”

“Ah…” Yanqing perks up at your tone. “So he’s a philanderer.” The boy deflates.

“He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t do that! The general would be loyal to you!” Yanqing insists, slamming his fist down on the table for emphasis.

“He sounds like a scoundrel,” you note.

“I promise he’s not!”

“I don’t know, Yanqing. It sounds like he would leave me alone to fight in battles all day, all the while flirting with all his soldiers, and then come home once in a while to assuage his guilt.”

Have you teased the boy too much? He slumps morosely in his seat, poking idly at his egg tart.

“Why don’t you go home for today?” you say gently. You’ve had your fun, and it wouldn’t do to prod at the boy anymore.

“Before I do, is it okay if I give you one more present from the general?” he asks.

“Go ahead,” you say patiently, as Yanqing fumbles in his pocket and takes out a small wooden box. It’s unadorned, and you flip it open cautiously. Inside lies a single knotted tassel with small jade beads. The threads are in your favorite colors, instead of the traditional red.

“He made it himself,” Yanqing explains as you take the tassel in your hand.

The general is skilled, if nothing else. The knot looks like a small, symmetrical flower in your hand, and you finger the clear jade beads.

“I’ll accept it,” you say slowly.

“Really?” Yanqing perks up. “That’s great. He’ll be honored to hear that.”

“Does he have a matching one?” you inquire dryly.

“I think he said he was hoping you would make one for him one day.”

“He might as well wait forever.”

Yanqing pouts, but still remembers to thank you for the food and the courtesy of hosting him before he dashes off.

You end up placing the tassel in one of your desk drawers, hoping Jing Yuan doesn’t read your acceptance of his gift as some sort of positive sign. To you, it’s nothing more than an odd memento from a curious man, and there’s something amusing about the image of a bloodthirsty general painstakingly threading jade beads onto an elaborate tassel.

But your courtship is going to stop at this, if you had any say in the matter.

—

The best defense is a good offense, and the only way to win a battle is to gather knowledge on your enemy. With that reasoning, you send a letter to Yanqing (who doesn’t bother penning a reply before running to your house to inform you he’d be delighted to show you around) and prepare yourself to visit Jing Yuan’s residence.

You go by foot, keeping your clothing plain and simple to dissuade unwanted attention. His residence– gifted to him for his achievements in war– is situated in the northern part of the city, a quiet residential district, away from the hustle and bustle of the city center. You’re not sure what you expect when you arrive: something ostentatious, or enemy heads hung on his gate to ward off visitors, perhaps.

Instead, you’re greeted with a modest wooden building, surrounded by a stone gate, and Yanqing bouncing in front of the entrance.

“Welcome to General Jing Yuan’s home,” Yanqing says formally, though he’s rocking on his heels. “I’m glad you decided to come by today! Are you–”

“No, I’m not going to accept his proposal,” you interject.

“Oh. Well! I’m more than happy to show you around, still! The general was also really happy that you took an interest in him and your future– his home!”

“If an enemy took interest in him, would he also be happy?” you ask.

“Yes, because he’d undoubtedly draw the enemy’s attention on purpose as part of his plan,” Yanqing replies seriously.

“Lovely. What’s on the agenda, Yanqing?”

Yanqing leads you through the gates and into the courtyard, showing you the pond, rows of flowered bushes, the stone pathways, and then the open-air hallways which ring the courtyard. As Yanqing guides you through the building, you note that there are hardly any servants around. Each room is all polished wood and fresh sunlight, with minimum furnishings, save for a flower arrangement or a tasteful painting.

The last stop on the tour is a bright, airy room clearly intended for guests, with a steaming teapot already prepared on the table. Yanqing courteously pulls out a seat for you to sit in, pouring you a cup of tea without any further prompting.

“Let me give you some refreshments,” he says. “It’s not right to have a guest over without giving them something to eat.”

“No, you don’t need to bother. I–”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Yanqing says, and dashes out of the room before you can deter him further.

You sip your cup, a pleasant jasmine brew, leaning back as you contemplate the ink brush mountains scroll across from you. Did the general come home often? His home is far too neat and quiet to imply consistent use. You haven’t run into him, either, so it is possible Jing Yuan is out… though whether this is a blessing remains to be seen. Perhaps you could pry more information out of Yanqing in the meantime.

Footsteps spring down the hall, and without looking at the doorway, you remark, “You know, Yanqing, I’m starting to suspect this general of yours is scared to meet with me–”

“Am I? I didn’t realize.” You whip your head towards the sound of the deep voice. Where you expect Yanqing to stand is a man with snow-white hair and relaxed, golden eyes, an amused quirk to his mouth.

You exhale sharply, your thoughts, once so orderly, tangle together like a ball of yarn. It couldn’t be. Of course you’re expecting to run into the general at some point, have half-hoped for it, but what you haven’t expected is that the general is also your first lover, someone you’d courted many years ago in your youth.

“Jing?” you say, blood roaring in your head.

“Surprised?” he says, lounging in a chair. “I told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

At that moment, Yanqing bursts into the room, a plate of snacks balanced in his arms. “I’m back!” Heis gaze darts around the room, from your tense expression to Jing Yuan’s casual smile. “General! When did you get here?”

“Just now. Actually, Yanqing,” Jing Yuan says, “Why don’t you go out into the courtyard and practice your form? My guest and I have much to discuss.”

“... Okay, general.” Yanqing places the tray on the table, and hesitates; his eyebrows furrow quizzically as he glances from you to the general, but he only bows before darting out of the room, despite his obvious curiosity.

“I’m sure there’s much you’re curious about,” Jing Yuan says pleasantly.

“I do. So perhaps you could humor me and explain what you’re trying to accomplish,” you say coolly.

You swear there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes even as he lowers his head deferentially. “As you wish, my liege.”

—

Your relationship with Jing Yuan started when you were young and, like all youth your age, felt the stirrings of rebellion– against who, or what, didn’t matter quite as much. Reckless, chafing against the loving restraints of your mothers, and eager to make something of yourself, you decided the best way to do so was to throw yourself into a relationship, hopefully one they didn’t approve of.

That’s when Jing Yuan caught your attention, though you only knew him as Jing back then. A soldier in training, with a shy smile and a quiet countenance, his hair short enough to stand in unruly, snowy tufts at the back of his head, you hadn’t thought much of him when he was first introduced to you. He was sent to guard your mom’s alchemical business, and would bow to you wordlessly whenever you visited.

You were more practiced in matters of business, alchemy and politics, but even with your limited knowledge you could tell he was talented with a sword. When a thief tore through your mom’s shop, hunting for rare herbs to sell on the black market, he had unsheathed his lance with lightning-quick precision, and in a few swift, well-aimed strikes, the thief was on his back, Jing’s lance poised at his throat.

You watched from the back of the shop, lurking around the storeroom, as Jing handed the herbs back to your mom, who thanked him profusely.

He noticed your gaze, and smiled at you. “Are you okay, my liege? You weren’t hurt, were you?”

You tossed your head. “I’m fine. You handled him before anything could happen.”

Still, your interest in him was piqued after that day. So on a restless, cloudy afternoon, with the smell of a storm sharp in the air, you sought him out at your mother’s store, as dutifully guarding the entrance as ever.

“Do you have time for lunch?” you asked him. “I would be honored if you could join me for a bite to eat.”

Like an inquisitive cat, Jing tilted his head. “It wouldn’t be right for me to abandon my post in the middle of my shift.”

“You’d hardly be a good guard if you keeled over from hunger,” you pointed out, “And you don’t have to go too far, besides. We can just stay right here.”

“I could hardly refuse a request from you, my liege,” Jing said.

With his permission secured, you brought out the meal you had packed back home. It was simple, nothing more than a few meat buns and some tea, and the two of you sat and ate on one of the stone benches outside of your mom’s workshop. If you were to court someone, you had to dine them first, didn’t you?

“Why did you become a soldier, Jing?”

“Because it was the only path open to me,” he said easily. “My skills wouldn’t find much purchase elsewhere.”

“And what sort of skills are those?”

“The art of combat. I also dabble in chess, occasionally, though I couldn’t have made a living off of it.”

“Chess? Why don’t you play me in a round sometime? I’d love to see your skill,” you said keenly.

“If you find my skills desirable, then I would be honored to,” Jing said.

“Speaking of desirable… is there anyone you’re interested in?” you posed, watching his reaction from the corner of your eye.

Jing chewed his bun instead of responding, though the tips of his ears reddened. “No… Not in particular.”

“There’s someone I’m interested in,” you continued, taking note of the way he inhaled so sharply he started coughing. “I’m hoping I can grow closer to him.”

“Ah– Is… is that so…?”

“Yes. I think I’d be able to do so with your help,” you said, emboldened by his reaction. You smiled prettily at him, in a way you’d learned to do to charm the nobles at any social gatherings you intended. “So… Do you think we could see each other again?”

Jing’s eyes darted away, and he seemed for all the world like a small sparrow, pecking at the crumbs of affection you offered. “If… If you would be pleased by my presence, I would… be flattered to see you again.”

Like your first encounter, your relationship with Jing proceeded in much the same way. You meticulously planned every outing, reserving restaurants and reading up on festivals in advance, eavesdropping on gossiping maids to learn of the most popular spots for couples in the city. Jing was content to go along at your pace, never brooking a word of complaint even as you, looking back, realized how any other person might have been annoyed at your single-mindedness and desire to always get your way.

He was agreeable, and unerringly polite, and clumsily sweet in all the right ways. He offered his arm for you to hold as you strolled about, and tolerated all your badgering for chess games, even when you grew so competitive you could play for hours without stopping. Sometimes he brought you flowers, single stems of white lilies or sprigs of plum blossoms you would set proudly on your desk until the perfume faded and the petals wilted.

You liked him. You liked him, because he was endearing, and went along with all your antics, even the ones that could have gotten him in trouble if the two of you had been caught. Once you had asked him to meet you in the middle of night, when the fireflies were thick in the air like stars on earth.

“My liege, are you sure about this?” he whispered as you waved to him from your window.

“Of course! Do not back out on me now, Jing!” With your hands for purchase, you set yourself on the window ledge, experimentally lowering one leg over the other side.

“Please, let me help you,” Jing said quietly, and offered you one of his hands. You took it, swaying unsteadily, and Jing quickly reached for your hip to help you balance. His hands, you remembered, were calloused, with clever, slender fingers, his touch like sunlight. He flushed at the contact, though didn’t let go of you before he could guide you over the window and set you onto the grass below. Until you reached a small hill a good dozen minutes away from your home, he shadowed your steps, always just a pace behind, and always on guard for threats you couldn’t make out in the dark. With his warm gaze which never drifted from you, and the sea of fireflies, you couldn’t help but feel like no threats could touch you.

“Let’s catch some fireflies,” you suggested, once the two of you reached your destination. “Don’t you think that’s a romantic activity?”

At your words, Jing swiftly cupped his hands around a soft glow, and you crept closer. He slowly unfurled his fingers to reveal his captive, a firefly that pulsed with light like a heartbeat. “Is this to your satisfaction?” he asked.

The firefly spread its wings and flew off his palm. The two of you watched its path, an afterglow of light trailing through the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Jing said, but he wasn’t looking at the firefly anymore.

You cleared your throat. “So, Jing. In such a romantic, late-night setting like this… when two young people meet in a clandestine manner… What do you suppose would happen?”

“Any manner of things, I suppose.”

“True, but there’s one in particular that’s on my mind.”

“My liege…?”

“Jing, I want to kiss you,” you said plainly. His face shone in the light.

“Y… You do?”

“I’ve been courting you for the past few weeks. Why wouldn’t I?” you said impatiently. “But before we go any further, I want you to understand that this is only for fun. Don’t worry; I don’t expect marriage talks to come out of this.”

“Marriage?” Jing repeated, tasting the word on his tongue.

“Yes, marriage. But we’re young. We’re allowed to have our fun, aren’t we? I have a business to inherit, and you have dreams of your own, surely. We need not get in each other’s way. But, for now…” You placed a hand flat against his chest. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Jing’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked down at your hand; slowly, he brought his own to press against yours, keeping your touch captive against his chest.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

And on a midsummer’s night, with only fireflies as your witnesses, you shared your first kiss with Jing. He tasted like sweat and mint, and his lips were chapped, but you wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything else.

For the rest of your courtship, the two of you would act like the lovers you saw wandering the streets of the city. You spent all of your freetime with Jing: bought skewers at a vendor so you could feed him by hand and watch his face redden, convinced him to take you on a boat ride and glide through the canals, feed the wild sparrows nesting in the eaves of your house.

It was only once your studies in business management and alchemical laws increased, and Jing had to be called away for longer and longer stretches of time to train, that you decided your relationship was too much of a strain on your schedule to continue. Better to end the relationship here, when the two of you were still on good terms, than to watch it shrivel beyond repair.

You explained as much to him on the day you broke up with him. “We said we would keep it casual, didn’t we? I don’t want it to become too much of a burden in our lives. Besides that, I do not plan to take any of my relationships seriously unless it’s with the expectation of marriage, and I don’t plan to do that unless my lover meets all of my expectations.”

“What are those expectations?” Jing asked.

You tap your chin thoughtfully. “Well… they must have a title if not a lineage, and have enough fortune to be a boon to my house. They must be intelligent, thoughtful, cunning and ambitious, but not to the point they attempt to limit me or usurp my position as heir to the alchemy commission. And they must be able to keep up with me and assist me in my goals for my future business.”

You thought Jing would make a joke about your lofty expectations, but he only said simply, “And you would marry someone who met all those?”

“Well, yes. Though my mothers keep telling me to lower my expectations.”

What is he thinking? For once, Jing’s eyes are hooded, the perpetual sleepiness replaced by something you can’t place a finger on; the closest word you have for it is hunger.

“Then, my liege…” Jing takes one of your hands, as reverentially as he would touch the emperor himself, and places a chaste kiss along your knuckles, his lips grazing against your fingers. “I’ll come back for you one day, but let us say goodbye for now.”

You didn’t think much of his words at the time; it was simply a parting from a soldier who had always done everything much too seriously. You did, however, entertain a brief fantasy that Jing would come back and elope with you, but that passed like the rain during the summer: sudden, intense, and gone more quickly than it arrived. You were busy, and though you flirted once or twice at social functions over the years, took on all manners of temporary lovers, your main focus was always on your duties towards your house.

You lost track of Jing over the years, and you chalked it up to a natural consequence of time and distance. Jing became a memory you could look back fondly on, a foolish first relationship that you chased after with a youthful arrogance… until he showed up in front of you again.

—

“You really had no idea that I was the one courting you?” Jing Yuan’s voice is amused, sleepy, but each word possesses a certain gravity. He’s a careful speaker, you think. Someone who weighs the measure of everything he says. He sits across from you at the table, fingers steepled as you talk.

“I didn’t read any of your letters,” you say coolly. “Nor was I expecting an old fling to start pursuing me again, when none have in the past. We ended on clear terms.”

“Does it change things, now that you know who I am?”

“Not at all. In fact, it’s even more disappointing to realize it’s you courting me. I would have thought burning your presents was answer enough to your proposal.”

“I simply thought you were dissatisfied with what I bought you,” he says easily. “Material objects are easily replaceable.”

“And did I not spurn your disciple as well?”

“Yanqing is a child, though he dislikes being called such. He’s talented with a sword, but his conversational skills are lacking.”

“And,” you say pointedly, “You are an annoying, insufferable man.”

“Ah,” Jing Yuan says. “Also easily remediable. Shall I prepare an entirely separate estate for you to live in, and stay silent forever after in your presence, so you need not fear seeing or hearing me?”

“Have you no sense?” you snap. “Do you really see nothing wrong with my behavior? Do you not understand what rejection is? Must I send a tutor to your household?”

“Ah, but that’s because you’re doing everything on purpose, not out of ignorance,” he says smoothly. “I know you well enough; you only have eyes for your dreams and goals, and little attention to spare to anyone else. So playing these little games with you… this is the only way you will turn your gaze to me, is it not? My dear liege–” Jing leans closer to you, and you wonder why you never realized the boy you thought was a little bird is actually a lion– “whether you accept my proposal or not, whether you find me a detestable nuisance or a respectable ally, I am satisfied as long as you think of me, with fondness or with loathing. As long as I occupy your mind as much as you occupy mine, then I will be happy.”

“You are an insidious man, and I shudder to think of the state of the city if someone like you somehow managed to crawl up the ranks,” you say flatly.

“Then shall I give up all my wealth and all my titles for you? You only need to say the word.”

“Are you mad?”

“Only if love is a form of madness, my liege.”

“I should never have gotten involved with you.”

“You cannot change the past,” Jing Yuan says, and you want to flick him in the forehead.

“Which is a shame.” You gulp down the rest of your cooled tea, slamming the cup on the table. “At the very least, stop sending me things I don’t want. No flowers, no presents, no love songs. It’s distracting.”

“Of course.”

“Then…”

“Will you stop by again some time?” he says pleasantly. “I’ll be sure to inform the guards to let you in if you ever stop by, no matter the time or circumstance.”

“Confident, are you?”

“Have you given me any reason not to be?”

“... Hah. Never mind. I need time away from you to clear my head.”

Jing Yuan simply lets you go with a smile, and as you step outside his estate, you had a feeling it would not be your last time visiting.

—

After your visit to Jing Yuan, true to his word, he does not send you any presents, nor couriers or musicians to pester you. You would be relieved with the sudden peace if you didn’t suspect he had something else planned. The next few days pass with little fanfare, until an afternoon in which your mom requires your assistance managing her inventory.

“My darling child, did you hear?” your mom says conspiratorially, lowering her face next to yours as the two of you sort through dried herbs.

“Hear what, mom?” you ask. Your mom loves to gossip and chatter, and hears news from all corners of the city thanks to the customers filing through her alchemy shop. Though it is usually your mother who indulges her, you don’t mind listening occasionally as well. It’s always prudent to know what is going inside of the city, after all.

“The general… the one who’s been courting you… has been seen with a few lovers!”

“And why is this my business?” you say, expertly bundling a few dried stalks together. “Should I congratulate him on fooling multiple people to find him a viable partner?”

“Why… they say there’s talk of him marrying one of them soon.”

You crush the herbs in your hand, dried green flakes escaping through your closed fingers. “Is that so?”

Your mom watches you in amusement. “I thought you didn’t care for him.”

“I do not. I find myself loathing him even more now, in fact, as he seems to be a man who can’t keep his word.”

For the rest of your time with your mom, you fume and plan ways to curse Jing Yuan as you stack containers of herbs in the cool, dark storeroom. Ah, you see how it is. For all of his grand declarations, as soon as he gets tired of you, he has no problem finding someone else, does he not? But– and a sudden jolt of embarrassment shoots down your spine– that is all idle gossip. It is the height of foolishness to believe something without verifying it for yourself. Perhaps that man has made you lose your mind through sheer annoyance; certainly, your intelligence seems to have lowered after prolonged contact with him.

You should be rejoicing. It shouldn’t bother you to hear that he might have found someone else. It shouldn’t, but…

You take a breath. No, if you let yourself go down this path, then you would fall into a spiral of doubt. Perhaps you should seek the source of your frustration to quell your nerves. But, before that, you would need to prepare a few things.

—

You march into Jing Yuan’s residence like a soldier heading to battle, heedless of anything around you. No servants stop you, wide-eyed as they are, and even the occasional guard only bows at your presence (Yanqing once told you that Jing Yuan had hired more people after you complained about the lack of personnel). You stalk through the house, searching for the general; he can’t hide behind a forest of varnished wood and lacquered bowls forever.

It’s in his office that you find him, relaxed and poised at his desk as he pours over some documents, head in his hand like he’s liable to fall asleep at any moment.

“General,” you say, all acidic politeness as you stride up to his desk, slamming your hands down so hard the corners of the page flutter.

“My liege. If I knew you were coming, I would have prepared some snacks,” he says mildly, but you don’t miss how all his boneless relaxation melts away, replaced by an alert interest, though he doesn’t move a single inch.

“Don’t bother.”

“Are you okay, my liege? Though your harsh words and fiery wit are normally music to my ears, it seems as if something is bothering you.” Jing Yuan eases forward in his chair, face right in front of yours so you can count all of his eyelashes.

“You…” You bite your lip. What were you doing? You aren’t even engaged to him. You have no right to be jealous of who he chooses to spend his time with; it is not uncommon for eligible bachelors to test the waters with multiple partners, as you know from firsthand experience. But you couldn’t back down now. “You… are you planning on finally settling down?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I just wanted to know if I could count on you being out of my sight forever if you’ve found someone else.”

Jing Yuan cocks his head. “Ah, I see. You’re worried I no longer care for you. I find your lack of forthrightness charming as well.”

“You’re not answering the question.”

“What would you do if I said I had?” he remarks.

“I’d send you a thousand presents as thanks in return for all the ones you flooded my room with,” you reply tartly.

“Well, I can’t have that, can I? Where would I put them all? To answer your question, my liege, you are the only one whom I will ever devote myself to. You are all I think about. All I do is for you. The idea someone could take your place would be as foolish as a candle becoming the sun,” he says simply.

You twist your hands. It is a grandiose declaration; from anyone else, you might have laughed. But Jing Yuan spoke each word with a measured sincerity. You think if you were to ask him to burn down the city and crown you as the ruler, he would do so with a smile.

“There are rumors around the city about you and your lovers,” you venture.

“There are rumors about you, too, speculating that you have a hidden lover you jealously hide from the public view. People love to talk; I could not walk around with even a friend without gossip sparking.”

You let loose a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. So it is nothing more than idle tongues wagging… and the gossipers of the city would rejoice at the news they could share after today.

Jing Yuan doesn’t seem all that surprised when you take a pouch out of your pocket and slide it across the desk. He unveils a tassel with intricate knots vaguely in the shape of a lion head, made with strands of soft yellow and white, interspersed with small amber beads. Jing Yuan says nothing as he examines it, holding it as if it were an offering to the gods.

“Yanqing said it, didn’t he? That you hoped I would make you a matching tassel?” you say. “You can take this as an answer to your proposal. This should quell any rumors of potential lovers for either of us.”

“My liege, I may just kiss you,” he murmurs.

“Then hurry up and do so.”

And Jing Yuan reaches for you across the desk, papers flying as you ungracefully prop yourself on top of all his important paperwork, ink smearing, pens clacking to the floor. His hands are on your face, cradling you like a promise, while he kisses you with an increasing hunger that leaves you breathless. You run your fingers through his hair, tugging the silky soft strands to pull him closer, and he surrenders to your touch.

This is a prudent match for your family, of course. Jing Yuan, as your mother once noted, has power. Money. Fame and glory. He is loyal. Devoted. He can keep up with you, does not quail under your words, and has no schemes of vying with you for power.

But more than that, more than his titles, you want him. You want the man in front of you and, this time, you would not let him go.

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a-little-lazy-cookie · 2 years ago

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Octavinelle: When You're Sick

Favorite dorm here we go! This was fun to write and hmmmm I really wanna be taken care of by the Octrio. They can be good at it, I swear! As always, the intro is the same as Heartlabyul and Savanaclaw, so feel free to skip it if you’ve already read those parts.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!

Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information

Octavinelle: When You’re Sick

The worst thing to ever happen to you while attending Night Raven College had to be, hands down, getting sick. You were alone in the dorm with only ghosts and Grim to keep you company, and as much as you loved them, they couldn’t take care of you when you became sick. This meant you had to make do and hope that everything was alright. Normally if you were under the weather, you’d just suck it up and go to class so as to not worry anyone. This time however, that wasn’t an option.

You woke up with every muscle in your body feeling sore and aching with even the slightest movement. Your stomach churned something fearsome and you had a runny nose and cough to boot. You had no idea what illness you had fallen to. Having so many symptoms…you could only assume it was the flu or something akin to that.

Still, there was no way you were making it to class like this. So begrudgingly you told Grim you weren’t feeling good and needed to rest, and to go to class and get your homework so you could do it later. The demon cat was grumpy about not having his henchman, but eventually gave in, leaving you alone to rest in your room and hope that whatever you had would go away.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is going to be concerned the moment he hears from Floyd and Jade that you’re home sick. He knows you tend to take care of others and neglect your own health, at least in the time he’s known you at the college, so he’s automatically assuming the worst. So he’s going to excuse himself from his own work at the lounge, pack up all his paperwork, and head over to your dorm. He needs to make sure his best customer, and sometimes best worker when you were strapped for cash, was okay and not actually dying, as Floyd so eloquently put it.

He’s not half bad at taking care of others oddly enough, though he is lacking in experience. It’s one of the many things he studied in his free time, so he at least knows what he’s doing. He’ll be calling the nurse anyway just to check in on you and make sure it’s nothing too serious. Once he gets that out of the way, he’s going to do his best in following directions and making sure you recover in the most timely manner possible.

Thankfully he does care for you, so he won’t be making any comments about how helping you out will come with a price later, like picking up shifts at the lounge. In fact, he’s very gentle with you and asks questions in a softer voice than normal. He even orders food from the lounge to be delivered so you can have something warm to eat that’s also delicious. He will be doing work on the side, especially the moment you fall asleep, so don’t be surprised if you wake up to pages turning.

Once you’re better it’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. He’ll be in a chipper mood as well, something the twins will notice right away. If you bring up wanting to repay him, he’ll just inform you that if he ever falls sick, you’ll be the one nursing him back to health. A good compromise in the end, and something you were already planning on doing for him.

Jade Leech

Jade won’t have too much of a reaction to finding out that you’re sick, other than a frown being placed on his lips. He finds out through Floyd when he’s complaining that his Shrimpy couldn’t come out and have fun since they were dying at home from some horrible, debilitating disease. Jade knows his brother is playing things up, but this does give Jade the little push he needs to go in and visit you to make sure you’re okay.

Thankfully Jade is one of the more competent boys when it comes to taking care of others. He’s already figured out exactly what was wrong with you and is grabbing some of the best medication from Sam’s, since the stuff the nurse has is “mediocre at best”. Since Jade is normally the one having to take care of Floyd when he’s sick, he knows all the things to do if you happen to be stubborn, especially with taking medication.

He’s just very soft with you, showing you a genuine smile as you eat the soup he brings you, and playing with your hair. He doesn’t need to do much when taking care of you, trusting the medication to do all the work, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to want to leave your side. Just expect Floyd to be paying you a visit as well, even if you’re asleep, and waking you up. Where you have one twin, chances are you have both of them, but it’s all good since they’re both amazing at making you smile. Jade stays even after Floyd gets bored and heads back though, and he’s without a doubt skipping his shift at the lounge that night.

Jade is in a noticeably better mood once you’re better, but don’t be fooled. He’s going to be using this against you in an attempt to have you join him on one of his hikes. Saying something about the fresh air and moving your body will be good for you. He won’t force you, but he’s definitely going to be playing up that he’s so hurt if you decline. Just go with him, if you get tired the string bean of a man can and will carry you up a mountain.

Floyd Leech

Floyd doesn't even know how to react when he discovers you’re sick. He’s both mad and sad, all at the same time. People are going to be parting like the red sea the moment they see him walking down the hall with a scowl on his face. His shrimpy couldn’t possibly be sick, it wasn’t fair. He had so much planned to do with you today and now you couldn’t even leave your bed? He won’t stand for this and after pouting for half the day, Jade comments that he can simply visit you and maybe help you feel better. There goes the switch and suddenly Floyd is in an amazing mood as he ditches the rest of his classes and work just to go and visit you.

Floyd isn’t half bad with taking care of others if he’s in the mood to do it. He is the one who takes care of Jade when he’s sick (which normally Jade gets sick right after Floyd). He’s not going to be talking to you in a super gentle voice, or babying you unless he finds it fun to do so. If you happen to get flustered by him doing so, then he’ll be more inclined to literally spoon feed you.

Floyd is just going to raid your medicine cabinets rather than going out anywhere, since it’s just the flu he assumes it’s not too bad. He’s also using your kitchen to cook you some meals and bringing them to you. He’ll be smiling brightly when you’re eating the food he made, and whenever you take the medicine. He feels so accomplished knowing that you’re getting better due to his efforts. There is a good chance he won’t be spending the entire day by your bed, since he’ll get bored, but he will be there on and off the entire time you’re sick.

You’re getting a good, healthy squeeze the moment you’re all better. Floyd is just over the moon and already telling you about all the things he has planned now that you’re no longer dying. Be nice and humor him, he has been going through a lot of emotions the entire time you’ve been sick. He just managed not to show you, but anytime he left the dorm, he was back to being grumpy and irritable, to suddenly depressed and closed off. He was really only smiling when taking care of you, so he deserves to squeeze you for a good while now that you’re no longer sick.

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